#kosfic

[blacksdale]

it’s my move, fight or flight

a crappy zoyalai fic

sh: zoyalai college au ao3

“And why, exactly, do you want me to study for this final with you?”

“Because Nazyalensky,” Nikolai smirked, spinning before he fell back onto the grey couch cushions, “you’re the smartest one in our class besides me, of course. And yet I still feel as if I am going to fail this final.”

Zoya tossed her hair over her shoulder as she turned away from him, setting her books down on the coffee table. “What makes you think I can do any better on this final than you?” She gave him a look up and down: blond hair slightly tousled, a mischievous glint in bright hazel eyes, arrogant expression across his annoyingly flawless features.

“Tsaritsa, please give yourself some props.” He laid back on the couch, hands behind his head, legs stretched out to take up all of the space. “I may know the material, but you’re the only that comprehends any of what Morozova spews during lectures and to not fail this class, I need that knowledge.” His eyes flicked over to her for a brief moment before returning to the ceiling.

She allowed the ice forming around her heart to settle in.

“Can it, Lantsov,” she walked over to him, poking his chest. “And if you want my help,” she chided, “no more calling me ‘tsaritsa’.” Zoya left him and went to her kitchen, determined to ignore for at least some time before they had to study.

“As you wish, darling.”

She whipped her head around to see him smiling, hazel eyes still full of mischief. “I said,” she warned, though she blushed, “to can it!”

This was going to be one hell of a week.

–––––

About two hours in was when Nikolai realised how truly beautiful she was.

She had invited him to come at four. Now it was only 6:15, and he thought up the list of things he liked about Zoya: she liked her coffee with milk, no sugar; she wrote titles in black ink and information in blue when she took notes; her eyes calculated the room when she was thinking something over; she held her chin with her hand and tapped a finger on her jaw when she was trying to remember something.

He could no longer think with her in front of him. Her blue eyes matched the night sky outside, just after the sun had set. The moonlight from the window caught her features like magic, bringing a silver outline to the thick lashes that fanned over the light brown of her cheeks, the curve of her full lips, the glossy black of her waving hair that had fallen over her shoulder. She kept reaching up, pen in hand, to push back her glasses that repeatedly fell from the small bump on the bridge of her nose. She was so smart too, even her insults towards him were clever.

“Lantsov,” he heard, “did you hear my question?”

Saints, she was going to ruin him. And she would have no idea at all.

“Lantsov!” Someone shouted as he saw hands clap in front of his eyes, attention snapping back to reality. He saw Zoya again, back in the actual room and not just his thoughts.

He propped his elbow on the table, placing his chin in his hand as his eyes drifted from her to his notebook and back. “Yes, dear?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don't dear me, I was asking about the structure of actin filaments,” she said, her tone unsure.

His eyes flicked to his notes. “Double helix, love,” he told her nonchalantly.

“Good,” she exhaled as she closed her textbook. “I think that’s enough now.” Crossing her arms, she stood up and nodded toward his book bag next to the chair.

Nikolai looked up to meet her blue eyes. “Lovely spending time with you, tsaritsa.”

“You can leave now.” She rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Dear, our night has only just begun.”

She marched up to him, looking like she was getting ready to pull a punch, though he didn't think she could do that much damage considering she only reached his chin. “Our night?”

“Of course, do you think I would not take you out to dinner after this?” He grinned at her, earning a scowl in return. “It won’t be anything too personal, just dinner and dessert and banter. Maybe afterwards you will not have such disdain for my presence.”

“Good luck with that,” she scoffed. She walked away from him and, to his surprise, reached for her black parka, shrugging it over her shoulders.

“Tsaritsa, where are you going?”

She rolled her eyes once more, wrapping a light blue scarf around her shoulders. It complemented her eyes in a way that made his heart clench. “I never said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Well, lucky for you,” he laughed, “I’m paying, so you can eat as much as you want.”

She turned the door handle, sighing with relief. “Good.”

“I’m always glad to, tsaritsa.” He took the door from her, holding it open for her to walk through. “Good to go?”

Her sharp blue eyes trained a glare on him once more as she pursed her lips, making his heart do somersaults in his chest. “This better be good food, or you’re going to owe me.”

–––––

He took her to a hole-in-the-wall a few blocks away, the door painted a dark maroon. “Where did you take me?” She questioned.

