˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓟.𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ is your toxic ex who's now making your student life hell.
⤿ ꒰ satoru knew that his sweet girl couldn't last without him. he just had to make you realise that :: college au :: smut :: age gap ( 40s / 20s ) :: toxic dynamics :: kinda yandere behaviour :: dumbification :: p in v :: m.masturbation :: phone sex :: thigh riding :: rough sex :: degradation :: praise :: creampie :: overstimulation :: financial disparity :: mean!toru ꒱
♡ ₊˚‧ beta read by my pookie baby @aves1018 <3
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ was your scandalous little secret. all heaven smiles and devil eyes. blue. bright and brutal in the same way he carried himself. he was as charming as he was cunning. the right mix of taboo and terror that made your little heart flutter whenever he cast you a glance over his rimless glasses as he set your perfect-score down in your table. muttered a “that's my girl” to your ear when brushed by him to leave the class. spanked your thigh under that skimpy little skirt when no one was looking— but anyone could see.
being professor gojo's favourite was something dangerous. something fun, something frightening, and the infinity in between.
he took care of you. showered in you in spoils. took you back to his apartment after stressful hours and fucked you into his leather couch until you left pretty red scratches down his back. with the same nails that he paid to manicure. you were always seen. always praised. you lacked nothing when it came to being in his arms.
but you couldn't do it any longer.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ was twice your age. in his forties with silvers slipping between his white strands. creases setting in the corners of his eyes. his tongue tasted like aged wine. his hands laced with experience you could only dream of. but with all the pros of dating an older man— came the deep, dreary insecurity.
insecurity that you wouldn't be enough. that you weren't permanent. that you were just a little taste but not the one that'll quench his thirst. really, what did a man with his qualification and achievements need from you other than something to pass the time?
and to top it all off? his possessiveness knew no bounds. it was quiet, not violent, but sharp. the kind of thing that left you paranoid whether you were toeing a line or not. he didn't approve of your friends. couldn't handle your classmates. hell— he failed the boy that sat next to you all semester just because you flashed him a smile.
so with all facts considered? you were gonna leave him. it was for the best rather than drag you both down a love that was doomed.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't too bothered when you told him it was over. it was in the car. he saw it coming. knew you were reaching a limit. he still snapped at the waiter who dared to laugh at your little joke that was meant for him.
but sure. you wanna break away just because he loved you so much? not an issue. he could see the tears in your eyes. the tremble in your fingers as you took the bag that he bought you as he dropped you off at your dorm building.
no. he wasn't too bothered. why would he be? you'd always be his. and little miss daddy-issues-and-academic-insecurity needed his validation to function.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ started in class. a week after you left him. your assignment was handed in with shaky hands rather than confidence. and he was more than happy to mark you down. why should he glance over your little mishaps anymore? you didn't need his special treatment. so, yeah, he didn't bat an eye as his hand sharply pressed your assignment sheet your desk as he passed. not even casting you a glance. looking on ahead as you crumbled at your B-.
“try harder next time. you're better than this.”
he said it so easily. as if he was always capable of seeing you as nothing in those cutting blues eyes.
it seemed to be a trend. he'd hand you back your assignments. they weren't what you expected. and when you slipped the spot of top ranked student in his quantum physics class?
well, he didn't bother looking up at you as you stood before his desk. hands gripping your newest assignment. almost hesitant to hand it in.
“how's that even possible?” you asked, soft.
“awww baby.” he only tilted his head. pinched his brows at the centre. looked at you with that soft look that was oh, so condescending now. “people change. you know that better than anyone, huh?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew that his validation meant everything to you. now you weren't his top student, weren't the object of his praise. no more mouthed “atta girl”s or treating you to your favourite restaurant after another stellar score.
you were struggling to get by. scraping to get back to your straight a's. to achieve even a hint of his favour.
you never did. it was a downhill spiral. and everyone knew what an asshole professor gojo could be. so of course no one batted an eye when he belittled you in class.
“guess I expected too much,” he'd sigh after calling out your marks for the last test. he didn't have to. but you knew what he did.
as he leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head. cutting that stare that you'd grown to flinch at over.
“so much for star student, huh? try better next time. know you can do it.”
he knew you could.
but knew you wouldn't. not now that you were spiralling.
not when you weren't his favourite girl anymore.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ caught you outside at the steps that day. night time. you probably spent all afternoon in the library studying to make up for the embarrassment. for your sin of slipping in your grades. he knew you would. knew how you operated.
knew you'd be all teary as you walked down the steps with your hand tight on your book bag. trying to ignore him.
“awww baby. what's wrong? you crying?”
you didn't flinch when satoru caught up to you. when he cradled your face in that way he knew you loved to be comforted. bit back a grin as you resisted the urge to press your head into his palm and fall into his arms.
“oh c'mon. you crying over me? didn't say anything bad. you know how I operate.”
all low and gentle. in that voice he used when he used to tutor you and you just couldn't grasp what he was saying. like you were his silly girl. his sweet girl.
long fingers slipped around your jaw. gripped on your cheeks and squished them as he tilted your head up. towering over you but leaning over so that his white strands tickled your tears.
“don't look like that, princess.” he muttered. pressing a firm kiss into your lips and smearing your gloss. not tender, but taunting. not comforting, but still charming enough to have you whimpering and clinging to his shirt.
and as he pulled back, a grin split his lips still hovered over yours. half-hung lashes batting at your falling tears.
“just try harder next time, yeah?”
before he patted your cheek and you left you stranded on the stairs.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew that you needed him in more ways than one. not only did he soothe that insecurity in your heart but he also sealed the hole in your wallet. and now? he knew you were struggling. you didn't order out as much. didn't have the luxury to. you walked back to the dorm. lifts must be costly. you sure as hell didn't have your nails done every other week. he missed the acrylics and blue you'd insist on. but hey— you made your bed.
didn't mean that he didn't feel sorry for you when he spotted you at your favourite cafe. probably ordering a tea like you did now. not your favourite sweet treat and hot chocolate.
yeah. it was pity. definitely not the need to remind you what you were missing— as he called to the barista from behind you. “get the lady a hot chocolate and a strawberry crepe, please?”
as he leaned over your stiffening form, arm grazing yours as he slid his black card over. murmuring a soft, “I've got you, sweetheart,” to your ear when the barista turned.
you let him sit with you that day. spoke to him properly for the first time in months. even if you couldn't hold his eye contact. even if you thanked him a hundred times and over.
while he gave you a gentle look, inwardly? he was grinning.
bingo.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew he had you slowly wrapping around his finger again. that's why he had no shame when he leaned back in his couch that day. remembering your weight in his lap. swiping through his folder that he refused to delete. full of your pretty body, your slutty expressions and your messy thighs.
that's why he didn't feel bad as his hand wrapped around his hard dick that slapped back on his tummy, smearing some pre on his abs.
why he groaned your name without care as he squeezed in his angry tip. remembered the way you'd whine as he rubbed it on your little clit. how you'd cry out as he kissed it in your cervix.
fuck. he remembered how your thighs would quiver for him. how that smart mouth of yours would reduce to a babbling, stuttering, slutty whimper of his name as he ragdolled you on his cock.
his hand sped. his other swiping to your contact. you hadn't blocked him. it's your fault for the voice note you'd receive. of his harsh grunts and his rasped gasps accompanying that wet shlick shlick shlick.
of his voice, groaning your name low like it was both his sin and salvation.
“sweetheart, fuck. look at what you do to me— fuck. still work me up so fuckin' much even when you aren't mine. miss your pretty pussy. miss my sweet girl so soooo bad."
he'd whine. he remembered how much you like that. liked hearing him lose himself as he slammed all the way in and rutted as he frothed you up.
now? it was all over his hand. and he made sure the voice note heard just how much he wished it was in your sweet little cunt instead.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ expected you to not answer him. but you still didn't block him. still didn't report him. you wouldn't. you loved him too much. loved the thought of him. did you think that while you touched yourself to his voice note?
he knew you did. knew you didn't get yourself that. knew you probably sat there playing with your cute clit and whining his name all pitifully as you tried so desperately to cum the way he'd make you squirt back then. back when you were his.
you know what else he expected? you to storm into his office and accuse him of marking you down purposefully. your mid term marks were sent out that morning. he made sure of it. made sure you'd have to face the man, your ex, who sent you a five minute long voice note of him fisting his big cock to you.
“such accusations, sweet girl.” satoru drawled, lazy, as he leaned his head on his hand and his elbow on the desk.
“if you think so, I'm not opposed to you sitting with me while I mark your next assignment. I've got the next stack set for this afternoon. wanna come confirm your claims?”
his brow arched. his diamond eyes invited you. his velvet voice dared you.
and you did. of course you did. he expected that too.
his fourth expectation? that you'd find your way in his lap. with that skirt he loved so much. with your thighs slotted over his knee and his hand cradling your ass while his other graded papers.
you were soaking through his pants. he could feel it. the same way he felt you tremble as he flipped to your assignment. squeezed your ass and bounced his knee to grind up on your cunt.
“those poor panties must be so drenched, huh pretty?” he crooned to your ear, squishing you down onto his bounces and grinds. enjoying your whimpers. your whines as your hands fisted on his shirt.
“look at that,” he pouted, dragging the edge aside of your panties aside so that your clit ground perfectly on the fabric of his pants. “such a slutty student. think this is gonna get you extra credit?”
swat! his fingertips came down in your clit. his leg bounced again to force your needier grinds.
he grinned. cruel and cold on your ear as the sharp strokes of his red pen sliced through the air.
“mm. you're gonna need it. my sweet girl's become a stupid girl in my absence.”
he laughed as you whipped around. as you looked over. saw your assignment littered in red.
and the worst thing is? as he unbuckled his belt and manhandled you over his thighs so your back faced his chest to give you a better look— as his cock slapped on your cunt and dwarfed your folds as he slid between them. as his tip rubbed on your clit in that same way that had you trembling—
you saw it.
saw that he wasn't marking you down in any way that you didn't deserve.
and as his cock plunged in and your back through in an arch. as he snatched your waist and bounced your little cunt on his cock that split you open and had you creaming in seconds. . .
he taunted you. squishing your thighs and biting on your ear. “poor girl. poor, stupid girl.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't even surprised when he got a call the next week. an internship at that institution you'd always prattle so excitedly about. poor you. you probably thought just because he had you in his lap and called you his sweet girl— just because you were his once upon a time, that he wouldn't give you a bad reference to the job of your dreams, huh?
poor, sweet, stupid girl.
he was beginning to like your tears. your eyes looked pretty when they were glossed and your lashes were all damp. as you blinked up at him after you burst into his office again. face blotched and hands clenched.
“how could you?” you croaked. “I— you know how important that is to me—”
“you were important to me too.”
“that's not the point! so what you sabotaged me because I broke up with you? what don't you get satoru? we can't do this! what kind of person would—”
you trembled so prettily when he stood. when shook his head with a sigh and slipped his glasses into his hair.
“sweetheart, sweetheart," he tutted, circling his desk and backing you into it once he got in front of you.
“you don't get it, do you?” there's that condescending tone again. the one he used because to him, you were just his dumb, naïve girl.
big hands came down on the edge of the desk that you pressed into. trapping you against the wood and his wickedness as he leaned over. towering you as always. face pressing closer. brows pinched and knitted upwards. face that mockery of sympathy.
“baby, sweetheart, my sweetest girl. here's the thing.” his lips brushed yours. you tensed. teary eyes wide and staring into his.
“I realised. I'm not a good person when it comes to you.”
velvet and diamond. smooth and cutting. like it was simple fact. a set fate.
his head crooked. glasses slipping down his nose and brutal blues pinning you from over the rim.
“y'know. if you come back to me, you wouldn't have to worry about all this. . .”
his sly fingers brushed your hair back. a kiss pressed to your temple.
“I'd take care of you.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew you were on the brink. knew it wouldn't take long before you were in his arms again. he just had to wait. even when his fingers ached for your skin. when his lips burned for yours. when his palms itched to just grab you by the waist and drag you back to him cause you were such a stubborn girl.
but he'd wait. wait for you to make the decision. wait for you to realise that you were always his and he was the best you ever had.
so you could imagine his grin when you stayed back after class. when you stood in front of his desk with your eyes batting at him. hesitant. shaky. when you asked him for extra credit in his class that you were now borderline failing. but most of all, when you offered your pretty body to him without him even uttering a word.
this is what he meant. what he waiting for. for you to make the moves. to miss him. to want him.
he fucked you into your dorm bed that night. with your face shoved down and your fingers clinging to your pillow. ass clapping and brushing with his brutal thrusts that smacked his heavy balls on your folds. cock splitting you open and spilling your creamy mess all over the wrinkled sheets.
his hand in your hair. his voice rough in your ear.
“like that, sweetheart? want it like that?” he grinned, feral and cruel as you mewled when he angled right. shoved into a sweetspot and ground so filthily until your eyes rolled back as you drooled his name into the pillow.
“missed how I fucked you— right here?”
“r-right there! please!”
“uhuh? righhhttt here?”
he drawled. hand smacking down on your ass and leaving a sting, before he reached around. pinching and pulling on your spasming clit. as he slammed! all the way in. jamming his hips with yours and rutting on your messy, creaming folds. so a lewd, clickclickclick muffled from your overly-stuffed cunt.
“fuck—” satoru rasped. eyes wild and dilated as his fingers bunched your hair tighter. shoved your face further into the pillow. “take it. take this cock like you were born to. like this slutty cunt missed it.”
he missed your squirts. missed your sobs. missed the way your hand tried to scramble back and grip on his hair as he pummelled your pussy all raw and rough into the ruined sheets.
his eyes fluttered back as you squeezed him again. as you struggled on his name and squirmed beneath him.
“s-sato— sat— hngh.”
“say it, sweetheart.” he grit, twisting your head up. slamming his hips faster. bouncing your body on the bed and slamming the headboard into the wall. making your cunt all puffy and his cock all creamy in your cum.
“say my name. say you missed it. tell me whose pussy this is.”
“satoru— toru! toru torruuuu.”
“and don't you ever—” he whined, cock plunging deep as the knot within him snapped. as he frothed him up the way he's been missing. lashes fluttering and eyes rolling back. a filthy, wet, thrust smacked on your bruising ass emphasised every word.
“— ever. fucking. forget it.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ thought you would have came back to him after that, but he guessed you were more stubborn than he gave you credit for. that's fine. you just needed one more push. one more and then you'd be back where you finally belonged: in his arms.
so, yeah. he was responsibly fucking pissed when he saw you chatting up the campus fuckboy. hell— when he heard rumours that you two were a thing.
but he calmed himself down. enough to not snatch you by the wrist in the hallway and shove you into a wall. kiss you until your knees trembled. shoved his tongue into your mouth for all to see until he lost his job. that what you wanted? wanted him to be ruined for you?
calmed himself down enough to wait until the day ended. so he could back you into an empty corridor's corner. his hand on your jaw. tilting your face up. so that you could stare into the eyes of the man who had you squirting all over his cock just a few weeks ago. the man who was always yours no matter how much you tried to admit otherwise.
“you know he's not me, right?” he spoke, that nonchalance breaking for the first time in these wretched months you've been apart from him.
he leaned close. didn't kiss you. not your lips, but your temple. as he stared you down. cold. calloused. a warning cracked in those brutal blues.
“he'll never treat you like me. never know how to handle a sweetheart like you.”
his voice shook. breath thinned.
and for the first time since you left him, satoru shattered.
not pitifully, not pathetically, not violently nor catastrophically—
but sharp. and soft. and the kind of breathlessly that made you think his lungs were giving out— as he slumped over you. free hand trembling on the wall right beside your head. still holding your face. cradling it now.
“guys your age won't treat you like I do baby. not like you deserve.”
his thumb brushed your lower lip. he whispered. raw and wrecked.
“won't love you like I do. I love you sweetheart. I fucking love you. don't leave me here.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ really underestimated your stubbornness. your resolve. he was almost proud when you shoved him off and he let you go. when you walked away from him.
fine. he just had to wait a little longer. a little longer and you'd come back to him.
next week. a friday night. a phone call.
he didn't blink when he saw your name. when he answered. when he heard your soft, choked sob.
his voice melted into tenderness. soothed your cries. asked you where you were. came and picked you up, because he always would. you'd always be his sweet girl, after all.
satoru warned you about that guy. so he wasn't surprised when he pulled up to the street that you were dropped off on. in the middle of the night. cold and alone. all teary eyes and trembling knees. wasn't surprised when you scrambled into his car and clung to the jacket he gave you.
he listened. as he always did. listened as you cried and ranted and raved about how that guy broke your heart several times tonight. then kicked you out of his car and left you stranded. like you were nothing.
he took you into his arms. as he always did. took you into his arms after he cradled you into his apartment. held you close as you clung to him. hiccuping into his chest and sobbing into his shirt. apologising, crying, apologising, sobbing.
apologising.
begging.
“ssshhh I've got you sweet girl.” strong arms looped you closer. cradled you in that protective warmth with one hand cupping the back of your head and the other one your hip. as he hushed your cries. assured you. squeezed your hip and whispered so tenderly.
“I've got you no sweetheart. not gonna let you go again, okay? I promise baby.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ who cradled your head closer and pressed his lips to the top of your head.
who held your close. who promised to never let you go.
who slipped his phone out of his pocket and held it up behind your head. still cradled by his other, big hand. with his soft kiss still on your hair.
his thumb slid across the screen.
transaction completed.
the final half paid to that bum of a guy you insisted on. who broke your heart for some cash. funny how a little bit of money was all you needed to have your way.
and as satoru held your close. with his arms snuggling you to his chest, and his eyes finally fluttering shut. he relished.
because yeah. you're finally back into his arms. just needed a little nudge.
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I’d like to request Mermaid!Aventurine X Avian!reader
One of readers wings gets injured by god knows what(idk man just set them on fire or something. totally the kindest option.) and they ended up near some little town by a lake.
Reader is too stubborn to actually go and ask for help from the humans so they’re kinda just stuck lurking around nearby because they aren’t dumb enough to go too far out in the wild with injuries + the inability to fly.
Cue reader meeting Aventurine at some point, hates him at first for whatever reason, but ends up warming up to him(or at least starts tolerating him a bit) eventually after learning he’s basically also stuck here.
Reader didn’t really know mermaids existed(other fantasy creatures? Yeah. Mermaids? Nope.) so they honestly just thought that it was normal for these weird ‘fish people’ as they call them to be in a lake rather than an ocean(they honestly don’t see the problem. There aren’t as many dangerous creatures here as the ocean, and there’s still a lot of space for him to swim around right?)
I feel like I should make my own fanfic about this instead of requesting my ideas to someone but I don’t know the first thing about actually writing something good
Clipped Wings and Tethered Fins
Summary: After suffering a severe wing injury, you—a stubborn and prideful avian—find yourself stranded near a small lakeside town, unable to fly and too reluctant to seek help from humans. While lurking on the outskirts, you encounter Aventurine, an enigmatic and infuriatingly smug mermaid who seems just as trapped as you are. Initially, you despise him, but as he helps you with your injury, you begin to realize that perhaps you’re not so different after all.
Tags: Mermaid!Aventurine x Avian!Reader, Enemies to Reluctant Allies, Slow Burn, Injured Reader, Stubborn Reader, Banter & Snark, Aventurine Being a Menace, Hidden Vulnerability, Mutual Isolation, Forced Proximity.
Warnings: Mild Injury Description, Light Angst (mentions of pain, being stranded), Aventurine's Teasing, Minor Touching (Aventurine tending to your injury), Slow Relationship Development (from irritation to reluctant trust).
The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the serene lake, its waters mirroring the sky like a liquid canvas. The quiet stillness was occasionally broken by the soft rustling of the trees on the shore. You, however, were anything but still.
Your injured wing—a mess of scorched feathers and pain—hung limply by your side, each step you took sending pangs of agony through your body. You had no idea what had caused the fire that had scorched the wing. Was it the wind? A burst of magic from some distant god? Whatever the cause, the result was the same: you couldn't fly. You had been stubborn enough to resist asking for help from the humans in the nearby town. You knew they’d likely treat you like some freak of nature. They wouldn’t understand.
So, you lingered on the outskirts of their settlement, lurking among the trees, your feet brushing the earth as you tried to keep to the shadows. The world felt far too big with one wing useless and the other healthy but weighed down by your fear and pride.
It wasn’t until you heard the faint splash of water that you first noticed him.
He was a figure that seemed out of place—something akin to a reflection caught halfway between reality and the deep waters. At first, you thought you were imagining things, the shimmering of his tail in the sunlight. But there he was, rising from the lake with the elegance of a predator gliding through its domain, the dark green of his scales flashing in the light. His torso, beautifully sculpted and muscular, was partially exposed above the water as he leaned against a jagged rock, his face hidden by a low-hanging brimmed hat.
Your instincts told you to stay hidden. You weren’t in the mood to deal with anyone—especially someone who looked like he could be trouble. But curiosity gnawed at you, and against your better judgment, you found yourself edging closer, peering from behind the dense foliage. Your keen hearing picked up snippets of his musings, the tone of his voice sending a strange shiver down your spine.
"You know, one would think that after all these years of 'evolution,' humans would learn not to bother with the pointless games of politics. So dull, really." His voice was smooth, almost velvety, and oddly calming in the quiet of the evening.
You stiffened. “What the hell is that?” you muttered, eyeing the strange creature, this ‘mermaid,’ with skepticism.
He must have heard your words, for he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you with an almost predatory sharpness. His eyes gleamed, the black slitted pupils staring through the trees with uncanny precision. He studied you for a long moment before his lips curled into a soft, knowing smile.
"Not quite the most subtle observer, are we?" he said, his tone dripping with amusement, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But then again, I suppose none of us are. Strangers often look before they speak. And you're no different."
You bristled, not expecting to be noticed so easily, and especially not by him. You had no patience for his teasing.
"I'm not here to chat with a... fish," you said, your tone sharp as you made to turn away. "I just don’t need your kind to be part of my problems."
