Genre: angst; lovers 2 ex
Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader
WC: 2.1k
A/N: English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes!
Not proofread
Never in a million years did you think marriage was supposed to be like this. You just know your 9 year old self would be totally crushed to feel unseen by the one who should be the love of her life.
You were 21 when you first met Jungkook, at the time with 25. You met through mutual friends and at the time you were in a relationship with someone you met in college.
A very toxic one.
So when you and your ex boyfriend broke up, Jungkook was one of your biggest supporters. He was always there for you, wether it was day or night. It took you a year and a half to get together, because timing was never right, but ever since the day he got the courage to kiss you, you never left his side. Everything was perfect: the way he cared about you, the way he loved and heard you.
At 23 you started living together and the flame and desire would never get lost. Even if you both were tired, you always made sure to put effort. When he proposed to you on his 26th birthday you couldn't believe it. It was a present topic on your relationship but you never thought it would be that soon. All you had dreamed and hoped for was finally happening.
At 25 you bought your first house together and you finally said the big yes I do. Everything you wanted really happened. The first year was amazing, you were stronger than ever, really happy. Then Jungkook started having issues on his work and ended up quitting and getting another job, that made him be more absent.
You always supported him and you were the one who conviced him to go after his dream job, but you never thought you'd end up with an absent husband. At first you understood: overtime, night shifts, minor forgetfulness. It was temporary, you thought. It was a new job, he had to be a little bit more dedicated and hardworking, he had to keep up with his colleagues and show commitment because he was the new guy. However, you started to fall behind.
You started to fall behind every time he preferred to go eat with his colleagues after a shift rather than come home to you; when he had days off during the week; when he kept accepting more and more night shifts. Your intimacy was getting smaller and smaller, to the point you can't even remember the last time you had sex.
When you tried to bring up the subject, he justified it by saying it was the beginning and he had to work harder. That he couldn't just start a new job and impose demands on what he wanted or didn't want. That day, although you agreed with him, you went to bed and cried yourself to sleep. You didn't want to seem clingy or too needy, but you missed when he was more yours than any other job or hobby that could come along.
Although you continued to surprise him, trying to spice things up, he no longer paid attention. Even on his days off (which mostly fell during the week, when you were busy working), he didn't make an effort. He no longer cooked for you, didn't surprise you at your lunch break, didn't annoyed you anymore to drop you off and pick you up from work, always taking the long way because he'd miss you as soon as you got out of the car… This Jungkook seemed to have disappeared and you were afraid he had gone somewhere else without you noticing.
Was it something you did?
Did he realize you weren't the woman of his dreams after all?
Did he meet someone better ?
Millions of questions raced through your head, which never had answers, even when you tried to talk to him and honestly? You were getting tired of it.
It happened on a Tuesday. He was off work and you left work at 6:30 PM. When you got home, you saw everything was calm and quiet, which you found weird, but then thought Jungkook might be trying to surprise you, but when you entered, you were faced with an empty house and everything dark.
There was no dinner made; the dishes from his breakfast and lunch were still to be washed; the dishwasher was still full, waiting to be used, and there was an orange post-it note on the table
"I went to the soccer game organized by my coworkers. I'll be home late.
I love you."
The world fell apart at your feet and the only thing you could do was cry. When you got married, it wasn't to feel alone, abandoned and helpless. Marriage was never about that.
Of course, you didn't need to be glued together all the time, but that never happened in your entire relationship either. He had no reason to act like that, he never did, so why now?
You didn't feel like having dinner, so you took a shower and went to bed in that room that once held amazing memories of the two of you, but lately only sees tears and broken hearts.
You noticed the front door open at 11:48 PM. You heard him come upstairs and open the bedroom door, grab a pair of boxers and a shirt, but not before kissing your temple. When you heard the bathroom door close and the water falling, you allowed a few tears to fall as well. You loved him so much, but you couldn't go on like this.
10 minutes later he returned from his shower and lay down next to you, grabbing you by the waist and slowly giving you small kisses on your neck. You didn't say anything, you simply shifted in the sheets and pushed him away with a small "not today". He didn't say anything, nor did he try again to be close to you and of course a piece inside you broke a little more.
The next morning, you called work and said you weren't feeling well and were going to stay home. When you got up, you prepared your breakfast and sat down to eat. A short time later Jungkook came downstairs.
"Good morning" he said, kissing the top of your head.
"Morning" you said dryly. Jungkook paused for a few seconds, looking around, then turning back to you.
"Did you make breakfast?"
"Yes, I made it for myself" he seemed confused.
"And for me?" you let out a dry laugh.
"I didn't know we had maids here at home now. If you're hungry, grab the things you need and make it yourself. As far as I know, you've got two great hands"
When you finished drinking your chocolate milk and went to put the mug in the sink, you noticed Jungkook's shocked face, motionless by the stove. He hadn't expected this morning anger of yours and honestly, neither had you.