“Just go inside dear,” he was smirking again. “I promise, you’ll love it. It’s my favourite.” His hazel eyes were bright as always, as though he was always planning. Planning what, she didn’t care to know.

“You better not have brought me to someplace weird.”

“Have a little faith,” he said, “and the faster you go inside, the faster you get food.

“I hate you.” She told him, her tone and expression deadpan.

“You won’t soon enough.” He mused, tilting his head to the side, arrogant smirk still on his face.

She crossed her arms and whipped her head to look at him. “That’s quite a bold statement to make.”

“And you will see,” he pushed open the door, “that I’m right.”

Her eyes widened as she stepped into a dimly lit room, the walls painted a deep crimson with golden silhouettes of flowers. Instead of normal lighting, the ceilings hung with lanterns, the design of a sun carved out to let the light shine through. She turned around to find the entrance was surrounded with a border of its own, intricate designs carved in the wood.

Nikolai took her hand and led her to a booth near the window, looking quite satisfied while she took in the mesmerising surroundings. She heard him ask from in front of her, “Happy, Nazyalensky-”

“Mhm.” She nodded. He may only be a friend, but at least he was a good one. “Happy.”

He grabbed her hand and led her to a table with two red cushions. They sat down and made small talk for a bit about finals and clubs they were in. They complained about Morozova's nuisance of a class after the food came, and commented on his remarks of giving tests with no advanced notice.

“I swear,” Zoya told Nikolai before shoving a piece of chicken in her mouth, “I'm gonna strangle him.”

He nodded in agreement. “After the final.”

She high fived him. “Good plan.”

After they finished and he paid the check, they walked along the streets of the city in the direction of her apartment. Now that she was fed and could think, Zoya realised she was actually beginning to like him. Her heart had started doing one of those stupid palpitation things when he smiled or got excited about something, and whenever his eyes lit up and the gold around the centre started to glow she would immediately want to go to him.

He was cute, she realised.

Saints, he was so cute.

She hated it. She hated him. And most of all, she hated how easily he had managed to change her opinion of him and his stupid perfect blond hair. She was done with him after the final. He would not mess with her head anymore after that and she would make sure of it.

But right now she needed to figure out what someone else's coat was doing around her. Especially since she was already wearing her own. “Nikolai,” she interrogated, realizing as she looked next to her that he was just in a sweater. “What is your jacket doing on me?”

He shrugged. “You looked cold, tsaritsa.”

“I'm fine,” she told him, pulling his jacket tighter around her anyway, “why would you think I'm cold?” Maybe she was shivering and couldn't feel her fingertips, but she would survive.

“Love,” his eyes trained on her suddenly, a line of worry coming between his eyebrows, “your lips are purple.”

“Why are you looking at my lips?”

“I'm hailing us a cab.” He raised a hand.

She crossed her arms, half out of annoyance and half out of the need for warmth. “I'm not going alone in a cab at night.”

“Of course not, I'm coming with you.”

“Excuse me?”

He smirked. “Well, my things are still there. And you honestly didn't think I was just going to let you keep that coat. I need it too. And it was expensive.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as a cab pulled up to the curb in front of them. “You get your shit. You leave. Got it?” She poked his chest, clutching both the jackets tight around her.

He laughed as he opened the cab door for her. “Wouldn't dream of anything else.”

–––––

He showed up the next day at her apartment, beaming.

The door opened for him to find a tired Zoya, her hand coming up behind her glasses to rub her eye. She was in a blue hoodie and grey joggers and blue fuzzy socks, her dark hair frizzy as if…

“You just woke up,” he asked, “didn’t you?”

She looked up at him, eyes half-lidded but still glaring. “Why do you care?”

“Dear, I can come back later if you want,” he offered.

“No no, don’t,” she told him, her voice still scratchy from getting out of bed. “I don’t want to have to deal with more of you than I have to.”

So she still hated him. Great.

“What do you want?” She asked, tone deadpan as she shoved open the door.

“Well,” he told her, “I want to study, but if you wish to do something else, I would not be opposed.”

“Shut the fuck up,” was all she said in return.

He replied, smirking. “I'll make note of that.”

“Just come in,” she told him, rubbing her cheek, “so we can just get this over with.” She let the door swing open so he could come inside.

Even dead tired, she still looked gorgeous. Her cheeks still looked a bit puffy, as well as her lips, and her messy hair was unnervingly attractive to him. Everything about her made him want to cup her face in his hands and place a light kiss on her nose before letting her fall asleep in his arms again.