His laugh followed you like an echo through the woods. "My kind, hm? And what exactly would that be, hmm? The aquatic type? Or are you merely referring to the fact that I'm much better at swimming than you are at flying?"
You froze mid-step, annoyed by his casual teasing and the fact that he somehow knew you couldn’t fly.
"Listen, I don't need your help, alright? Just stay in your lake and mind your business." You made to leave, but the pressure in your wing made it too painful to move swiftly.
Aventurine, as he introduced himself moments later, was swift to notice your struggle. "Ah, what's this? Seems like someone’s in need of a little assistance after all."
You tried to pull away, growling in frustration, but your injured wing refused to cooperate, dragging you back down. He approached you effortlessly, his sleek tail flicking through the water with a fluid grace.
“Don’t touch me,” you spat, your feathers ruffling defensively.
He tilted his head, observing you for a long, silent moment. "You're hardly in any position to turn down help, sweetheart." His tone was soft, the mocking edge now replaced by something else—something almost concerned, but wrapped in layers of calm indifference.
"I'm fine," you muttered, but there was no conviction behind it. You knew your pride was keeping you from seeking help, but you were too tired to keep pretending that it wasn’t hurting. The fire on your wing had left it stiff and useless, and your exhaustion was becoming too much to bear.
"You've got a choice, then." His voice broke through your fog of frustration. "You can either suffer in silence and try to fly with that wing in its current state... or you can let me help you."
You shot him a glare but couldn’t summon the energy to argue further. Sighing deeply, you slumped your shoulders and let out a reluctant, "Fine. Help me then."
Aventurine smiled—this time, the smile was genuine, though there was still that dangerous edge beneath it. "You’re welcome, I suppose." He stepped forward, his hands carefully reaching for your injured wing. You winced, but his touch was surprisingly gentle, far more so than you'd expected from someone who clearly enjoyed toying with you.
As his hands worked their magic, you couldn't help but notice how absurdly out of place he seemed in this tiny town. The lake was calm, the people around it unaware of the mermaid who called it home, and yet, here he was—trapped, just like you. You hated how he could so easily find solace in the quiet of the water while you struggled with your wing, but there was something undeniably captivating about him.
When he was done, he stepped back, eyes scanning your face. "You’re all patched up now. Not so bad, is it?"
You gritted your teeth, feeling a little better but still annoyed by the situation. "I still hate you," you muttered, but there was less venom in your voice than before.
Aventurine chuckled, the sound of it like the soft lapping of the water against the shore. "Hate is such a strong word, darling. Perhaps tolerance is a better fit?"
You rolled your eyes but found yourself unable to push him away anymore. Despite his irritating nature, you realized you didn’t mind his presence so much. Perhaps because you were both trapped in this small town. Maybe, just maybe, you'd both find a way out, but for now, the least you could do was stop fighting him.
"Fine," you sighed, letting the distance between you two shrink. "Maybe I’ll tolerate you for now. But don’t get used to it."
Aventurine grinned, sharp teeth flashing as he dipped his head in a mock bow. "Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I have a feeling you'll come around."
And for the first time since your wing was injured, you weren't entirely certain you wanted to run.
"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?"
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 husbands 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 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.
Adolescence, to some, is a wonderful time, and to others, is a nightmare. Usually, it is the former for the elderly and the latter for the actual adolescents themselves. However, when one is in the moment, when one is the adolescent in question? It is a freeing sort of nightmare.
And that is what you were experiencing, sitting there with your best mates, the ones you'd grown up with, known nearly since birth, on the dusk of your eighteenth birthday.
"And to the newly society-introduced angel!"
You waved your friends off, burying your face in your hand as they all raised their glasses. "Alright, alright."
"Oi, c'mon, none of that shyness, you're a woman, a Lady now!"
"I hate each and every one of you."
"We love you more!"
"Oh, oh, you simply must give a speech!"
You could've killed your best friend had you not been so utterly blissed. And of course, the entirety of your roguish little friend group of the highest of high society seconded Tatyana's outburst, cheering and shoving you up in front of the fireplace, the spot where the muted sounds from the actual social season party upstairs were best heard, and you were facing the rest of them as though you were on a pulpit.
"I am…"
They all laughed, their hands under their chins in mock expectation.
"…Not makin' a speech. Good night to all of you."
"Aw, c'mon, you're not even going to toast your first ever drink?", asked Aleksander - son of your tutor - who handed you a bottle of champagne before bowing, taking his seat again, Tatyana's legs draped over his on the divan as she took a drag of her pipe, raising a brow at you.
"Who says it's my first?", you mused, chuckling along with the rest of them as you chugged the champagne. Whoos and whoops and 'you little fucking rebel' sounded through the room, and Lev - Tatyana's brother - grinned before settling onto the seat in front of the piano. "This one's for you, Miss-Seasoned-Alcoholic."
His hands began their magic on the piano.
"And so, the last of us descends into the madness of formal society."
Alexei. His voice smooth as the transition of Lev's new symphony (something he'd been working on, something all of you in this room were sworn to secrecy over. It's the principle). "You must learn from our mistakes, you know? You have been, your whole life, but now, it is a whole different matter to knowing what a certain object is called in French."
You tipped your glass in his direction, and he nodded subtly, clearing his throat and gesturing with a flick of his wrist at Lev to continue. That was it. That was his toast. Never one for words, that Vronsky. He'd been quiet so far, and he was most likely going to be quiet henceforth. For the rest of the night. Just standing there, arms crossed, shadows half-marring his face from the alcove he was leaning towards but never actually in.
"Alexei's off to the military. Lev's off to study music under Tchaikovsky, sweet Lord, and Tatyana's getting married and you are off getting engaged off to imbeciles we haven't even had the pleasure of conversing with.", grumbled Aleksander, glaring at you. "Am I the only one here who likes home?"
"There's a whole world out there, Aleks. You're just incessantly stubborn on staying here.", shrugged Tatyana, blowing smoke into his face, before leaning her head back so her hair dangled off the armchair of the divan.
"Like either of you will ever get to explore even a splinter of it.", scoffed Aleksander, shifting to wave off her smoke. "Well, maybe you, your future husband's a politician, you might get to travel a bit. Our poor darling newly-introduced-angel's most likely already prepared to grow roots in his abnormally large manor."
You didn't like the three sympathetic looks being thrown your way. You were supposed to be having fun, goddamnit, not being pitied by the people you loved most in the world, it was essentially your party!
Thankfully, there was one stoic voice of reason that didn't look at you as though you were a kicked puppy. "Lev, do you always have to play such depressing things? And Aleks, with his depressing words. And Tatya, with her depressing face-- hey!", he laughed as much as was possible of Alexei Vronsky, deftly dodging the pillow she flung at him.
Thank god Alexei wasn't one for ruining a party with realism.
"Come on, play something jovial. Something Sir Tchaikovsky would dance to, not hang himself to."
"Dance?", scoffed Lev, flexing his knuckles momentarily before shrugging. "I suppose I should have some sort of expertise in multitudes of genres. Branch out, I suppose."
"Precisely."
His fingers danced on the keyboard just as fast as the champagne shot through your blood, and Tatyana sauntered up, setting your champagne bottle down. "Dance with me, Miss-Eighteen-Year-Old. Probably the last time we can all be free together."
You smiled, rolling your eyes and taking her hand as the music grew faster and cheerier. "All of you are saps. I thought the plan was get extremely inebriated, not emotionally incapacitated."
"It'd have worked had you been an alcohol-virgin, y'know?", declared Aleks, grunting as he moved to occupy the space Tatyana had been in moments ago, his head on the armrest. "When'd you even have a sip?"
"I was sixteen, and I snuck some of my father's sherry." you said, grimacing when you slimly missed Tatyana's foot.
"Wow, you are a rebel.", stated Aleks, making room for you to flop onto the divan opposite him, laying your head back and huffing as you looked at the ceiling, hand on your stomach as Tatyana continued dancing in her drunk haze, movements attempting to synchronize with the flames in the fireplace.
"I know."
Alexei's arms spread on either end of the back of the divan, and his head tilted in what you could only describe as allure. It was like he was fixated on one thing - what, you're not sure yet - and was entirely tuned into it.
Your eyes trailed magnetically from the ceiling to the eyes above you, a striking, almost painful, shattering blue tinged with flickering oranges like wildfire sunsets, reflecting the flames of the fireplace.
"You know, this is your last time seeing us for more than a full half-hour."
Raising a brow, you shook your head, curiously. "Why?"
"Well, the next time we will all see each other is Tatya's wedding, and the bride will not have time to come down for a drink with her mates, will she?"
"Now whose face is depressing?", retorted Tatyana, from in front of the fireplace. She was promptly ignored - not that she was sober enough to have noticed.
"This means, my sweet, that you owe each of us a dance." His voice is ships on a benevolent ocean. His smile is the horizon when the sun dapples the waters just so.
"I second that!", called Lev from the piano.
A strand of your hair got flicked, bouncing to and fro before your focus shifted to the hand being offered to you. "Dance with me."
Sighing magnanimously, you rose, allowing him to tug you into a seamless waltz, with one palm on your waist and the other holding your hand as though you might well break.
"Lev, faster.", he called offhandedly over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on your face, his brows furrowed in concern, while yours furrowed in concentration. You could not survive narrowly missing stepping on Alexei's leg, as well.
The music's pace quickened, and the loudness climbed up steadily, Lev palpably taking artistic liberty over artistic liberty, experimenting.
The sound of the piano keys being subjected to Lev's creative strokes of brilliance effectively muffling his voice, he drew his forehead closer, to fall just short of resting against yours. "Do you like him?"
"Like who?"
"Your possible groom-to-be."
"You know, actually, I thought he'd be stuffy, or unkind or plain, but he's quite pleasant."
"Standards are high among noble women these days, I see.", he snorted sarcastically, tugging you even closer, so that his temple was pressed against yours, your mouths next to each others ear. Secrets could pass between you smooth as a bullet, but for some reason, neither of you seemed to have anything to say.
"They say this is how the English dance. What do you think?"
"Doesn't hold a candle to the mazurka. But it's easier."
"Yes. Good. Glad you said that, because I am a disappointment to the mazurka's name." That was a lie, but he'd always been prone to lying to make sure you never felt inferior.
You grinned, and he effortlessly sped up to a Viennese waltz. "Keep up."
His eyes never left yours, that's the thing that kept you from fumbling around. They stayed trained on yours even as he twirled you around, and even as he dipped you.
Quickly, he took you on a small waltz towards where he'd left his champagne glass, and tipped it toward you, the rim touching your nose and causing him to smile.
"Did you not want to go to Paris? Italy? Ride an actual steam engine? Did you not have dreams?", he murmured, his eyes half-closed as the knuckles on the back of the hand holding the glass ghosted over your arm, running up and down them. The arm on your waist didn't dare flinch.
"I still do. You speak as though I'm a lost cause."
"He will not take up a role in the military or in politics, you know this. He is filthy rich, you know? Days will pass in his manor, perhaps the occasional ball such as this. You will live comfortably. Since when have you liked that?", he inquired, downing the entire glass in one go.
You let out a breathy laugh and he twirled you once more in impatience, pulling you back much tighter in line with his chest. "Since when?", he repeated.
"He is a kind man, and he is not a bore, either. Pickings are slim of the sort here, you know that."
"This is what he has portrayed to you."
"We are equal in station. If he mistreats me, I could still ruin him."
"Why do you even consider the possibility of being mistreated? You should not even have to think about that."
It's not protectiveness, not anymore, it's bitterness and it irked you. Who was he to be making such great points when you were inebriated, and could not retort?
"Alexei. We've all known one day, we'd have to get engaged to people we don't particularly know. Tatyana and me before you three, of course, but we've known."
"Yes, but--"
"And I don't know if this is nostalgic melancholy or something because you're leaving for the military, but you're dampening our spirits."
"I'm worried he isn't what he says he is. You're too free of a soul for a fortune-inheriting-man who knows nothing of work or life or joy."
His thumbs rubbed gentle arcs on your cheeks, his eyes closed as his voice quietened down under the music that you had to strain to hear him.
"This choice has been made by my family with due diligence, Alexei."
"Diligence. Not intelligence."
"Alexei."
"I apologise. I worry, you know I do."
You nodded, and he nodded back, handing you his empty glass to place on the table behind you. And when you turned back, his forehead grazed yours again. A tiny smirk painted his horizon-lips, and you felt his head tilt. "Did you really have your first drink at sixteen?"
"Not my fault you went and became eighteen and kept regaling the rest of us with how blissful you felt when drinking. It was cruel to taunt us so."
"I apologise for turning eighteen without your permission. I did not mean to ruffle any feathers with my insubordination."
"I am training you for the military, you see? You have learnt manners. Your superiors will thank me."
He grinned, dimples pronounced in the firelight. "I'm sure you will receive letters in the hundreds, profusely thanking you.", he mused, eyes flitting up to the ceiling in mock resignation before landing back on yours. "You will respond to my letters, yes?"
"Yes."
"You will send me some, of your own volition, as well?"
"Yes."
"That's a relief. I know none of these imbeciles will spare so much as a thought of me when I'm out there fighting for the good of Russia. It is always said that the youngest have the most kindness in them. You certainly do.", he muttered, gesturing his head at the other three.
Your hair is gently brought forward, onto your shoulder. "It's like a river. It flows.", he mumbled under his breath.
"My hair?"
He seemed mildly surprised you'd even heard him.
"Time.", he replied, a hint of reluctant fascination in his gaze as he continued setting your hair on your shoulder, attempting to place it just right. "You tune out the sounds and the currents when you've been by the river for too long, and before you know it, you don't recognize the things floating by you, anymore, and the things you first saw drifting are long gone. Time is the river."
"How often do you sit by rivers?"
"Every day. How about you?"
"Not much."
"Then you'd better pray he has one next to his estate. Because it's all you will be spending your life doing."
"That is a cruel thing to say."
Here's the thing about friendship and warnings. Your best friend will give you warning signs if they are going to move away and leave you to fend for yourself, perhaps months in advance. Your best friend will warn you about someone you trust that they have a bad feeling about. Best friends like Vronsky, however, cannot afford to warn you about when they are going to kiss you. It is just not done.
He was trepidation personified, hesitation embodied, eagerness demonstrated. One tiny kiss placed down onto your lips, and he was drawn in with no hope. One more and he was yours. And from the third, he didn't stop to think any longer. Think about how improper this was. How misleading. Not wrong. No, this was no more right than the sky being blue.
So why did you pull away, albeit gently? He'd never know.
He observed your eyes, carefully, as they darted over his, and did not even come anywhere close to his lips. Almost as though you were practicing the art of self-control with utmost dedication.
Hence, naturally, the palm on your waist nearly yanked you closer, your chests together as he kissed you again, his thumb on your cheek once more. He did not stop even when he realised this could ruin so much. He did not stop even when he realised this would make it harder for him to send or receive letters from you, and most importantly, he did not stop even after the music stopped and your friends had all turned from their inebriated, irritated or inspired states to stare at you. And fucking laugh.
Well, laugh momentarily. This was before they silently whooed and whooped to the same extent they had done when you'd first chugged the malicious champagne that had brought the two of you to this predicament, shaking their heads as they smugly raised their glasses in toast.
His hand ran up your back, to the nape of your neck, gently gripping it as he pulled away, his forehead on yours, as his thumb continued, albeit higher than the apple of your cheek, now pushing hair away from your eyes -- god, your eyes -- as he breathed, subconsciously attempting to synchronize with your breathless state.
"Come on."
"Alexei."
"Please. You cannot discount this."
"We are drunk. Discounting it is all we can do."
He almost got on his knees, and he would have, had the circumstances been different, and he were capable of the hand-eye coordination required to kneel. "Please."
You bit your lip, the same one he should've bitten two seconds ago, and then looked down. He let go.
"Alright. As you wish."
Licking your lips, you sighed, unsure of what to do. You wanted to reach out, hug him -- that's what you've always done to comfort him, well, anyone in this room. However, it could go horribly wrong. He could take it as patronization. He could shove you away. He could kiss you again.
"They will be searching for all of us upstairs."
You said it, and the others shifted awkwardly, mumbling agreements as they stood to fix their hair and groom the drunkenness out of their clothes. His eyes narrowed. "They will be searching for you. It is your party."
"No, I think all of us will be missed."
"I won't. Evidently."
Fuck. "Alexei--"
"Happy birthday."
You knew a dismissal when you heard one. "Are all of you coming?"
The rest of them rubbed their elbows, the back of their neck, busied themselves with their shoes. Right.
"Thank you all for coming today. I'll see you for thirty minutes at Tatya's wedding next, I suppose.", you muttered, with a pointed scoff and glare at Vronsky before you slammed the door behind you, the rest of the hallway seeming like a whole other world, an entire universe, even. An extremely dull one, but at least it was different than what you had just made it out of.
You gave an excuse of having gone downstairs to the cellar to look for more wine for the guests.
It's funny, you'd be surprised if you ever drank again.
Tatya's wedding was not the next event you'd all interact in again.
No, it was Aleksander's cousin's first ever ball she was throwing as a married woman, and you had been cordially invited, didn't you know?
You actually hadn't, not until a day earlier, after you'd returned from your sudden new routine of daily sessions of sitting by streams and skipping pebbles over them. Not exactly a river, no, but it wasn't like you'd developed this novel interest due to Alexei's words. God, no. Sometimes, these things occur randomly, on their own, alright? Seasons change, people change.
You'd returned, and the invitation had been waiting at your desk. Your family had held onto it, as they had been doing with a lot of invitations to events since you'd been formally introduced. Proper ones, you see, were the kind you were to now attend. This had passed the test, evidently, as along with this on your desk, a new dress lay on your bed.
"I don't know… do I truly have that bridal glow to me? My fiancé says I do, but I can't be sure if it's just flattery."
"He's about to marry you in two months, Tatya, there's no reason for him to continue flattering you as though this is simply a courtship.", you assured, and she laughed, her head thrown back and her hand on your arm.
"Men will find a way. We could be married for decades, and I'm sure Ivan will understate our marriage and ask whether I find him agreeable or handsome."
"That will be due to memory loss and senility, not some masculine inclination to downplay the extent to which you love each other."
"Can't say the same about your situation, though, can we? He's still flattering you, I take it? As though your families are not in the closing stages of the deal to be engaged?"
"Yes, he is."
She offered you wine and you declined.
"Sobriety looks beautiful on you, but I like you drunk, you know. Like on the night of your birthday, I--"
"Tatya. I know what you're doing."
"Listen, it's not worth it, and you know it. It has been, what? A month, perhaps two? We're all about to be tugged into… god knows how many different directions. Even talking about your birthday has you defensive."
"Did you ask Aleksander to ask his cousin to-- god, Tatya, you--"
"You will thank me."
"If I see him, I am leaving."
"Well, if that's about me, that's disappointing to hear. If it's about Aleks, it's amusing."
Your eyes shot up, and Alexei stood there with his hands in his pockets, crisp white suit, even crisper grin, although his eyes did not reflect the charm his smile so effortlessly did.
You glared as Tatya rose, nodding at the two of you before disappearing into the crowd of socialites, much like you wanted to disappear into a huge gaping hole Alexei could not follow you into.
"I love your dress. Angelic."
Angelic. Did he have to do this? Was it some primal urge for him to meddle with your sanity?
"I like the hair. You've grown it out.", you remarked, offhandedly. Small talk wouldn't stop him, but it might throw him off.
"Oh, yes, yes, I have. Glad you like it. My mother grieved over it, and Tatya would obviously never give me her honest opinion, of course."
You nodded. Perhaps you'd been far too quick to refuse the wine.
"I would like to, uh, formally apologise. For the night of your birthday."
"Alexei--"
"Let me finish."
Fine. You could at least give him that. "Alright, but lower your voice."
He huffed softly, intensely battling an eye-roll before he looked back up to you. "I was rude, in the way I spoke to you before you left."
Spoke?
"Pardon?"
"The dismissal. It was… uncouth. Unkind. And I apologise for it."
The dismissal is what he thought you were annoyed about?
"The dismissal."
"I will apologise for nothing else."
"You are stubborn."
"And you are perfect. Do not engage in a battle of wits with me, my dear, you know I will win, you've known that since we were children."
The quiet that followed between the two of you weakly fought to stand its ground amidst the chattering and buzzing and music the rest of the party was engrossed in. "Have you given my offer any thought?"
Perhaps you were remembering it wrong. What offer?
"To not discount it.", he clarified, his tongue smoothly running over his teeth as one knee rested over another.
"You know I cannot do that. I am nearly - well, for all intents and purposes, I already am - engaged."
"Engagements fall through all the time."
"This one has no reason to. There is no power imbalance, no station inequity, no deep-seated mutual familial hatred, no--"
"No love.", he offered, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his intertwined fists.
"Love takes time."
"Yes. Eighteen years, to be exact."
"You have not known me eighteen years." He scoffed in response to that.
"I don't know how to explain it. It is…", he muttered, looking around as though answers would materialize from thin, tension-filled air, before his eyes landed on the two wine glasses before you. One full (the one you'd refused) and one empty (Tatya's).
He reached for them, holding them in his hands as though they were sacred. "One of us is each of these glasses, and when we're together, or at least since that night…", he mused, gently pouring from the full one into the empty one, his eyes on yours, until it filled halfway. "It's perfect. Equal. Right. Balanced. We balance each other out."
You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head, your mind frantically groping around its own depths for a response.
"Now, I don't know which one I am. If I am the giver, or the beneficiary, but what I do know is that at the end, it doesn't matter. Because it is us. You and me."
His gaze was so expectant, you could have cried.
"Station-wise, you know that it wouldn't work, even as an alliance deal, my family… power imbalances lead to marital issues."
"You are not going to sit there and reduce this to a logistical issue. You are not. I will not allow you to boil us down to such trivial nonsense as that."
"Alright, then how about the fact that my family would not let me marry an army officer, who is away from me for three quarters of the year, and who I could, at any time, get word is dead?"