"Is everything alright?" You grabbed the rest of the utensils and put them in the sink, turning your back towards the kitchen door.
"Everything's great." And you left.
You had never, ever acted like this with him, not even during your worst fights, but things change and people change too.
You had just finished brushing your teeth when he appeared at the edge of the bathroom, looking at you. You didn't say anything to him, just continued what you were doing and went to change into something more comfortable than just pajamas. As you passed by him, he gently grabbed your arm, turning you to face him.
"What's going on?" You disentangled yourself from his grip as best as you could.
"Nothing"
"Don't give me that"
"Oh Jungkook, spare me a bit. I don't know, why do you think something's going on?" He was silent for a few seconds after hearing your irritated tone. He took two deep breaths before speaking again
"You're irritated, I can see that. You never do breakfast for yourself only, even when we argue."
"It seems things have changed around here."
"What do you mean by that?" you scoffed.
"That I wasn't the only one to change, nor the first, Jungkook. You've been giving me the cold shoulder ever since you changed jobs. There's no romance, no communication, no affection, no intimacy, just work and when you're not working you'd much rather be with your colleagues watching some stupid football game than be with your wife, with whom you don't have a single decent moment anymore. I don't know... what do you think is really going on?"
You could see the struggle to find the right words, or perhaps the way to say them correctly, although that wasn't enough, because he just retreated for the next few minutes. And when he spoke, you really wished he had stayed silent until you left his presence.
"You're exaggerating Y/n." You saw that something in his gaze changed as soon as he uttered those words, but the damage was already done. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to fall as you approached your husband, the person you once loved so deeply and who promised to never to hurt you.
"You stopped being present, Jungkook. You don't ask me how my day was, you don't send me 10 messages in a row when I go too long without replying, you don't take the initiative to show me that you still love me. Do you remember the last dinner I prepared for the two of us? The one where I asked you to be home at 8 pm and you arrived around 10.30 pm because you lost track of time?" At this point, your tears were already falling aggressively and a sob escaped your mouth. No matter how many times you'd wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, the vision remained blurred.
"Yesterday you were off work, home all day. You knew I'd leave work around dinner time, tired and longing to be near my husband, but all I found was an empty house, full with dirty diches instead of plates full of food, with a fucking post it note saying you were at a goddamn football game. That sums up our marriage lately Jungkook and I'm tired of feeling alone in something that should be a joint effort."
You took a deep breath and tried to calm down a little, went to your already packed suitcase and closed it. "When I agreed to marry you, it wasn't to live in a relationship alone. And if you didn't notice the dynamic our relationship has taken until now, it's because you weren't as invested in it. In the end I'm the one who created too many expectations." You picked up your bag and opened the first drawer of the closet, from which you took out a pile of papers.
Divorce Agreement
"Read everything, see if you agree and sign. I'll be at my parents' house meanwhile. If you ever truly loved me once, please don't even think about going there. We haven't lived as a couple for a while now, so this is just a way to make it official"
As you move towards the door, you hear him. "No. What do you mean? What?! Where did all this come from? I... I don't understand Y/n. Why didn't you talk to me about... everything?"
"I didn't talk t-- ? I didn't talk to you Jungkook?!! All the times I asked you to come home early, all the times I told you I missed your company, when we argued about you not being able to listen to me! What was all that for?"
"I... I... didn't understand. I- don't- "
"Like I told you in that argument, you stopped listening to me. And with that came all this wear and tear. I'm tired of talking to a wall. I tried, I spoke, you just didn't listen and I can't deal with your indifference anymore. I love you, but I don't want this to be my life. This isn't what I saw in my parents and it's not what I want for myself at all. Take care, Jungkook."
And you closed the door, heading towards the entrance, with a broken heart and a lot of hurt and disappointment mixed in. You loved Jungkook with all your being and staying there would only allow him to convince you that he would change. But the truth is that he only understood what was happening because you had to explain everything to his face.
In a relationship, respect and communication have to go hand in hand, and that had ended a long time ago. You don't know what's gonna come next, you just want to start a different chapter, where above all you're able to heal from what broke you.
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A/N: Well well well. Has it been like a year and a half? Yes. Did I write this in bursts over that year and a half so it feels just a bit less coherent than usual? Yes. But am I releasing it anyway? Fuck Yes. So once again, buckle up folks.
Synopsis: When you were a child, the Lantsov king and queen arranged for their second son to marry you, a rich Ravkan noble family's only daughter. After many years, after all the destruction of the war, and after Nikolai was crowned king, Nikolai breaks off the engagement. But the complications of your past and your strict parents make it a nightmare to find a new fiance, so Nikolai promises to help you, yet he slowly realizes the mistake he's made.
Warnings: Angst! Strict (but getting less so) and low-key abusive parents, self-image issues because of said parents, arguing/angry shouting, mentions of illness and death, kinda confusing and purposefully ambiguous details that will be important later in the story (we are here folks! hopefully most everything will be answered), time feels screwy in this one but that's just not something that i'm gonna fix lol so turn a blind eye, pls lmk if I've missed anything else.