They set their notebooks down on her coffee table once more, going through the basic terms once before studying in silence, this time more comfortable than the last. He was starting to get used to the fact that Zoya wasn’t the type for conversation, that she preferred to work in silence when she could concentrate. But he felt a need to check on her anyway, so fifteen minutes later he went to ask a question about something he already knew, just for an excuse to talk.

“Tsaritsa–” he went to say, before realising her face had crashed into her notebook and she was, in fact, asleep.

Nikolai smiled at her, though he knew she wouldn’t see it. He got up and lifted her so that she lay across the couch now, making sure her head was cushioned by a fluffy grey pillow. After grabbing a blanket off the armrest and placing it over her, making sure she was comfortable, he packed up his things. He placed a light kiss on her forehead and she stirred, one of her hands lazily resting on his forearm. He reluctantly shoved it away.

“You’re not making this easy for me, are you?”

He left a note for her saying he would come back tomorrow, and five dollars for coffee so she could wake up.

–––––

He had come over every day since their first time studying. It wasn’t that she wanted him to leave her alone; she quite liked having him around. They were fast friends, and somehow their friendship only kept moving faster. She had gotten to know him very well over the past few days, talking about their families and such, more of what they were studying.

But she knew better to get truly attached to him and his charm because he would let her down eventually. Just like they always did. And the sweet gestures he kept making weren’t helping to quell her feelings either. Most guys she had normally assumed what she wanted: clothes, jewellery, and the likes, but none had ever cared to leave her money for things she actually wanted. Like coffee. No guy had ever bothered to leave her coffee money.

She felt her heart sink as she heard a knock come from her door that night.

“What do you want?” She asked, tone deadpan as she shoved open the door. He showed up in a grey sweater and blue jeans, signature smirk still on his face, hazel eyes still teasing her.  

He set down two to-go cups on her coffee table. “I also bought hot chocolate from the cafe you told me about last night.”

Zoya felt the blood start to rush toward her cheeks, quickly turning to face away from him. “You remembered?”

“Why would I not?”

She chuckled. “It’s just a small detail.”

He sat down on her couch again, once again taking up all the room so he could stretch his legs. “Only for you, tsaritsa.”

“I said not to call me that,” she reminded him.

He propped his head on his hand, tilting it just the slightest bit so his golden hair caught in the sunlight. He was just trying to torture her, wasn’t he? With his stupid sweet gestures and the buying her food and his stupid perfect hair and gorgeous hazel eyes–

No. She couldn’t think of him like that.

“Admit it, tsaritsa,” he said to her, “you find my quips adorable.”

She ran a hand through her hair, rolling her eyes. “No part of you is adorable, I promise.”

She expected another witty remark in return, some arrogant response. But when she looked towards, she saw that he was silent, eyes focused directly on her as a piece of black hair fell into her face. Oh, he was not pulling this with her.

“Nikolai,” she warned, walking over to him, “don’t pull this shit with me. I can tell when people are making fun of me, and I do not take kindly to it I assure you.”

He blinked rapidly before smirking again. “I would never make fun of you, dear, I promise.” He stretched his legs across her couch again. Great. He was making himself at home as well as driving her mad.

Because his being annoying was definitely the only reason why he was driving her mad.

“Just get started so we can study and you can go home.” She playfully pushed his chest.

“As you wish, dear.”

They spent a good hour reviewing in silence, with Nikolai occasionally looking up from his notes to ask her a question. As of now, they had a good routine in place: only talk when necessary, let Zoya drink her coffee. And it would all be perfectly fine.

“Tsaritsa?” He suddenly piped up from beside her.

“What?” She asked him, making sure to not look up from her notes.

“Get up.”

Her attention left her notes as she lifted her eyes to glare at him, but smiled anyway. “And why should I do that?”

“Because,” he stood up, “my brain is fried from all the membrane proteins I’ve had to memorise. And I think we should dance.”

Oh no.

“You’re insane,” she laughed. “The exam is in half a week.”

He pressed play on his phone before setting it down on the table, a song she didn’t know beginning to blare from the speakers. “And yet,” he mused, gaze glossed over her, “I still can’t concentrate.”