"I am, also, a Count, and I could withdraw from the army and still offer you comfort. And besides, I would not even be on the front lines, and you know it. This argument is ridiculous.", he spat, jaw clenched.
"It is reality, Alexei, and it is quite embarrassing that I am two years your junior and I understand the world better than you."
"What is the real reason? It is not because you are worried you will be widowed in two days, or that you are worried we will get conflict in our married life because of our difference in our stations."
"Yes, it is."
"So, if not for those, you'd marry me?", he scoffed. "You would truly marry me then, if not for those reasons?"
"Yes!"
His jaw ticked, and he sucked on his teeth for a moment before leaning back, arm on the armrest as he absentmindedly picked at his lips. "You would?"
You hissed under your breath, leaning forward. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, Alexei, my refusal to acknowledge what happened on my birthday--"
"Your rejection, you mean."
"--Yes, my rejection - is not because of ill-will or because I hate you! I cannot hate you, it is physiologically, fundamentally impossible for me!"
"So is loving me, evidently. All you can feel, I suppose, is mild affection caused solely by nostalgia."
God, he was getting on your nerves. Running an exasperated hand through your hair, you leaned back, not before taking the half-filled glass - that apparently represented you - and bringing it to your lips.
He took his, eyes dancing around the room as he sipped. "Your indifference will be what kills me, not anything anyone fires at me from across enemy lines."
"What is it you want from me? I cannot acknowledge what happened as anything other than impropriety caused by inebriation. I cannot."
"Lies. You have your own reservations against marrying me, and I want to know them."
"No matter what I say, you will take it as a personal attack."
"Because you are personal to me!", he snapped, the glass pummeling to the floor, the grating and mortifyingly endless sound of shatters echoing through the room. Even the pianist stopped momentarily, before rolling his eyes and continuing once more.
The attendees, however, ogled.
Servants rushed to help clean it up, not allowing Alexei to get up and storm off and cause the tantrum he always did when he didn't get his way. "Sorry, my Lord, but shards in shoes are dangerous."
He ran his hand over his mouth to hold in his temper, before nodding offhandedly. "Finish quickly.", he mumbled, now gently biting at his knuckles, knee bouncing.
"Alexei."
Turning to you, he shook his head. "You are about to attempt at a placating platitude. Don't."
"When have I ever cared about placating you?"
He snorted, a hint of resentful acknowledgement in it. "Yes, I suppose you are painfully honest."
"Never mind. If you will only offer me retort after retort, then there is no need."
He huffed, rubbing the ridge of his brow. "Tell me."
"I will still write you."
"Oh, brilliant, that makes up for everything!", he exclaimed, sardonically. "You are a child. You don't listen, you argue, and you think gestures like that will magically solve this?"
"It's better than me not writing, isn't it? What would you rather have? Me not writing to you at all, or still writing?"
"Actually, you know what? Perhaps I don't want you writing to me. Ever think of that? Perhaps my devotion to you has waned with your stinging, stupidly-justified rejection. Perhaps I don't want anything to do with you anymore.", he gritted out through his pearly white stupid teeth.
"I don't do one thing you want, and I'm immediately an afterthought?", you scoffed, willing yourself not to yell and scream and plead as he stood up, smoothing down his suit.
"Wrong. You don't do the only thing I want - the only thing I've ever wanted from you, and yes, you do become an afterthought.", he replied, finger pointing at you as though you were under trial.
The sound of his heels sharply clicking away as he stormed out and got the dramatic tantrum he'd always loved throwing callously across a crowded room fading, you rubbed your forehead.
"Would you like a refill, my Lady?"
"No." You'd had quite enough of liquor for a while.
You weren't particularly sure that you'd ever done anything to warrant avian malicious intent, but it was always a possibility. Perhaps a nocturnal pigeon or crow?
Stomping to the window, you threw it open. No wings. Nothing. Just a breeze on the night sky with a promise to meddle with your sanity.
You glared at the sky before shaking your head and moving to close the window, before a psst caught your attention.
Your eyes rolled right after they found Alexei standing down there, five pebbles in his left palm, one in between his fingers on the right, ready to strike. "Down. Now."
"No."
"You know I'm not above launching these all night. Your stream has a bank with these innumerable."
"No."
"You know I'm not above throwing these at your face."
"You wouldn't dare." But he would, and you knew it. Ask seven-year-old you, being terrorized by a nine-year-old-Alexei by a worm on a stick that he thrust upon your face.
"Down, now."
You glared at him, and he flinched, making as though he were about to propel one into your face, and you shut the window instinctively, running downstairs, before you slowed, creeping around sleeping maidservants' rooms, gently prying open the back doorway.
He was still laughing at your fright as he watched you gingerly shut the door behind you to maintain as much silence as possible. "Did you actually think I would do it?"
"After your little wine-stunt, I don't know what to think. Why are you even here?"
"You forgot what tonight is?"
"What is it?"
"My last night before I leave for the military. I told you -- all of you -- the morning of your birthday, when I got the information!"
"The night of my birthday overshadowed the morning, I'm afraid.", you scoffed. "Shouldn't you be getting patted on the back by your superiors? Brandy and cigars?", you mocked, crossing your arms as he leaned back against a tree.
"I should. Instead, I'm here."
"How unfortunate."
"Will you just…", he trailed off, before groaning, running his hands over his face as though he were the one being inconvenienced right now. "Just accept that it meant something."
"The kiss?"
"Yes, the kiss."
"Of course it meant something, imbecile, that was never up for debate. A kiss is no small thing."
"Good. There is something of substance in there, then.", he muttered, flicking at your forehead.
You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him, a gesture he mirrored. "You really are still a child."
"You are not grown up either, Alexei, you just act as though you are. You don't know what you're doing half the time, either."
"Listen, 'adult' is not an actual state of being that one can achieve, alright? Everyone makes it up as they go along.", he mumbled, rolling one of the pebbles in his palm over on its side.
"You still don't want me to write?", you asked, quietly.
"Of course I bloody want you to write, what's wrong with you? I don't want you engaged to someone who you don't know, but I suppose my opinion on it is irrelevant."
"We would not be good husband and wife, anyway."
He chuckled loudly at that, bitterly, before shaking his head and stalking his way towards the stream, wordlessly expecting you to follow. "Oh, you have to elaborate on that one. Oh, and without using the words 'bicker', 'fight', 'stubborn' or 'imbecile'."
"You're an idiot.", you retorted.
He snorted, shaking his head as he continued the short trek. "I love you.", he replied, laughing under his breath.
The crunches of leaves underfoot stilled, and you froze, like the stream would in a couple months' time. "What?", he questioned, grunting softly as he lowered himself on the bank, head swiveling over to you.
You shook your head, shrugging. "Nothing."
"You already know this. Why is it surprising to hear it?", he muttered, offering a hand to help you down next to him.
"It isn't."
"No? Then what's that face?", he asked, tapping gently on your nose. "You look stunned. Scandalized, one might say."
The stream carried your words away.
"Will I be invited to the engagement party?"
"Do you want to be? Because you only get one. Either engagement party or wedding."
"If I come to the engagement party, I could make sure there is no wedding. I am mildly evil like that, as you well know."
"What would you do?"
"Kill him or humiliate him. I don't know, haven't decided. Or, I'd convince you to run away with me. But then again, if you're not willing now, I'm sure you won't be willing then, with all the pressure.", he sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, an absentminded kiss placed on your temple.
"I thought pressure makes people do stupid, impulsive things."
"Precisely. You will actually go ahead with the 'stupid, impulsive' engagement."
"How would you humiliate him? Because even I don't know enough about him t--"
"Do you not love me? Is that it? Is that why you reject me so harshly and hastily? You do not love me as I love you? I am still your childhood friend? A brother, of sorts?"
"Alexei, I already explained--"
He scoffed, gripping your jaw before he pulled you so your lips met his once again - a most surprising reunion. He turned completely to you, now, his hands moving your hair back before they abruptly decided they'd rather hold it, instead. "Explain this then. Hm? You kiss back, like you cannot stop yourself, like this is what you were made for. And it is, you know?", he murmured against your lips momentarily before he continued once more.
He still had the ability to read you like the fairytales that the five of you had grown up reenacting. It irked you to no end.
"Alexei-"
"I swear, you say my name once more, I will… I will… marry you right now.", he grumbled, rambled, rather, pulling you closer. "The stream and the stars heard me say it, and they hear everything. If you say my name like that one more time, I will honest to God marry you, somehow."
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Summary: "Darling, I’m sure Anna doesn’t want to monopolize our evening. Perhaps we should..." "Don’t worry," you cut in, your voice as sweet as it was sharp. "I’m just catching up. Three months is, after all, quite a long time to be away."
Warnings: angst, hurt, reconciliation, sensitive topics, mention of betrayal (not consummated), rebuilding trust, intense and emotional dialogues
A/N: anon, I hope I do justice to your request - I hope you enjoy reading <333
Masterlist
The train moved through the vast whiteness, cutting through the snow like a pioneer in unknown lands. The rhythmic sound of the wheels against the tracks filled the silence of the cabin as you gazed at the landscape through the window. Snowflakes gathered on the glass, creating ephemeral patterns that quickly disappeared with the warmth of the cabin. The winter was always harsh, but there was something poetically beautiful in the monotony of the icy horizon.
You pressed the small bundle of letters against your chest, feeling the rough paper in your hands. Alexei's words echoed in your mind, the familiar phrases you'd read and reread countless times over the past three months. "I hope the snow is gentle with you," he had written in the last letter. "Natasha misses you, and so do I. Come back to us soon."
Alexei's handwriting had always been precise, almost meticulous, but it seemed to have lost something. Perhaps a fluidity, or the warmth with which he used to end each message with affectionate declarations. Not that he had been cold; far from it. But there was a restraint in the words, as if he were trying to hide something. You shook your head, pushing the thoughts away. There was no room for doubt. Alexei was your husband, and your nearly three years together had been surprisingly harmonious for an arranged marriage. You had built something real, something that seemed unshakable.
The longing tightened like a knot in your chest. It was almost impossible to be away from Natasha, your daughter, who was under two years old and already the light of your days. You could imagine her now, perhaps playing with the blonde curls she had inherited from Alexei or dragging some toy across the floor of the hall. Alexei would surely be close by, attentive, although not the type to show excessive affection. He had a magnetic calm, a charisma that drew looks and trust from everyone around him.
You closed your eyes for a moment, remembering his face. The sharp features, the hair he always kept immaculate, but which seemed to rebel against control in the most intimate moments. His eyes, as clear as ice melting under the sun, held a depth that disarmed anyone who looked at them long enough. And yet, there was gentleness there, a softness he reserved only for you and Natasha.
The train made a turn, shaking lightly. You held your purse at your side and glanced at the clock. Only a few hours remained until you reached the station, and the thought quickened your heartbeat. What would the reunion be like? You felt your hands anxious, the words you might say to him forming and dissipating in your mind.
You opened the last letter again, your eyes following the familiar words. "The house is emptier without you. Natasha calls for you every night. I’ve been distracting myself with... events, but it’s not enough. Please come back to us soon." Something in the sentence felt hesitant, as though there was more he hadn’t said. But before you could reflect further, the train gave a final jolt, announcing the approach of the destination.
You took a deep breath, putting the letter away and straightening your posture. Soon, very soon, you would be home.
The station was alive with the sound of carriage wheels on the pavement, hurried footsteps, and voices muffled by the steam of the trains coming and going. The air was heavy with the smell of burning coal and the biting cold of winter. You gripped your suitcase tightly, your heart pounding in your chest as you stepped off the train. It had been almost three months away from home, away from him, away from Natasha.
Your gaze swept over the crowd, searching for a familiar figure. Men in top hats and heavy coats hurried past, women wrapped in shawls shielded their faces from the cold, but it wasn’t any of them you were looking for. Then, you saw him.
Alexei stood near a cast-iron column, his imposing stature setting him apart from the chaos around him. He wore a dark gray overcoat that accentuated his broad shoulders, and a black hat partially shaded his face. But it was impossible not to recognize those eyes—clear as ice in the sun, watching you with intensity, as though the world had stopped.
You paused for a moment, unable to breathe, unable to believe that you were finally here. He took a step forward, removing his hat with an elegant gesture, revealing his perfectly styled blonde hair, though a stubborn lock fell over his forehead. Time seemed to freeze around him, the bustling station blurring into an indistinct haze. All that remained was him.
"Alexei," you whispered, your voice choked with the emotion rising to the surface.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked toward you with long, determined strides, his face controlled, but his eyes betraying a storm of feelings. When he stopped just inches from you, the silence between the two of you seemed to speak louder than any words.
"You’re back," he finally said, his deep voice heavy with something you couldn’t name. He seemed so calm, so restrained, but the way his eyes traced every line of your face, as if making sure you were real, betrayed how much he had missed you.
You let the suitcase fall to the ground and took a step toward him, unable to hold back. The distance between you vanished when you threw yourself into his arms, your fingers gripping the heavy fabric of his overcoat as you buried your face in his chest. He seemed stiff at first, as though the moment had caught him by surprise, but in seconds, his arms closed around you, strong, protective, as if he never wanted to let go.
"Alexei," you murmured again, the sound muffled against him. The words failed, but it didn’t matter. The way he held you, with an almost desperate firmness, said everything he couldn’t express.
He tilted his head, his face buried in your hair. You felt the warmth of his breath on the top of your head, the subtle touch of his lips against your strands. "I was counting the days," he murmured, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. "Every damn day."
You pulled away just enough to look at him, your eyes full of the tears you’d tried to hold back. "Me too. I counted them too, Alexei."
He raised one of his hands, his broad, strong fingers sliding along the side of your face, wiping away a lone tear that had escaped. "You’ve lost weight," he observed, concern evident in the softness of his voice. "But still beautiful." The corner of his lips curved into a brief smile, a shadow of the charisma you knew so well, but still devastating.
You laughed, even though the emotion still tightened your throat. "And you look... more tired. Is everything okay? And Natasha? Is she okay?"
"She misses you. We both do," he replied, the smile fading as seriousness returned to his face. "She’s at home, waiting for you. She kept looking at the door every day, asking when you’d come back."
Your heart squeezed at the words, at the image of your daughter so small and eager for your presence. "I need to see her," you said, the urgency growing.
"Let’s go home," Alexei said, effortlessly taking your suitcase and holding your hand with the other. "We’ve waited long enough."
As he guided you through the station, his hand firm on your back, you felt that despite the chaos around you, there was something solid in being next to him again. The connection between you both seemed to have withstood time and distance, but deep down in your heart, you still felt a shadow, something you couldn’t name. Something hiding in the corners of your thoughts and in the glances that Alexei, as loving as they were, couldn’t completely mask.
The carriage jolted gently as it moved through the icy streets of St. Petersburg. Outside, the sky was painted a dark gray, and the snow covered everything like a white blanket. Inside, warm and cozy, you couldn’t stop looking at Alexei. He was sitting beside you, one hand holding yours, his gaze fixed on the window as if he were lost in thought. The silence between you was only filled by the sound of the horses’ hooves on the road.
"So," you began, your voice breaking the silence, "what happened while I was gone? How is Natasha? Is she eating well? Is she sleeping properly? And you? Alexei, is everything okay?"
He turned his face slowly, his clear eyes landing on you with an intensity that almost made you shrink. "Natasha is fine," he replied, his voice low and controlled. "She missed you, but she’s strong. I... I’m fine. Don’t worry about me."
"Of course I worry," you retorted, narrowing your eyes. "Three months, Alexei. Almost three months without seeing her. Without seeing you. Don’t tell me not to worry."
He sighed, his free hand rising to loosen his tie. "It was... a busy time," he admitted, looking away. "But now you’re here. That’s what matters."
Busy. The word hung in the air, heavy and vague. You studied him in silence, noticing small details that hadn’t been there before. The stiffness in his shoulders, the subtle dark circles under his eyes that the soft light of the carriage couldn’t quite hide, and something in his eyes – a shadow, a weight that seemed to have settled in during your absence.
"Busy how?" you insisted, feeling an increasing need to understand.
"Society matters," he said, evasive. "Ball after ball, endless appointments... nothing worth mentioning now. We’re almost home. Natasha’s waiting for you."
His words were like a barrier, a calculated response to end the subject. You wanted to insist, wanted to ask what exactly had been consuming him, but something in his tone – and maybe something in you – made you pull back. It wasn’t the time, not yet.
When the carriage finally stopped in front of your house, your heart raced. Alexei stepped down first, extending his hand to help you down, the gesture so natural and courteous it seemed like an extension of who he was. You accepted, stepping down carefully and looking at the familiar facade of the residence. Everything was the same, yet at the same time, something felt different.
Inside the house, the warmth of the fire in the hearth and the scent of burning wood wrapped around you in a feeling of comfort. Your eyes scanned the space, searching for her – your daughter, your Natasha. And then you saw her.
She was in the arms of a nanny, sitting near the fireplace. Her blonde hair shimmered in the warm light of the fire, and her rosy cheeks were rounder than you remembered. She turned her head when she heard your steps and blinked, as if trying to confirm that it was really you.
"Natasha," you called, your voice thick.
The little girl blinked again before a wide smile lit up her face. "Mommy!" she cried, squirming in the nanny’s arms until she was placed on the floor.
You couldn’t wait. You knelt on the rug and opened your arms, barely believing you’d finally have her in your arms again. Natasha ran towards you with hurried, awkward steps, stumbling slightly but not stopping until she threw herself into you.
"My girl," you murmured, holding her against your chest and burying your face in her soft hair. She smelled of soap and something sweet, something you could only describe as her.
Natasha began to speak excitedly, her words tumbling over each other as she told you about things that, to her, were grand adventures – the new toys, the walks in the garden, the stories her father had told her before bed. You laughed and cried at the same time, absorbing every detail, every word, as if you needed to make up for all the lost time.
"You're so big now," you said, holding her face in your hands. "My big girl. I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, Mommy," she replied, her words coming out a little jumbled, but still clear enough to warm your heart.
For a moment, you forgot everything – the station, the unanswered questions, the subtle changes in Alexei. All that mattered was the comforting weight of your daughter in your arms and the feeling of finally being where you were meant to be.
You lifted your eyes to Alexei, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene with an expression that was impossible to decipher. "We're together again," you said, your voice soft and full of emotion. "Finally together."
Something passed through his eyes, something that made him look away for a brief moment before he replied. "Yes," he said, but the word seemed to carry more weight than it should have. He took a step forward, kneeling beside you.
"Natasha," he called gently, and the little girl turned to him with a radiant smile. "Are you happy now? Mommy is home."
"Happy," Natasha replied, laughing and grabbing one of his hands while still holding yours.
The moment was perfect, almost. But the way Alexei looked at you – as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t – left a small shadow lingering over your heart. You pushed the thought aside, determined to enjoy the reunion. After all, you were home. With them.
Dinner went by in a mix of light conversations and moments of pure joy. Natasha, always chatty, monopolized much of the attention with her stories and childish laughter, and you could hardly contain your smile seeing her so excited. Sitting at the table with your family again felt like a balm for your heart, something you had longed for through endless weeks. Alexei, in turn, remained a bit quieter than usual, but still participated with occasional comments, always attentive, always directed to you or your daughter.
After dinner, you took on the task of putting Natasha to bed, refusing any help. It was a moment you wanted for yourself, a ritual you had missed so much during your absence. In the little one’s room, you dressed her in a soft cotton pajama, decorated with tiny flower designs, and sat by her bed while she snuggled under the covers.
"Sing to me, Mommy," Natasha asked, her sleepy eyes already blinking slowly.
"Of course, my little flower," you replied, stroking her hair before you began to sing a soft lullaby, one that your own mother used to sing to you.
When Natasha finally fell asleep, breathing softly against her pillow, you stayed for a few more minutes in the room, just watching her. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, and her little face, lit by the dim light of the lamp, seemed like the perfect picture of peace. Your heart filled with an almost overwhelming love, so intense that it was hard to put into words.
As you left the room, you made your way to the master bedroom. The house was quiet, and the hallways seemed bathed in a cozy dimness. When you opened the door, you found Alexei sitting in an armchair near the fireplace, a glass of wine balanced in his hand. He had changed out of his formal dinner clothes into a white linen shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and lighter pants. His golden hair was a bit messy, as if he had run his fingers through it several times. The fire cast soft shadows on his face, highlighting his strong jawline and marked cheekbones.
You paused for a moment in the doorway, watching him without saying anything. He seemed lost in thought, his clear eyes fixed on the fire. There was something about him that always made him seem a bit younger and yet filled with a maturity that made him irresistible – a mix of vulnerability and strength that seemed uniquely his.
"You’re very thoughtful," you said, finally breaking the silence as you closed the door behind you.
Alexei lifted his eyes, and his expression softened when he saw you. "Just thinking about how much I missed you," he replied, his voice low and filled with sincerity.
You walked over to him, feeling the warmth of the fire as you drew closer. "Three months," you murmured, stopping beside the armchair. "It felt like an eternity."
He set his wine glass aside and reached out his hand, pulling you gently into his lap. You let yourself be guided, snuggling against him as his strong arms closed around you. His scent – a mix of wood and something subtly citrusy – was so familiar that it made your eyes close for a moment.
"You’ve lost weight," you said, a touch of concern in your voice as you traced your fingers along his collar. "Haven’t been eating well?"
"Do you think food tastes the same when you're not here?" Alexei replied, a slight smile curving his lips. He tilted his head, his clear eyes searching yours. "You’re the heart of this house. Nothing feels right without you."
His words, so simple and direct, made your heart race. You lifted one hand to touch his face, your fingers brushing the line of his jaw. "You have a way of saying things that completely unravels me, Alexei," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.
He smiled, the kind of smile that seemed to carry so much affection it almost hurt. "Just being honest," he replied, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened, becoming more intense, filled with longing and need.
When his lips finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his warmth surrounding you completely. "Promise me you’ll never stay away for so long again," he asked, his tone more vulnerable than you were used to.
