#count vronsky angst

[voxmortuus]

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Count Vronsky x F!Reader!Wife ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Anna Karenina ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 2k ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ This was given to me by the lovely @bettytaylorversion || I would love to request a hc for him in a honeymoon with fem!reader, like pure and utter fluff and romance 🔥💘 ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Passionate Sex | Unprotected P-i-V | Cream pie | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I hope this brings you some joy. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ TIME PASSER DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @voxmortuus ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @peachyspaceslvt ✧*̥˚ ATJ TAGLIST: *̥˚✧ @earth-elemental18 @nyxvuxoa-writes ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧

It was a beautiful ceremony, everyone who was anyone was there, but now, it was just time for you and your beloved to be alone. To learn and explore each other. To enjoy the company of the one you will be spending the rest of your life with. Today, it was a beautiful day. The air was warm, but not overly hot, there were large fluffy clouds in the crystal blue sky, and the sun was shining bright. Alexei had decided he was going to take you to a private place, a place where no one was going to bother you. A small little country house just outside of town. Well, today Alexei had plans. These plans were special, and you weren't allowed to know these plans. He had vanished outside leaving you to ponder on your thoughts.

You were sitting in the kitchen, you sip on a cup of tea. Your thoughts were simple, yet nothing overly complex, what would your life be like? He had no issue getting your attention, you found him alluring, attractive, intelligent, suave, and charming, and you found him to be a wonderful conversationalist. Sitting there, your mind drifts in a wonderful daydream of how your life will all work out, what will it become? Jumping a moment when he comes back to the house, you look up at him and smile. Reaching for your hand he kisses it softly and looks over your face.

"I have a beautiful day planned. Shall we?" He asked.

Nodding you were eager. You watched him grab the picnic basket on the outside of the door as you headed toward the docking out back of the home. You look at him and tilt your head.

"You really did plan today out? It really is a beautiful day for something like this." You stated softly looking up toward the sky as you got closer to the private dock.

When you both approached it, he stepped into the small boat, placed the basket down, and held his hand up to help you in, to make sure you were getting into the boat safely. The boat swayed and you got a little nervous, but you knew you were safe. Once you had settled looking around, you smiled sweetly, this was going to be an absolutely beautiful day. Placing your hands in your lap you look over his features as he untied the small boat and pushed it away from the dock.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

You nod eagerly and bite your lip, curious as to where he was taking you. This waterway was large, trees draped over it with beautiful pink and white flowers, vibrant green leaves, and swans, everywhere, it was beyond breathtaking. As he rowed the boat, it moved gracefully in the water, the sounds of nature all around you. You can't help but smile.

"This is beyond beautiful." You smile softly.

"Nothing short of the best for you. Would you like to feed them?" He asked.

"Can I?" You ask eagerly.

He reaches into the basket and hands you a bag of bread pieces. "Here love."

Taking the bag you look inside upon opening the bag. You smile wide before tossing some out into the water. The fish below and the swans above move to get what you had tossed. A soft giggle escapes you as you watch them. Turning back to your new husband you smile softly.

"This is absolutely beautiful. I cannot express this enough." you search his face.

Leaning forward he kisses you softly, running a thumb across your lower lip. "You're absolutely beautiful." He smiles.

Flushing softly you glance down before looking back up at him and searching his face. Licking your lips you tilted your head softly. You feel this warm feeling, this warmth of the sun shining through the branches of the trees. It really was out of some sort of fairytale.

"What other plans do you have today?" You asked him.

"Well, how about I go show you." He smiles taking the oars and carefully working his way through the water to the other side of the large lake. You look over him and wonder when he had the time to do this, but he was up far earlier than you were. You smile softly and continue to look around at everything as he works his way through the water and you continue to feed the fish and birds with the crumbles of bread.

When he gets to the other side he moves past you to get out and pull the boat to the shore and helps you out. Looking around it was a meadow-like opening. There were no trails toward the location he was taking you, a small path from the shore to this small opening that was surrounded by flowers of the season, birds chirping, and a soft subtle breeze. It was beautiful, just like everything else. It was a lot to take in but at the same time, it wasn't.

He opens a blanket he pulls from the basket, and paces it on the earth's floor. He looks up to you and holds out his hand for you to take. Biting your lip softly you chuckle and nod joining him on the blanket. Leaning against him you look out on nature and smile. It truly was a vision of your dreams.

He wraps his arms around you and leans in and kisses your neck. "You smell delicious. Is that a new perfume?" he asks you.

"It is. I'm surprised you noticed." You chuckle softly.

"Of course I noticed. I also noticed you are not wearing anything under your dress." He smiled softly.

"Oh, is that so?" You chuckle.

"That is very much so." He smiled as he reaches down and hikes your dress up a bit.

"Are you wanting to do that here?" You ask him.

"Well, why not? There's no one else here, just us… What do you say Mrs. Vronsky?" He smiles looking down at you.

"Well, when you put it that way." You chuckle and turn to look at him you put your arms around him as he moves to have you straddling his lap.

"Oh, you like hearing Mrs. Vronsky don't you?" He chuckles.

Nodding your head you smile and lean in and kiss him sweetly and deeply. He keeps you close as he moves his hands up your back and presses you close to him as he moves to nip at your neck as his lips trail down and he moves to open your dress a bit more so he can kiss your chest. Now and then his gaze looks up as he watches you carefully. Your jaw slacks a bit, feeling his lips on your flesh like that is utterly intoxicating. You bite your lip and let out a soft whimper, your body trembles softly. This feeling made your body feel warm and even a little dewy between the legs.

He grips at you, his hands moving under your dress and sliding it up to move it off of your frame placing it next to you both, your nimble fingers move to undo the buttons of his shirt and slide it off him and place it by your dress. Looking over him you smile, your fingers move against his chest before you move your hands to the back of his neck and slide your hands up into his hair, as he leans into your hands and nails a bit as they scrape against his scalp you move your hips ever so slightly. He looks over at you and smiles.

"I want to be inside you." He whispers against your lips as he kisses you deeply.

"Then be inside me." You whisper back.

Feeling him free himself as his hard flesh presses against the front of you, he rubs the tip of his cock against your opening before he lowers you onto him. You drop your head to rest against this shoulder and let out a soft moan.

"Oh, Alexei." You whimper.

His jaw clenches a moment as you wrap your slick velvet-like walls around his sensitive flesh. Growling a moment as he buries his face into your neck.

"You feel so good.." He tells you.

"You feel good." You state back as he helps guide you over his hard member.

You begin to moan a little more feeling him fill you, feeling yourself stretch around his hard cock as you glide along him. Your head moves to hang back as your hands press into his shoulders as you bounce at a steady pace. His hands wander your form, feeling your flesh under his grip, it was soft, it was moldable. He watched your face, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He looked down at you as you pressed yourself down on him. He liked watching the way it looked, how you took all of him like you were made for him.

Moving you to your back, he looked down at you, your hair fanning out as he leaned forward and began to thrust at a quicker pace, the sounds of you both echoed and rolled off the flower petals. He pressed deeper into you, causing you to moan louder, causing you to grip at his sides, your nails dragging across his back, leaving little red welts of love across his flesh.

Dipping down he captured your lips against his, as he moved to grab your hands enterlacing your fingers with his as he moves them above your head, with each thrust you both move against each other, and your moans pass your lips and dance across his. Your tongue finds his as it dances an intimate dance with his, your moans still escaping into him as he thrusts faster into you, but with each thrust, it is soft, with care, with a tenderness of the moment.

He moves from you, kneeling, watching the way he slips in and out of you, watching the way you coat him with a shiny coating of your juices coating his cock, you moan softly your back arches, your flesh against the contrast of the earth was beautiful, it was something he was going to have a forever memory about.

Lifting your hips to his own he growled softly as he continued to thrust picking up the pace as you roll your hips, your breathing picks up hearing his growls, you aren't able to contain yourself. Gripping at the grass above your head and your body bounces with each thrust he gives. Your moans are mere screams. From the grass to your breasts as he thrusts harder coming to a finish for you both he looks down at you and searches you.

"Finish with me." He states.

"Then don't stop… I am so close." You state.

"Of course not, Love." He smirks as he picks up his pace a little more.

His thumb finds your swollen sensitive bud and he begins to rub it the feeling causes you to scream in pure euphoria and tremble as you were not able to control yourself. Your legs are trembling and your walls begin to spasm against him as if milking him for his seed. He growls and moans loudly as he presses himself deep within you and he buries himself and ribbons of hot finish coat your walls.

After a few more twitches of his member, he looks down at you and smiles softly as he slowly pulls from you and moves to lay by your side. He tucks some hair behind your ear and smiles.

"Now, Mrs. Vronsky, you do know that this is likely to happen often on our honeymoon correct?" He chuckles.

Breathily you look at him. "I sure hope so. Mr. Vronsky."

He just stays there, admiring you, reaching into the basket to feed you grapes, admiring your body, you were absolutely beautiful to him, he couldn't stop staring at you. He didn't want to. Ever. Forever his. Forever yours.