Word count: 4985
..........
A week passed all too quickly after that day in the library. You were only afforded a few proper days of sulking alone in your room before Lady Antonov had you scrubbed up and dressed to attend some dinner. No matter how hard you had taken this betrayal and excommunication with your friend, she seemed to be on the other side of the coin. Without Nikolai in the picture, you were now free in all manners of mind, body, spirit, and whatever else she thought might distract you.
Thus, you arrived at that dinner prospectless, and departed with a fiance.
It wasn't a glamorous proposal, by any stretch. The execution was just that; precise in every aspect and carried out like a necessity. You dined with a party of First Army all sitting politely around the table. Before desert was served, the host, in all of his dry bravado, dedicated a toast in your name.
“The young Lady Antonov, whom I wish to call my fiance and wife soon after,” General Halinsky said, “I cannot say with certainty that we would no longer clash, but I know it to be true that we could withstand a long and comfortable life together.”
He procured the ring from his pocket then, kneeling beside your chair.
“Will you do me the honour of a lifetime and marry me?”
At the urging and expectation of every captain, commander, and sergeant in the room--including the force that was the Antonovs--and at the dread of what would come should you deny him, you nodded, let him take your hand, and mustered the best smile you could.
Lady Antonov was so pleased with you on the way home, that she let you sit on your side of the carriage in utter peace. No biting remarks. No condescension. Just the content, light-with-alcohol, satisfaction of a woman who had finally won. Granted, you had the suspicion it was a short lived peace as she would be her own particular brand of nightmare as the wedding was actually being planned.
Lord Antonov, though quiet in his own way, had a strange way of showing his satisfaction. The general tension he carried in his shoulders seemed lessened, though he stared into the night outside the carriage window with a look you seldom recognized from him, let alone could name.
……….
General Halinsky visited for tea every day in the next week–and even insisted you call him by his first name–all in the name of building some sort of a relationship before the big day. Summer was nearing, and the wedding was now wedged into the second week of fall. In just over one season, you would be wed to a man you weren’t sure if you loathed or not.
Your first impression of him had been a dreadful thing, but you could not fault him for the entirety of that moment, arrogant as he was. You had a bias towards Nikolai as you defended your friend from Halinsky’s resentment of him. Besides, initial meeting aside, he was a practical man, which you could mostly appreciate. Every meeting with him was informative, if dry, and you left them with a better sense of the life you would lead. One of his visits, he had spied your narrowly tidied drafts on the library table, peeking at them with pursed lips.
“Did you make this drawing?”
“It's a design,” you corrected, folding up the plan. “For an improved land till.”
“What's wrong with the ones the farmers already have?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to make something more efficient.”
“Let me see it again.”
“You don't care about this.”
“Try me.”
You pursed your lips, but unfolded the page again.
He stood over it with a mild interest. His finger traced the lines. “You could replace the till with other technology, yes?”
“In theory. You’d have to account for weight and counterweight, depending on what the technology is.”
“How about a repeating rifle?”
You looked at him. “I don't make war machines.”
“You'd be very good at it.”
“Funny.”
“With the Fjerdans and the Shu surrounding us, you may well have to one day. It's the best way for you to support Ravka, besides having children.”
“I'll not send my children off to war,” you huffed simply.
“They'll be my children too. The First Army will be their birthright.”
Your jaw clicked. “Military titles are not simply given but should be earned; isn't that how you feel about the matter?”
He smiled. It was a sour little expression that didn't come naturally to him. “Yes, dear. Our children will begin as privates and corporals, as all the rest do.”
Despite his conciliatory tone, your mood was rather ruined now. You slowly folded the plan again. “I'm going to my room to rest. I'll see you tomorrow.”
He took your hand before you left, pressing a tight lipped kiss to the back. “Rest well.”
……….
By some trick of the saints, you found yourself in the library yet again when he barged in. The front doors had opened down the hall, and you barely registered the butler's faint fussing before the library door swung nearly to the wall in the intruder's haste.
"What is this?"
You set aside your pen and leaned back in your chair. Nearly four weeks had passed since you’d seen Nikolai, weeks in which you thought you had recovered, but the sight of him squinting at you with disbelief made your lungs sting.
He dropped an envelope to the desk in front of you. The Antonov seal was stamped proudly at the torn opening. So the invitation had reached him.
"You know how to read, your highness, what do you think it is?"
"You can't marry him."
"Why not?" You echoed your mother's talking points, saying, "General Halinsky has a generous estate and he is a renowned figure in the first army. What more could I hope for?"
"General Halinsky is dreadful! He's a two-faced old man with all the kindness of a whip--you can't allow this."
Your brows snapped together. "Allow this? You can't honestly believe I have a say in this. But perhaps a limitless king cannot understand the limitations of others.”
“That's not a fair estimation. I know how your parents are, but–.”