Nikolai grabbed her hand and pulled her from her seat, catching her in his arms a split second later. When Zoya looked up, she realised she was flush against him, meeting his eyes as he looked down. One of his hands held hers, the warmth of his touch causing her thoughts to blur, and the other wrapped around her waist, keeping her close as her heart started to beat faster. Her eyes flicked to the stars through the window, though she knew they wouldn’t guide her. She needed a way to stay sane. She thought of her work–yes, bio–and what they were supposed to be doing. Studying, right. They were just taking a break? They had done a lot of work, after all. Looking at notes for an hour straight did fry your brain, now that she thought about it.

Getting lost in this wouldn’t be so bad now, would it? It was just a dance. They were friends. People did it all the time platonically. She heard the song playing softly as her cheek fell against his shoulder.

We were barely 18 when we crossed collective hearts It was cold, but it got warm when you barely crossed my eye And then you turned, put out your hand And you asked me to dance

A few minutes later she woke up. She couldn’t do this. Not with him. She wouldn’t let herself. Not when she lifted her head and met his gaze, the gold around the centre of his eye almost entirely swallowed by his pupil save for a thin, bright outline that faded into the dark brown of coffee. Not when his hand went to cup her chin and her eyelids flickered against her cheek. Not when her lips met his halfway, and it took almost all of her to pull away.

I knew nothing of romance

“Nikolai–” she protested. She had a life to live, things to do. She would not give in. Not now. Not ever. Not with him. But he still had her in his arms, his breath still ghosting her lips.

But it was love at second sight

“Tomorrow.”

Then he was kissing her again, and Zoya lost herself to the sweet, sweet delirium that came with lips soft on hers. One of his hands tangled in her hair, causing any thoughts she still had to dissolve until all she knew was the way his hands caused all of her to go warm as he held her, the way he tasted of cinnamon and cardamom when his lips opened for her. She felt her arms come around his neck, bringing him to her so she could deepen the kiss, and he picked her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, determined to be as close to him as possible. She broke away for just a moment, so she could look into his eyes to see a fire burning in them that wasn’t there before. She ran a finger along his cheekbone while his lashes fluttered shut, one of her hands cupping his cheek while the other ran through his silky golden curls. Their lips crashed together once more, causing her to melt with each passing second. They fell on the couch, tangled in each other until they were both breathless from the kisses. Until they knew nothing except the other person, who in turn only knew them, and the comfort with each other that eventually brought them sleep.

–––––

For once, Zoya didn’t look frustrated. As if all of her stress had left her.

Nikolai awakened to find she had fallen asleep against his chest, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. She had one hand laid on his collarbone, slightly scrunching his shirt fabric. He didn't know what time it was, but her eyes were still fluttering with dreams, and he did not wish to disturb her. He lifted a hand to reach for his phone, however, he was met with resistance as he saw tired blue eyes look up at him.

Saints, he was done for.

She had her usual look of worry on her face again, the dark circles under her eyes still prominent. But for once, there was no malice. Just worry.

“Please don't go,” was all she asked before she fell asleep again.

He knew it was the morning now. Another day, another life to get back to, another ten thousand tasks to finish. But right now, he was just a guy. And she was just the girl who he was hopelessly in love with.

So he stayed.

#userhannas #mine #mine.fic #fic.zoyalai #sh:zoyalai #lit:tnd #u:gv #m:fic #kosfic #gvfic #zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai duology #grishaverse #userada #usersultanah #usernate #writeremma #tuserjules #useramma #usersai #userksheerja #userzara #userzuha #userishika #useropal #tuserkeira #userishani #tusergrace

[evasjacks]

Champagne Problems

World: grishaverse, canon setting, post-kos

Ship: Zoyalai

Word Count: 2819

AO3

Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems

     Zoya had not planned on dancing that night. 

     She had even considered not attending at all, but she could not very well leave the Triumvirate to fend off on their own. It’s a ball, not a battle , she tried to remind herself, but at some point, since the war had ended, the two had become nearly impossible to differentiate. She had to be as much on her guard now, keep a wary eye on the crowd, be prepared for anything.

     It was as tiring as it was necessary.

     There was also another, more personal duty, and that was to ensure the King was safe. Every ball, dinner, or trip was an opportunity for a Fjerdan spy, a Shu mercenary- Saints, even an angry Ravkan to take their aim at Nikolai. That was entirely the reason Zoya had spent the night watching him, subtly, keeping to corners of the ballroom and sipping champagne. It was also why she had refused the many offers to dance and stood alone now.