[simp4eshal]

Ballroom

Count Vronsky x poc!reader/OC(Arabella Von Jaga) (but she's mostly reader i just felt more comfortable giving her a name)

warnings: obsessive behavior, angst ??, smut, yearning, fluff, lemme know if i forgot something

In the dimly lit study of his opulent manor, Count Vronsky paced restlessly. His eyes burned with an intensity that betrayed his turmoil of emotions. It had been months since he had last laid eyes on her, months of sleepless nights and restless days spent yearning for the touch of her skin, the taste of her lips. His heart ached with a longing so powerful it threatened to consume him whole. She was his obsession, his raison d'être, and he would stop at nothing to make her his. Her name was Arabella, and she was the only thing that mattered in his world.

He paused before a large mirror, running his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to tame the wild beast that had taken over his appearance. His once-handsome face now bore the telltale signs of his all-consuming passion: dark circles ringed his eyes, his skin was pale and sallow, and his muscles were taut with unspent energy. Even his once-elegant attire seemed to reflect his inner turmoil, wrinkled and askew.

He could no longer deny it; he was losing his grip on reality. His thoughts were consumed with her, and his actions had become increasingly desperate. He had tried to fill the void with other women, but it was futile. They were but pale imitations of the one he truly loved. Arabella was his sun, his moon, his stars, and without her, he was nothing but a shadow of his former self.

Determined to take matters into his own hands, Vronsky gathered his most trusted servants and issued a decree. He would hold a grand ball in her honor, an extravaganza the likes of which the kingdom had never seen. The invitations were to be sent out far and wide, to every corner of the land, inviting everyone who was anyone to attend. The catch was that the ball would be by invitation only, and the only invitation that truly mattered would be in Arabella's hands.

For weeks, Vronsky's servants worked tirelessly to prepare the manor for the event, transforming it into a veritable wonderland of opulence and excess. Intricate tapestries hung from the ceilings, gleaming chandeliers cast their warm light across polished marble floors, and towering floral arrangements adorned every available surface. A full orchestra was hired to play throughout the night, their haunting melodies weaving in and out of the revelry.

As the appointed day finally dawned, Vronsky paced anxiously before the grand entrance, his heart hammering in his chest. He had spared no expense, had left no stone unturned, and yet he couldn't help but feel that it wasn't enough. He longed for her to be there, to see the depth of his devotion, to feel the weight of his obsession.

Dusk fell, and the first guests began to arrive, their opulent attire casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the ballroom. Ladies in shimmering gowns and gentlemen in finely tailored suits mingled amidst the fountains of champagne, their laughter and conversation filling the air. The orchestra played on, the music swirling around them like a living thing, weaving a seductive spell that enraptured everyone within earshot.

Vrronsky paced restlessly, his gaze darting about the room, searching for any sign of her. His heart felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise, the anticipation almost unbearable. He had invited every eligible bachelor and bachelorette in the kingdom, hoping that one of them might know where she was, might have heard a rumor or seen her somewhere. But so far, there was no sign of her.

Hours passed, and the ball reached its zenith. The guests, their appetites whetted by the endless feast and flowing champagne, had begun to let loose, dancing wildly to the orchestra's stirring melodies. Vrronsky, however, could not join in their revelry. His focus remained fixed on the grand entrance, willing it to swing open and reveal her.

As midnight approached, he grew desperate. He had to know if she would come, if she would accept his invitation. He spotted a servant hurrying across the ballroom and beckoned him over. The servant, out of breath from running, bowed low. "My lord, a messenger has arrived with a note for you." Vronsky snatched the envelope from the servant's trembling hand, his heart racing. With shaking fingers, he tore it open.

The note was brief, but it was all he needed to hear. In her delicate script, she had accepted his invitation, promising to attend the ball. He read it over and over again, the words losing their meaning as tears of relief and joy streamed down his face. He could feel the weight of his obsession lifting from his shoulders, a lightness in his chest that he hadn't experienced in years.

With renewed vigor, he rejoined the revelry, laughing and dancing with the other guests. He scarcely noticed the envious glances that were directed his way, for he was no longer concerned with the opinions of others. All that mattered was that she was coming, and soon she would be in his arms once more.

As the night wore on, the ball reached its climax. The orchestra struck up a new, haunting melody, and Vronsky could feel a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. He glanced at the grand entrance, willing it to swing open and reveal her. Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd, and all eyes turned towards the entrance. There, framed by the doorway, stood Arabella, resplendent in a gown of shimmering emerald silk that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, revealing the long, dainty column of her neck. She held a single red rose in one hand, its thorns glinting in the candlelight.

Vronsky's heart skipped a beat as he saw her, and he felt a surge of relief wash over him. She had come. She had accepted his invitation. With a graceful smile, she glided across the ballroom, her eyes never leaving his. As she drew closer, he could see the love and devotion reflected in her gaze, and he knew that she felt it too. They met in the center of the room, and without a word, they began to dance.

The music seemed to fade into the background as they moved together, their bodies in perfect sync. Their hands entwined, their fingers interlaced, and Vronsky felt as though he had found his anchor in the world once more. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and the sensation was intoxicating. She leaned into him, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and he could feel her breath hot against his skin.

The other dancers seemed to fade away, leaving them alone in their own private universe. Time itself seemed to lose all meaning as they moved together, lost in the music and in each other. Their every touch was electric, every movement full of promise and passion. They danced until the orchestra had finished its final song, until the ballroom was empty and the candles had all burned down to stubs.

Finally, with a deep sigh, Vronsky lowered Arabella back onto the parquet floor and stepped back, his heart racing. She looked up at him with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment, her cheeks flushed from the exertion and the heat of their embrace. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice barely audible above the sound of their labored breathing. "That was... that was perfect."

He smiled down at her, his eyes taking in every detail of her face. Her lips were still slightly parted, her eyes shining with a mix of passion and desire. "I love you," he murmured, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. "You are my world, my reason for living."

Their gazes locked, and for a moment, they stood there, lost in each other. Then, slowly, Vronsky bent down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration of each other's mouths, before growing more passionate. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and he could feel her respond to his touch, her hips grinding against his.

With a groan, he swept her up into his arms, carrying her across the ballroom and into his private chambers. The candles flickered against the walls, casting soft shadows as he laid her down on the bed. She arched her back as he trailed his fingers down her neck and over her breasts, helpless and full of desire at the same time.

Their kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as they tore off each other's clothes. Vronsky kicked off his shoes and shucked out of his trousers, revealing his aroused length. He positioned himself between her legs, feeling her hot, wet folds against his skin. With a growl, he pushed forward, burying himself inside her. She cried out in pleasure, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, driving deep inside her with each thrust.

Her body arched off the bed, meeting his each stroke with a grinding of their hips. Their sweat-slick skin slapped together in a rhythm that grew faster and more frenzied. The air was thick with the scent of their arousal, and the candlelight flickered against the walls, casting shadows that danced across their entwined forms.

As they moved together, lost in the intensity of their passion, Vronsky felt a building pressure deep within him. His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, as he struggled to find release. He felt her body tense beneath him, her muscles clenching tight around him, and with a hoarse cry, she shuddered violently in his arms. Her inner walls gripped him tight, and he felt himself spill inside her, his climax overwhelming him in a wave of pleasure.

He collapsed on top of her, their sweat-slick bodies sticking together, his weight pinning her down. For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath, their hearts racing. Then, slowly, Vronsky rolled off of her, their entwined limbs separating with reluctance. He looked down at Arabella, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving, and felt a surge of love and possession course through him.

"You are my everything," he murmured, trailing his fingers down her stomach and over her hip. "My reason for living, my reason for breathing. No matter what happens, I will always be yours."

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at him. "And I will always be yours," she whispered, her voice still husky from their passion. "Forever."

Vronsky felt a shiver of possessiveness run down his spine at her words. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, and breathed in the sweet, feminine scent that clung to her skin. "You are mine, and I will never let you go," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "No one else will ever have you."

Their eyes locked, and he could see the heat of desire burning in her gaze. She reached up, tracing a finger down the line of his jaw, her touch sending shivers through his body. "I belong to you, Alexei" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I always have, and I always will."

[nyxvuxoa-writes]

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝙸𝚗 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜]

This is an updated WIP list as of 7/24. In case you are curious to if your request is in my drafts or not, you can always check here and see if something sounds similar or if you are tagged in your request progress.

[𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳] I want to take some time to catch up on what I have. As soon as requests are open again, I will post that they are open and that my WIP list has been freed up. Please keep in mind, the wife and I are in the process of packing and moving into our new apartment, so hang in there with me while I balance things out.

This does not indicate the order that they will be done. I write with my flow, so one may flow better than the other one day. But they will all be done as soon as I can get them.

Aaron Taylor-Johnson Requests:

• Ray Marcus x Fem!Reader - Ravishment Anon Prompt Request, CNC, in drafts. • Ray Marcus x Fem!Reader - Backseat Anon Prompt Request, Car sex, in draft. • Tangerine x Fem!Reader - Title Pending Anon Continuation Request, Reader Learns More, In Drafts. • Yandere!Count Vronsky  x Fem!Reader - Title Pending Mutual Request, themes pending, smut, in drafts. • Ford Brody x Fem!Reader - Leather Black & Eyes of Blue Anon Request, Childhood Friend, Angst, Smut, in drafts, started. • Ben Leonard x Fem!Reader - Title Pending Anon Request, Hidden Feelings, Smut, in Drafts, Started. • Tarzan!Kraven x Fem!Reader - Title Pending Requested by @rvmanoffbarnes, in the wilds, smut possible, In drafts. • Kraven x Fem!Reader - Keep Your Enemies Closer Requested by @rachelcarroll1819 Avenger Reader, ties to spiderman, in drafts.