"I promise," you replied, feeling a lump form in your throat. "But you have to promise me something too."
Alexei tilted his head, his clear eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. "Anything," he said, his voice low and deep, filled with sincerity.
"If something is wrong, if something is weighing on you, I want you to tell me," you continued, holding his gaze. "We’re a team, Alexei. We always have been."
For a moment, he didn’t respond, just watched you as if trying to memorize every detail of your expression. Then he slid one of his hands to your face, holding it with a gentleness that contrasted with the evident strength in his fingers.
"I promise," he murmured, but the way he said the words – slow and measured – suggested something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to share yet.
Before you could respond, Alexei leaned in to kiss you again, and this time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was a fusion of longing and need, filled with everything that had gone unsaid during the three months you had been apart. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he needed to prove to himself that you were there, real and present.
"You have no idea how much I missed you," he said against your lips, his voice rough and broken.
You closed your eyes, absorbing the warmth of his confession as your fingers slid into his hair, messing up the golden strands even more. "I know," you whispered, your heart tight with the weight of lost time. "I missed you too... everything about you."
Alexei didn’t respond with words. Instead, he rose from the armchair with you still in his arms and walked toward the bed. The movement was so natural, so full of intention, that you found yourself unable to look away from him.
"Three months," he murmured as he gently laid you down on the sheets, his eyes roaming over your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. "It was the longest three months of my life."
You reached up to touch his face, tracing the line of his strong jaw and the contour of his lips, now curved into an almost imperceptible smile. "Then let’s not waste another moment," you replied, your voice soft but filled with conviction.
He didn’t need any more encouragement. Alexei leaned down, his lips finding yours again, but this time with a passion that was both raw and controlled. His hands explored every familiar curve, as if he needed to remember every part of you.
The night unfolded in a mix of whispers, touches, and moments of pure connection. He was gentle, as always, but there was a new intensity, something that spoke of lost time and how much he had longed for you. Every gesture, every word whispered in your ear seemed to carry the weight of everything you both hadn’t been able to express during the months of separation.
In the end, you found yourself nestled against his chest, your heart still racing while his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. His breath was deep and steady, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relax completely for the first time in months.
"Promise me you won’t leave again," he whispered, breaking the silence.
"I promise," you replied, your voice thick with exhaustion and the overwhelming love you felt for him.
And while the world outside continued with its concerns and challenges, there, in Alexei’s arms, you finally found the peace you had longed for.
The following days brought a routine that you embraced with more joy than you expected. After three months apart, every detail of life at home seemed more significant. The familiar scent of the freshly tended garden, the soft laughter of your daughter echoing through the halls, the sound of Alexei talking with the servants — all of it formed a comforting mosaic, bringing back the feeling of belonging.
Still, there was something different.
Alexei remained attentive and engaged, but you noticed moments when he seemed lost in thought. His eyes, so expressive, carried a restlessness that he masked well. It wasn’t anything glaring, but you noticed. A lingering stare into nothing, slightly delayed responses, a subtle change in tone by the end of the day. It was subtle, but you could feel the difference, as only someone who knew him so deeply could. Still, you decided not to press him. The reunion was still recent; maybe time would erase any shadow that was troubling him.
It was in this context that the first big event since your return took place: a ball.
The night arrived with a light chill, which seemed to accentuate the elegance of the event. The mansion hosting the ball gleamed like a jewel under the starry sky, with torches lighting the path flanked by snow-covered trees. Carriages arrived one after another, unloading elegantly dressed guests, while servants hurried to collect coats and organize the entrance.
Inside the hall, the atmosphere was even more breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers reflected the candlelight in a sparkling display, casting golden and silver patterns on the ornate walls. A string quintet played softly, filling the air with elegant music, while the scent of fresh flowers and wine lingered in the atmosphere. Guests in luxurious dresses and impeccable suits moved gracefully through the space, their voices in animated murmurs, interspersed with restrained laughter.
You entered the ballroom alongside Alexei, his arm firmly resting on yours, a gesture that seemed natural and yet carefully displayed for society. He looked impeccable in his formal uniform, with golden details accentuating his broad shoulders and proud posture. His hair, always carefully styled, reflected the light as if it were made of golden strands, and his light eyes scanned the room with a gaze that was both warm and vigilant.
You had also prepared carefully for the occasion. Your deep blue dress contrasted with the lighter tones around you, the silver embroidery seeming to capture the light with every movement. The elegant neckline and long sleeves accentuated your silhouette, and you felt the gazes following you as you walked past him.
"Everyone’s watching you," Alexei murmured in your ear, his tone both protective and proud.
You smiled, not looking directly at him. "Maybe they’re watching you."
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering your response, but the playful gleam in his eyes revealed that he liked the idea.
However, as the evening went on, something changed.
As you conversed with some acquaintances, you noticed diverted glances, muffled whispers, and a growing discomfort began to settle in. It wasn’t paranoia; people were definitely talking about something. Their polished smiles and courteous greetings barely masked the tension on the faces of those you knew well.
It was during a pause in the music that you saw it.
Alexei was on the other side of the room, speaking to someone you immediately recognized: Anna.
She looked stunning in a red dress, her dark hair perfectly arranged, and a smile that seemed to enchant everyone around her. Alexei was slightly leaned toward her, which in itself wasn’t unusual—he had always been attentive in conversations. But there was something in the way he looked at her, an intensity you had never seen before.
Your heart tightened, and you felt the world around you slow down for a moment.
You quickly averted your gaze, pretending to be interested in a glass of champagne that a servant offered. Your face betrayed nothing; you knew how to control your emotions in public. But inside, questions began to form, each one more difficult than the last.
Alexander approached with a cordial smile, his imposing figure standing out in the already rich environment of ornaments and luxurious dresses. His suit was impeccable, a deep gray that contrasted with his brown eyes, so different from Alexei’s. Despite the physical and personality distinctions, there was something about him that inspired the same aura of confidence and power as his brother.
"Allow me to steal you for a walk, my dear sister-in-law," he said, his voice low and polite, but still carrying the warmth that always made you feel welcomed.
You accepted without hesitation, offering him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "It would be a pleasure."
Alexander extended his arm, and you took it, allowing him to guide you away from the conversation circle you were in. The murmurs and laughter from the ballroom seemed to grow in the background as you moved at a slow pace, wandering between the marble columns and the glow of the chandeliers.
"How has your return been so far?" he asked, the conversation casual, but his observant eyes betrayed something deeper.
"Tiring," you replied, with a practiced lightness. "But I’m relieved to finally be back."
Alexander let out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh. "I imagine it wasn’t easy to leave everything behind for so long."
"It wasn’t," you admitted, turning your face to watch the guests dancing in the center of the ballroom. "But some things can’t be ignored, as you well know."
He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then you felt it: the looks he gave you, longer than they should’ve been, almost condescending. There was no judgment in them, but a kind of compassion that made you feel an increasing discomfort.
"Does something about my appearance seem off?" you asked, trying to hide your unease with a light joke.
"Not at all," he replied quickly. "You look stunning tonight."
You knew he wasn’t just being polite, but the weight behind his words was hard to ignore. Alexander wasn’t one to speak too much, but his ability to convey the unspoken was almost unbearable.
"Did Alexei mention anything about my absence?" you asked, finally gathering the courage to address the matter that had been on your mind since you entered the ballroom.
"Alexei..." Alexander began, but then stopped, his eyes fixed on something—or someone.
You followed his gaze. There was Alexei, still by Anna Karenina’s side. She was laughing at something Alexei had said, her head slightly tilted toward him. And Alexei… He had that look in his eyes. Something soft, something captivating. Something you rarely saw when he looked at anyone else.
The world around you seemed to slow down, every sound muffled, as if the entire ballroom had fallen silent. You felt Alexander’s arm move slightly beneath your hand, bringing your attention back to him.
"Anna is a remarkable lady," Alexander said, his voice low and controlled.
"I know who she is," you replied, almost not realizing you had spoken out loud.
"Of course you do," he murmured, but there was something in his tone that suggested more than mere confirmation.
You continued walking, but your attention kept drifting back to the sight of Alexei and Anna. The way he leaned slightly toward her, his smile—not forced, but genuine.
"Alexander," you began, your voice sounding more hesitant than you would’ve liked. "Is there something I should know?"
He hesitated, just enough for the tension in the air to rise. "You know Alexei has a restless heart. He’s like a bird who sees an open window and can’t resist the curiosity."
"That doesn’t answer my question," you retorted, your hand tightening slightly on his arm.
"Because some questions don’t need to be answered," he said, giving you a look that was both understanding and protective.
There was a latent pain in his words, as if he understood perfectly what you were feeling, but knew that no explanation could ease the weight in your chest.
You glanced at Alexei again, and this time, you met his gaze. He saw you, and for a moment, something in his expression changed. It was as if the magic of that moment with Anna had been broken, as if he were a boy caught in a forbidden act.
You adjusted your dress with an automatic gesture, while the muffled sound of the orchestra seemed like a distant soundtrack to the turmoil inside you. Alexander stepped away after a brief farewell. Each step he took toward Alexei and Anna was a decision that reverberated in your chest like the echo of a heavy bell. The distance between you seemed like an abyss, but still, you kept going. There was no turning back now.
Alexei straightened up, adjusting his suit as if that could somehow protect him from the intensity of your gaze. Beside him, Anna turned, offering a calculated smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
"Darling," Alexei began, his voice sounding controlled, but without the familiarity you so longed for. "We were just talking about—"
"Don’t worry," you interrupted softly, your tone impeccable but with a hint of ice. "I don’t want to interrupt."
Anna tilted her head, as if analyzing every word you said. "It’s always nice to meet such a courteous soul," she said, the smile remaining but with something sharp hidden in her expression. "I was just commenting to Alexei how charming this ballroom is. It’s no wonder so many important events happen here."
"Ah, yes," you replied, keeping your tone polite but feeling the lump in your throat grow. "This is the kind of place where people meet, isn’t it? But I must say, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your husband, Anna. Isn’t he joining you?"
Her smile faltered for a moment, but quickly recovered. "Unfortunately, he couldn’t come today. Business, you understand."
"Certainly," you murmured, letting the word hang in the air, laden with meanings that no one dared mention. "I imagine it’s difficult to keep up with all the engagements when one is so busy. I’ve felt the same since I returned. It seems there’s so much I’ve missed."
Alexei cleared his throat, his unease evident. He shot you a quick, almost pleading look, but you ignored it, keeping your eyes fixed on Anna. "But it’s good to know that Alexei has been in good company while I’ve been away," you added, a soft, almost imperceptible smile touching your lips.
Anna responded with a polite laugh, but you noticed the slight tension in her shoulders. "Ah, of course, Alexei is a gentleman. He was just telling me about some… society matters."
"He’s truly very helpful," you said, tilting your head, as if reflecting. "Always so thoughtful."
Alexei intervened, his voice low but firm. "Darling, I’m sure Anna doesn’t want to monopolize our evening. Perhaps we should..."
"Don’t worry," you cut in, your voice as sweet as it was sharp. "I’m just catching up. Three months is, after all, quite a long time to be away."
The words fell like stones on a glass surface. The ballroom around you seemed to grow quieter, or perhaps it was just your perception, distorted by the growing pain inside you. Your fingers trembled slightly, but you hid them between the folds of your dress, struggling to maintain the flawless appearance.
Anna smiled, but this time the gesture seemed more like a mask than anything else. "Well, I won’t steal any more of your time. It was a pleasure, as always."
"Certainly," you replied, nodding your head in farewell, but the look you cast at Alexei was not one of farewell. It was something deeper, something you knew he would understand.
As she walked away, the silence between you was deafening. Alexei reached out to touch your arm, but you took a step back, keeping your gaze fixed on him.
"Not here," you murmured, your voice low and controlled, though the tremor in your hands betrayed the chaos inside you.
He hesitated, as if wanting to argue, but the weariness in his eyes seemed to silence him. You turned on your heel, head held high, and began to walk away, but the weight in your chest was overwhelming.
As you moved through the ballroom, the noise around you slowly returned, but it felt distant, as if it came from a world you no longer belonged to. With each step, you felt the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, and each one pierced your soul like a sharp blade.
As you walked between the guests, your dress impeccably adjusted and your smile carefully positioned, the emptiness in your chest seemed to expand with each passing moment. The conversation with Alexei and Anna had revealed more than words could express; it was as if a veil had been torn, exposing something you had suspected, but refused to accept.
The glances that always seemed to last a second longer than necessary, the muffled whispers when you passed... now it all clicked. It wasn’t just your imagination, it wasn’t just the insecurities of a wife who had been away too long. It was something tangible, something that everyone there knew and that you were just beginning to understand.
You moved between the groups, smiling and waving mechanically, refusing to stop long enough for anyone to notice the crack growing in your mask. Alexei, for his part, kept his distance, respecting the space you clearly required, but still, you felt his gaze on you, heavy and silent, as if each time your eyes met, he was trying to say something.
The dinner table was a lavish sight, filled with delicacies that would have been irresistible on any other occasion. But now, just looking at the dishes made you feel nauseous. The last thing you could bear was pretending to have an appetite. You grabbed a glass of wine, more out of a need for something to hold than a desire to drink.
You tried to engage in the conversations, but the words of the others reached you like indistinct echoes. It was as if everyone in the room spoke a language you no longer understood. When someone mentioned Alexei, even casually, you felt the weight of the words, as if they were stones thrown at you.
The night seemed to drag on endlessly, each minute a silent torture. You deliberately avoided Alexei, moving from group to group.
When the moment to leave finally arrived, relief mixed with anguish, as if leaving the ballroom could ease the pain, even if only for a moment. Alexei waited for you by the entrance, as he always did, but this time there was something different about him. He didn’t try to touch your hand, didn’t make any casual remarks to break the silence. He simply opened the carriage door, and you stepped in without looking at him.
The ride back home was enveloped in an almost unbearable silence. The carriage swayed gently along the road, but every movement seemed to intensify the tension in the air. You kept your eyes fixed on the window, watching the passing lights and trying, in vain, to find some sense of normalcy in what had once been so familiar.
Alexei tried to speak once. "I..." he started, but his voice died the moment you turned to him, your gaze firm yet silent, saying everything that needed to be said. He sighed, leaning back in his seat, and didn’t try anything further.
The ride home was a blur, and when the door to the bedroom clicked shut behind you, echoing in the heavy silence of the house, it felt like an inevitable trigger. What had once been carefully controlled—the expressionless face, the calculated steps, the impeccable posture—crumbled as soon as you found yourself alone.
The first tear slipped silently down your cheek, warm and heavy, followed by another, then another. You tried desperately to stifle the sound rising in your throat, but the sob came, breaking the silence like a desperate wail.
Your legs gave way, and you leaned against the edge of the bed, your hands trembling as they gripped the fabric of your dress. All the weight of what you felt seemed to collapse at once—the pain of betrayal, the humiliation of the glances in the ballroom, the emptiness growing inside you.
Then, without warning, you heard footsteps behind you. Alexei. He must have heard the muffled sound of your crying or simply knew he couldn't leave you alone in that moment. He entered the room, and upon seeing you like this, his eyes filled with something impossible to describe — regret, pain, perhaps even desperation.
"No," you managed to say, your voice choked, your teary eyes meeting his. "Don't come closer."
But he didn’t stop. He ignored the warning in your voice, the protests in your expression. His large, firm hands gently landed on yours, which were still trembling, trying to push him away, but he didn’t give in.
"Don’t do this, Alexei," you whispered, your voice breaking. "No... I can’t..."
He didn’t respond with words. He simply pulled you close, wrapping you in his arms, the firmness of his touch contrasting with the gentleness with which he held you, as though you were something precious and fragile he feared breaking even more.
"Why?" you asked, your voice desperate, almost a muffled scream against his chest. "Why wasn’t I enough? Why, Alexei? I tried... I always tried..."
Your hands pushed against him, or at least tried to, but he remained still, his own hands holding you tighter, as if fearing you would escape. You struggled, but it was futile. He was stronger, and you didn’t have the energy to fight against his grip or the storm of emotions consuming you.
"I loved you," you continued, the words coming out in broken sobs. "I still love... And that wasn’t enough, was it? I gave up everything for you, and you... you..."
But the words were lost in the crying. Your voice disappeared, but the tears kept coming, hot and relentless, soaking the fabric of his shirt as you collapsed. Alexei still hadn’t said anything. He didn’t try to explain, didn’t try to justify. He just held you, pressing your face against the top of your head, his lips touching your forehead in a gesture that seemed desperate.
"Why don’t you say anything?" you murmured, your voice weak and hesitant, mixed with the sobs. "Say something, Alexei... Please..."
But he couldn’t. His hands held you as if he could keep you whole with just his touch. His breathing was irregular, almost as frantic as yours. He seemed as lost as you, as incapable of dealing with what was happening as you were.
Eventually, his strength gave out. The crying subsided, the sobs becoming more spaced out until exhaustion overtook you. You stopped trying to pull away, stopped fighting against his grip. Your body went limp in his arms, exhausted, defeated.
Alexei remained there, holding you as if he could rebuild everything with the strength of his embrace, as if he could erase the pain with his closeness. But the space between you, invisible and overwhelming, seemed to grow with each passing second. Your breath, once broken by crying, was now just a tired whisper against his chest.
He finally loosened his grip, just enough to look at you. His eyes, so familiar, were now filled with a weight you had never seen before — something almost unbearable to face. He raised one hand, hesitantly, to touch your face, but you turned away slightly, pulling back in a way almost imperceptible. It was enough for him to freeze.
"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse and broken, barely more than a thread of sound. "Please, Alexei, go away."
His eyes widened slightly, as if your words had hit him hard. He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something, to protest, but the silence in the room seemed to swallow any attempt.
"I can't..." He stopped, his voice faltering. "I can't leave you like this."
You turned your gaze away, unable to bear the way he looked so desperate, so lost. "I can't sleep with you here tonight. Not like this," you admitted, feeling each word tear at you like glass as it left your mouth. "Please, Alexei. Just... just go."
He took a step back, as if the words had physically pushed him away. The pain on his face was evident, as if you had taken something essential from him. He looked at you with a mix of disbelief and anguish, before slowly shaking his head.
"You can't push me away like this," he murmured, his eyes shining with torment he couldn’t hide. "We never... we never sleep apart."
You closed your eyes tightly, trying to ignore the tremor in his voice, the weight of the memories those words brought. "I know," you replied, your voice barely audible. "But tonight... I need it. I need space, Alexei."
For a moment, he seemed about to argue, to take another step toward you. But then he saw something in your eyes — something that made him stop. The pain you were feeling was there, raw and open, impossible to ignore. And seeing it, something inside him seemed to break.
He stepped closer one last time, hesitantly, as if each movement was a battle. "I..." His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard. "I never meant to hurt you. Never."
You didn’t respond. Not because you had nothing to say, but because you were too broken to find the words.
When he raised his hand, this time to touch your cheek, you instinctively pulled back. It was subtle, but enough for him to notice. The pain in his eyes turned into something deeper — pure despair, as if that small gesture had taken away any ground he still had left.
"I will," he finally said, his voice low and rough, each word weighed down with something that felt like a ton. "But that doesn’t mean I’m not here. I... I’m not going anywhere, understood?"
You just nodded, not meeting his eyes, your body still tense with the weight of everything that had happened that night.
Alexei stood still for another moment, as if trying to memorize the moment, or perhaps gathering the courage to leave. When he finally turned, the sound of the door opening and closing behind him was both a relief and a final blow.
You stayed there, alone in the room, the silence once again filled only by the sound of your irregular breathing. And for the first time in a long time, the bed felt immense, cold, and empty.
The night was an endless torment. The silence of the room felt larger than any physical space, filled only by the echo of what had happened. You stayed sitting at the edge of the bed, staring into the emptiness, unable to lie down on the surface that still held his warmth. The feeling of Alexei’s absence was suffocating, but the thought of sharing the same space with him again so soon was even more unbearable.
The minutes dragged on until they became hours. Every sound in the house seemed amplified: the distant creaking of wood, the rustling of the wind against the windows, the occasional footsteps of someone downstairs.
When morning finally began to break the sky, painting the room with a gray, hesitant light, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the hallway. Slowly, almost hesitantly, they approached the door. The knock was soft, almost restrained, but still it echoed like thunder in your chest.
"I'm leaving," his voice came through the wood, low and hoarse, carrying a weight that seemed to suffocate every word. "Please... take care of yourself."
You remained silent. Every part of you screamed to respond, to open the door, but the pain weighed heavier. Silence became your only answer. On the other side, you heard a nearly imperceptible sigh, and then the footsteps receded. When the front door closed, the sound reverberated through the house like a final warning, leaving everything even emptier.
When you finally found the strength to leave the room, the sun was higher, casting a soft glow over the halls of the house, but you didn’t feel any warmth. The cold seemed to have settled inside you, a constant weight that made each movement feel like a Herculean task.
Little Natasha was in the living room, playing with a set of dolls, her face illuminated by the innocence you knew you should protect at all costs. But at that moment, even before she looked up at you, something changed in her expression.
"Good morning, Mommy," she said, her sweet, hesitant little voice.
You forced a smile, but it felt as if every muscle in your face was being pulled against your will. "Good morning, my love."
She put down the dolls and ran to you, her small arms wrapping around your legs. It was such a simple, genuine gesture that it made something inside you break again. You bent down and held her, squeezing her to your chest as if she were your anchor.
"Are you sad?" Natasha asked, her voice muffled against your shoulder.
"No, my angel," you replied, but the hoarseness in your voice was deceitful. "Mommy is just a little tired."
Natasha pulled away slightly, her blue eyes — so incredibly similar to Alexei’s — locking onto yours. They were curious, deep in a way that seemed impossible for someone so small.
"You look sad," she insisted, her little fingers reaching up to touch your face, as if she could wipe away a tear that hadn’t even fallen yet.