“You couldn't comprehend the meaning of unfair, Nikolai. I am but a silent spectator in my own life. I cannot travel unaccompanied, even if I'm only crossing the road. My family's house and estate can't even pass into my name unless I have a husband to help me manage it! And on that subject–despite what you may think–I have no say in who I marry. It's a game of inheritance and social standing--a game I would think you of all people should understand. And yet you stand here questioning how I could allow myself to be engaged."
Your scolding took effect as Nikolai's head bowed. His lips were set in a hard line, mirroring the crease in his brow.
You crossed your arms, taking a breath. "I know what Halinsky is like, and I've made my peace with it. I know he is boring and stuffy and all too concerned with his coffers and his army. But there is nothing I can do about that, and there is nothing I can do to stop this marriage."
"I can stop it," he said softly.
You didn't like the way he stared at you now, a determined hope twinkling in his eyes. Or was it doubt that danced in his hazel irises? You couldn't decide, but you knew where he was going with this.
You shook your head, standing from the desk. "Don't say it."
"They'll change their minds about Halinsky if I--"
"I don't want to hear it, Nikolai!"
"But you must." He clasped his hands together, pleading, "Marry me, and we'll set this right."
You swallowed down the emotions in your throat. You'd paced to the window now, and you shook your head again, unable to look at him. “You're too late.”
You heard him shuffle slightly where he stood. “It's not too late. You're only engaged.”
“Of course you'd say that, knowing how unimportant engagements are to you,” you lowly scoffed.
“Turn around. Please.”
You wanted to ignore him, to defy the king, but you eventually turned. The sight of him made your chest twinge. Nikolai knelt there, an open ring box in hand, the shiny Lantsov emerald ring in place.
“I had another gift prepared for your birthday. Your father came in before I could give you this one.” Nikolai looked at the ring box in his hands. “I should have asked you at that moment, should have stuck my intentions in your father's face. But I was angry and resentful, and I didn't want you to remember me red-faced as I proposed, so I left. I'm sorry.”
The mention of your father and their verbal dust-up churned something inside of you. The argument seemed so revelatory, like a flint strike in the back of your mind, sparking the fire of doubt you had long stored kindling for. Perhaps instead it was the rough snap of being caught in Lord Antonov's trap as you took his side over Nikolai's. Right now, you couldn't decide what was right, only that you had to move forward, no matter the cost.
“You're too late,” you sniffled.
“It's not too late, my darling. We can stop your engagement. We can get married. We would be married by now if I hadn't been such a proud and stubborn ass in calling off our arrangement.”
You shook your head yet again. “It's not enough.”
“It is enough. It can be.”
He stood from his knelt position, but you turned away. You swallowed, eyes closing. The scar on your knuckle itched.
“I refuse to be something to settle for, Nikolai.”
“It's not settling. I love you.”
“I can't be an afterthought.”
“I love you.”
The scar burned. “Please leave.”
“I love you.”
“Get out,” you bit, fists clenched at your sides. “Now.”
A moment of hesitation passed. Then footsteps retreated from the library. The door opened then clicked shut again. It wasn't slammed; you didn't know if the quiet resignation made it worse.
You opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder at the empty room–at your solitude. Your shaky palms had crescent moon indents in them. The sting of your canine teeth against your knuckle did wonders to soothe your itchy scar; the bite did not, however, staunch the hot tears that dripped onto your cheeks.
……….
Caryeva and its lively folk were more than often too much for you to handle. But for now they were a welcome reprieve from the polite, stately society of Os Alta.
General Halinsky–or Lev, as he was now insisting you call him–had a residence here, a house called Austead. It had come to him in some inheritance from an aunt who had no children of her own when she died. Lev had made it out to be some small thing, however the estate was an eight bedroom house with a moderately sized stablehouse, man-made lake, and room aplenty for you and the Antonovs.
Lord and Lady Antonov were simply thrilled to stay at Austead.
“How perfect that you two will have our family estate for permanent residence and this lovely little getaway spot in Caryeva for the summertime,” Lady Antonov cooed after the general had given the three of you a tour of Austead.
“The estate needs constant maintenance in the summertime,” you'd replied in that moment. “We wouldn't be able to ignore the fields and its farmers for long.”
“Your mother is right,” Lev stepped up. “The fields and farmers can handle themselves for a while if we wish to spend some time here.”
You stood in the stable now, practically hiding from your family and fiance, who were either napping or playing some inane card game that one of the guests at last night's soiree had taught them. For a proper man with a stick so far up his own ass it was giving his nose slivers, Halinsky kept some improper acquaintances here in Caryeva. Though, you imagined it was hard to find civilized company among the horse racing and shiny gambling tables the city was known for.
Seven weeks had passed since you were last in Os Alta. It was a brief stint at the Antonov estate at the onset of summer. A week in your most familiar bed. A week of no letters. A week of solitude in the house where barely anyone spoke to you. A week of regretting every choice you'd ever made. A week of crying yourself to sleep every night.