Jake Gyllenhaal Requests:

• Detective Loki x Fem!Reader - She's the Tear in My Heart Anon Requested, possessive Loki, relationship drama, in drafts.

Cillian Murphy Requests:

• Jackson Rippner x Fem!Reader - The way you Break Requested by @voxmortuus, Dark!Fic, Dead Dove, in drafts, started.

If you have questions about your draft or want to even just chat about it. Feel free to send me a message or an ask.

Normally Pinned - F.A.Q. - ATJ Masterlist - Multifandom Masterlist

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Knowing the Steps

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words:3566

Summary: Keeping your relationship a secret can have its excitements, but during a ball, you wish you could be open about your love. Aramis tries to make it up to you.

Notes: Not going to lie, this was definitely inspired by watching Santiago as Count Vronsky. The dancing scene just made me melt! Anyway, I thought he deserved another fluffier piece since I write a lot of angst and drama for my musketeer boys. This ended up being a bit more bittersweet than I thought, but I like how it turned out. I also wrote this at work, so be warned, it’s definitely a little frazzled. 

More Musketeers HERE

-

Dazzling fabrics caught candlelight with every sway in the dance. Music swelled. People laughed merrily in their conversations around the room. For most, it was a beautiful scene of joy and prosperity. 

You, however, couldn’t be more bored. 

“And when we arrived back at the manor, why I don’t think there’s been a grander celebration in all of Paris,” some lord you couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of boasted. He looked to your cousin, and bowed. “Other than yours, of course, your majesty.”

“Well, I have to say I will be very disappointed if I am not invited to the next, monsieur,” the king jested, looking around to make sure everyone laughed. 

You forced an amused, airy sigh and wished for an excuse to leave. In your disinterested perusal, your eyes caught the glimmer of a hilt and the slight motion of a feathered hat. Suddenly, the party didn’t seem so boring anymore. 

The musketeer standing guard at the other end of the room caught you looking in his direction, bowing his head as a sly smirk spread across his lips. And, for the first time that evening, your smile was real. 

The person beside you cleared their throat, nudging your side gently. You jolted out of your daydreaming, relieved to find it was only Anne.

“Admiring the tapestry, hm?” She teased, motioning to the sewn decoration hanging above the group of musketeers. It was huge, gaudy, and far too elaborate to make any sense of, but you nodded as blush rushed to your cheeks.

“Yes,” you gulped, “It’s quite…. Um…”

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” She snickered. 

You both had to contain your laughter, even covering your mouth with your hand to keep from squawking like a bird. Still, the sound must have traveled across the room for you could just see your musketeer grin over at you before turning to his companions. 

Anne followed your gaze and smirked. 

“Ah,” she mused.” Aramis.”

Your face reddened even more. “Who? I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re referring to, your majesty.”

“Between the two of us,” she leaned closer to you, “he’s always been my favorite.”

This time, you weren’t quick enough to conceal your laughter and an embarrassingly loud snort rang throughout the room. Anne nearly doubled over. You were sure you had to be the color of a tomato by now.

Across the room, Aramis put a finger to his smirking lips, whispering,

“Shhh.” 

Aramis winced as a hand swiftly smacked the back of his head. 

“Why not be a little more obvious. I’m sure the king will appreciate you displaying your relationship with his cousin,” Athos scolded. “Go ahead. I’m not sure he’s noticed yet.” 

“I think he’s busy frightening courtesans into laughing at his jokes,” D’Artagnan scoffed. 

Porthos nodded. “Besides, the queen’s definitely noticed by now and hasn’t ordered your execution yet.” He smacked his friend on the shoulder teasingly. “So it must be alright.”

“Don't’ encourage him,” Athos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Either of you.”

“But Athos,” D’Artagnan said dramatically, putting a hand on his heart for emphasis. “He loves her.” He and Porthos snickered like school girls. 

Aramis rolled his eyes. 

“Mock all you want,” he said, glancing back in your direction. “But it’s true.”

The four watched as the Duke of Rohan’s son led you out to the center of the room to begin the next dance. Aramis could see the disdain you were trying to hide and wished you were in his arms instead, that he could stand before everyone there and tell them he was yours and you were his. The jealous pang in his chest was matched by the admiration in his heart as you danced. 

Porthos pat him on the back again, this time with a sympathetic smile. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “She knows where her heart lies.” 

The Marquess spun you around so you were once again facing the group of musketeer guards. Your eyes met Aramis and your face fell. How you wanted to run to him and forget who you were in his embrace.

“Are you feeling alright?” Your dance partner asked, his overconfidence chipping as your cheeks paled and you stepped away from him. 

You could see your whole life before you. Loveless marriage. Leaving home. A lifetime of loneliness. Without Aramis. Your musketeer, gone forever in a joyous but distant memory. 

“I actually feel a little faint,” you gasped, suddenly out of breath. “Excuse me.”

An annoyed frown passed over his face. 

You scurried away, bumping into another pair as you rushed out of the room. Aramis forced himself not to run after you, worry overtaking all other thoughts. 

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

“Someone else will handle it.” Athos gave him a stern look.

Sure enough, the four noticed the queen whisper something to a lady in waiting and started across the ballroom toward the door. She cast a fleeting glance at Aramis and he discreetly nodded in reply. 

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” D’Artagnan tried to reassure him. “Perhaps a lace on her dress tore?” His optimistic tone was met with dark looks from the other three. “Right. I’ll walk around, see if I hear anything.”

Athos pinched the bridge of his nose. “We are all going to be beheaded.”

-

You laid across the chaise, your head buried in your hands to try and muffled your cries. You could just hear the quiet click of the door and a soft sigh. 

“Oh, my dear.” Anne hurried to your side, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. She pulled you to her chest like a mother would her child or a caring older sister. “I’m afraid I don’t have to ask, do I?”

“If I could stop my heart if only to keep it from beating for him, I would,” you cried. “But it’s his. His completely.” 

“You poor, sweet girl,” Anne said, pushing back to brush a hair out of your face. “You never make things easy, hm?” She smiled at you. “But I guess love is never easy.”

You laughed through your tears. “Especially when it involves a musketeer.”

“You couldn't have at least fallen in love with a man from England or Italy or Spain to take you away from here. It had to be a member of your cousin’s guard?” She teased, glad to see your eyes brighten again.

“At least we know Louis likes him?” You grimaced.

“He wouldn’t if he knew Aramis had captured the heart of his favorite cousin.” 

You laid your head back on her shoulder, again choking back sobs. Anne stroked your hair. 

“What is it? Did the king say something?” 

“He doesn’t have to,” you sighed tearfully. “I know what life holds for me.”

Anne’s heart ached for you, remember well the weight of obligation. The wish to love and to live according to one’s desires rather than the orders of another person. If she could spare you the life you were both born into, she would. 

A quiet knock at the door alerted you and you hurriedly wiped the mess of tears from your cheeks. 

“Who is it?” Anne called, her regal, commanding voice returning. 

“Aramis of the King’s Musketeers.” Just the sound of his voice made your heart soar. “I was sent to… investigate a broken window.”

Anne turned to you, shaking her head as she walked across the room. 

“You’re both going to have to be better liars if this is going to work.”

She opened the door, revealing the anxious musketeer in the hall. He bowed, flashing a smile. 

“I trust things are all clear here, your majesty.” He said. 

She gave him a stern, but warm, look. 

“You have five minutes.” She glanced back at you. “Maybe ten.” Anne skirted around him and closed the door behind her. 

You were across the room and in his arms in seconds. Aramis locked you safely in his embrace, pressing his lips to your forehead, your cheek, and lastly your lips. 

“What’s happened? Are you hurt? Did that man upset you?” He asked between kisses. 

You shook your head still blinking back tears.

“No, it isn’t that,” you said. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Please.” He laid a hand on your cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” 

You looked into his loving dark eyes and pulled him back to you for a kiss that said more than your words could. And he understood completely. 

What started as a distraction and thrilling secret for both of you had become so much more. The more he fell, the more he knew how much it would tear him apart when things inevitably went wrong. 

“I just felt so trapped,” you cried, laying your head against his chest. “So many people want a say in my life, especially my cousin! He can’t manage his own life, let alone mine.”

Had it been anyone else, you would have been punished for criticizing your king. But despite your relations, you tired of Louis’s childish impulses and complaints. Most of the time, he felt more like a young boy with a crown. 

“But I suppose if I’d taken power as young as he did, I might act the same way,” you sighed, leading Aramis to sit with you on the chaise. “I just wish things were different.” 

He brought your hand up, kissing the inside of your wrist while his mustache tickled your palm.

“We could leave,” he said softly. He turned toward the window, looking over the grandness of the garden with a lump in his throat. “Run away to Spain or England or anywhere, like we talked about.”

You pulled away, eyes wide with surprise. 

“We were never serious.”

“Maybe I am this time.” Aramis kissed you again with more urgency than he ever had before. You both realized then how much he meant it. 

You found yourself leaning into him, like a moth to a flame. Your hands trailed up his chest. A sigh escaped your lungs. Aramis chuckled, gently pushing you back with his hands on your arms. 

“I should go,” he said. “Athos already wants to hang me and I don’t think the queen would appreciate me disheveling your appearance.” He fixed a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. “You look beautiful.”

“I suppose I should return as well,” you sighed. “Else the king will lose his head.”