You held her tiny hand, squeezing it gently. "Mommy is fine, I promise," you said, but the lie was so fragile that it felt like it could shatter at any moment.
She didn’t respond, only nestling back into your arms. You closed your eyes, inhaling the soft scent of her hair, and allowed yourself to simply feel the moment. But even in that tenderness, there was a throbbing pain.
Natasha was a living reminder of Alexei. Every feature of hers — the eyes, the soft hair, the curious expression — was a painful reflection of the man you loved, but who now seemed so distant. With each glance at her, you were reminded of what was at risk, of what seemed to be crumbling beneath your feet.
You held your daughter a little tighter, trying to find comfort in that closeness. But the pain was there, persistent and unbearable, like a shadow you couldn’t shake off.
The attraction to Anna had been as unexpected as it was unsettling. It wasn’t something Alexei had sought or even desired, but there was something about her that seemed to challenge every fiber of his sensibility. She was enigmatic in a way that eluded him, a vibrant presence amid the salons and social gatherings that otherwise seemed so monotonous. Her beauty was undeniable, but that wasn’t what fascinated him. It was the way she seemed to exist in her own world, as if she were always one step ahead of the expectations society imposed on them.
In the early casual encounters, he had thought it was just a passing curiosity, an innocuous distraction. But as the months dragged on and the absence of his wife was felt more acutely, Anna became a beacon of something undefinable, something he couldn’t ignore. They never crossed any lines. Not a touch, not a kiss. But the long conversations, the glances that lasted a second longer than allowed, were enough to create a chasm of doubt within him.
Now, looking back, Alexei hated himself for letting it happen. It was a betrayal not only to his wife but to everything they had built together. He couldn’t deny that the distance between them during her absence had fed something dark. With her gone, the days had become unbearably empty. Her absence was a constant echo that resonated in every corner of the house, and he, in his weakness, had sought comfort in a presence that should have meant nothing.
But Anna wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t the woman who had shared his fears, his dreams, his life. She wasn’t the mother of his daughter, the companion he had sworn to protect above all. And now, in the present, the price of that weakness was almost unbearable.
The days since the ball had been torture. She avoided him with an almost supernatural skill, and he couldn’t blame her for that. All he knew about her came from the servants, who neutrally mentioned the places she was or the hours she spent with Natasha. He didn’t see her, and it was killing him.
That morning, while holding his daughter in his arms, Alexei felt an almost suffocating despair. Natasha, with her silky hair and eyes so incredibly like his, was a reminder of everything he could lose. She nestled against his chest with unwavering trust, her small fingers clutching his collar as she murmured something about playing in the garden. He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to find some peace in that moment, but the guilt was overwhelming.
“How could I do this?” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. His wife’s face came to mind, not the hardened look from the ball, but the way she used to smile at him when she thought no one was watching. The memory was so painful it almost made him lose his balance.
His mother had warned him countless times, her words as sharp as they were precise. He still remembered her stern tone during a recent argument, one of the few moments when she had truly lost her patience with him.
“Anna is not for you, Alexei,” she had said, her eyes flashing with something bordering on disdain. “Your wife deserves more. Your daughter deserves more. And you... you should be ashamed.”
He had stormed out of that conversation furious, but now he understood the weight of her words. He was ashamed. Deeply. And the worst part was knowing that, no matter how hard he tried, there was no way to go back in time and undo the damage he had caused.
Natasha, sensing the tension in his body, lifted her face to look at him, and her innocent gaze completely disarmed him. She was so small, so confident that her father was the best man in the world. He felt a sharp pang of desperation as he realized that, if he continued like this, he might lose that too.
Alexei couldn’t take it anymore. The silence that once was an almost invisible wall between you two now felt like an impenetrable barrier. He saw the servants walking through the halls, casting furtive glances of pity and caution, bringing scarce news about you. “She’s still in the room, sir,” they would say. “She hasn’t eaten anything again today.” Every word was a stab, and that morning was no different. When the maid returned with the untouched tray, Alexei felt something inside him break.
Without a word, he took the tray from her hands and climbed the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the house. The door to the room you used to share was closed, and for a moment, he hesitated. Since that night, he hadn’t crossed that threshold. He hadn’t dared. But now, he had no choice.
Pushing the door open, he found you sitting in front of the vanity, impeccable as always, but so different. The dress perfectly aligned, your hair styled with perfection. Not a strand out of place. But what hit him the most was the absence. The absence of color in your face. The absence of the sparkle in your eyes. And the absence of any trace of the love he used to feel, even without you needing to say it.
“You need to eat.” His voice came out harsher than he intended. He placed the tray on the small table next to the bed, watching you through the reflection in the mirror. “If you keep going like this, you’ll end up sick.”
You didn’t respond, your fingers busy with a small brooch pinning your collar. The silence that followed was suffocating, until your voice cut through the air like a blade: “Alexei, I want a divorce.”
“Please,” he said, his voice hoarse, almost inaudible at first. Then, stronger, more desperate. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t say that. No…”
You remained firm, your eyes fixed on him, but the trembling line of your lips betrayed the colossal effort you were making to keep your composure.
“Alexei…” your voice was low, almost a whisper, but the weight of what you said was like a direct blow. “I can’t anymore… I just can’t.”
“But you love me.” He said it like a prayer, as if repeating those words could undo everything that was happening. He stepped forward, his eyes pleading, shining with a desperation he could barely contain. “You said you loved me. You still love me.”
“I love you.” Your confession came quickly, but as harsh as a blade. “And you know that. But it wasn’t enough, Alexei. It was never enough.”
He fell to his knees in front of you, his chin trembling, his hands outstretched toward you as if begging for his very life. “Then what do I do?” He asked, his voice breaking. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this. I’ll do anything, anything you ask. But don’t ask me to let you go. Please, I can’t…”
You turned your gaze away, but he saw the tears threatening to spill, even as you held them back with all your might. “I don’t know if there’s anything to fix.” Your voice faltered, but you quickly regained composure, lifting your chin. “I don’t know who we are anymore, Alexei.”
“We are us.” He almost shouted, desperation taking over him. “We are us! No matter what happens, we are us. I can’t... I can’t imagine my life without you. Without Natasha. I can’t bear that.”
“And I can’t bear being with someone who destroyed me like this.” Your tone was firm, but the pain you felt was as evident as his. You saw him close his eyes tightly, as if trying to push away the weight of your words, but they had already lodged themselves in him like splinters.
"Please." He reached out again, this time gently holding your arm, his touch trembling, almost reverent. "Please, don't do this. Tell me what I need to do to fix this. Tell me... anything."
You finally looked at him, and his eyes were so full of desperation that for a moment, something inside you wavered. "I need time." Your voice broke, and you hated how much saying that hurt. "I need time, Alexei. I can't even think straight with you like this. With us like this."
He slowly shook his head, as if he didn’t want to accept it. "Time?" He asked, the word coming out like a sentence. "I can give you time, but... what if you decide you don’t want to come back to me? What if you decide that... it's over?"
You took a deep breath, the tears you were trying to hold back finally streaming silently down your face. "I don’t know, Alexei. I don’t know."
The room fell into unbearable silence, broken only by the uneven sound of his breathing and your stifled sobs. Finally, he stood up, his hands trembling, his eyes red. "I’ll wait." His declaration was low, but carried a firmness that seemed impossible given his state. "I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t give up on us."
You didn’t answer, unable to find the words. And as he left the room, the door closing softly behind him, you collapsed to the floor, feeling as if every part of you was falling apart.
In the days that followed, Alexei’s absence in the room was like a constant shadow, a gap you didn’t know how to fill. He had respected your decision for space, yes, but he wasn’t truly absent. It was impossible to ignore the small gestures that betrayed him: a tray of tea and biscuits appearing on your table, accompanied by a short but warm note. “At least this,” the latest one said, with slanted handwriting and a palpable care.
The servants didn’t comment, but you knew. You knew he asked about your meals, about your health, about anything that could ease the guilt he carried. He was present in a discreet way, almost invisible, but so tangible that you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always near, still caring, still watching.
Alexei’s mother’s visit came without warning, on a gray morning, when the heavy clouds outside mirrored the weight you carried in your chest. The maid announced her presence, and you felt your stomach churn. Though there was respect between you two, Mrs. Vronsky had always been an imposing figure, surrounded by a natural authority that seemed to demand reverence.
You hesitated before going downstairs to meet her, but you didn’t have the strength to refuse. Deep down, you knew this conversation was inevitable.
When you entered the room, Alexei’s mother was already there, sitting impeccably in one of the armchairs, her heavy coat carefully folded beside her. She raised her gaze as soon as you entered, and for a moment, something in her eyes seemed to soften.
“You’re so thin,” was the first thing she said, instead of a greeting, her tone direct but filled with concern.
“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice soft but firm.
“No, you’re not.” Her response was immediate, with no room for debate. She gestured for you to sit, and when you did, the silence that followed was as thick as the cold morning air.
Mrs. Vronsky wasn’t a woman who minced words, and you knew she was there for a reason. Still, it was you who broke the silence. “Why are you here?”
“For you,” she said simply, her eyes fixed on yours. “And for Alexei.”
You clenched your hands in your lap, trying to maintain composure. “If you came to defend him, know that you don’t have to. He’s already done that on his own.”
His mother slightly tilted her head, as if weighing her words before responding. “I didn’t come to defend him. I came to listen to you. Do you think I don’t know what’s going on in this house? That I don’t see the pain in both of your eyes?”
The mention of pain stung like a sharp needle. You looked away, staring at the floor, but her voice continued, firm and soft. “I never supported Alexei’s involvement with Anna. I made that clear from the start. Not because she’s married, but because I knew something like this wouldn’t end well. My son has always had this weakness... this tendency to be captivated by the new, the different. It’s part of who he is. But I also know he’s a man who loves deeply. When he loves, he gives himself completely.”
You raised your eyes to her, and there was something there, a mixture of hope and desperation that you couldn’t hide. “And what guarantees me that this love will be enough?”
“I can’t guarantee,” she admitted, her words direct but without cruelty. “But I can say that, since you entered his life, Alexei has changed. He found balance in you. I saw it with my own eyes. And I know that, even with the mistakes he’s made, the love he feels for you is real. I know that you still love him.”
Your heart tightened, and for a moment, you almost wanted to deny it. But what would be the point? “Loving doesn’t seem like enough,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her.
“Maybe it’s not,” Alexei’s mother replied, leaning slightly forward, her hands resting on her knees. “But sometimes, love is what gives you the strength to find a way, even if it’s painful. I’m not here to ask you to forgive my son. I’m here to tell you that, whatever your decision is, you won’t be alone.”
The sincerity in her words hit you like an unexpected blow, and you felt your eyes burn. But no tear fell. “I don’t know if I can get over this. Sometimes, it feels like the distance between us is insurmountable.”
“The distance is great,” she agreed. “But you’re speaking as if he’s on the other side of an abyss. He’s not. Alexei is trying to reach you, even if awkwardly. Don’t you see that?”
You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to control the emotions threatening to overflow. “I see. But every gesture of his just reminds me of everything that’s been lost.”
Alexei’s mother nodded, her gaze softer than you’d ever seen. “That’s natural. But I also want you to know that you’re important to me. Not just as my son’s wife, but as the woman who made his life better. If you decide that you can’t continue, I’ll understand. And even then, you’ll still be part of my family. Always.”
Those words broke something inside you, but they also brought a small relief. You stood up, and she did the same, holding your hand firmly for a moment before letting it go.
“Thank you,” was all you could say.
“Take care of yourself,” she replied, her voice carrying an unexpected gentleness.
Later, as you walked down the hallway, you heard Natasha’s laughter echoing through the house. Peeking through the slightly open door, you saw Alexei sitting on the floor, holding the little one in his arms, her golden hair shining in the light coming through the window. Your chest tightened painfully. It was impossible to deny how much Natasha looked like her father — in her features, her smile, even in the way she seemed to light up the room.
You stayed there for a few seconds, watching. Alexei could hardly believe it when he lifted his eyes and saw you standing there, at the door, your gaze fixed on him and little Natasha. For a moment, he froze, as if any movement could shatter that fragile moment. The weight in your eyes hit him like a punch, and for a second, he wondered if he should call you, ask you to join them.
But before he could even open his mouth, you looked away and disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar. The absence was an immediate emptiness, a cold that spread through him even with Natasha still nestled in his arms.
“Daddy?” The sweet, small voice of his daughter broke the silence. Natasha tilted her head to look at him, her golden curls falling over her forehead. “Who was there? Was it Mommy?”
Alexei swallowed hard, trying to hide the tightness in his chest. He adjusted Natasha in his arms, snuggling her close. “It was, my little one. But... Mommy had to go.”
“Doesn’t she want to play with us?” Natasha asked, her big, bright eyes searching for an explanation.
Alexei closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his strength. How could he explain something that he himself didn’t fully understand? How could he justify the choices that had led them to this point?
“It’s not that, sweetheart. Mommy is... tired. And sometimes, when we’re tired, we need some time to rest alone.”
Natasha furrowed her brow, clearly thinking about the answer. “But Mommy told me she loves us. She still loves you, doesn’t she?”
Those words, so simple and direct, pierced Alexei. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all on his shoulders. “Yes,” he finally replied, his voice low and hoarse. “Mommy loves you very much. And I’m sure she still loves Daddy too.”
“Then why don’t you stay together? Grandma said that love makes everything better.”
He felt his stomach twist when he heard the mention of his mother. Her visit was still fresh in his mind, a reminder of how much he had failed — not just with you, but with himself. She hadn’t spared any words, and the silent disapproval in her gaze still burned in his memory.
“Because Daddy made a mistake,” Alexei finally said, choosing his words carefully. “And sometimes, even when you love someone, you need to show that you can get better before things get better.”
“Will you get better, Daddy?” Natasha asked, her little fingers touching his face as if she wanted to make sure he was paying attention.
“I will,” Alexei replied, his tone now firm. “I promise you, Natasha, that I will fix things. I’ll do everything I can to bring Mommy back to us.”
“Can I help?” Natasha smiled, as if the simple thought of being helpful could solve any problem.
Alexei chuckled softly, kissing her forehead. “Your help already means everything to me, little one. Just having you here with me gives me strength.”
He hugged her tighter, letting that moment between father and daughter carve itself into his memory. Meanwhile, behind the affection he shared with Natasha, Alexei felt the weight of a decision solidifying. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to fail again. He couldn’t disappoint you, or himself, or that little creature who looked at him with so much love and trust.
When Natasha finally got distracted with one of her toys, Alexei stayed there, silently watching her. His conversation with his mother echoed in his mind, every word heavy with meaning. He felt ashamed, crushed by the realization that he had ignored advice and gut feelings that could have prevented all this pain.
But the shame wasn’t enough to paralyze him. It was a flame, something he would use to fuel his determination. Alexei knew the road to you would be difficult, painful. But looking at Natasha, so much like you and so full of life, he found a new resolution.
He didn’t just want to fix things — he needed to. And he would do it, no matter how much time or effort it took.
The change didn’t happen all at once, but it was like spring after a long winter. Alexei didn’t let a single day pass without trying, without showing how much he was willing to repair the mistakes that had brought so much pain.
He started with simple gestures. Your favorite tea left on your desk. A fresh rose picked from the garden, carefully placed in your room. He would stop in front of closed doors, hesitating, but not knocking, respecting the space you had asked for, yet unable to stop leaving something, no matter how small, to let you know he was there.
Over time, he began to include Natasha in his attempts, inviting both of you to join him for a walk in the garden or for a special snack. And although you still didn’t join him, he noticed that the coldness from before was fading, replaced by something more neutral. More human.
The maids would mention that you were starting to eat normally again, that the pallor that marked your face had begun to give way to its natural color. Alexei saw this too, in brief glimpses — a soft curve at the corner of your lips when Natasha said something funny, a distant look, but less painful, when you thought no one was watching.
And then, that night, fate brought the opportunity he had been waiting for.
The storm had started earlier, with thunder echoing in the distance and gusts of wind blowing through the windows. Alexei was in the living room when he heard the door open, and before he even turned around, he knew it was you.
You entered the hall, your hair drenched and stuck to your face, the dress weighed down with water. He immediately got up, his heart racing at the sight of you like that.
"My God, you're completely soaked." His voice was low but full of urgency as he approached. You hesitated for a moment, as if considering pulling back, but eventually allowed him to come closer.
Alexei grabbed a wool shawl from a nearby chair and gently wrapped it around your shoulders. "Come. Let’s get these clothes off before you get sick."
His tone was practical, almost automatic, but there was something in his movements — the way his fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted the fabric over you, the care he took to avoid looking directly into your eyes — that betrayed the depth of his feelings.
You followed him to the bedroom, your steps light and almost silent on the carpet. The tension was palpable, an almost visible thread between you both. He gestured for you to sit in the chair near the fireplace. You did, your eyes fixed on the flames as he moved around the room, grabbing clean towels.
Without saying a word, he knelt before you, gently removing the pins that held your hair with firm, yet tender fingers. Each pin made a soft metallic sound as it fell onto the towel he had spread across his lap. You didn’t pull away.
Alexei then stood up, hesitating for a moment before reaching for the ties on your dress. He paused, looking at you for permission. You nodded slightly, enough for him to continue.
The knots loosened slowly, and the sound of the wet fabric coming undone seemed to fill the room. He helped you stand and wrapped a dry robe around your shoulders before stepping back, giving you space to sit again.
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. "I’m so sorry."
You lifted your eyes to him, something shining there that he couldn’t decipher. “What about her?”
Alexei froze. For a moment, it seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. “Anna?”
You nodded, your expression still unshaken, but the tension in your shoulders betrayed the effort you were making to stay strong.
“It was nothing,” he said finally, his eyes searching yours as if he wanted to beg you to believe him. “Nothing that justified... nothing that was worth this.”
“And why?” Your voice was soft, but cutting, like a blade piercing straight through his heart. “Why her? What did she have that I didn’t?”
Alexei ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. “I don’t know. She was... different. Something new, something I had never known. But it wasn’t love, it wasn’t... you.” He knelt in front of you again, his hands gripping yours tightly, but without hurting you. “Nothing ever came close to you. I was a fool for letting this come so close.”
You looked at him, your face still unreadable, but your eyes starting to shine. “What if I had stayed away longer? What if it were someone else, Alexei? How can I trust that this won’t happen again?”
Alexei remained kneeling in front of you, his eyes glowing with a desperation that seemed to suck the air out of the room. He didn’t move, neither closer nor farther, as if even the slightest shift could break the fragile connection that still existed between you.
“You are everything to me,” he repeated, his voice heavy with raw vulnerability. “But I know that just saying that isn’t enough. I know I can’t erase what I did, the pain I caused.”
You didn’t answer immediately. Your mind was in turmoil, each of his words crashing against the walls of your own pain, echoing. Finally, almost in a whisper, you asked, “Did you... did you two ever...”
Your voice faltered before you could finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear. Alexei’s eyes widened, as if the question had cut deeper than anything else. He shook his head quickly, almost frantic.
“No,” he said firmly, his voice a little louder, but still choked. “Never. I never did that. I never even kissed her.” He swallowed hard, lowering his gaze for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I was a fool, a complete idiot for letting her occupy so much space in my head, but it wasn’t... physical. It wasn’t love. It was... it was a weakness of mine, a fascination with something I didn’t even know I was seeking. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for hurting you this way.”
You felt the weight of every word, the warmth of his sincerity reaching something deep within you, but the pain was still there, alive and pulsing.
Alexei leaned in slightly, his hands still holding yours, but loosely, as if preparing for the inevitable moment when you would pull away. “I’d give anything to go back in time, to make the right choices from the start. To never have allowed anything to come between us. But all I can do now is this. Ask, beg for a chance to be better for you.”
His eyes shone, tears threatening to fall, but he didn’t look away, as if he couldn’t allow himself to hide anything from you. When he finally moved, it was to wrap his arms around your waist, a hesitant, almost fearful gesture.
“Please,” he whispered against the fabric of the robe you were wearing. “Please, tell me there’s still something in your heart that will let me fix this.”
You stood still, your body rigid as if you were trying to decide what to do. He didn’t dare move any further, his face hidden against you, breathing deeply as if it were the last time he could do so.
And then, almost imperceptibly, you raised your hand, your fingers hesitantly touching his hair. It was a small gesture, but to Alexei, it felt as though the whole world had stopped. He lifted his face, surprised, but didn’t say anything.
Your fingers threaded through his blonde hair, the touch soft, but steady, and something in him gave way. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against your stomach as he let out a sigh that sounded almost like a sob.
“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice low but filled with emotion. “I don’t know how to get past this, Alexei. But... I can’t stop loving you.”
He lifted his gaze to you, his eyes misty, but with a spark of hope. “I don’t need you to know right now,” he said, his voice trembling. “I just need you to let me try. Let me prove that I will never disappoint you again.”
The silence that followed was thick, but not empty. It was full of all the unspoken things, all the emotions that still needed room to exist between you.
Finally, you nodded slightly, the gesture almost imperceptible, but enough for him to understand. He didn’t smile, as if he knew there was still no room for joy, but the tension in his shoulders eased, and he held you more firmly in his arms without hurting you.
“Thank you,” he murmured, so softly that you almost didn’t hear it, but the weight of that word hung in the air between you, carrying all the love, regret, and promise he had to offer.
The night was calm, wrapped in a stillness broken only by the soft sound of rain against the windows. You were in Natasha’s room, the little one’s hair illuminated by the warm light of the lamp. She was lying on the bed, hugging the battered teddy bear she insisted on carrying everywhere.
“Now close your eyes, my love,” you said, your voice low and gentle as you adjusted the blanket around her small body. “It’s time to sleep.”
“Will you sing for me?” she asked, her eyes, identical to Alexei’s, shining with expectation.
You smiled, a small but genuine smile, as you began to hum a melody your mother used to sing to you. Her little hand held yours, as if that gesture were essential to the moment.