Then your parents had taken Lev up on his offer to stay in Caryeva for the summer. Lord Antonov travelled back and forth to the estate every other week or so; whether he did so to check on the house and fields or to escape the growing concern that was Lady Antonov, you couldn't tell. The woman had taken on her finest form in the last few months as she planned your wedding for you.
Every conversation she carried was about flowers and cake and whether you should wear a tiara or hat with your veil. Every conversation ended with her getting her way. Not that you were too enthused with any of the wedding options regardless.
In a way, a peace had been reached with her. She seemed content to live vicariously through you, planning her wedding to a decorated General who always played the saint around her. He was her hero who could do no wrong, and you were the pox spot that marred her past.
Word of your being in Caryeva must have spread, because you received a dinner invitation from Lord Alexei, addressed to you, your fiance, and your parents. Secure in your new engagement, The Antonovs allowed you to attend, though they did not wish to go. And Lev gave some muttering about First Army work, though you could not be bothered to dig into his measly excuse.
All alone, you rode in the carriage to the Alianovic’s summer house, arriving early, as had been politely requested of you. Alexei was waiting in the study. He bowed and politely grasped your hand.
“Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you,” you nodded pleasantly. “I'm not sure who's said they'll attend yet; will you be there?”
“I wouldn't miss it.”
Wiping his palms on his pants, he leaned forward in his seat on the couch opposite to yours.
“Thank you for coming here early. I wished for you to meet Ana. She doesn't come down for the big dinners, since she's too little to sit at them, but I like for her to meet people sometimes, especially ladies like you. Give her role models, I suppose.”
You couldn't help the pursing of your lips, even if you forced them into a smile. “I'm not sure how good a role model I am,” you said in a quiet tone you hoped came off as humility rather than real doubt.
There was no time for a rebuttal from Alexei, as the study door creaked open and a little girl stood with her nanny behind her. The woman gently nudged her forward.
“Thank you, Nanny Minovitch. Ana, my love, come meet my friend.” He ushered her over and she took the long way around the couches so she wouldn't have to step near you. She held onto her father's leg, and he rubbed his hand over her back, offering her timid frame comfort. “Do you remember how to introduce yourself, Ana?”
She looked at him, softly shaking her head.
He hummed, lightly instructing her. “We practiced this morning, yes? You look at a person, give a curtsy, and say who you are. Can you give it a try for my friend?”
She still didn't separate from her father, and you made a soft smile at the gentle, close bond between them. You slowly stood.
“Can I introduce myself first, Ana?”
The little girl gave a little nod.
You looked at her, curtsied, said who you were, then smiled at her. “It's lovely to meet you. I've heard so many wonderful things about you.”
Ana cracked a small smile, and braved the world away from her father, stepping to the side, giving a quick and wobbly curtsy, saying, “I'm Lady Ana Alianovic,” then smiling bashfully up at you.
“Well done, my lady,” you softly cheered her.
She made a small giggle and leaned into her father's side again, climbing up onto his couch.
You were about to sit down across from them again, when you noticed a figure at the doorway. Your smile fell and your eyes widened on him. Alexei and Ana both looked behind them to see what you were so startled by.
“Cousin Nik!” Ana cheered, jumping off the couch and hurrying to the door.
Nikolai's eyes were locked on you until there was a child clinging to his leg. He smiled down at her, greeting her by gently stroking the top of her head. Then his eyes went to you again, unable to stop glancing your way.
You stood there awkwardly as he stepped nearer to the couches, Ana hanging off of him.
“Cousin. My lady.” He gave a somewhat stilted nod at you. “I was not aware you'd be here.”
“Likewise,” you said, sitting down at an armchair instead of the sofa.
Alexei looked between you. “Do contain your excitement, both of you.”
Had you known him better, you might have given him a dirty look. Nikolai certainly did. Even as he sat in your previous spot and Ana climbed onto his lap, the king was giving Alexei a glare.
“Did you bring me anything, Cousin Nik?” Her little voice asked.
Nikolai looked at her, his eyes softening as a smile graced his lips. Saints, how you missed that smile.
“Was I supposed to bring you something?”
“You always bring me something,” she softly groaned, making the adults in the room chuckle.
“But you've already got everything you could want, Cousin Ana,” Nikolai teased.
“But you always bring me something,” she muttered with a soft pout, her brown eyes emulating those of a baby cow's.
He brushed back some of her hair, giving a fake gasp. “What was that?”
Her eyes lit up. “What?”
“I think there's something behind your ear.”
She quickly poked at the back of her ear. “There's nothing there, Cousin Nik!”
He grinned, “I'm sure there is, let me look.”
Nikolai gently tilted her head to the side, glancing behind her ear. He made another gasp. “Hang on, Ana, I think I've found something.”
Brandishing something from his pocket while she didn't see, he pretended to pull this something from behind her ear. She giggled as he held it in front of her face now.