You kissed a final time before Arams hurried out of the room, looking back at you with total adoration. 

He checked to make sure there was no one in the hall, quietly clicked the door shut, and started back toward the ballroom. 

“Monsieur Aramis,” the queen’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

He turned on his heel and fell into a deep bow. 

“Thank you, your majesty. It seems that the window was a false-”

She held up her hand to silence him. 

“I just need to know one thing if I’m going to permit this to continue.” she held her head high, her mouth set in a thin line. “As you know, Y/N is family and I love her like she was my own sister.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“So I must ask you.” She stopped toward him. “Do you love her?”

Arams took a deep breath and stood a little taller, his determination and dedication clear in his eyes. 

“Yes, your majesty.”

Anne watched him for a long while. He almost felt like a prisoner awaiting sentencing, but even in her seriousness, he could sense a kind of affection. 

The queen nodded. 

“That’s all I needed,” she said and dismissed him. She went back in to join you and he continued down the hall, unsure of a number of things, but absolutely sure of something much more important. 

-

The guests had finally gone and Louis decided he’d cure his boredom by ordering a hunt. It came as a surprise to Captain Treville, however, to find that four of his musketeers had been requested to stay. The queen claimed that she was afraid one of her necklaces had been stolen and she knew that the four finest of Treville’s men would be able to solve the case. 

They were waiting in the courtyard when Aramis felt a sharp smack to his shoulder. 

“What. Did. You. Do?” Athos growled. 

Aramis shrugged, rubbing the now sore spot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Porthos sat beside him, holding Treville’s orders from the queen. 

“Why would she ask for us to find some piece of jewelry?” He asked. 

“Because it’s a lie,” Athos said, snatching the parchment to read it over. “I’m sure this is about something else.” He glared at Aramis, who held up his hands innocently. 

“She seemed perfectly aware and alright with the situation.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, maybe not perfectly alright with it-” Athos threw the paper down. “But she certainly didn’t seem like she was planning my execution!”

“What’s all this?” D’Artagnan joined, a bright grin spread across his face. 

“Visiting Madame De Bonacieux, were we?” Aramis teased.

“Don’t change the subject,” Athos snapped, handing D'Artagnan the letter.

“Oh, Constance mentioned something about this,” The youngest of them said. “Apparently we’re to meet her at the servant’s entrance near the gardens and she’ll take us to the queen.” He placed the paper back on the table. “She was very secretive about the whole thing.”

Athos frowned, thoughts of exile filling his head. 

“Don’t you think she would have told the king by now if she wanted action taken against me?” Aramis asked. 

Porthos scratched his chin. “Unless she wants to protect the Duchess from being discovered as well.”

“You know, Constance did say it was something very serious,” D’Artagnan added. He suppressed a smirk so as to not give anything away. He was under strict instructions from the queen herself not to spoil the surprise. Getting to watch Aramis and Athos squirm was just a bonus. He pat Aramis on the back. “We’d better get going. We don’t want to be late for our demise, do we?”

“That isn’t funny,” Athos growled. 

Aramis didn’t say a word. Too many thoughts plagued his mind for him to speak. He just put on his hat, took a deep breath, and went to ready his horse.

-

You had never been to this part of the palace. Anne led you down corridor after corridor and refused to tell you where you were going. The king and most of his courtesans were away all day to hunt and the rest of the palace, including all of the queen’s ladies in waiting, were searching for her missing jewelry. 

“Can you at least tell me why you’ve sent everyone running around for a necklace you don’t even like?” You asked. 

“I have asked you to trust me,” she giggled. “That is a command from your queen. Now come on!”

You could remember the last time you’d seen her like this. Whatever it was she had planned, she was certainly being sneaky about it. You just couldn’t imagine what could bring you to this side of the palace. 

Finally, Anne stopped outside of a large, ornate, but faded door. She smoothed out her dress, lifted her chin, and put on a very grave face. 

“Now, I need you to look very serious. If you smile, it shall ruin the surprise.”

“Alright, but-”

She threw the door open and stormed inside before you could finish. Following her, the only expression you could muster was one of shock as you stared at the scene before you. 

Aramis, Athos, Porthos, and D’Artagnan stood in the middle of a large, empty room with Constance leading them. At least three of the four men looked just as confused as you. All bowed as the two of you entered. 

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve had Madame de Bonacieux bring you here,” the queen began, sounding as grim and stern as ever. 

A chill ran up Aramis’ spine. Perhaps she had changed her mind. He wasn’t good enough. Of course, he wasn’t. You were a duchess. He was a soldier. How could the queen simply look the other way and allow this to continue?

You saw the growing panic on his face and touched Anne’s arm. 

“Your majesty, what’s going on?” You asked. 

She turned to you, finally smiling. 

“Please,” she beamed. “Today I am just Anne.” She faced the men again, discarding her serious facade. “You’ll have to excuse the theatrics. Even a queen is allowed her fun, every now and then.”

“Forgive me,” Athos said, bowing again. “I don’t understand.” 

“Is something the matter?” Aramis asked, looking over her shoulder at you. 

You shrugged, feeling just as flustered as he appeared. 

“Given the… circumstances of which we are all aware.” She glanced between you and Aramis, reaching back to take your hand. “I thought this would be the best opportunity for us to speak freely.” 

Everyone looked about the massive room, the boarded-up windows allowing for a little light to stream in. Anne smiled. 

“Don’t worry. This ballroom is part of the palace that has been sealed off since the past king died. No one will bother us here.”

Anne took your hand and motioned for Aramis to come forward, placing your hand in his. 

“I may not have the power to dissuade my husband's stubbornness or change the laws of this world,” she said. You could see the hint of tears in her eyes. “But if I can give you this moment to be happy…”

Forgetting the rules of propriety, you threw your arms around her. For the first time in your life, it truly felt like you had family. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“No matter what, my dear, your heart is always your own to give.”

You stepped back, finding yourself in the arms of the man you loved. 

“Now.” Anne faced the rest of the group. “We may not have musicians or grand spreads of food, but we have good wine and good friends, so I thought we could make the most of things. You all spend so much time guarding these celebrations, you deserve to have one of your own.”

The four musketeers looked at each other. 

Porthos shrugged. “Sounds kind of nice to me,” he said. He stepped forward. “I know a couple of tunes that don’t require any of those instruments that they have at the balls. Just our voices and hands.”

He clapped, the sound ringing through the space. 

“Thank you for that demonstration,” Athos muttered. 

“That would be perfect, monsieur Porthos,” the queen grinned. 

And so the festivities commenced. Athos decided to watch the perimeter of the old ballroom, just in case, but couldn’t bring himself to refuse when the queen wanted to teach everyone a dance from Spain. 

Aramis sang quiet Spanish in your ear while everyone clapped and swayed around the room. 

The ballroom was alive with laughter and movement and joy. You were finally in your musketeer's arms, proclaiming your love to the people that mattered most to you.  It was the most fun you- and the queen- had ever had. 

There was no music, but there didn’t need to be. You twirled and skipped and sang and flew as if you were dancing amongst the clouds. Aramis put his hands on your waist and lifted you into the air, making your laughter echo all around.

“I wish it could always be this way,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “I meant what I said. We could try.” He looked at you with such love and persistence in the face of obstacles that you knew he would leave everything behind for you. 

But as you spun around the room, you saw his friends, his brothers, his purpose. His place was with them, just as yours was with Anne and your cousin. You could never ask him to leave. 

“I love you,” you said, laying a hand on his chest. “And I will cherish every moment I have with you. But I will not take you from the life you love. Even if it means losing you. I can live with that decision as long as you are happy with them.” 

Aramis sighed, leaning his forehead against yours, forehead against yours, forgetting the eyes watching the two of you. He leaned forward just enough for his lips to brush against yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he cried. Aramis pulled you a little closer. “If I could change the world with only the love I have for you, I would.”

You lifted his chin so his eyes met yours. A bittersweet smile graced your lips.

“We may not have forever. But we have now,” you kissed him again, sweet but meaningful. “That’s enough for me.”

Aramis nodded and continued leading you across the floor in an unfamiliar dance, yet both of you knew the steps by heart. 

Anne stood with Constance and D’Artagnan, both had already danced until their feet were sore. Athos joined them and noticed the queen’s saddened features. 

“Is something wrong your majesty?” He asked. 

She blew out a breath. 

“I’m afraid I’m being rather cruel,” she said. “I’m showing them what they’ll never have.”

Athos shook his head, watching the couple with a deep understanding. 

“No, your majesty,” he said as Aramis lifted you once again, a smile returning to both your faces. “You’ve given them something to hold onto.”

[prongslvl]

Hai! I just saw that your requests were open and tbh it's honestly so hard to request which for which for all of Aaron Taylor Johnsons characters cuz they all make my mouth froth but I really wanna see sum more Count Vronsky fics(cuz dear Lord ATJ looked soo pretty in that movie) 😩😩

Anw for the request for Count Vronsky would it be alright if it's an angst to fluff (or not)where Vronsky and reader were "somewhat" a thing but then came Anna and, what follows from the movie (not her dying tho woxowkx) and when reader sees this she tries her hardest to move on and she almost does, by getting married to another aristocrat right away. Once Vronsky finds out about this he kinda just snaps and he tries everything to stop that and tries to win the reader over and honestly just a lot of groveling for our pretty boy ahUe. And the ending can be your choice whichever you think is best wkxoskddo😭😭🫶💕

here is your request !

i had a lot of fun (and headaches) while writing this

i took the "snap" part of your req and ran with it tbh

unfortunately i didn't make it fluff, i made it angst all the way if it's alright with you. but i did still follow your request through and through so i hope you enjoy that! thank you so much for requesting, my love.