     Nikolai seemed as carefree as ever, a free bird soaring through the skies as he went smoothly from laughing with dignitaries to dancing with just about every person willing, his smile never losing its warmth. Ravka really had gotten lucky with him. She could almost convince herself that he was happy, that his wrists didn’t require daily tailoring to hide the bruises that formed as he struggled to free himself of his chains every night. That he’d been the same since they met the Saints.

     Have you not changed as well?

     The rumble of Juris’ voice in her head was nearly indistinguishable from her own bitter thoughts. Perhaps, but I’m not the King of Ravka .

     You could be the Queen.

     She was spared a response to the repetitive argument when a voice called out her name.

    “Miss Nazyalensky!” 

    Dread washed over her, and she fought a wince, downing the remnants of her glass as the owner appeared in front of her, smiling brightly.

    Nikolai had asked her to be kinder to him, so she refrained from rolling her eyes at Kirigin. As a treat.

    “You are looking splendid this evening,” he said, eyes roving over her appreciatively. Now Zoya could not help the eye roll- honestly, it was a reflex to stupidity. 

    “Then nothing has changed,” she said, already scanning the crowd for a waiter to refill her glass, perhaps with something a little stronger. 

    He laughed, which irked her for reasons Zoya could not pinpoint. She had not been particularly funny, and his laugh was high pitched, bordering on childlike. 

    “No, I suppose not!” he responded cheerfully. Why was he still here? When were men going to learn their place around her?

    There were too many people, and she’d strayed far enough from the dancing ground that neither the King nor the waiters were visible. Perhaps she could retreat to her rooms, bring the night to a close at the base of some kvas, and hope it would be enough to wash away her worries.

    “I was hoping to ask you for a dance, Miss Nazyalensky,” Kirigin’s voice snapped her back to her current issue, and Zoya lifted her eyes to the heavens, wondering why Juris hadn’t blessed her with wings to fly away from this place instead.

   “Kirigin, listen closely as I do not intend to repeat myself-”

    “Kirigin!” 

    Now she did freeze. Zoya never froze, but she had been watching him, hadn’t she? And perhaps it was the champagne- she’d had so many glasses, was the room swaying?- or maybe it was the way the cadence of his voice remained neutral despite the very amused tilt to his mouth, but Zoya was relieved to see him. Nikolai brought a hand to rest on Kirigin’s shoulder, successfully turning his attention elsewhere, and Zoya was grateful for it.

    He said something to Kirigin, and the man’s face went as red as his hair even though Nikolai was still smiling pleasantly. She caught his eye, wondering why everything seemed detached, as though she was watching events play out before her and was unable to participate in them.

    The music faded in and out of focus, along with the clinking of glasses, soft chatter. Saints she needed to leave.

“Zoya?”

    The world righted itself around a pair of inquisitive hazel eyes, and Zoya shook her head, forced herself to remain in the present.

    “What’s wrong?” Nikolai asked. Her mind only just connected the fact that his hand was at her elbow, steadying her.

    “I’m fine,” she muttered, pulling away from his touch. Nikolai nodded, stepping back, though a frown still lingered on his face.

    “You haven’t done much dancing, have you?” he asked, his eyes catching on the empty glass in her hand. He quirked a brow at her.

    “Find someone to dance with, Nikolai. Your General is fully capable of handling herself,” she said, forcing her words to sound irritable. She couldn’t well admit that she wanted him to stay. No, she needed to remain here, and he had a spot at the center of the room, beneath the glow of chandeliers, calling to him. 

    “Was that an offer to dance, Nazyalensky?” Nikolai asked, a dazzling smile spreading across his lips.

    “Not at all,” Zoya said with a frown, but Nikolai never could let something drop once it was in his mind.

    “Well ‘ someone’ is awfully vague, but no matter, I accept all the same.” he let out a resigned sigh and held a hand out to her, eyes gleaming with mischief. 

    She raised a brow at him, “I don’t want to dance.”

    Nikolai shrugged, almost nonchalant, “very well, I’ll just step away and allow you and Kirigin to return to your… what was that, exactly?”

    She narrowed her eyes at him threateningly.

    “Ah, the ballad of Nazyalensky and Kirigin,” he singsonged, “tales will be told, my dearest General, generations from now, no doubt- children with fiery hair and stormy eyes-”

    Nikolai yelped, a satisfying response to her stepping on his foot. Zoya smiled pleasantly, ignoring the pout Nikolai directed her way.