“It's so pretty!” Ana cheered as she took it in her small hands.
You glanced over, finding a seashell there. It had small brushstrokes on it, little swirling designs of purples and yellows.
“I saw it at a Zemeni market and thought of you,” Nikolai hummed.
Alexei voiced the same question you had, a huff of amusement and bewilderment in his voice. “You were in Novyi Zem recently?”
“I came back last week. It was only a small trip. Unofficial business.”
You held back from rolling your eyes. In your head, he had gone off on some reckless trip after you rejected him. Likely torn from the fact that you did not want him anymore. What a thought that was, that he was unmoored without you.
Then again, ever since you reacquainted yourselves nearly six months ago he had done a fair bit of traveling. It wasn't a guarantee that your last conversation was something to push him over the edge in any way. In fact, he seemed like he was doing fine–a far cry from the desperate man proposing to you. He didn't even look like he'd lost sleep over you. He was still his handsome, charming, seemingly kind self as he held Ana on his lap.
“I love it, Cousin Nik,” Ana marveled.
“I'm glad,” he smiled.
Alexei cleared his throat. “I did not know you'd be coming this early to dinner.”
Nikolai glanced over Ana's head at the lord. “I always visit early when you invite me to these things, you know that.”
“I suppose that's true,” Alexei spoke, and you felt his eyes come to you, almost in a silent apology.
When you realized you hadn't stopped looking at Nikolai since he arrived, you took a breath and put your stare down at your lap. It seemed he couldn't do without your attention, though. Nikolai said your name, and you glanced his way again.
“Is your fiance dining with us as well?” He asked, almost keeping all of the pointedness out of his voice.
“No,” you answered. You couldn't keep the pointedness out of your voice though. “The general is away. On First Army business.”
Nikolai's lips pursed slightly. For a moment he focused on the little girl slipping from his lap as she went to a desk at the other side of the room. “And your parents?”
“They won't be in attendance tonight either. They are dining with Count Shapovalov.”
He nearly scoffed, you could tell. “Very well.”
Your conversation veered into a wall of silence. You did not have the energy or the inclination to break it. Nikolai didn't seem to either. Poor Alexei, not having accounted for the rift between you, was left to attempt to patch it.
He looked at you, giving a polite nod. “I invited Lady Dahlia Tarachansky tonight. Have you met her before?”
“I have not, no. Is she a northern lady? I've not heard her family name before.”
“She is. Nikolai acquainted us last month,” he hummed.
You risked a glance at Nikolai. He was still as quiet as you, eyes sulking.
“Lady Dahlia is very kind. Ana likes her.”
You smiled at that. “That is good news.”
“Yes, it is,” Alexei smiled softly, his eyes and mind elsewhere.
With the only real voice in the room distracted, your attention shifted to Nikolai again. He glanced away when you looked at him. His brows had a constant furrow to them now that he wasn't all cheery with Ana.
“How did you think of introducing Lady Dahlia to Lord Alexei?” You inquired gently.
He blinked over at you, thinking for a moment, studying your question, wondering if there was an underlying barb in there. “They seemed evenly matched in interests and temperament.”
You nodded softly. “That's all it takes, is it?”
He kept his eye on you for a moment. “Yes, I daresay it is.”
You held his stare for as long as the tightness in your chest could bear.
……….
Dinner was lovely and flavourful and everything it ought to be. But it was long. Longer still since Nikolai was at the table.
Everyone loved to dine with the affable young king of Ravka, with his stories and the glowing look in his eyes when they'd settle on any other guest at that table. Though, beneath every charming smile and perfectly timed anecdote, there was an nearly undetectable somberness to his frame.
You were seated across from Lady Dahlia, and she was kind and had an infectious smile. Her face would go red as she laughed, though she did not make a spectacle of herself. Alexei couldn't look away from her all night.
But despite the beautiful, kindred Lady Dahlia, you couldn't fully enjoy yourself. Not with his majesty down the table putting on the best performance for miles.
You were exhausted by the end of the evening. Lord Alexei helped you into your carriage as he saw his guests off. And despite the impending headache and the weight on your shoulders, you gave him a smile.
“All evening I heard the strangest thing,” you told him.
His brows furrowed slightly. “What's that?”
“There were faint wedding bells, ones that grew louder each time I looked between you and Lady Dahlia,” you teased.
He looked down at the gravel path outside your carriage, his mustache twitching in a soft grin.
“She's lovely, Alexei. Truly.”
“The most beautiful woman I've known since Ana's mother,” he gently beamed.
“You should ask for her hand soon. During a sunset, or at the opera. She'd like that sort of thing, I'm sure.”
“Is that how the General asked you?” He raised his brow, amusement cresting in his eyes.
You paused, forcing your expression into something more neutral after the shock of his dig. “I didn't think you were one for mean jokes.”