❤️

[cupidsscribe]

(drabble !)

pairing: alexei vronsky x gn! insecure! reader

themes: angst, fluff, slowburn perhaps ?

word count: 407

summary: after an unsuccessful viewing of one of your many self-directed films, vronsky attempts to console you.

(* modern au !*)

published: 14th of january, 2022

dted to a friend!

a/n: nothing written is potentially triggering or particular to self-image or reader's bodily insecurities. (*partially inspired by a request from a friend.*)

masterlist !

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

a connoisseur of the arts and innovator, you'd never sought any critique other than your own and you'd learned that profession in performing arts meant enduring and effacing brutal commentary left by those who didn't share the same eye as yours for unique and inconventional perspective.

you hadn't any reason to sulk as you'd mastered masking and never lingered on their words for longer than what a mere brush of your finger took, and you for sure wouldn't leave the project for dead; you were too passionate, too bold and persistent to give up now and never a quitter. but you couldn't help but admit it hurt this time. the decries of the audience from beyond the curtains mocked you. the light tread of pattered footsteps prompted you to leave, with the possibility of it being a judgemental straggler who snuck backstage to critique your work further.

but a familiar aroma pervaded your senses and drew you back from the weight of the crowd's word; your childhood best friend, vronsky. the insolent and cocky, loquacious and headache-inducing beauty in all his glory. only you knew how his words coursed from the expanse of his lips like poetry, and only you would ever know, because he loved you and his words were only yours to waste away.

"they speak blasphemy. and absurdity." he asserted matter-of-factly. he knew, more than anyone, and more than ever when you needed reassurance, and so he continued. "as the sensations linger before every atom disperses like vapor, after all the chaos subsides leaving only the wreckage, still you are there. only you remain, and only you are here to stay. you inhabit the unexploited corners of my brain and the crooks of my heart even when all else shatters. as constant as the pull of the moon towards the tides and the soft patter and fall of rain on pavement for hours. you are art, and so is your work, my love." he finished. you were brilliant to him and it was fascinating the way your mind worked; the way all the gears within it turned. and with that, he took your hand with relative reluctance moments after, bearing in mind the frigid sensation of it as he took it. the warmth of his would surely permeate your body with comfort, at least he'd hoped. and you wondered how hands could feel like home, but the answer was right within your palm, literally.

[peakyswift]

seeing blind

tommy x reader

SUMMARY you and tommy have always been best friends and nothing more. but when he sees you sparking interest in another man, he realises that perhaps he have been wrong about his feelings for you all this time

REQUEST “I was thinking of like Tommy and reader where reader has unrequited love, and they both know about it, but has always been by his side no matter what and then one day Tommy sees reader flirting and is like “wait a sec, they’re mine, what’s going on here”

WARNINGS angst, tiny bit of fluff, cheating (sort of ??)

WORD COUNT 2,055

A/N I kept picturing the man that y/n was flirting with as Count Alexei Vronsky from Anna Karenina (2012) so that’s how i described him lol. I low-key wanted her to end up with him🙈

You were sat in front of your vanity, fixing the last details of your hair and makeup. Tonight was a big night for Shelby Company Ltd. You truly didn’t feel like partying, but you wanted to support your friend, Tommy. So here you were, getting ready to speak to important people about not so important things that didn’t interest you.

You got up from your seat and went to the full length mirror to get a proper look at yourself. The lilac silk dress embraced your curves perfectly and yet, you still felt unsure and uncomfortable in your skin.

You hugged your stomach with shaky hands and sighed.

There was another reason you felt extra self conscious tonight. Tommy was bringing Lizzie as a date and your heart squeezed just thinking about it. Thinking about her with him. It was even worse that Tommy knew how much you disliked her.

It wasn’t a secret you had always been fond of Tommy, even more than he was of you. To him you were just his best childhood friend, and nothing more.

The two of you had stuck together through everything. You had been by his side when he had nothing, you had been there for him when Grace died and now you were there for him when he was going into politics.

And even if your heart broke in million pieces when you saw another woman receiving the love and attention you so desperately craved, you still stayed. He was after all your best friend and a silly crush shouldn’t destroy the special bond you had.

Deep down you always knew it wasn’t just a silly crush but something stronger, something you didn’t even dare think about. Seeing it as a small crush made all of Tommy’s jokingly flirting easier to bare and easier to pass of as joke.

He had a habit of flirting with you as a joke. Teasing you with your affection of him. He would kiss you cheek or wink at you or even let his hands linger on your waist for a moment too long after hugging you. And every time your stomach would fill with butterflies and your heart would drop.

The sound of a car honking shook you out of your thoughts.

You quickly put on your fur coat and grabbed your bag. You took a quick glance at yourself in the hallway mirror before opening the door and walking out, into the freezing autumn air.

Tommy had sent one of the companies Bentleys to pick you up. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at it. Your Tommy, poor Tommy from Small Heath was sending fucking Bentleys to pick up his friends.

When you arrived at Arrow House it was around eight thirty. Even from outside you could hear the laughing and chattering that was happening inside.

You took a deep breath and painted on the most convincing fake smile you could manage before entering the house. A maid stood ready to take your coat and a waiter offered you a glass of champagne which you gladly took.

You sipped on your drink as you walked into to big room where the event took place. Your eyes immediately found Tommy and… Lizzie, arms linked together. They were talking to what looked like some important people, and Lizzie was laughing at everything Tommy said. He wasn’t even that funny. You sighed with annoyance and went to look for Polly instead. She had always loved you, and had taken you under her wings when you still a little girl.

You found her by the bar, drinking a glass of champagne and observing the crowd. “Y/n” she said with a big smile and opened her arms. You embraced her. The smell of her perfume made you instantly felt safe.

“How are you love?” she asked and pulled from the hug.

“I’m good” You lied and took a big swig from your glass.

She lifted an eyebrow at you and shook her head. “None of that! What’s going on?” she placed her hand on your arm. Polly could tell from a mile away if something was wrong and it was essentially pointless to try and lie to her.

“It’s just Tommy” you shrugged. Polly gave you a sympathetic look and rubbed your arm.

“He’s not worth your troubles dear” She lifted her glass and nodded at you to do the same. You smiled halfhearted at her and drank.

“Oh! Ada is here. I’m just gonna go and say hello” Polly said. She kissed your cheek and left you. Now you were standing by the bar, alone and forcing yourself not look in Tommy’s direction.

You felt so awkward and out of place, and you kept staring at your feet, trying your hardest to avoid conversation.

“Not having fun?” the unfamiliar voice made you look up. A man stood before you.

He was beautiful. A head of blond curls, piercing blue eyes and a moustache. You swallowed and looked around. Was he talking to you?

He lifted an eyebrow at you and smirked when you didn’t respond. You mentally faced palmed yourself for already acting a fool.

“It’s not really my crowd” You finally answered and gave him a shy smile.“Me neither” the man said and took a swig of his whiskey.

“I’m William Ripley” he extended his hand.

“I’m y/n, y/l/n” you placed your hand in his. He lifted your hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles. Your face flushed, not used to being flirted with other than Tommy’s teasing. You prayed that William didn’t notice your flustered state.

“Pleasure to meet you Mr. Ripley”.

“Pleasures all mine. And please, call me William” he beamed at you.

You nodded at him, too flustered to say anything, and went to take a sip of champagne, only to find the glass was empty. William noticed too and offered to get you another one.

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as he went to get you both a fresh drink. It felt good to finally have a man be interested in you.

“What’s so funny eh?” Tommy’s voice swiftly wiped the smile from your face.

“Nothing” you muttered.

“I haven’t seen you all night” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Probably cause you’ve been busy showing off your new girlfriend”. Tommy only chuckled at your comment.

“Are you jealous y/n? eh?” he teased. You looked at him and pursed your lips. “No Tom, i am not”.

“Good. Just checking” he winked at you, and like always your inside twisted with butterflies. It made you mad that he had that affect on you.

“I’m gonna leave you to it then” Tommy said. You sighed deeply, but before you could properly start sulking William came back. He gave you one of the two glasses he was holding. You took a big swig of your glass, just wanting to forget your interaction with Tommy.

“You okay?” William laughed and placed a hand on your shoulder. The touch made you skin tingle.

“Yeah, i’m fine” you assured him.

“I’m glad” he said simply and caressed your arm before lightning a cigarette.

As the night went on you kept talking with William. It was easy speaking to him. He was funny, charming and painfully handsome. Still, you couldn’t help but glance in Tommy’s direction every once in a while. He didn’t look at you though. Why would he? He was busy showing Lizzie off and talking business with respected men.

At least that’s what you thought.

In reality Tommy couldn’t stop thinking about you… and that man you were talking to.

He didn’t know why it bothering him so much to see you flirt with someone else. It kept nagging at the back of his head. The sight of you giggling at the man’s jokes made his blood boil and the sight of the stranger stealing small touches made Tommy clench his jaw.

But what really sent him over the edge was seeing you and the man leave the room, to god knows where. Tommy excused himself from the the small circle of people he was talking to and began walking after you and William.