    “What was that you said about dancing?”

          Nikolai felt restless. Today was important, he knew that much, the day that would make or break his reign as king. And yet he’d hardly been able to stand still all morning, an anxious feeling buzzing through his veins, thoughts racing through his mind.

    He needed a break. Or a drink.

    Zoya’s company was not unlike the latter. He’d tried to seek her out all night long, had not so much as spoken to his General since that morning, which meant Nikolai had not been prepared to see her at all. He’d thought blue was her color, but the more balls and parties she attended, the more certain Nikolai was that every color suited Zoya. 

    Except perhaps the ashen pallor that had overtaken her face. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he doubted Kirigin was the cause of it. No, if Nikolai had to guess from the way she swayed slightly and the barest hint of pink to her cheeks- Zoya Nazyalensky had drunk one too many glasses of champagne that night.

    Not that he’d done a better job of remaining clear-headed.

    What a fine pair we make , he thought, the King and his General, drunk before midnight.

    He almost laughed but forced himself not to, as he guided Zoya to the center of the ballroom. He met her eyes and had to force air to his lungs. He couldn’t tell how much of his racing heart and scattered thoughts was the drink, and how much was solely due to Zoya’s nearness.

    Nikolai let a smile curve his lips, drawing Zoya closer by the waist and linking their hands together as he led them through the same dance routine he’d been through several times that evening. And yet with Zoya, it was different.

    Because he was aware of every touch, every inch that separated them when he drew her closer, of how badly he wanted her near him when he pulled back to spin her. The way her stormy eyes rested on him, and the far more relaxed way she stood now.

    “It’s nearly time for my speech,” Nikolai said, just to have something other than his thoughts to occupy him, and because he wanted to hear what Zoya had to say. He always did, didn’t he?     “And what will you tell them?” she asked with a raised brow, “that their worst nightmare has returned to haunt them?” 

    He winced, forcing away the memory of the Darkling and his saintforsaken return. Zoya said it casually enough that he knew it had been on her mind for too long. 

    “No, actually, I plan to announce the engagement,” said Nikolai, stepping back and drawing Zoya along with him.

    She froze, her eyes snapping back to him, “you what?”

    “Well, Genya suggested it was due time,” Nikolai began, frowning at her surprise, “the people need reassurance, especially now with the Fjerdans drawing close, and the implications of war are all too clear-”

    Something like hurt flashed in Zoya’s eyes, but it was gone quick enough that he was certain it was never there, and then she dropped his hand, stepping away, something cold settling on her face.

    Nikolai’s brows drew together in confusion, but Zoya left no room for questions, stepping away from his embrace and disappearing in the crowd before he had a chance to ask anything.

    Nikolai stood frozen on the dancefloor, feeling like someone had dumped iced water on his head, shock overtaking him. 

    Before he could decide what to do, before his brain could process what had happened, there was the sound of a spoon clinking against glass, and Genya materialized beside him, prepared for anything.

    She said a few words he didn’t hear and then everyone’s gaze was trained on Nikolai, the familiar feel of a thousand reliant eyes on him.

    Words had been his companion for so long, the right set at the right time, strung together with just enough wit or with a firm enough twist that had a room full of people laughing or crying at his will. He had made the world his puppets for so long he’d forgotten his own strings needed pulling.

    And now of all times, he had none.

    Nothing to say, not to the soldiers who fought wars with him, or the crowd of people who accepted him as their king, or his own friends who had been there for him through it all.

    Because a thousand eyes were on him, but the most important pair was missing.

    “Excuse me,” he muttered, before rushing out of the ballroom, forcing a path through the people until he found his way out. 

Until he found his way to her .

        It was cold out, but Zoya hardly registered that. The balcony had become a place to escape to, though she never did anticipate who she would want to escape from.

    Distantly, she was aware that it was ridiculous- of course it was time to announce his engagement. If it hadn't been tonight, it would have been the following week, or a month from now. Delaying only made the pain worse.

    But she had lost herself in his arms for those few moments, letting him draw her close, allowing her heart to speed as his touch lingered a second too long.

    The cool air cleared her head almost instantly, reminding her where she was meant to be. At his side, but not beside him. They were soldiers fighting an endless battle, and she could not allow her heart to interfere with the plans laid by the Saints.