The door creaked softly as it opened, and Alexei stopped in the doorway, his tall figure illuminated by the hallway light. He hesitated when he saw her there, his eyes resting on the scene with an expression of tenderness so raw that it seemed to contradict the strength of his presence.
For a moment, he considered turning back, letting that moment belong only to the two of you. But then Natasha turned her head, her sleep-messy hair spreading across the pillow.
“Daddy,” she called, a sleepy smile lighting up her face. “Are you going to put me to sleep too?”
Her request was an unexpected bridge between the two of you. Alexei looked at you, a silent question in his clear eyes, the same ones Natasha had inherited. There was something so vulnerable in his gaze that the air seemed to grow a little heavier.
You nodded almost imperceptibly, making space beside the bed. He stepped into the room, each movement carrying a rare hesitation from him. When he approached, Natasha reached out her arms, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead before sitting beside the bed, opposite you.
“Now we’re all here,” she said, content, holding both of your hands.
“Does that mean you’re going to sleep for real now?” Alexei asked, his tone soft but tinged with amusement.
She shook her head, a mischievous smile appearing. “But I like when you’re both here with me. Daddy, mommy...”
The sound of that word hit him like a sweet blow. Mommy. It was simple, but hearing it from his daughter’s lips, in the context of that intimate scene, felt like a reminder of everything he was trying to protect.
Natasha shifted between you, her eyes slowly closing as she mumbled random words about the day. “I want a brother,” she murmured suddenly, her eyes blinking lazily before closing again.
Alexei let out a soft laugh, surprised, and looked at you. “A brother, huh?”
“Yes,” Natasha answered with a yawn, her eyes already closed. “To play with me.”
You and Alexei exchanged a glance, his expression softening in a way that rarely happened. When she finally fell asleep, her breath light and steady, he carefully adjusted her in the bed, leaving a kiss on the top of her head before standing up.
He moved closer to you, extending his hand to help you rise. You accepted, and he didn’t immediately release your hand, holding it between his as if afraid that the moment might slip away.
“She’s just like you,” you commented, your voice low as you looked at Natasha.
“No,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the small, sleeping face. “She’s the best of both of us.”
There was a comfortable silence between you, the usual tension replaced by something softer, more hopeful. He looked at you, his clear eyes carrying a tenderness that seemed almost shy.
“About what she said…” he started, hesitating for a moment.
“Alexei,” you interrupted, your tone almost exasperated but with a small smile.
“I know, I know,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, but his smile was back, something rare and so genuine that it made your heart ache.
The door to Natasha’s room closed softly, muffling the sound of her calm breathing. You and Alexei stayed in the hallway for a moment, as if the moment required silence, a reverence for the scene you had just shared. He seemed to hesitate, his hands sliding into the pockets of his suit jacket, a nervous gesture you knew well.
“She’s always known how to disarm us,” you commented, breaking the silence, your voice low but full of tenderness.
He looked at you, the corners of his lips curving into a nearly shy smile. “It’s an innate talent. I don’t think she got that from me.”
“Maybe from me, then,” you replied, your tone playful, something he hadn’t heard in a long time.
His smile widened, but there was something deeper in his eyes, something that kept him quiet for too long. You were about to ask what he was thinking when he turned slightly, his body leaning as though about to leave.
“Alexei.”
He stopped immediately, turning to face you again. You took a deep breath, gathering the words you wanted to say.
“You don’t have to go back to the other room,” you said, your voice soft but carrying something more. “If you want... you can come back to our room.”
The words came out before you could reconsider, and for a moment, the silence in the hallway seemed absolute. Alexei blinked, disbelief written on his face, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice so low it was barely a whisper.
You looked at him for a moment, your eyes searching his, which seemed to scan every nuance of your expression. “It’s a step, Alexei,” you replied, sincere. “I think we’re ready to take a step.”
He let out a breath that seemed to have been held for a long time, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I...” He stopped, shaking his head as if the words were too difficult.
“And besides,” you continued, your voice light but carrying something almost mischievous, “if we really want to give Natasha a sibling, I think it makes more sense for us to be in the same room, don’t you think?”
His eyes widened, surprised, and for a moment, he stood completely still, as if the words had been a shock he hadn’t expected.
“You...” He started but didn’t finish, his gaze fixed on your face as if trying to process the subtle, but significant change.
You raised an eyebrow, the playful look returning to your expression, something he immediately recognized. “It’s just a practical matter,” you finished, your voice slightly provocative.
He stepped forward, the hesitation giving way to something more determined, his gaze intense and fixed on yours. “Practical,” he repeated, as if testing the word.
The air around you seemed to carry a familiar tension, something that had always been there but now felt more tangible, more urgent. You saw the shadow of a smile play at the corners of his lips, and you couldn’t resist.
“You’re taking this very seriously, Alexei,” you teased, your voice lower now, only to be interrupted.
He leaned in, his lips meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The kiss was both tender and desperate, as if he were pouring everything he couldn’t say into words. Your hands went to his shoulders, a gesture to steady yourself, but instead of pushing him away, you pulled him closer, allowing yourself to finally give in to the moment.
When you pulled apart, your breaths were shallow, and Alexei kept his forehead pressed to yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, full of emotion.
The night seemed silent, the kind of silence that embraced the house like a heavy blanket, protecting the sounds that belonged only to that space. The room you once shared was almost exactly as before, but something felt different now. It was the same space, but it carried the weight of everything you had lived through—and survived.
Alexei was sitting at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, watching you as you took off your robe and prepared to lie down. His gaze was intense, but not unsettling. It was a gaze of reverence, as if he couldn’t believe he was here again.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” you asked, breaking the silence, your voice soft but full of emotion.
He looked up at you, a small smile appearing on his lips. “Strange... and familiar at the same time.”
You moved closer slowly, feeling the warmth radiating from him even before you sat down beside him. For a moment, you stayed there, side by side, your hands almost touching. The small space between you seemed heavy, but also filled with something new—hope.
“I thought about this so much,” he murmured, turning slightly to face you. “About what it would be like... having you here again. Being with you like this.”
“And how is it?” you asked, your playful tone trying to mask the vulnerability behind the question.
He chuckled softly, but there was a gleam in his eyes, something deeply sincere. “It’s better than I allowed myself to imagine.”
You felt your heart tighten, but it was a different kind of tightness now, something less painful and closer to healing. You reached out to him, your fingers touching his gently. He intertwined his fingers with yours, the gesture so familiar it brought tears to your eyes.
“Alexei...” you started, but he interrupted you, his eyes fixed on yours.
“I know,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I know it will take time. That this is just the beginning. But please, tell me there’s a beginning.”
You nodded, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “There’s a beginning,” you replied, your voice almost a whisper.
He leaned forward, his forehead touching yours, and the world seemed to shrink to that moment, to that touch. “I won’t fail you again,” he promised, his voice heavy with something so deep that it made your eyes well up with tears.
“I know,” you said, the sincerity of your voice making him close his eyes for a moment, as if he were absorbing it.
You both moved together to lie down, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When Alexei pulled the covers over you, he did it with the same care as always, as if every small gesture had meaning. You curled up next to him, his body fitting to yours as if it had never stopped being like that.
He ran his fingers through your hair, untangling the strands that had come loose throughout the day, the movements slow and almost reverent. “I feel like I’m holding a piece of the future in my hands,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“And what do you see in that future, Alexei?” you asked, lifting your gaze to meet his.
He smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart tighten with both longing and hope at the same time. “I see us. Natasha... maybe a little brother for her, if you still want,” he added, his tone lightly teasing, but his eyes shining with tenderness.
You laughed, a light and almost new sound. “Maybe,” you replied, teasing. “But one step at a time, right?”
He leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in a gesture that seemed to carry all the promises in the world. “Right,” he agreed, his voice soft and full of emotion.
Silence fell again, but it was a different silence now. It was a silence of peace, of new beginnings. And as you curled even closer, your hearts beating in a slow, synchronized rhythm, you knew you were finally finding your way back to each other.
Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶
And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life
Tangerine x fem!reader
WC: 3.4k
CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.
A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.
Everything was really, really good.
So of course you had to go and ruin it.
People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?
And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?
It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.
Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.
What’s one supposed to do?
Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.
So of course that’s exactly what you do.
You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.
“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.
Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.
Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”
“Mhmm.”
You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.
“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.
You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”
He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.
Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.
Is it too early for a drink?
The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.
“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”
Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.
“Wait!” you call out.
You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”
“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”
He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”
He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.
“Thanks.”
Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.
Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.
Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.
*****
You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.
You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.
“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.
“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”
“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.
Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”
Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”
You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.
The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.
Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”
You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”
Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”
You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.
“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.
“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”
While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.
“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”
Your heart sinks in your chest.
So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.
Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”
You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”
You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.
*****
Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.
“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.
Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.
You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.
“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”
“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”
“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”
The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.
“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”
Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”
“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”
Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.
“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”
The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.
*****
After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.
One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.
You hope that it’s working.
Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.
He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.
“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.
The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”
You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”
He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”
“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”
The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.
You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
Damn this man is smooth.
“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”
Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.
But not as per-
Nope.
No, you don’t have time to think about him.
Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”
“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”
You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.
“Oh shit, this is good.”
“Told you.”
“Can I know what it is now?”
“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”
You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”
“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.
You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”
Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“
Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.
“Hey, get your hands off her!”
You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.
Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?
Tangerine.
“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.
Tangerine comes stalking towards you.
“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.
“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”
“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.
“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.
You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”
Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.
“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.
Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”
“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”
“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.
“Yeah fucking right I-“
“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.
You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”
“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.
You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”
The blonde’s eyes narrow.
“Physically, at least.”
Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”
You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”
Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.
When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”
“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.
“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”
Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.
You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.
“I’m calling Lemon.”
With shaky hands you dial his number.
He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”
“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”
*****
Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.
When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.
Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.
The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.
You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”
The last person you expect to see is on the other side.
Tangerine.
“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.
Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.
“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.
The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”
“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”
You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.
Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.
The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.
Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.
“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.
“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”
“Can I- can I sit?”
You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.
Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.
“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.
“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”
“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “
He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”
You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”
“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“
“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.
“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”
It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.
He grovels.
He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”
Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”
Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.
He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”
Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.
You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.
“Tangerine,” you whisper.
You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.
The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.
↻ the 11th of the fatui harbingers has some... questionable kinks.
tags : asphyxiation, choking, dry humping, sparring kink, hate sex, light dirty talk, death threats, semi-public sex, light spanking, clit slapping, squirting, creampie, loss of consciousness // wc. 1k
author's note : another late one.. don't worry, the next one is all lined up n ready in my drafts !! this is most likely the freakiest one yet bc why does tartaglia have a sparring kink... also this is the heaviest one yet too so please mind sharp of the tags !! someone passes out in this one so be warned. i know you alr know the drill, notes n reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated here but can i remind u not to spam (esp w/o a follow) because that can decrease my reach and my stuff won't show up anymore :( i love you all, thank you for 400 followers and see you in the next one!
this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.
“mmm, fuuuck, you’re a feisty one, aren’tcha, doll?”
you didn’t know what you were signing up for when you decided to spar with the 11th of the fatui harbingers. in fact, you were more forced to spar with him than of your own volition. he thought you were pretty, and he thought you would look even prettier pinned underneath him, panting and begging within an inch of your life.
what ajax didn’t expect, however, was to be flipped on his back with you straddling atop him, hands closed tightly around his neck. he also didn’t expect that it would feel so good.
blood drips from your forehead and your lip is swollen from one to many punches to the face, but fuck you look so beautiful. “you gonna kill me or what?”
you’re driving him damn near insane. you look angry and feral, and it’s a look that only the most determined of warriors wear during battle.
as of right now, you’re determined to kill him, or at least make him give up. the thing is, you’ve clearly underestimated the man who calls himself the 11th fatui harbinger.
“are you… hard?” something big and firm protrudes through his trousers, and he looks up at you, lips cracking into a smile.
“right on the money, angel.” his hips thrust upwards once, his mind growing hazy at the buzz of adrenaline flowing through his veins. “you gonna squeeze tighter? i’m quite liking this.”
you scowl at him. “you’re disgusting, tartaglia.”
“it’s ajax, baby,” he manages to say through his lack-of-oxygen induced haze. “you gonna call me that while you’re chokin’ me out?”
god, you hate him. god, god god, you want him dead, but you can’t suppress the feeling of victory washing over you. you managed to make a harbinger hard, and all you had to do was threaten to kill him. “why would i give you that pleasure?”
“you seem to be happy enough sittin’ on my dick and trying to kill me, baby, the least you could do is call me by my real name, no?” he has no bargaining chips here, especially since you might actually kill him cold turkey. “move your hips for me.”
“you’re in no position to be making orders.”
“and you’re in a good enough position to get grinding.” when you swivel your hips in the slightest, his hands twitch, trying his hardest not to grip your ass under your skirt desperately. who even wears a skirt to a fight? “hurry it up. i’m starting to get bored.”
this guy. he’s so fucking annoying, but you can’t help but clench around nothing at the way he looks up at you, eyes hooded and lip quirked up in a smirk as he tries to move his hips to no avail, and suddenly, you’re left with two options;
option one: get the fuck off of him and run as far as humanely possible in the hopes that he won’t catch up to you.
option two: fuck him, and fuck him.
it’s a good thing that in situations like these, you like to think primarily with your pussy and not your head.
“ajax!”
“that’s it angel, fuck, you’re doin’ such a good job.”
your skirt is abandoned somewhere in the sparring ring and your breasts spill out of your shirt as you bounce in his lap, eyes squeezed shut and hands latched around his neck, nails digging into its supple flesh.
oh, he’s liking this. you swear he grows two times bigger every time you squeeze on his neck, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as his tip bumps your cervix. this is the deepest position possible, and he’s hitting you just right, despite being delirious from the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain from your hands around his neck.
when you decided to fuck him, he gave you one order and one order only; hold on tight. and damn did he give you the ride of your life, because you’re twitching atop him, hands attaching and detaching from his neck as you struggle to keep your consciousness afloat.
whilst your hands stay wound around his bruised neck, his hands are seemingly everywhere. one moment he’s squeezing your tits through your torn shirt and the next he’s spanking your ass, warning you that he’s going to speed up and that you need to hold on tighter unless you want to fall off.
“ ‘m close-!” you warn him of your impending orgasm, hands trembling around his neck as he starts to deepen his thrusts. you can barely focus on the look of his face, but the bastard is smiling, his own eyes starting to flutter shut as he starts to see dark spots clouding his vision. ajax is about to pass out, but he doesn’t even deserve such a luxury without feeling you cum all over his cock.
with what little strength he has left in his arms, he slides his hand from your ass to your clit and gives it tight little slaps, eyes urging you to cum as his mouth drops open in ecstasy. this feeling, having you not only squeeze his throat but his cock too, has him delirious, and he totally thinks he could become completely addicted.
“cum f’me, angel. come on, c’mon, i wanna fucking feel it, baby…” he uses the last of the oxygen in his lungs to give you one final command, and as ajax blacks out, he feels you squirt on it, plastering your juices all over the floor of the sparring ring before collapsing on top of him.
in his newly (and partially short lived) vegetative state, his cock pumps you full, his seed leaking out of the creases in your cunt. it takes a couple of seconds for you to come to, and when you do, you’re faced with a sprawled out ajax on the floor, eyes just closed and lips parted gently.
you panic momentarily because you think you’ve actually killed him, until you see those damn lips of his stretch into a smile. “thank you doll.”
you’re definitely not sparring with this freak again.
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Pls make me another poly with ratio and aven. Make another and my life is YOURS
I'm hungry for angst
Girl don't judge me, I'm using translator for this JDNAIJDHD
.note. HEYY, omg i gotcha anon!! tbh, I loved writing the poly angst. hope you like it, I think I overdid it with the words oopsie ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
i don't know if you speak spanish but, shadow freddy vuelta al ruedo
i will post part 2 tomorrow mueheh
𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat."
Contracts and preferences pt.1 pt.2
pairing. Aventurine x gn!reader x Dr ratio (poly)
cw/genre. angst, argument, some slow burn again, slight being left out, some nsfw in pt.2, negligent attitudes
synopsis. you went from being “decoration” and “ partner” to “ servant” and “assistant”.
full menu
They knew you were there, didn't they?
You were sure you did, you knew, you knew they would come to take you in their arms and fill you with affection.
Or at least that's what you longed for.
You were sitting at the dining table, trying to plan schedules and meetings for each of them.
Since, after all, you were both their assistant.
To put the situation in context, you concise them both separately, not knowing that they were a couple before.
You worked at the ipc, for Aventurine, while at the same time, you also worked for the Intelligentsia Guild, specifically being the assistant of Ratio.
The connections you made at the Guild helped you to be at the IPC too.
You gave them a sideways look, again, it would be the fifth time you do it in almost ten minutes.
You never complain about your job, you always think that if it weren't for that, you wouldn't have been able to meet the two men you're dating now.
But it felt unfair sometimes.
You were at the table, with thousands of documents and making calls, while they were on the couch, curled up and even getting a little more affectionate.
Of course you were happy for them, you loved them both and they loved you too, their affection was mutual, but sometimes... it was really something.
For example, Ratio, with no shame, began to cover Aventurine's neck and jaw with a few small kisses, while the other laughed discreetly and also played with his hair in a discreet way.
You let out an audible sigh.
Aaand, nothing.
The two were already on the sofa, snuggled up against each other, watching some movie, but not even the slightest bit watching it.
You knew it, they were just looking for an excuse to get closer to each other, and they were taking every opportunity they could.
They whispered sweet words to each other, caressed each other's backs, made small, playful comments that caused a few giggles, and their eyes didn't leave each other's.
You had to admit, the atmosphere they created was quite... Intimate.
You let out a small sigh again, in a somewhat exaggerated way, the sound getting their attention almost immediately.
They both knew it.
But they decided to play dumb, just this once.
"Tired?" Asked Aventurine first.
"Overworked?" Ratio followed, as he tried to get up to get to you.
You rolled your eyes, but not out of irritation, but more because this was a fairly common occurrence.
"Yeah," you replied, "and a little tired of being all alone here."
Ratio, walking over to you and resting a gentle hand on your shoulder while he stood behind you.
"We'll give you some attention," he said.
"Will you?" You asked, arching an eyebrow as you continued to go through the documents in front of you.
Aventurine stood up, making his way to the two of you, resting his chin on your shoulder and looking at the papers you were reading.
"We'll give you all you want," he whispered right next to your ear.
"Well..." you replied with feigned indifference, but your words were full of expectation, "prove it."
The two of them looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, before Ratio began to place light kisses down your neck.
You couldn't help but shiver, trying to control yourself.
At your reaction, Ratio chuckled against your skin, and, just to tease you, gave your sensitive skin a little bite, causing your shoulders to arch involuntarily.
A low, suppressed sound escaped your lips.
Meanwhile, Aventurine's hands traveled to one of your shoulders, gently massaging them.
"You've been working too much," he whispered in your other ear, "haven't you?"
"Yeah..." you admitted in a low whisper, as the two continued to pamper you.
"We should take care of you," said Ratio, continuing to give you little kisses and bites.
"We should," agreed Aventurine, leaving a brief kiss on your head.
Their ministrations continued for a while, their hands and mouths roaming gently over your shoulders, neck, and back.
The feeling was so good, you couldn't help but moan softly.
By now, you had both men behind you and surrounding you completely, their touches and affections slowly but surely getting heavier and more intense.
You felt Aventurine's hands move to your hips, gently pulling you closer against his body as Ratio continued to kiss your neck.
It was a bit embarrassing to admit it, but you were really enjoying all that attention.
...
Okay, maybe you anticipated a bit.
The 'we should take care of you', stayed in 'we should'. Literally.
Heavyweights and affectionate touches were maintained, even the three of you moved to the couch, for comfort.
The raised caresses calmed down after a while, letting you put your head on Aventurine's legs, while Ratio did gentle massages on your body.
At least that 10 minutes ago, since you had your eyes closed, but you started to feel a hard thing behind your head.
And by the time you noticed, they were both kissing, with the same intensity and desire.
"Hey, guys," you spoke up, a bit annoyed, but they didn't seem to notice.
Instead, they were even getting more intense, as the small sounds of them echoed quietly in the room.
"Guys," you called out again, in a slightly louder voice.
A low moan escaped Aventurine's lips, while Ratio's hands ran over his hair.
And far apart from that, you felt the Aventurine member accidentally rubbing against your head every time they moved to eat their mouths.
"Please," you said, slightly frustrated, "you guys!" At the same time, you also got up from Aven's legs, sitting in the space between them.
They finally broke apart, a bit breathless, their lips red and glistening with saliva.
They both looked at you, slightly surprised that you'd interrupted them.
"What's wrong...?" Ratio finally asked, still a little out of breath.
"Are you alright?" Aventurine added, trying to recompose himself.
You huffed softly, feeling a bit disappointed.
"Uhm, if you two are in _the_ mood, you can go to the room," you said calmly.
The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds, a silent conversation happening between them.
"Are you sure...?" Aventurine asked, turning his gaze back to you.
"You don't mind?" Ratio added, studying your expression.
You tried to appear calm and understanding, but deep down, you were still a bit frustrated. The sight of the two of them all hot and bothered without you was really... a bit unfair.
"No, it's okay," you said, trying to remain calm. "You two can go ahead."
They studied you a bit more, trying to discern if you were being honest or not.
But you smiled at them, trying to reassure them that you were fine with it.
They both shared another look, before Ratio got up from the couch and held out his hand to Aventurine.
Aventurine grabbed Ratio's hand, standing up in one smooth movement.
They were still looking at you, obviously still reluctant to leave you alone.
"Are you sure?" Ratio asked again, as Aventurine stayed silent.
You nodded, trying to maintain a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied. "I'll just finish up some more work, and I'll join you guys later."
"Mhm, okay, love," Aven replied, as he nodded, with a slight smile.
The two men walked past you, heading towards the bedroom door, Ratio's hand still intertwined with Aventurine's.
You stayed rooted to the spot.
You knew they had needs, and you had nothing against them satisfying them together.