You of course, had no clue that Tommy was following after you. You were on your way out to get some fresh air and a cigarette.

When you stepped out, William pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered you one. You accepted it and let him light it for you. The cold weather made you shiver.

“Do you want my jacket?” William asked sweetly, already taking it off before you could even answer.

“She’s fine”.

Tommy’s stern tone made both William and you turn your head towards the door. William furrowed his brows and gave you a confused side glance. You smiled apologetic at him before looking back at Tommy.

“Tommy leave it” you hissed. He ignored you and firmly took ahold of your wrist, dragging you with him back to the house.

“Tommy stop it! what are you doing?” you shouted and burrowed your heel into the ground to stop him from dragging you further. Unfortunately Tommy was much stronger than you.

“Leave her alone” William protested and ran to you. He must not have known who Tommy was because he began pushing him. Your stomach dropped as Tommy let go of your wrist and took ahold of Williams collar.

“Stop it Tom!” you whined.

You had never seen him look so angry, his face turned crimson and veins popped out from his neck. It was terrifying.

“You leave her alone you hear me?” Tommy shouted in Williams face. Poor William looked absolutely petrified, and your eyes welled up with tears.

“Tommy for god’s sake stop it”. Your screaming made Tommy drop William from his grip, who quickly ran back back into the house.

You shook your head at Tommy and began walking to the door, too angry to be in the presence of him.

“Y/n, wait” Tommy yelled after you.

“Leave me alone” you said harshly.

“No! let me explain” he pleaded.

You were shaking with anger. Finally you had found someone who was actually interested in you and of course Tommy had to fuck it up. You spun around to face Tommy and clenched your fists.

“Explain what? that you’re fucking psycho? huh? He was being nice to me and i actually really like him” you spat.

“Y/n please don’t say that” his voice broke at the end and a pang of guilt went through you.

“No just.. y/n for fuck’s sake” he stammered. “Just drop it Tom” you turned around again and opened the door.

“Y/n for fuck’s i love you!” Tommy yelled. You froze and felt your heart skip a beat. Your hand left the doorknob and you turned to face him.

“What? what did you say?” you asked, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“I fucking love you”. His eyes locked with yours and his face softened. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Why didn’t you say? you knew how i felt about you. Why didn’t you tell me Tom?” you whispered and bit your lip, trying your best to hold your tears back.

“Because i didn’t know…” He dropped his head and took a shaky breath.

“I didn’t realise until i saw you with him” he confessed. You couldn’t hold your tears in anymore. Warm drops rolled down your cheeks. Tommy walked to you, he cupped your face and wiped your tears with the pads of him thumbs.

“I’m sorry y/n”.

“Please say something” his voice was filled with desperation.

“I don’t know what to say Tom”. You felt so overwhelmed. He was still cupping your face and tracing gentle circles on your cheeks.

“Can i kiss you?”

You knew it was probably a bad idea but you couldn’t help but nod. Softly Tommy pressed his lips to yours and time stood still for a moment.

You had long forgotten about the cold and William. All you could think about was Tommy and the taste of smoke and whiskey on his tongue.

He broke the kiss. “I really fucking love you y/n and i’m really fucking sorry for everything” he murmured against your lips.

“I really fucking love you too, Tom. Even when you’re being stupid” You giggled and kissed him again.

[tenelkadjowrites]

Tyrant - Chapter Sixteen - batjokes

(this story has been updating regularly on my ao3 but i am uploading it here now as well.)

read on ao3 here.

Summary: Six months after a traumatic night where the Joker attacked Gotham, Bruce finds his life turned upside down once again. When a hijacking goes wrong, Bruce is brought closer to the Joker and finds himself in a game of cat and mouse with the most dangerous criminal in the city. Torn between the strange hold the Joker has over him and being Batman, Bruce grapples with what he wants and what is right.

this story deals with PTSD, depictions of violence, a lot of angst, and will have nsfw sexual content.

previous chapter here.

              “Geez, Bats, are you done dragging me around? Not that I’m complaining…” Joker said.

               Bruce whirled around to finally face him. It was absolutely surreal seeing Joker not looking like…well, the Joker. The makeup was gone, leaving him bare faced. His skin was naturally pale, with dark circles under his eyes, which looked clear and bright. He was in a good mood. Never a positive sign. Was any mood of Joker’s a great sign though?

               The cut on his cheek from the crash had healed, a tiny faint scar evident. His suit fit him perfectly although Bruce wasn’t sure if the old school style of it was on purpose or what Joker thought people wore to these events. His hair had been dyed black, slicked back although one strand fell out of his place against his forehead. Bruce fought back the memory of pushing the hair back behind his ear before.

               The walking cane had been swapped out for a plain black one with a tiny silver knob on top. The gloves were no longer purple, just a regular black leather. Still wears gloves, Bruce noted.

               “How did you figure it out?” Joker asked gleefully, his fake accent dropped.

               “Count Vronsky? From Anna Karenina? Not exactly subtle.” Bruce whispered.

                 Joker scoffed. “You think any of these rich idiots know what that is?”

               He was speaking a bit too loudly for Bruce’s liking. Paranoid about someone figuring out what was going on, he motioned for Joker to follow him. Then he nudged open the nearest door and slipped inside, Joker coming in after him.

               Shutting and locking the door, Bruce looked around. They were in a small library. Every book had to do with plants and an empty oak desk was in the middle of the room. Grand windows overlooked the grounds. The place smelled a bit stuffy. Bruce didn’t imagine people used this room often. Maybe for meetings.

               “Why are you here?” He asked, leaning against the oak desk. From here, he could still hear the band from downstairs. It was muffled but grounded him to the location – at the gardens, at a charity ball, with the Joker.

               “Just wanted to see what the rich do for fun.” Joker drawled, walking around the room slowly, looking at the spines of the books. His limp was evident tonight. His leg wasn’t healing properly. Bruce couldn’t remember how bad the crash was. But Joker would have taken the brunt of it being in the driver’s seat. “How’s the stab wound?”

               “Sore,” He replied curtly. “How’s your leg?”

               Joker clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Bats, your concern is touching.” It was the same thing he had said the night at the apartment, the same deflection.

               He finished his loop around the room, stopping in front of Bruce. He still was jarred by seeing Joker outside of his usual appearance. Without the makeup, he looked…regular. Normal, even. He leaned against the desk directly next to Bruce, stretching out his long legs.

               “So, this is the life of Mr. Wayne. Parties in which everyone attending question how you survived a traumatic event. In the spotlight for your personal life and not your good deeds.”

               Bruce didn’t want to admit that the night had been draining. “People are naturally curious.”

               “Yes, for details about me. About you. About us.” Joker ran his thumb over the top of his cane. “If I had killed you, you would be their favourite topic of conversation until they got bored.”

               “You have a lower opinion of people than me. You don’t see people as humans. You see them as objects to manipulate or kill.” Bruce responded testily.

               “Bats, spare me the speech. I could recite it from memory.” Joker said with an eye roll.

               “You have no shame over the things you do. Do you even think about what you did in the subway tunnels? The loss of life? The terror you instilled in the monorail hijacking?” Bruce couldn’t stop himself from bringing up ugly topics, it seemed.

               Joker tilted his face back slightly. The scent of cinnamon and clean clothes wafted over; it had become a scent that Bruce now associated with him even if he didn’t want to.

               “And now,” Bruce went on, “You think you have something over me. Because of the tape. That you can do whatever you want, and nothing is in your way. But you’re wrong Joker. Regardless of my identity or not, I will always be here to stop you.”

               “Well, I would hope so. Gotham City would be terribly boring without a giant bat flying around trying to stop me.” He deadpanned, pushing off the desk and standing in front of Bruce. “Are you done lecturing me? I know you can’t help yourself. You simply must bore me to tears.”

               He didn’t know what he expected. Of course a lecture outside the bat suit would be as effective as the ones he had given in them. Joker was not the sort of man one debated about moral quandaries. He was a sociopath, a tyrant and a killer.

               Joker held out his gloved hand. Bruce stared at it mystified.

               “Come on, Bats. It’s a party. Aren’t you going to dance?” His voice was playful. Melodic again.

               “No.”

               “Oh, you’re no fun. Haven’t you ever wondered what it was like to dance with a lunatic killer?” He was teasing him now.

               Bruce stared at him. He wasn’t sure if it was because Joker looked so real tonight or if he was losing his mind due to the recent events. But before he could question it, he reached for Joker’s hand.

               Joker instantly pulled him into a formal waltz. The motion surprised Bruce and without thinking he asked, “How do you know how to waltz?”

               “My father taught it.” Joker said instantly. A lie, naturally, like the fishermen or the mugger who was actually a drug dealer. “He ran a class.”

               Bruce found it difficult to focus. His hands were against the Joker’s. He was grateful for the gloves. It served as some sort of barrier. He moved unsteadily against the Joker’s more confident movements. Up this close, he had no choice but to look directly at him. He’s taller than me, he realized with a jolt. His eyes had to look upwards. He had never realized that before. Maybe because they were always fighting, or some high tense situation was unfolding around them.

               Without the piles of makeup on his face, the Joker would have blended in anywhere in Gotham. He looked almost…pretty in a strange way. It was that delicate neck and those sharp cheekbones. Somehow, his cheekbones were more pronounced without the makeup. The dark hair added to his appearance. It made his skin paler, his eyes darker.

