#kuragin

War & Peace - Dementy Shmarinov

Warnings: None, it’s not angst for once! Wait. It’s kind of angst- oops.

Requested by anon

A/N: Grammarly literally gave me 0 suggestions on this- this is the first piece I’ve written without any spelling or grammar mistakes! Yay!

“Who’s that?”

As Anatole sauntered down the aisle, Y/N’s eyes followed him discreetly.

“Helene’s brother, Anatole Kuragin,” Marya whispered, her gaze still on the opera. Y/N turned pink when Anatole met her eyes, but she returned her attention to the stage. She had heard too much about the man to trust him. She did, however, have to admit that he was far too handsome for his own good.

The next time Y/N looked over was only a few minutes later. His eyes had never left her face, and the corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk when she caught him looking. He stared into her eyes, seemingly not at all embarrassed by the fact that he had been staring. She turned away again, slightly uncomfortable.

As the opera played out in front of her, she could hardly focus on the music or the story. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anatole still studying her. She finally gave into the urge to look at him. She fell into a trance, allowing herself to really, truly look at him. Even at a distance, she could see that he was beautiful.

Then he stood up and began to walk towards her.

“Here comes Anatole,” Sonya whispered to Y/N. Natasha grinned at her older sister.

“He seems to have taken a liking to you, Y/N.”

Y/N bit her lip and looked away. “Pay attention to the show,” she scolded, although her mind was elsewhere. She heard the jangling coming from his outfit getting louder and louder, quiet, careful footsteps only getting closer. A feeling of excitement and of dread came over Y/N and she had to look away from the opera in order to calm her nerves. He had to be close by now, she thought. He could be right behind her.

And then he was there. He truly brought a presence wherever he went. Y/N turned around ever so slowly and met his eyes. He was even more handsome up close than at a distance, and with his blond hair and deep eyes and his smirk, that smirk, she wondered whether she would be able to resist his charms.

“Anatole Kuragin.”

Y/N looked to Sonya and Natasha for help, but the younger girls were giggling in delight, and Marya was too invested in the show to pay them any mind. She swallowed hard and turned back to the man in front of her.

“Y/N Rostova.”

His smile grew. “The Countess.”

Unsure how to respond, Y/N looked down, expecting him to go away. Instead, he took a seat next to her, uncomfortably close to her. With his body right next to hers, his hand right next to her leg, she couldn’t focus on anything else.

Y/N tried to get a grip on herself, remembering he was not ready for commitment. Y/N was the oldest Rostova, and she was expected to marry someone worthy. Natasha was lucky enough to fall in love with a prince, but Y/N figured she would be lucky if she found someone she could stand.

All of this meant she had no time to play around with a man who wouldn’t marry her- it could destroy the family name. And Y/N wouldn’t fall for Anatole, anyway, she thought. As long as she didn’t fall in love with him, everything would be fine.

“How are you enjoying the show?” he whispered. Her heart beat faster and she scolded herself silently. “Last week, someone fell off the stage.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Is that amusing to you?”

He shrugged. “More so than the actual opera.”

Y/N stifled a laugh, knowing exactly where he was coming from. “I can understand your logic, then.”

“I suppose that answers my question, then,” he mused. “The first few operas can be a bore, but slowly you begin to more or less figure out the plot.”

“Sounds enchanting,” Y/N mumbled, shaking her head. “For an idiot, you are rather intelligent.”

Anatole clasped a hand over his mouth to hold in a laugh. “That came out of nowhere!” He turned to her with wide eyes. “What did I do to deserve that?”

Y/N smiled without looking at him. “I’ve heard what you’re like, Kuragin.”

He looked down. “Sometimes what you’ve heard is different from what you’ve seen.”

Y/N finally looked at him, her eyes wide. She had never realized he could be like this. She pushed these thoughts out of her head shamefully- she couldn’t fall in love with him. If she got rid of these feelings, everything would be okay.

…

“Y/N, someone’s here to see you,” Natasha teased, almost unable to get it out around her giggles. Sonya was doing the same, a hand over her mouth to muffle the laughs.

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at her sister, making Natasha narrow her eyes. “You’re in for it when I get back!”

Y/N adjusted her gown and walked down the stairs with raised eyebrows. She did a double-take when she saw Anatole Kuragin, sitting on her sofa.

“You.”

Anatole chuckled and looked up at her. “Hey.”

Y/N gathered her thoughts and walked down the stairs. “Um- can I help you?”

He acted playfully annoyed. “I just came to talk to you.” He patted the spot next to him. “Care to sit?”

“Oh-” flustered, Y/N tried her best to choke out a sentence. “Uh, do you want to come to my room?”

Anatole raised his eyebrows playfully but followed her up the stairs. Blocking out Natasha’s hysterical laughter, Y/N closed the door after them.

“Um- what have you been up to?”

Anatole closed his eyes and sat down at the foot of the bed, leaning back against the mattress. “What a week I’ve head. I went to the club-”

“Oh, no,” Y/N said with a laugh.

“No, that’s not the bad part!” Anatole exclaimed. As Y/N watched him talk, she felt a fluttering in her chest, a smile on her lips, pink in her cheeks. She tried to push it away- she could not fall in love with him. It would ruin everything.

Just stop it, she thought. Everything will be fine.

…

He had kissed her. Anatole Kuragin- he had kissed her. They had been in her bedroom, like usual, just talking. And then his face was inches from hers, his hands were around her waist, and before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers. And then he had run away, the playful smirk even bigger than usual.

The worst part? She had kissed back.

…

“I can’t love you,” she said firmly. It had been a week since she had last spoken with Anatole, a week since they kissed.

“What?”

Y/N looked down. “I’m starting to love you, and I can’t. If-if I love you- you don’t love me-”

“I do!” he insisted, taking her hands. She pulled them away.

“No- maybe you think you do, but- but- I have a reputation. I have to get married to someone respectable, and I can’t be with other men. If- if you’re not willing to have a life with me, then I can’t be with you.”

“I want a life with you!” he exclaimed, stepping towards her. She stepped back. “Y/N, I love you- from the moment I saw you, I knew that you were different. I love you, I adore you, and I would get down on my knees this minute and ask for your hand.”

She shook her head. “Then prove it!”

Anatole slowly got down on his knees and took her hands. Y/N gasped.

“Wait-”

“My love, I-I mean it. I adore you. And I would be honored if you would call me your husband.”

She burst into tears. “You- you really mean it?”

Anatole smiled. “I wouldn’t lie about that, would I?”

“Yes! I’ll marry you!” Anatole stood up and pulled her into his arms. He had run away from marriage his entire life, but now, with Y/N so close to him, he wanted nothing more.