But it's just... you couldn't shake off the strange feeling in your chest.
Ratio and Aventurine went to the bedroom, closing the door.
You took a deep breath, feeling a bit frustrated.
Of course, you were happy for them, their relationship was strong and had a deep connection, but... it didn't stop you from feeling slightly 'left out'.
You leaned fully back on the couch, letting out a low sigh.
'Nah, maybe I'm exaggerating', You thought as you got off the couch, to go back to the table.
You made your way back to the table, sorting out the documents.
As you organized everything, you couldn't help but overhear small noises coming from the bedroom.
Even though the door was closed, the sounds of Ratio and Aventurine, clearly enjoying themselves, were still faintly audible.
You tried to ignore it, to focus on your work, but it was hard. Each time you heard a small sound, a small whine, it sent a little shiver throughout your body.
The more you tried to concentrate, the more the sounds seemed to get louder and more intense.
You tried to shake off the thoughts running through your mind and concentrate on your work, but as time passed, you found it more and more difficult to ignore the sounds coming from the bedroom.
Moans, whispers, muttered words, and the sound of the bed creating through the room.
You had no right to be jealous, you had told them to go for it, you had encouraged them.
And so, you focused only on paperwork and arranging schedules.
You dropped a yawn while you stopped typing on the laptop.
You stretched a little while getting up from the chair.
You didn't realize when the erotic sounds coming from the room had been ceased.
When you finally noticed the absence of sounds, a small pang of confusion and sadness hit you in the chest.
Of course, you told them to go ahead, and maybe they were already... done, but still, you felt a little pang of disappointment.
But it was fine, since you didn't really think about the room for a while to join, as you told them.
You were finishing stretching when the bedroom door opened, a slightly disheveled Ratio peeking his head out of the room.
You looked at him, a raised eyebrow.
"Yes?" You asked, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.
Ratio looked at you for a few seconds, his breath still a bit heavy.
"Can you come here for a second...?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse from... the situation in the room.
You tried to remain unfazed, even though the request was an unexpected one.
"Sure," you said with nonchalance in your voice.
You made your way to the bedroom, Ratio moving aside to let you enter.
As you stepped in, you were met with Aventurine, sitting on the edge of the bed, hair tousled and a few love bites on his neck and shoulders.
The sight of Aventurine in that state sent another pang to your chest, but you tried to hide it.
He looked at you, a slight tiredness in his eyes, as a small smile appeared on his lips.
"You finished your work?" He asked, his voice also slightly hoarse.
"Almost..." you replied, avoiding looking at the small hickeys on his skin for too long.
"You two were quick," you commented half-jokingly, trying to maintain the same casual tone from before.
Ratio chuckled softly, leaning on the doorframe as he watched the interaction.
"It wasn't really that quick," he said with a smirk.
Aventurine shook his head, giving Ratio a side look before turning his attention back to you.
"We're just... impatient," he said, with a slight hint of teasing in his voice.
You grimaced, while you laughed somewhat uncomfortable.
You tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling, but the sight of them both, disheveled and still somewhat out of breath, wasn't helping.
"Right," you said, still trying to keep up the act.
There was a small moment of silence in the room, Ratio's gaze darting between you and Aventurine, as if he was waiting to see how the situation would unfold.
"Uhm, do you need anything?" You asked, seeing that they weren't going to say anything.
Besides, you didn't really know why you were called into the room.
"Oh, yes," Ratio said.
"Can you take out clean sheets? I'm going to bring water to Aven," he added, as he left the room.
"Okay," you replied simply, watching Ratio disappear into the hallway.
You turned your gaze to Aventurine.
He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking a bit worn out and sated.
You couldn't help but feel a pang of something in your chest, as you couldn't help but steal a glance at the marks on his neck and shoulders.
You let out a silent sigh before heading to some drawers next to the bed.
'It's okay, It'll be your turn' you thought as you focused on pulling out a set of clean sheets.
You were in a relationship with the two, and you knew that they had... desires, and needed that physical intimacy.
You tried to understand their need, and you also tried to not feel 'bad' about being left out.
But at the same time, you couldn't help but wonder if your presence was really necessary.
Your thoughts were interrupted, you felt Aventurine approaching you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest.
He placed his chin on your shoulder, pressing his body against yours.
"You're being quiet..." he murmured near your ear.
You felt the warmth of his body and the soft touch of his arms around you, making you momentarily forget all the thoughts and doubts that were swirling around in your mind.
You leaned gently against him, taking a deep breath.
"Just thinking..." you replied, your voice a little tense.
You finished taking out the sheets, and you stand still, waiting for it to come loose, which didn't happen, so you moved a little. "uhm, can you...?"
Your voice is tense and uncomfortable.
Aventurine noticed the change in your tone, and he loosened his grip on you, stepping back slightly.
He gently turned you around to face him, his hands resting on your hips, a touch of worry in his eyes.
"Are you okay...?" He asked, "His voice low and gentle."
You averted your gaze slightly, feeling a mixture of emotions that you couldn't quite make sense of.
"Yup," It was the only thing you answered, and then you went to bed and started removing the dirty sheets.
Aventurine watched you silently, his gaze fixated on your body.
He could feel the tension in your movements and the subtle stiffness in your voice. He knew that something was bothering you, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was.
He decided to give you some space, allowing you to remove the sheets, but he still stood beside you, his eyes never leaving you.
After a few moments, Ratio came back into the room, a glass of water in his hand.
He handed it to Aventurine, who took it gratefully and took a few sips before setting it on the bedside table.
There was a strange atmosphere in the room, as if something were left hanging in the air.
You felt like they were looking at you, as you finished putting the clean sheets on the bed.
It was hard to ignore their stares, and the fact that you were alone with them in the room made the tension even more palpable.
You finished putting on the sheets and took a subtle deep breath.
You could practically feel the weight of their gazes on your back, even though you knew that both of them were trying to hide their concern and curiosity.
"There..." you muttered, finally turning around to face them.
Ratio was leaning against the wall nearby, his arms crossed, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion.
Aventurine was still standing beside you, his gaze fixed on you, as if studying your every move.
For a few seconds, there was just a heavy silence, as the two of them looked at you waiting for you to say something.
But what should you say? You felt a mixture of contradictory emotions.
"You can rest now," you said, calmly speaking.
Your voice sounded calm, but on the inside, you were still feeling a mixture of unease and disappointment.
Ratio and Aventurine exchanged a glance, clearly understanding your cue that the conversation was over.
Aventurine didn't make a move, still watching you.
Ratio, sensing the tension in the room, walked over to Aventurine's side, gently pushing him towards the bed.
"Come on," Ratio murmured, his tone soft but firm. "You should rest."
Aventurine didn't object, allowing Ratio to gently guide him onto the bed.
He sank back against the pillows, looking at you with a mix of tiredness and worry. Ratio sat down beside him, also looking at you.
"Are you...?" Ratio started to ask, but you interrupted him.
"I'm fine," you said, still doing your best to appear casual, "I just need to... go to the bathroom."
You used the excuse of needing to use the bathroom to get away for a few minutes.
Ratio and Aventurine looked at you for a moment, their gazes following you as you left the room.
As soon as you closed the door to the bathroom behind you, you let out a soft sigh, bracing your hands on the sink.
You glanced at yourself in the mirror.
Your expression was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.
You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts. You knew that what you were feeling was silly, but at the same time, you couldn't help it.
Your relationship with Ratio and Aventurine was unconventional, you knew that they had needs and desires, and they had each other to satisfy those needs.
But what about you...?
It was a thought that had crossed your mind several times before.
You tried to convince yourself that they cared about you, that they loved you.
But at times like this, when they were alone in their intimate moments, you couldn't help but feel... left out.
You knew that they weren't trying to exclude you, that they weren't being malicious, but it still hurt.
You sighed, patting yourself on the cheeks, before leaving the bathroom and returning to the room.
Ratio and Aventurine were still on the bed, now settled under the covers.
Aventurine's eyes were partly closed, as the exhaustion from the previous activities was starting to take its toll.
Ratio, however, was still slightly tense, his eyes locking on you as soon as you entered the room.
You walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge next to Ratio.
For a moment, no one spoke. The only sounds in the room were the soft breathing of Aventurine and the silence that seemed to weigh upon all of you.
Ratio shifted slightly, moving closer to you, his hand gently moving to your thigh.
Ratio's touch was gentle and comforting, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.
You didn't want to ruin the moment. You didn't want to make them feel bad for seeking their comfort in each other's embrace.
You looked at Aventurine, who seemed to be moments from falling asleep.
His hair was messy, and the skin on his neck was still showing some red marks.
Although you felt an uncomfortable heaviness in your chest, with your fingers, you accommodated the hair that covered Aven's face.
Aventurine's face relaxed under your touch, his breathing still calm and steady.
Ratio's grip on your thigh tightened a little, and you could feel his gaze fixated on you.
"You know..." Ratio began, his voice low. "We... We didn't mean to make you feel left out."
You paused for a few seconds, unsure of what to say.
"Mhm, i know" you whispered, still running your fingers through Aventurine's hair.
"I'm tired."
The word hung in the air, and Ratio sighed softly.
"Come here," he said, gently pulling you down to lie next to him.
You complied, feeling Ratio's strong arms encircling your waist, pulling you against his chest.
The feeling of Ratio's body against yours was comforting, but there was still a nagging feeling at the back of your mind.
You snuggled into Ratio's embrace, feeling his warmth and the steady beat of his heart.
"We love you," Ratio murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
You closed your eyes in response, feeling a mixture of both comfort and unease.
You wanted to believe Ratio's words.
But at the same time, you couldn't help but doubt.
The morning sunlight streamed in through the cracks of the curtains, gently illuminating the bedroom.
The peaceful silence in the room was broken by a soft, groggy groan.
"Hmm, what time is it...?" Aventurine mumbled half-sleep, shifting slightly in the bed.
You had gotten up before them, starting to prepare their breakfasts, and ending with the day's schedule for each.
Ratio stirred beside him, slowly waking up as well, his messy hair sticking every which way.
Aventurine groaned again, finally opening his eyes, blinking a few times as he adjusted to the morning light.
He sat up in bed, rubbing his face with his hands, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness.
"Ugh... I feel like I slept for days," he said with a yawn, his voice still gravelly with sleep.
He looked around the room, noticing that you were not in bed.
"Where's..." Aventurine began, his eyes scanning the room, noticing that it was just the two of them.
Ratio sat up as well, groaning as he stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his back tensing with the movement.
He glanced over at Aventurine, following his gaze.
"They're probably in the kitchen," Ratio said, voice sleepy and still slightly rough from sleep.
"I think we slept pretty late." he commented again, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.
Aventurine followed Ratio's gaze, noticing the time.
"Damn... it's almost noon," he muttered, climbing out of the bed and stretching.
"I guess we're in for a lazy day."
Ratio chuckled softly, still sitting on the bed, the covers half-covering his bare chest.
"I guess so," he agreed, his eyes flickering over Aventurine's disheveled form.
Aventurine paused, noticing Ratio's gaze on him. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to smooth it down.
"What?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
Ratio smirked. "You just look... well, pretty wrecked after our little... session last night."
Aventurine rolled his eyes, but a small smirk played on his lips, betraying his attempt to appear annoyed.
"Shut up," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest, causing the sheets to slip lower, exposing more of his bare skin.
Ratio chuckled again, amused by Aventurine's reaction. He stood up from the bed and walked over to him, stopping a few inches away, to kiss him and get out of the room.
Just as Aventurine was getting out of bed, finishing stretching, he heard a curse and a sound of a cup breaking.
That made him leave the room quickly.
By the time he gets to the kitchen, his frow frowned.
"Fuck..." you let go again, grimacing, while holding one of your hands.
When Ratio had left the bedroom first, you didn't hear his footsteps so when you turned with the hot cup of coffee, you were scared to see him there, causing the cup to fall to the ground after burning with the liquid inside.
Both Ratio and Aventurine were now watching you carefully.
Ratio's expression was a mixture of concern and guilt, knowing that he startled you.
Aventurine's frown deepened as he noticed the way you were holding your hand.
"Are you okay?" Ratio asked, his voice soft and filled with worry.
Aventurine stepped closer to you, eyes fixated on your injured hand.
"What happened?" he asked, looking at the shattered cup on the floor and the spilled coffee.
"It's nothing," you tried to assure them, though you couldn't hide the slight wince that escaped you when you tried to move your hand.
The burn wasn't that serious, but it hurt.
Ratio moved closer, his eyes drifting from your hand to your face.
"Let me see," he said, gently taking your hand in his, examining the burn.
Aventurine stood close by, his gaze fixed on Ratio as he carefully inspected your injury.
Ratio's touch was gentle as he examined the burn, his fingers tracing over the reddened skin.
"It's not too bad, but you shouldn't move your hand too much," he said, his voice low and soothing. "I'll get something to treat it."
He released your hand, moving to a nearby cabinet to get the necessary medical supplies, while Aventurine took a step closer to you.
Ratio rummaged through the cabinet, gathering a few supplies to treat your burn.
Aventurine watched Ratio, his gaze drifting from Ratio's focused expression to your now free hand.
He hesitated for a moment, but then he gently reached out and took your injured hand in his.
His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he held your hand carefully, as if afraid he might hurt you further.
"You need to be more careful," Aventurine scolded softly, his eyes fixed on your hand.
You had to suppress a shiver as you felt Aventurine's touch, his fingers gently caressing the sore skin of your hand.
Ratio returned with a small bag of supplies, a concerned expression still on his face.
"I'll tend to your hand now, okay?"
Ratio gently took your hand from Aventurine's grasp, preparing the supplies he needed to treat your burn.
Aventurine watched diligently in silence, his eyes never leaving your injury.
Ratio was gently applying the ointment to your burn, his touch precise and practiced.
The stinging sensation lessened as the soothing medicine worked its magic.
Aventurine continued to watch, his eyes fixated on Ratio's hands tending to your injury.
Once Ratio was finished, he wrapped a sterile gauze around your hand to protect the burn.
"There," Ratio said, satisfied with his work. "You'll need to keep the bandage on to protect the burn. Let it heal properly."
You flexed your fingers, feeling a slight discomfort from the burn but relieved by Ratio's skillful treatment.
"Thank you," you murmured, a little embarrassed by all the attention.
Your eyes looked at the ground, seeing the broken cup, along with the coffee lying on the floor.
You let out a sigh, seeing the disaster.
Ratio noticed your gaze and followed it to the broken cup and spilled coffee on the floor.
"Don't worry about it," he said, putting the supplies back in the cabinet. "Accidents happen."
Aventurine, who was still standing nearby, glanced at the mess on the floor and then back at you.
"I'll clean it up," he said, crouching down to start gathering the shattered pieces of the cup.
"Oh no, Aven," you quickly let go, preventing him from bending over.
"You two are going to breakfast, you have a lot to do today," you said, as you pointed to the table with food on top.
Ratio and Aventurine exchanged a glance, a hint of surprise in Ratio's eyes at your quick reaction.
Aventurine was about to protest, but Ratio placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively silencing him.
"They're right," Ratio said, gently pushing Aventurine towards the table. "We do have a lot to do, and it's already noon."
Aventurine let out a sigh.
"But, your burn..." he protested, his eyes moving from Ratio to you.
"The bandage will do its job. Besides, it's nothing serious," Ratio assured, gently guiding Aventurine towards the table again.
"We'll leave the cleaning to them. Now come on, let's eat. We're late as it is."
Ratio's insistence was enough for Aventurine to reluctantly agree. He let out a sigh and stopped resisting, finally taking a seat at the table.
Ratio sat down as well, gesturing for you to join them.
"Come here," Ratio urged gently, patting the seat next to him.
Your attention was led back to them.
"Uhm?, oh, I've already eaten," you let go, as you continued your previous action.
You bent down to the ground, carefully picking up the broken pieces of the cup, throwing them away.
Ratio and Aventurine watched you silently, concern and confusion on their faces.
Ratio's brow furrowed as you dismissed the offer to sit with them.
"You did? How long have you been awake?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.
Aventurine's eyes flicked between you and Ratio, his expression mirroring Ratio's concern.
You didn't want to make a big deal out of it, so you simply shrugged.
"I don't know, maybe a couple of hours?" you mumbled, continuing your task.
Ratio's frown deepened. "You should have woken us up. You didn't need to get up so early."
Aventurine leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
"And it's not the first time either," he commented, a hint of irritation in his voice.
Ratio sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's not the first time, indeed," he agreed, shooting a disapproving look in your direction.
You paused for a moment, feeling the weight of their gazes on you.
"I just wanted to make sure everything was ready for you two," you muttered, avoiding their eyes.
Ratio's expression softened a little, but there was still a hint of frustration in his voice.
"You don't need to do that. We can take care of ourselves," he said, although the tone was firm, he wasn't truly angry.
"You know we don't like it when you do this," Aventurine scolded gently, his voice firm but tinged with worry.
You knew they were worried about you, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for them. You wanted to make sure they had everything they needed, that they were comfortable and well taken care of.
"Mhm," you mumbled.
"But it's my job as an assistant to both of you and as your partner," you added, grabbing some paper towels to clean the wet coffee floor.
Ratio let out another sigh.
"Partner," he repeated, the word hanging in the air.
Aventurine's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That's a poor excuse," he said.
"We never asked you to do all that. We never expected you to be at our beck and call like that."
You finished drying the floor, and you stood again.
"In fact, that was involved in the contract i signed," you spoke calmly, while throwing away used paper towels.
You remembered very well the contracts you signed when you were officially the assent of each one respectively. 'It is necessary that the worker be available in semi-complete time and at the disposal...'
You read those contracts 10 times each, as it was something of utmost importance.
Ratio and Aventurine remained silent for a moment, processing your words.
Veritas seemed frustrated, though not towards you, but rather towards the situation.
"We're not talking about the job or the contracts," Ratio said, his voice firm.
Aventurine added. "We're talking about us. About this... relationship between us," he paused, gesturing to the three of you.
You sighed, once you finished cleaning, approaching the table.
"Come on, don't be bitter and eat," you said, as you sat in a chair in front of them.
They each took a plate, serving themselves and starting breakfast.
The atmosphere was tense for a few minutes, a heavy silence hanging in the air.
Ratio was the first to break the silence, his voice softer now.
"How is your hand?" he asked.
You raised your hand, flexing it slightly.
"It's fine," you assured him. "The intent you applied did its job."
You're still ordering papers, along with documents on your laptop.
"Well, I will explain to you the agenda of both today," You said, before you started explaining to them what things are had planned for today.
Ratio and Aventurine listened attentively to your explanations, occasionally asking questions.
Although they still had a slight hint of frustration from the previous conversation, the tension had somewhat eased.
Ratio nodded as you finished explaining the agenda. "I think we can manage those tasks."
Aventurine, who had been quietly eating, spoke up, "I just need to deal with some more research, and I'll be ready."
You nodded, as you also drank some water, before speaking.
"All right, then I'll go make some calls for today."
You stood up from your seat, getting up from the table.
Ratio stood up suddenly too. "Wait."
Aventurine also stood up, his eyes narrowing.
You paused, slightly surprised by their sudden movements.
Ratio walked over to you, gently taking your hand with the injured one, his touch surprisingly soft. He examined it to make sure the bandage was still in place.
Aventurine remained standing near the table, his gaze fixed on the two of you, his arms crossed over his chest.
Ratio's touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the sternness he had shown earlier.
He seemed satisfied that the bandage was still secure and then looked up at you.
"Be careful," he said, his voice softer than before.
Aventurine still watched from a distance, his eyes fixed on Ratio's hand holding yours.
You couldn't help but feel a bit flustered at Ratio's touch and the concern in his voice.
"I will," you assured him, although you knew they still worried about you.
Aventurine finally walked over to the two of you, standing beside Ratio.
"Aren't you going to say goodbye to us?" asked him.
You couldn't help but let out a slight giggle as you rolled your eyes.
"Okay, okay," you said, as you approached Aven, to give him a gentle kiss on the lips and then do the same with Ratio.
Ratio and Aventurine returned your kisses, Aventurine's kiss slow and gentle, while Ratio's was a bit more firm but soft.
When you pulled away, they both looked at you with a hint of disappointment.
Ratio spoke up first. "That's too short."
Aventurine nodded in agreement. "Yeah, not enough."
You let out another laugh, while shaking your head. "Nuh huh, it was fine."
Ratio's hand, which was still holding yours, squeezed gently as if reluctant to let go. But he reluctantly dropped it.
Aventurine, though he tried to maintain a composed expression, couldn't hide the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Good luck with your work," he said.
You nodded, still feeling a bit flustered, but trying to maintain your composure.
"I'll see you later," you said, as you turned to leave.
Ratio and Aventurine watched you go, their eyes following you until you were out the door, entering your office, next to the master bedroom.
As you walk into your office, you couldn't help but think about the conversation between the three of you.
You knew they cared about you, and they were concerned for you. But sometimes their overprotectiveness felt suffocating, especially when they questioned your commitment to them.
You could understand how they might feel, though, considering their jobs and the stress they were under.
You settled down at your desk, pulling out some documents and beginning to make the first of many calls you were going to have to do today.
The hours passed, and the calls you made consumed most of your day.
As mid-day approached, you felt your stomach growl, reminding you that you hadn't eaten lunch yet.
You kept looking at all the papers and documents on your desk.
Since you were only in the apartment at the time, you decided that it would be easier to order fast food.
When you finally got the order, you ate while looking at your phone, getting a little distracted.
From there, you get a message, exactly from Aven.
'Hi, beautiful. I'm with Ratio now, don't prepare anything for dinner, we'll bring food, it won't take long,'
You smile unconsciously as you read the text, answer it and then leave the chat, to finish eating and then continue doing the paperwork.
After replying to Aven's message, you finished your meal and turned your attention back to the remaining work.
The afternoon passed by quickly, and the sky outside the window of your office started to turn orange as the sun began to set.
You glanced at the clock, noting that it was getting late. Ratio and Aventurine should be returning soon.