               “Bats, you’re terrible at this,” Joker remarked. “Is this how you normally dance?”

               Bruce had danced many times. All with women. Usually pretending to be the full Bruce Wayne persona. But dancing with the clown prince of crime…it was wrong, and he shouldn’t be doing it. Yet he didn’t stop.

               Joker’s hand left Bruce’s and instead went to his waist. Startled, Bruce stopped for a moment and almost lost his footing. He caught himself at the last second. Getting frazzled was unlike him. He was embarrassed.

               “I have finally found something the amazing Mr. Wayne is bad at.” Joker announced, his hand resting on his waist, his other hand against Bruce’s.

               His side ached from the wound. His headache was a dull throb. But even with the pain, everything was heightened. Being this close to the Joker, that cinnamon and clean clothes scent, dancing…if anyone were to walk in, if anyone knew what was going on in here…

               “The night of the monorail,” Bruce said suddenly, “It didn’t go according to plan, did it?”

               It was easier to read Joker’s face without the makeup. A flicker of annoyance passed across his features. “What makes you say that?”

               “The crash. The decoy van with the other hostages.” They had circled the room already and began to repeat it once more. The dance seemed separate from the muffled music below. They were not on beat as if their music belonged only to themselves.

               “Fine, Bats, you caught me. No, the van crash was not part of the plan. What can I say? I get a little too excited behind the wheel. It became more about escaping. But then, I found you.” A quick smile, flash of white teeth. “It all worked out.”

               Yes, he supposed it had worked out for the Joker. Not so much for him. “The monorail job was much smaller scale than the subway. Did you lose more men than you were expecting?”

               “You killing me backfired the plan a bit. Once I got away from you, I passed out again somewhere. By the time I woke up, the operation I had so carefully spent months planning had fizzled. Those idiots didn’t know what to do without me!” The irritation was plain to see now.

               Bruce couldn’t help but feel relieved a little that Joker had fainted. The subway tunnels were a nightmare. If that wasn’t the full scope of his plan, it was better that the entire thing didn’t come to fruition.

               “You still have a lot of safe houses though. The apartment, the house, whatever the underground one was…”

               Joker’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not as clever as you think you are, Bats. Still trying to find out where I put the tape. Do you think I’m stupid?”

               He abruptly stopped dancing. They were near the bookshelves. Bruce felt stuck between the shelf and Joker, whose hand was still on his waist.

               “You don’t fool me. I know any time you talk to me, pretend you’re seeing me as a person, you’re trying to get the tape.” Another step. Joker was almost pressed against him. Bruce’s head went light. He tried to think clearly to form a rebuttal.

               “For all your lecturing and posturing, ask yourself – what is the difference between us? What drives you, Bats? Protecting people? Or is it when you take a criminal down and smash your fist in their face, you can get off on being morally superior?”

               “You’re a murderer.” Bruce countered. “We are nothing alike. No matter how many times you say it, it isn’t true.”

               “The world isn’t black and white and doesn’t bend to your worldview.” His body was against his now. Bruce could feel his slender frame pushing against him. “People live in shades of grey. You proved that in the tunnels. You proved we are more similar than even I thought.” Joker’s voice was low, almost a growl.

               Was he right? He wanted to reject what the Joker was saying. But he had shown in the tunnels that enough rage and a loss of control could drive him to do something horrible. Joker just didn’t worry about that loss of control. What if control was the only difference between him and someone like the Joker? The thought was awful.

               Joker’s hand left his waist. Instead, it went to Bruce’s hair, tugging hard, forcing his head back, exposing his neck. Joker’s lips were brushing against the exposed skin. Every nerve in his body was alight as if he was on a roller coaster that had started its descent. His body was curled against Bruce’s, like a lion getting ready to maul its prey.

               “Bruce,” Joker whispered roughly, “Why won’t you just admit it?” Each word brushed against his skin. His name was once again a sigh, a fragile phrase that left the Joker’s mouth quietly as if it wasn’t even spoken, it was just something Bruce felt.

               He was rendered speechless. His eyes fluttered closed. The voice in his head telling him to push Joker away was a quiet thing. Far away.

               “Why won’t you just give us what we both want?” Joker whispered. His voice was slinking up Bruce’s spine. Lips against his neck. Body pressed against him. The muffled music and noise of the party below his feet. In the distance, he heard a woman laugh loudly and it reached through his mental fog.

               The party is what grounded him, made Bruce remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. With all the power he had, he forced his eyes open, brought his hands up to the Joker’s chest and pushed him off.

               Joker’s face hardened. Without another word, he turned sharply on his heels and stormed out of the library, shutting the door behind him, similar to the night in the bedroom when Bruce’s hands were on his neck. Bruce remained against the bookshelf, trying to catch his breath. It was as if he had run a marathon – difficult to breathe, throat dry, head spinning. Jesus. What the hell was he doing? He had lost his fucking mind. To be in that position…it wasn’t the fact the Joker was a man that bothered him. It was the fact it was the fucking Joker.

               I see you. Who else could say that?

               Why won’t you just admit it? Admit what – that they were similar, that they were two sides of the same coin? He rubbed his face, deciding it was time to get out of here. It was too much. The entire night – what was wrong with him?

               Bruce wasn’t sure how long he was in the library trying to get his bearings. But it was a panicked scream that jolted him out of his thoughts. Hurrying from the library, he looked over the balcony. The screams were coming from the outer garden grounds. A crowd was already forming. Bruce hurried down the staircase, pushing through the people.

               When he finally got the doors that led to the grounds, he saw what had caused the scream. A dead body was slumped over by a row of hedges. The hedges looked as if someone had smashed through them to get out afterwards.

               Bruce took a step forward. Jameson, he thought suddenly as he looked at the body, the man’s name had been Jameson.

               On the ground, with a knife sticking out of his neck, lay the man from earlier. The one who had talked about Joker in front of him, who had made the disparaging remark about the lipstick. The blood pumped out of the wound, making a dark puddle around Jameson’s head.

               And across his lips was a bright streak of red lipstick curling up into a smile.

[pendraegon]

8, 9, 16, 38 for that valentine day ask

8: favorite fanfic trope?

Oh bro, I’m a fucking SUCKER for friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers again like the whole…I had you and then I lost you and now, we’ll cross this bridge together and understand each other fully like we never did before? Makes me lose it. But also, I love…angst but it has to be angst with a happy ending or else I get too sad lol.

9: Have you ever been in love?

Yeah! I……fall in love a little bit with anyone who is nice to me LMAO it’s my own personal failing haha. But, I’m deeply in love with all my friends. I’m a very Ride or Die person, like, dedicated? Nah. Devoted. Yeah. But in terms of romantic love? Not really…DO I dream of a grand romance or even just someone whom I can shower love on?? Yeah….

16: Favorite love story?

UHHhh not to be basic but Achilles and Patroclus? Maybe Anna Karenina and Count Vronsky even though it’s not……..really a love story lol

38: What’s your OTP?

OK DO NOT COME FOR ME FOR THIS BUT UHHH Merlin/Arthur from BBC Merlin because I’ve never truly left 2012. That or Kirk/Spock or Enjolras/Grantaire.

Prompt is here!

[Britney voice] Meme me, bitch

[silverscreenclassics2016]

by special guest Robert Short

General abstract:  In 1877 Russia, Anna Karenina, wife of Alexei Karenin, a senior government official, and mother of their young son Sergei, travels to Moscow from St. Petersburg to visit her brother Stepan Oblonsky, his wife Dolly, and their children.  The family is in turmoil due to Stepan’s unbridled womanizing – a circumstance that foretells Anna’s own future situation.  Upon her arrival in the Moscow train station, she meets Count Alexei Vronsky, a cavalryman.  A romantic attraction and affair ensue, despite the fact that Dolly’s eighteen-year-old sister Kitty is also attracted to Vronsky. 

Bachelor Vronsky is eager to marry Anna.  Unable to secure a divorce from her high-minded husband, Anna nonetheless leaves him, and their son, to live with Vronsky.  Initially moving to Italy, where they can be together, Anna and Vronsky return to Russia, where she is shunned by Russian society, while Vronsky is able to pursue his social life.  Becoming further isolated and anxious, Anna grows increasingly possessive and paranoid about his imagined infidelity, resulting in tragedy.

ANNA KARENINA (1935)  Director:  Clarence Brown.  Starring Greta Garbo, Fredric March, Basil Rathbone, Maureen O’Sullivan, Freddie Bartholomew, May Robson, Reginald Owen.  Screenplay by Clemence Dane and Salka Viertel.

From her stunning first appearance behind a clearing cloud of train steam, Greta Garbo set the 1935 “Anna Karenina” in motion with her extraordinary presence.  Known as “the Swedish Sphinx” among other sobriquets, Garbo’s exquisite face could seemingly express a thousand thoughts while remaining totally blank; she was the epitome of the legendary Gloria Swanson line in “Sunset Boulevard”, “We had faces then”.