“My intention was not to offend. My apologies, my lady.” He put his hand over his chest. “My cousin has been rather snide about General Halinsky. I think that attitude might have rubbed off a bit on me.”
You didn't like thinking that Nikolai had spoken to others about you and Halinsky. You especially begrudged the possibility that he had told Alexei about his clumsy proposal to you last month. The argument seemed only to exist between the two of you, at least in your mind it did.
“That is a poor excuse,” you murmured.
“I know.” He held the outside handle of your carriage for a moment. “I only wish for you to be happy.”
“I am,” you said with a convincing enough nod.
“Truly happy?” He raised his brows.
You met his eyes, hoping yours weren't too forlorn. “I am content. That is all anyone can ask for.”
“I think the philosophers and the poets would say differently.”
“Let them say what they like,” you replied, sitting up straight in your seat. “Goodnight, Lord Alexei.”
……….
Lord Antonov was in the drawing room of Austead when you returned. The door was open, the glow of the fireplace casting into the hall. As you passed by, he called your name. Not an angry beckoning. It was almost gentle, despite the deep tenor of his voice. You paused, turning back.
He sat in one of the twin armchairs, a newspaper unfolded on his lap. The man gave a subtle movement of his arm.
“Close the door and come sit,” he spoke simply.
You did as told, shutting yourself in with him. The other armchair quietly squeaked as you settled into it. He folded up the paper and set it aside. He rubbed his eyes.
“How was your dinner?”
“The usual,” you lied with a practiced casualness. “Just with a fair number of congratulations on my engagement.”
Your father nodded, scanning your face. His head leaned against the back of his armchair.
“You'll have to bring Halinsky with you next time,” he said.
“Lev dreads dinners that aren't packed with First army. He doesn't like to break rank.”
Your father chuckled at that.
“So clever. Like your mother,” he said into his glass.
You couldn't help but murmur, “Lady Antonov is clever now?”
“Not her. Your mother.”
Your eyes dropped down to your lap. There, your hands folded and unfolded. Were your silk gloves not still in place, you would have scratched at the suddenly itchy scar. Instead you squeezed your left hand with your right.
“You didn't expect me to speak about her?” Lord Antonov asked with a low offhandedness.
You shook your head. “The Antonov way has always been to pretend she never existed.”
“You were young enough that we thought it would be easier like that,” he mused into his glass. “It didn't stop your constant cries for her. It took months for you to accept your life.”
“I was five,” you muttered, looking over at him again.
He pursed his lips, letting out a breath. “That you were.”
The fireplace illuminated a man much different from the one you'd long known. Lord Antonov seemed at ease, almost weightless, and older too. Granted, he had never seemed young to you, but tonight he seemed particularly worn. In this moment, he wasn't some figure to cower at. He was your father, and even a pleasant one at that.
“You look like her,” he whispered.
You watched him with terrifying sympathy.
“Your daughter or my mother?” you whispered back.
“Your mother,” he smiled softly. “My daughter always looked more like Sofya than she did me. At least you have my nose.”
You managed to swallow down a lump in your throat. “Where is she now?”
He shook his head just barely. “I don't know. We paid for her to cross the fold, and we know she got to the other side safely. She could be as near as Novokribirsk or as far as Novyi Zem.”
“She never came back.” Your eyes must have held enough sorrow to garner a reaction, for Lord Antonov reached for your hand.
“She knew you would live a far greater life with us than she could afford you. At that time you were to grow up and be married to a prince. A maid's daughter could never even dream of such a thing.”
“A maid's bastard,” you murmured.
His thumb stroked over the seam in your gloves. His voice was barely above a murmur. “Don't speak about my daughter like that.”
“All these years, and now you're protective of me?”
He leaned forward, squeezing your hand. “The death of a child is a terrible thing. It drives good people to bad places. I couldn't be a proper father to you then.”
“And the loss of a parent is easier?”
He once more sighed. “No man is perfect, as you know by now. Especially not when seized by desperation. Take away the sun, and desperation will start lighting fires.” He squeezed your fingers again in an imparting touch. “We'd better be off to bed. Saints know tomorrow will only bring more vexation and weariness.”
For once, you heartily agreed with your father.
..........
A/N: These two are still very much in the trenches, I know. Can't resolve it in just one part after they've split though! They need court-mandated yearning first. Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)
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Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Lee Bodecker
Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Much of the night you spend crying. Between spurts of humiliation and disgust, you sink into a heavy, painful sleep. You wake with a pounding in your temples.
You call into work. You’ve never done so before but you can’t bring yourself to leave your room. You haven’t come out since your mom dragged you inside. It was only after a lecture about your friends that you could retreat.
You can’t bring yourself to face the world because that means facing yourself and what you did. What he did.
You sniffle. You don’t understand any of it. Why you? What did you do to deserve that?
Your phone vibrates on the night stand. You snatch it, expecting it to be work. They probably need you. Nope. The number is private. You let it roll over to voicemail.