Uhm.
By the time you looked at the clock on the wall again, you grimaced.
It had been a little longer.
And by the time you took another look at it, it had been four hours. It was almost midnight.
Your frown frowned, you were worried now.
Not to mention you were hungry.
You glanced at your cell phone, seeing that there was no new message.
You tried to reassure yourself that they must have been busy with work, but as the hours went by, your worry grew.
Eventually you couldn't stand still anymore, so you got up from your seat and went to the living room, to pace until they arrived.
Time seemed to drag on painfully slow.
You kept pacing around the room, glancing at the clock on the wall every so often.
And just as you were about to check your phone for the millionth time, the sound of the apartment door opening reached your ears.
You rushed to the entrance, catching a glimpse of Ratio and Aventurine as they entered, looking somewhat...tipsy?
"Finally!" you said, unable to hide your relief. "Where have you been, I was getting worried."
Ratio and Aventurine looked at you, slightly startled by your sudden exclamation.
Aventurine let out a chuckle, his speech slightly slurred. "We were just out having a drink."
Ratio, slightly more composed than Aventurine, spoke up, his voice slightly strained due to the alcohol. "We lost track of time, sorry for worrying you."
You looked at the two of them, noting their disheveled appearance. It seemed like they had more than just a few drinks.
"I can see that," you said, a mix of relief and annoyance in your voice.
You moved closer, scrutinizing their faces. They were both clearly inebriated, their eyes bloodshot and movements a lil uncoordinated.
without noticing that there were traces of hickeys on their necks.
Ratio and Aventurine stumbled a bit as they tried to maintain their balance, their coordination affected by the alcohol.
Aventurine noticed you looking at their necks, and he quickly tried to cover the hickeys with his hand. But his reaction only drew your attention more to the marks.
Ratio, noticing this, shifted awkwardly on his feet, his gaze darting away from you.
Your eyes narrowed at the sight of the marks on their necks.
"What are those?" you demanded, your voice a bit colder now.
Ratio and Aventurine exchanged a quick glance, their alcohol-clouded minds struggling to come up with a coherent response.
Aventurine spoke, "We were... having a bit of fun."
Your eyes narrowed further. "Fun, huh?" You repeated, a hint of annoyance in your voice.
Ratio, ever the mediator, tried to diffuse the situation. "It's nothing to worry about, sweetheart," he tried to reassure you, but his slurred speech contradicted his words.
Aventurine, perhaps a bit tipsy and bolder, smirked, "Yeah, harmless fun, that's all."
You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding.
It was fine, of course they could do that.
"Mhm," you let go, before walking away a bit, to deter your thoughts a bit.
"Did you bring the food?" You asked, as you looked at them.
As they had said by message, you did not prepare anything for dinner, since they said they would bring food. And, already at almost midnight, you died of hunger.
They exchanged another quick glance, realizing their oversight.
"Food," Ratio muttered, trying to focus his alcohol-fuzzed mind. "Right, we were supposed to bring food."
Aventurine looked at you sheepishly. "We, uh, forgot."
Your annoyance deepened, your disappointment in them growing.
"You forgot," you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady.
Ratio scratched the back of his head. "Yeah... We got carried away, I guess."
Aventurine, seemingly trying to light in the mood, chimed in, "To be fair, we were pretty druunk."
Okay, that didn't help at all.
A small knot formed in your stomach. You were hungry, and the realization that you would have to find something to eat at this hour made you kinda feel bad.
They seemed oblivious to your frustration, their alcohol-clouded minds still attempting to justify their actions.
Ratio tried to play it off, "It's not a big deal, we can order something."
Aventurine added, "Yeah, we can get your food delivered."
But their suggestions only irritated you more.
"It's late," you retorted, your voice becoming more strained. "Most places are closed."
However, Aventurine's words dislocated you a bit. "Your food?" You repeated, while you frown a little in confusion.
At your questioning tone, Ratio immediately realized his slip-up, and his face paled slightly.
Aventurine didn't seem to notice the effect his words had on you, the alcohol dulling his perception.
"Yeah, YOUR food," he repeated, not realizing the implications of what he was saying.
Ratio, picking up on your reaction, shot Aventurine a glance. "Vasha, just stop," he muttered, trying to shut his partner up. But Aventurine was too caught up in his drunk state to notice Ratio's warning.
Aventurine's words echoed in your mind, adding fuel to the fire of your growing irritation.
Ratio's attempt to silence Aventurine fell on deaf ears, and the alcohol coursing through Aventurine's system loosened his tongue even more.
"What's the problem?" Aventurine asked, still oblivious to the impact of his words. "We can order something specifically for you, right?"
Ratio winced, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your emotions in check.
Ratio, seeing the tension building, tried again to intervene. "Vasha, shut up," he hissed through gritted teeth.
But Aventurine, still unaware of the gravity of the situation, waved him off. "Oh, come on, I'm just sayi–"
You interrupted him before he could finish. "Specifically for me?" You repeated again.
"Have you had dinner yet?" You dared to ask, feeling a strange sting in your throat and chest.
Aventurine's inebriated mind took a moment to process your question.
His eyes darted to Ratio, who was silently mouthing "no" to him. But Aventurine, still under the influence of alcohol, blurted out his next words.
"Well... yeah."
Ratio's face paled more, and he pinched the bridge of his nose again, groaning in frustration.
Your heart sank further. The realization that they had not only forgotten to bring you food, but had also eaten without you, was like a punch to the gut.
You felt a mixture of disappointment and hurt wash over you, and it took all your self-control to maintain your composure.
Ratio shot Aventurine a harsh glare, his anger at his partner's drunken carelessness obvious.
Aventurine finally seemed to realize the implications of his words and the impact on you. A hint of soberness flashed across his features. "Oh,"
Ratio tried to offer an apology. "We're sorry, we didn't mean to make you wait and…"
But you interrupted him, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and disappointment. "It's fine," you said, although it was clear that it wasn't.
You turned away from them, walking towards the kitchen. "I'll see what I can scrounge up for myself."
Ratio and Aventurine watched you walk away, their alcohol-dulled minds finally comprehending the gravity of their actions.
"Nice going, genius," Ratio said through gritted teeth, glaring at Aventurine.
Aventurine's drunkenness seemed to wane, replaced by a hint of guilt. "I didn't mean to..."
Ratio let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand over his face. "I know, Vasha, but you made it worse."
"I just... I wasn't thinking straight," he murmured.
Ratio pinched the bridge of his nose again, his patience wearing thin. "You never think straight when you're drunk."
Before Aventurine could respond, Ratio cut him off. "Just... go take a shower, sober up a bit."
Aventurine nodded sheepishly, knowing that he had messed up. "Yeah, you're right."
He wobbled a little but managed to steady himself before stumbling to the bathroom.
Ratio let out another sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
He let out another weary sigh, still feeling the effects of the alcohol but regaining more soberness. He walked into the kitchen, where you were searching through the cupboards.
Ratio leaned against the doorway, watching you rummage through the cupboards.
The silence between you two was heavy, the tension from before still hanging in the air.
Ratio cleared his throat, trying to break the silence. "Hey," he began, his voice hesitant.
You didn't turn around, continuing to search the cupboards for something to eat, your frustration evident in your tense movements.
Ratio could tell you were mad, and he didn't blame you.
Although at the time, the word 'mad' wasn't right for you.
"Darling," he said softly, taking a few steps closer to you, "Can I..."
He reached out a hand, as if to touch your shoulder, but then hesitated, unsure if you would welcome his touch.
"Go get the bed ready for Aven to lie down, you should do the same," you said, in a tense voice.
At no time did you turn around, you kept turning your back on him while you pulled out a pan and oil.
He withdrew his hand.
"I... okay," he mumbled.
He left the kitchen, heading towards the bedroom, still feeling the effects of the alcohol in his veins.
He turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the kitchen. Ratio went to check on Aventurine in the bathroom, hoping his partner would sober up a bit faster.
Meanwhile, you continued to prepare something to eat, your movements still tense and frustrated.
With one hand, you rubbed your eyes quickly, almost frustrated.
Ratio leaned against the bathroom door frame, watching Aventurine dry his hair with a towel.
"How are you feeling?" Ratio asked.
Aventurine let out a small groan, his head still feeling heavy. "Like I should never drink again."
Ratio chuckled weakly. "That's what you always say, and yet here we are."
Aventurine hung the towel on a rack and ran a hand over his damp hair, still looking a bit dazed.
"Yeah, I know," he muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub.
He buried his face in his hands, groaning.
Ratio crossed his arms over his chest, watching his partner's struggle.
"Well, at least you're a little more sober now," Ratio noted.
Aventurine let out a tired sigh, lifting his face from his hands. "Yeah, I guess... But I still feel like crap."
Ratio nodded in understanding. "That's what happens when you drink too much," he said, but there was a hint of worry beneath his words.
"Come, let's go to the room," he added, as he extended a hand to him to get up.
Aventurine grabbed Ratio's hand, allowing his partner to pull him up.
He stumbled a bit, still a bit unsteady on his feet, but managed to stay upright.
"Aeons, I need to sleep," Aventurine mumbled, rubbing his temple with his free hand.
Ratio helped him into the room, his arm around his partner's waist to provide support.
"I can imagine," Ratio said, guiding Aventurine to the bed.
Aventurine sat down on the bed, groaning again as he leaned back against the pillows.
Ratio sat down next to him, a concerned expression on his face.
"You really need to take it easy next time," Ratio warned.
Aventurine closed his eyes, still massaging his temples. "Yeah, I know, I know..."
Ratio glanced at the closed bedroom door, his mind still on you and the situation in the kitchen.
You forced yourself into the room, taking a deep breath.
Ratio looked up as you entered the room, his expression still laced with tension.
He could tell by your face that you were probably feeling bad.
Aventurine opened his eyes, wincing as the light hit his sensitive eyes.
"Hey, sweetheart," he said weakly, pushing himself up to sit more upright on the bed.
You looked at your hands again before walking to the bed where they were.
"Take this," you said, extending a glass of water and two pills for each.
At no time did you look into their eyes, at most you lifted their chests, but not at their faces.
Ratio took the painkillers and cup of water from you, noting your distant demeanor.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice soft.
They both downed the pills, feeling the effects on their alcohol-muddled minds.
Aventurine watched you, feeling a pang of shame and guilt.
"Sweetheart... we're sorry-" he began, but you cut him off.
"It's okay, go to sleep," you said quietly, your voice betraying your shaky tone."i'm going to eat, rest well."
Ratio's grip on the glass tightened a bit as he listened to your words.
He could sense the hurt and frustration beneath your calm facade.
"But...are you-" Aventurine started, but trailed off as you turned away, walking out of the room.
You didn't like this at all.
You were in the dining room, having dinner at 2am.
Your eyes were a little itchy, but maybe you were being a little exaggerated.
But you couldn't help but feel single in some way. That was when you weren't in a relationship with them.
Ratio and Aventurine lay down in bed, both still feeling the effects of the alcohol.
Ratio stared up at the ceiling, his mind still preoccupied with his worries.
Aventurine shifted uncomfortably on the bed, the guilt and shame gnawing at him.
"Maybe we should try to talk to them...?" Ratio mumbled.
Aventurine let out a weary sigh, burying his face in the pillow.
"I don't think they want to talk to us at the moment," he muttered, his words muffled by the pillow.
Ratio grimaced, realizing that Aventurine was probably right.
"Yeah, you're probably right..." he said, his voice subdued.
"I'm sure tomorrow they will forget everything," he said, caressing Ratio's cheek.
Ratio leaned into Aventurine's touch, finding comfort in his partner's presence. "I hope so..."
He was about to say something else, but a yawn cut him off.
"I'm exhausted," he mumbled, feeling the tiredness finally catching up with him.
Aventurine nodded, approaching him.
"Yeah, me too..." he murmured, his eyelids growing heavy.
"I'll try to make it up to them tomorrow," he muttered.
Ratio hummed in agreement, feeling his own eyelids droop.
Their words trailed off as they both surrendered to the pull of sleep, their alcohol-sated minds finally shutting down for the night.
Meanwhile, you finished eating your dinner, the food not helping to improve your mood.
You felt frustrated and a tad sad, despite trying to appear indifferent.
The next day, and in itself, the days that followed, you forced yourself a little to act normal, until everything was 'normal' for your mind.
All for the sake of your job and relationship.
Well, you could say that everything was fine and as before.
Except that by the 'as before', it had become somewhat distorted.
In a way, they stay attentive and worried, or so you said to yourself.
But like that in a way, you felt like they had become more bossy, so to speak.
But that's what they behaved for you.
You couldn't tell if it was how they behaved or you were just getting a little fed up with the most basic things, you have to plan and do.
I mean, you were both of them's assistant, but not the housekeeper.
Despite your efforts to act normal, there was a growing sense of irritation and frustration within you.
The lines between assistant and housekeeper often blurred, and it felt like they expected you to take on more than what was expected of your role.
Still, you tried to be understandable, you knew that their work wasn't the easiest and funniest ever.
You tried your best to push these feelings aside, but it was becoming harder and harder.
Days turned into weeks, and the strain on your nerves continued.
The tasks they asked you for went beyond what was reasonable for an assistant.
Your own responsibilities seemed to take a backseat, replaced by their demands and needs.
You felt overlooked and unappreciated, like your efforts and contributions were taken for granted.
Each time you tried to bring up your concerns, they brushed them off, assuring you that they were just being "busy" with work.
Or as they used to say, "by chance" they always did something together that kept them busy.
The sense of imbalance in the relationship continued to weigh on you, eroding your patience and confidence.
It became harder to ignore the frustration that gnawed at the pit of your stomach.
You felt like you were walking on eggshells, always trying to please them and meet their expectations.
But no matter how much you tried, it never seemed like enough.
cw. best friends need to fuck each other sometimes <3 fem! reader
what's worse?
the vivid realization of fucking your best friend aventurine or that it actually feels fucking nice when you ride him as it all happened so quickly, with want, need and arousal— without your mind working.
it started somewhat innocent, the both of you curious on what's behind those clothes of yours when you begin to masturbate in front of each other— your fingers rubbing over your puffy clit as aventurine watches with big doe eyes, stroking his cock.
high off desperation, he urges you to put a finger into your hole, which you hoped he'd be the one to tell you— to make you do it so it's him who looks even more desperate than you did.
he makes a great show of showing you his thickened cock, right and solid and good wiping his pre over his shaft before bucking into his hand, again again and again fucking into his tight grip imagining it's your tight pussy instead.
the one he's watching getting stuffed by a mere finger. he could've made you cum already, he's certain of it.
aventurine begins to grunt each time you whine when you pump a finger in— and you can see it, how much in pain he was, keeping his teeth dug into his bottom lip to concentrate on making himself cum with his hand.
but it's fast, almost a little bold when he asks you, when both of you think about it;
"you wanna— sit on it, just a bit?" he gasps when you whine back to him, confused and lidded eyes, thrusting your finger in and out of your hole, "only a bit, okay?" you utter back nervously, "five s-seconds, five, not more," lips wet with saliva bestowing pure lust as aventurine was trying to hold it in, his climax and breath, caught in a big gulp.
you hop on top of him, your folds smacking against his shaft as he desperately lines himself up— drawing you still, uttering out another twine of five seconds, only five, fucking five seconds, it's gonna be worth it, you'll see.
"fuck—," he throws his head back, palms branding your ass, "i'm inside of you, fucking inside, oh fuck," as the new feeling of a cock, your best friends cock, sliding into your walls felt so fucking satisfying, so damn filthy and wrong, but good and well at the same time.
it's wrong, it's not, but it is. no it's not.
something so thick and pleasuring can never be wrong.
you're so tight, so fucking tight," he presses into you, your hole filled and thighs shaking, your hips still pushing down to keep more of him in before you let out a squeal at the burning split of his shaft gaping your cunt apart— the tight cunt aventurine always wanted to feel.
the gambler doesn't want mindless fucking, or mundane repetitive one night stands that are bringing him more eye roll than actual pleasure.
actual satisfaction? that's what he wants and he's feeling it right now while stuffing his best friend's sloppy cunt—he desires you strongly, he craved an almost damaging, unspeakable pleasure, his hips jerking reflexively as you're high off the sensation of him.
you choke out your moans, both humping each other filthily, his unforgiving pace bringing you to tears, sweat and saliva drenching you, marking you up, until you're falling apart on your best friends fucking cock.
okay i do want to voice out my opinion in.. well certain fics
i get it, it's called FANFICITON for a reason, but of course there has to be limitations because at this point i feel like i dont want to be a part of any community again
i do hope you know what "dark content" actual is. yes, its dark, but dark is way different than full on disgust. i do think incest doesn't belong to "dark content", because you're having sex with your biological family. that's gross and surely other siblings/bio family members wouldn't want to have sex with someone they're related to
even if it's traumatic/ptsd related, lets not romanticize that at the very least. its a really serious situation we shouldn't be putting in our writing just for the sake of attention and pleasing others.
obviously seeing smut fics of your favorite character isn't a nice thing to see. any fandom, like majority or even all people in a fandom wouldn't and cant handle incest. like- any sane person would never handle that honestly
ive read the aventurine incest fic with his sister and least to say, i wasn't pleased a bit because im sure aventurine wouldn't do that, and im sure others agree too.
me, along with some others (majority of aventurine fans id say) wouldn't want to see gross works about the character/s (doesnt limit to aventurine) because it genuinely upsets us due to how someone decided to treat a character in such a negative scenario society perceives, because i know some others view these characters as their comfort character.
this also gives the writing part of the fandom a bad light and we obviously dont want to get caught up in that bad light.
i saw the author say that they're disgusted by their brother, yet wrote this fic about brother!aventurine wanting to get his siter pregnant with their child...
i kind of admire the courage of this person to post this fic thinking it was okay for like- majority of people. i know its a mater of preference of smut fics, but i honeslty think liking incest related fics isn't something to enjoy especially when its someone you're close with.
some might defend, saying that others (specifically irl people) enjoy getting r#p#d or having sex with their family members, but id like to say that's a different case and lets not add it to our writings that will be shared to others. perhaps the reason why people enjoy these stuff is because that's how they were raised when they were young, and young and developing brains of kids are easy to brainwash and inflict trauma, even teens, heck adults too
if you think we're just sensitive, we're not because i wouldn't want my parents or sibling to just suddenly want a baby inside of me, id call the police ASAP
at this point ill just play a game without even looking at the community/fandom to spare myself a bit of my sanity and please read the entire thing and hopefully get my point
I’m sorry you’ve gotten so many anons that are downright hateful. You can disagree with someone without telling them to kill themself, and I wish these anons would actually try to engage with you in a meaningful way rather than just threatening you. That’s why I’m writing this ask. I was hoping to explain some of the nuances of dark content in a way that isn’t pure defensiveness. It’s okay if this doesn’t change your mind, I just wanted to try and actually explain helpfully.
Firstly, I understand why you’re upset about the post. Incest is extremely taboo and morally reprehensible in reality. (And I agree with you it’s not my cup of tea in fiction either.) However, on sites like tumblr and ao3 it’s very much up to the reader to avoid things they don’t want to see. Yes, tag filtering exists and many of us use it, but some things still slip through the cracks. Even if this post wasn’t filtered for you, it was still marked as mature by tumblr and the top of the post itself contains all the relevant warnings. If you didn’t want to see the content, all you had to do was block and scroll away.
Second, in fiction communities, it is absolutely inappropriate to pathologize people’s fantasies and tell them that their content should not exist. Studies have shown time and time again that fantasies do not correlate with real life intentions to commit taboo or illegal acts such as incest. In fact, modern psychiatry believes that engaging with fanfic (and other safe sane consensual ways of engaging with dark fantasies) is a helpful outlet for people. Adults are capable of separating fiction from reality. To pretend otherwise is to buy into purity culture rhetoric.
On the topic of purity culture, policing fandom content in any way is absolutely a Trojan horse for purity culture. Just look at what happened to ff.net. First it will be dark content, then it will be any nsfw content is unacceptable, then it will be queer content, and so on and so forth. The thing about claiming the moral high ground is that morals are subjective and the goalposts will always be moved. You may think I’m exaggerating by saying that objecting to fictional incest and other dark content leads to the exclusion of marginalized folks, censorship, and the destruction of fanfic communities but it absolutely does and it has already happened.
Anyway, thanks for reading this far (if you have) and again I’m not sending this out of malice so I really hope it doesn’t come across as a personal attack. But at the end of the day, (as much as I understand having a visceral reaction to dark content) this one is kind of on you. Tumblr has dark content, this is common knowledge. A post gave appropriate warnings. And you purposely engaged with a post you knew you wouldn’t like. Being into dark fantasies with fictional characters is not an offense worthy of a callout post. Next time please just block and scroll. Other people should be able to create the content they like without being shamed and harassed. Not everything has to be for you.
hi,
i understand your point, thank you for being respectful, i got tired of people just jumping on me, thinking they will do something by calling me names and telling me to off myself.
Thats one of the reasons i wont be saying anything about content like that anymore, the other is that no matter what me and other people said as a response we got insults and not being taken seriously.
Of course i dont think only my opinion is right, i respect other peoples opinions but i also expect a normal response. Instead i was called thin-skinned and told to suck it up. Immature response in my opinion.
i will also add that not all people separate fiction from reality and a lot of them are adults.
i dont wanna deal with all of that anymore its pointless
Again thank you for being respectful and kind, some of the asks i received were pretty mean lol
Why tf can't people (you) just mind their goddamn business. You literally have no reason to be bothering them and telling people to harass them. Obviously they're gonna retaliate if you just come out and attack them. You inserted yourself into their community and tried to shame them when you're the one who stepped foot in there. Chronically online behavior.
yea it was childish to share the author of that fic but that information is public anyway, if they wanted to find it they could very easily
in fact i had forgotten the user of the creator and it took me like 2 mins to find it
im not sending anyone to harass them, people are gonna do that anyway, so dont blade me
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