Garbo’s 1935 portrayal of Anna was in fact her second on-screen portrait of the Tolstoy heroine; an earlier 1927 silent version, bearing the title “Love”, had co-starred Garbo with John Gilbert, her highly-publicized real-life romantic partner, as Count Vronsky.  Performed in more modern dress, its story reduced to the essential occurrences of the Anna – Vronsky narrative, “Love” may be considered either a clever adaptation or, to a Tolstoy purist, a complete abomination.  Supporting characters such as Stepan, Dolly and Kitty were jettisoned entirely; many other liberties were taken with the story.  Most notably a contrived happy ending filmed for American audiences replaced the original tragic conclusion; the European prints retained the more dramatic finale.  Nevertheless, despite its numerous literary transgressions, “Love” enjoyed the benefit of the almost palpable chemistry between Garbo and Gilbert; the two could transform a scene in which virtually nothing was happening into something resembling an erotic dream.

  Greta Garbo and John Gilbert in ‘Love’ (1927)

Greta Garbo and Fredric March in ‘Anna Karenina’

Returning to the role was Garbo’s idea; in October 1934 the actress had requested that David O. Selznick produce a remake of “Love”, but with greater adherence to the Tolstoy tome.  Paring down the original literary source to a manageable screen adaptation required necessary deletions; Tolstoy’s massive and complex chronicle, running over 800 pages, featuring over a dozen major characters, and presented in eight parts, included more than the narrative of Anna and Vronsky, although their story was a major component of the plot.   Unlike the earlier 1927 version, the “side” stories not focused on Anna, such as Oblonsky’s marital infidelities and Kitty’s infatuation with Vronsky and eventual marriage to Konstantin Levin, were presented, albeit rather superficially.  While screenwriters Clemence Dane and Salka Viertel, the latter of whom was a close friend of Garbo’s and eventually became the mother-in-law of actress Deborah Kerr, remained reasonably loyal to the original themes addressed in the literary work, including desire, betrayal, faith, family, marriage, and Imperial Russian society, creative license was taken in their presentation.  Various incidents were re-sorted and revised from Tolstoy’s original chronicle; alterations and additions to the script were made in order to avoid censure from the prevailing Production Code.  Under great pressure to complete a finished screenplay in the shortest possible time, the screenwriters prepared an oddly unbalanced script, affecting the rhythm of the scenes.

Fredric March was Garbo’s selection for the role of Vronsky.   Producer Selznick’s own first choice was Clark Gable, who was not interested.  Ronald Colman was another consideration; cannily aware that the film would belong to co-star Garbo, Colman purportedly doubled his asking price, effectively taking himself out of the running.  March, an Academy Award winning actor for his 1931 dual portrayal of “Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde”, was no stranger to Tolstoy’s work; in 1934 he had starred in “We Live Again”, based on Tolstoy’s 1899 work “Resurrection”, with Anna Sten.  Undeniably beautiful but ultimately unsuccessful in her career, Sten was, rather ironically, producer Samuel Goldwyn’s hoped-for answer to Garbo.  Having had his fill of period pieces, March did not want to play Vronsky, accepting the role on the order from his studio.  Nor did he, by his own admission, generate the same level of passion with Garbo as had Gilbert in the earlier 1927 version.  Describing the love scenes in the 1935 presentation, March was quoted as saying that they were “nothing so tempestuous as in the silent film”.

Directed by Garbo’s favourite director, Clarence Brown, with cinematography by William Daniels, Garbo’s favourite photographer, “Anna Karenina” emerged a financial and critical success.  Andre Sennwald of The New York Times noted “Miss Garbo, always superbly the apex of the drama, suggests the inevitability of her doom from the beginning, streaking her first happiness with undertones of anguish, later trying futilely to mend the broken pieces, and at last standing regally alone as she approaches the end. Bouncing with less determination than is his custom, Mr. March gets by handsomely as Vronsky.”  For her efforts, Garbo won the New York Film Critics Circle Award as Best Actress; the film itself was named one of the top ten films of 1935 by the National Board of Review, USA.

ANNA KARENINA (1948) Director:  Julien Duvivier.  Starring Vivien Leigh, Ralph Richardson, Kieron Moore, Hugh Dempster, Mary Kerridge, Sally Ann Howes, Niall MacGinnis.  Screenplay by Jean Anouilh, Guy Morgan, Julien Duvivier.

After her Oscar-winning tour de force performance as the wilful Scarlett O’Hara in “Gone with the Wind”, British actress Vivien Leigh had returned to the movie screen only three times, in 1940’s “Waterloo Bridge”, in 1941 as the eponymous “Lady Hamilton”, also known as “That Hamilton Woman”, co-starring husband Laurence Olivier as Admiral Horatio Nelson, and as Cleopatra in George Bernard Shaw’s “Caesar and Cleopatra” in 1945.  During the intervening years, Leigh had performed on stage, and endured sieges of illness and depression; the opportunity of portraying Tolstoy’s tragic heroine lured Leigh back to the silver screen for a fourth post-”Wind” appearance.  Interestingly, critical elements of her character’s life mirrored Leigh’s own; similar to Anna, who left her husband and child to pursue a new love, Leigh ended her seven-year marriage with husband Herbert Leigh Holman in 1940 in order to marry Laurence Olivier, her co-star in the 1937 British productions “Fire over England” and “21 Days Together”.  Holman ultimately gained custody of his and Leigh’s six-year-old daughter Suzanne.  During the production of “Anna Karenina” Oliver received his investiture as Knight Bachelor; Leigh was thereafter styled as “Lady Olivier”.

Unfolding at a more leisurely 139 minutes, as opposed to the 95-minute running time of the earlier Garbo version, the 1948 “Anna Karenina” was a truer, and more encompassing, adaptation of its classic literary source.  The original screenplay prepared by director Julien Duvivier, in collaboration with French dramatist Jean Anouilh, had been an experiment in angst-ridden existentialism, a relentlessly downbeat chronicle transplanted to a French setting; British writer Guy Morgan came on board for script alterations and revisions.

Unlike the 1935 film, which began with an invented scene showing Vronsky in various stages of revelry, the 1948 edition began with the novel’s famous introductory line “All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way” superimposed over a scene revealing the turmoil in the Oblonsky home.  More screen time was devoted to the characters of Stepan and Dolly, Anna’s brother and sister-in-law, and Dolly’s sister Kitty.  Most importantly, major segments of the story were not featured in the Garbo adaptation at all, including Karenin’s initial decision to divorce Anna, his change of heart after Anna’s near death after giving birth to Vronsky’s child, stillborn in this version, contrary to the novel, and his re-acceptance of Anna in his home.  These scenes, possibly omitted in 1935 due to Production Code restrictions, were particularly critical in Karenin’s character development; as portrayed by Basil Rathbone in the earlier presentation, Karenin was a tyrant, whereas Ralph Richardson’s Karenin, while still a cold, emotionally sterile man, displayed a glimmer of humanity.

Vivien Leigh and Kieron Moore as Anna and Vronksy

Ralph Richardson and Vivien Leigh as Karenin and Anna

Filmed in 1947, and released in the United Kingdom in early January 1948, the making of “Anna Karenina” would appear to have been an unhappy affair; director Duvivier, reportedly autocratically inflexible, was disliked by cast and crew.  The role of Vronsky had originally been offered to Michael Redgrave, who chose to appear in two American projects; handsome Irish-born actor Kieron Moore undertook the part.  Out of his acting depth, Moore had requested a release after only a few weeks of filming.  Producer Sir Alexander Korda refused to grant it; Moore’s ensuing performance, described by fashion photographer Cecil Beaton, a friend of Garbo’s, as a “disaster”, suggested none of Vronsky’s animal magnetism.

Expensive and well-appointed, Leigh’s “Anna Karenina” was ultimately unsuccessful, both commercially and critically.  British reviewers were a little kinder to the film; opening in the United States in April 1947, its American print shortened by twenty minutes, the movie prompted New York Times critic Bosley Crowther to comment in his review “With all due respect for an actress who would willingly undertake a role that has twice been rendered immortal by Greta Garbo within the past twenty years, it must be confessed by this observer that the ‘Anna Karenina’ of Vivien Leigh is a pretty sad disappointment, by comparison or not.”

These harsh words notwithstanding, the 1948 “Anna Karenina” offered much to admire – the first image of Leigh’s beautiful face looking though the frosted window of a train, the sumptuous costumes and settings, cinematographer Henri Alekan’s moody, light-and-shadow photography displaying every shade possible in monochrome.  Crowther’s review did contain, nonetheless, an element of validity.  The 1948 film was a more faithful, albeit still imperfect, screen adaptation of Tolstoy’s chef-d’oeuvre.  Benefiting from an additional forty-five minutes in running time over its 1935 counterpoint, the British presentation explored motifs and situations to a fuller extent; from a literary standpoint it emerged the victor over the earlier Hollywood version.  However, all its physical adornment and homage to literature could not compete with the jewel in Hollywood’s crown, namely Garbo.  For all its faults as a cinematic translation of a major work of literature, 1935’s “Anna Karenina” was clearly the most entertaining; as described by critic Pauline Kael, “God knows it isn’t all it might be, and Garbo isn’t even at her best, but she’s there to be gazed upon.”

It has been a pleasure and a privilege to have Robert Short as a guest writer for the 2020 Classic Literature On Film Blogathon. 

A Look At Two Versions Of Anna Karenina (1935 and 1948) by special guest Robert Short General abstract:  In 1877 Russia, Anna Karenina, wife of Alexei Karenin, a senior government official, and mother of their young son Sergei, travels to Moscow from St.

[voxmortuus]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alexei, no." You state firmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have no means of responding.

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

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

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

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

"Get off of me." you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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