You close your eyes but the buzz starts again. You ignore it. On the third round, you grab the phone. There’s a text. All caps. ‘ANSWER ME’.
It’s not Greta. It’s not her number and you don’t think she’d bother. Not after everything. Didn’t she go to the party last night? You can’t remember.
Private pops up on the screen again. You press the green button and drag your thumb. You answer in confusion.
“Hello.”
“About time,” Lee snarls. “You know, I ain’t the sorta man who like to be ignored. It’s insolent.”
You sit up and your stomach flips, “Sheriff.”
“Good girl,” he snickers. “You remember your manners, even with that dirty mouth. Huh?” You hear him shifting, “the way you had me all up in you yesterday, huh?”
You choke and touch your throat. Your head thrums and tears burn. Can’t it be over?
“Sir, I--”
“I’m on patrol today. It gets borin’ so you pretty yourself up and come keep me company,” he commands.
“But I have work--”
“You got nothing to worry about but me.” He growls. “I want you in a pretty little skirt for me. Don’t bother with nothin’ underneath.” He sucks his teeth. “Half hour, baby.”
“Sir--”
“Don’t you argue with me, now.”
He doesn’t give you a chance. You couldn’t if he did. The line clicks and the call ends. You’re grateful at least for that.
You turn your legs over the side of the bed and leave the phone tangled in your blankets. You get up and falter. Your insides hurt. You feel his intrusion burning you from the inside.
You grab a towel and some clothes. You find a skirt, like he said, and a tee shirt. You sneak out and lock yourself in the bathroom. You shower quickly.
You emerge and your thighs brush together, reminding you of your lack of panties. You hate it. Your father is snoring loudly behind the wall. You grab a pair of flats and your purse, fish your phone from the bed, and go to wait on the porch.
You stand, don’t sit. The skirt would show everything. You fidget and pace back and forth. The roll of tires makes you wince. You turn and watch the cruiser approach.
You come down the steps as Lee pulls up. You don’t need your parents waking up. You can’t imagine what they’d think if they knew the sheriff was coming around again.
You get in and hiss as you sit. Oof, that hurts.
Lee startles you as he grabs your head and wrenches you towards him. He smothers your mouth with his, his tongue diving back to your throat. You hold back a gag and he finally releases you.
“Hey, sugar,” he rasps. “Mm, you look delicious. Did ya do what I said?”
His eyes fall to your lap. You squirm, “yes, sir.”
“Show me,” he demands.
You look away. You lift your ass and roll up your skirt, showing your naked pelvis. He groans and shifts in the seat.
“Uh huh, that’s real nice,” he rubs his lap. “You got a pretty pussy, you know that?”
You swallow and stare at the dashboard, “thank you, sir.”
“You pet it for me.” He grips the wheel.
“Sir?” You squeak.
“Buckle up,” he shifts into gear, “and show me how that pussy feels.”
You shiver and reach for the seat belt. You’re stomach boils with contempt and shame. You buckle in and stare ahead.
“Go on,” he grits.
You rest your hands on your thighs and slowly trails them inward. You bring one to your cunt, feeling along your coiled hair, and delve between your folds. You’re raw and sensitive. You twitch as you rub your clit.
“That’s it. Now you don’t go being quiet. I wanna hear ya. Gotta watch the road.”
You squeak and your thighs quiver. You roll your fingers around. As you get wet, you close your eyes, ashamed as he enters the town centre. Someone could see, even this early.
“Ohhh,” the gasp slips from you as your fingers glide back. You curl them again and focus on your clit.
“You put em inside,” he snarls. “Get deep.”
You whimper and let your fingers slide down to your entrance. You push back against the seat. You dip past your entrance. You gulp and groan. Your walls clench your fingers.
You press the heel of your hand to your clit. You rock your hand and shudder. He purrs and reaches over, gripping your thighs as he growls.
“Fuck, baby, you sound good,” he slithers. “Wet, the way your pussy’s clinging. I can hear it.”
You whine and turn your face away.
“The way I’d fill you up. Think I’d get stuck up there?” He taunts, his fingers swirling on your flesh. “You’re so wet, I bet you’d be dripping down me.”
You bite your lip. His hand crawls over to cover yours. He presses his palm over your hand covering it, holding it in place. He prods along your knuckles and you cry out as he forces his fingers inside with yours. He leans over slightly, still grip the wheel with his other hand.
He moves your hand with his, pushing deeper, faster, and he snarls as you moan and mewl. His fingers stretch you painfully. The heat clusters in your core, flickering hotter and hotter. Your thighs close around both your hands.
Your hips twitch without your permission. You spasm, grinding against your palm as you cum, fingers squelching in your cunt. You cry out as your orgasm overflows. He hums and slows, keeping his fingers inside. He wiggles them before he slowly drags them out.
You drip onto the leather seat. He puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks. He pops his lips off and rubs his lap again. He inhales deeply.
“We needa pull off, baby. I know ya need the real thing in ya. Right now.”