    You would make a better queen for Ravka, and for him.

    And for once she couldn't tell if the voice was her own or Juris'. 

    Zoya let her gaze drift over the garden. It seemed to thrive in chaos, growing greener and bolder, not unlike the residents of this Palace. They all grew and changed and warped themselves to better fit into the future. This cursed, beautiful country's future.

    "Zoya," 

    She heard him approach before he spoke, but never turned back. She was tired, oh so tired of the way her heart responded to his presence, of the way she'd so desperately wanted to feel for so long. She was tired of pretending he was nothing to her, and tired of the fact that he was more.

    "It gets colder every day in this saintforsaken country," she said.

    There was enough wind that she could feel his steps come closer, feel the disturbance it caused in the air. 

    "Strange, isn't it?" She said, mostly to herself, "I have control over the wind, yet not the weather. The storms yet not the clouds. We can't ask nature for the impossible, but neither does she place this responsibility in our hands."

    "It's balanced," Nikolai said. Zoya almost smiled. He understood, of course, even the oddest of her thoughts turned verbal would make sense to Nikolai.

    She didn't need the wind to tell her he'd come to stand beside her. There was no possible way not to notice, close as he was. 

     Zoya felt the weight of his gaze heavier than a rain filled cloud. She turned to him, allowing herself to memorize how he looked now. His hazel eyes had always been so open to her, pages of an endless book she never wanted to stop reading. Swirls of honey, gold threaded hair. He was watching her with something she couldn't quite place, which was a first. 

     "Why did you leave?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. 

     If only I had a good reason, she thought. 

     "You have a speech to give, Nikolai," she said, and her words were almost gentle, but not quite. Blunt edges and softened steel.

     "I tried to give it," he said, eyes dropping to where her hand rested on the balcony rail, a small smile touched his lips when he brought his hand to rest over it. Zoya stilled. 

     "I found myself unable to." 

     "How come?" she asked, brows drawing together. Her heart was going too fast, and his eyes were too kind when they settled on hers, and if she looked too closely she wasn't sure what to do with what she saw. With the warmth and compassion so clearly written on his face. 

     "Zoya…" he laughed, then shook his head disbelievingly. "The entire world could fall away just now and it wouldn't matter, as long as I knew you were with me. That you were by me, always, fighting alongside me. Sometimes just having you near is enough to make me believe there's hope, that the future isn't all bitter thoughts and certain doom. I'm melancholy on my best day, and yet you seem to always know what to say, what to do, where to go."

     Zoya wasn't sure she was even breathing at this point. She wanted to smack him and tell him to stop being foolish. But she also wanted him to continue, because that meant she wasn't a fool, alone in her fantasy. If she could at least know there was a chance of them working, Saints knew she wouldn't turn away from it. 

     "You're right, we can't ask for the impossible- you know I don't believe in such things anyway- but we can ask for this, can't we?" His eyes flicked over her face, lingering on her lips. "We can ask for one more miracle."

     "Nikolai…" she tried to force reason out of her mouth, but reason had no place here, reason was before the Saints and the deaths and the war. Reason had not been with them for a very long time, and it had lost its power over her. 

     Zoya let reason slip her mind and bridged the distance between them, capturing his lips in a kiss all of nature dared to allow. If Nikolai had had any doubts, they melted alongside her own as one hand tangled in her hair, the other drawing her closer by the waist. If they could have nothing else after today, Zoya was determined to remember him like this. Remember the fire in her blood as their lips parted and crashed together again, remember the way his touch became a higher priority than air and breath lost all meaning as she fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him closer, closer. 

     And perhaps he was right. Perhaps they did deserve just one more miracle. Perhaps tomorrow, they could blame it on the champagne and return to their duties. But for now, the world could pull itself together for one moment, and allow them this bit of freedom in each other's arms. 

#issabitangsty #blame ts for that #zoyalai #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #king of scars #rule of wolves #kosfic #ada writes #userada #tuserannie #tricewithasee #userzahra #m:fics #m:w.zoyalai

[blacksdale]

haunted

a crappy zoyalai fic

sh: zoyalai angst, sad, hurt/comfort  tw for memories of little palace battle ao3

“Zoya!”

She blinked, bringing herself back to reality as the carriage shook along a road that belonged to nowhere. She took notice of her surroundings, double-checking to make sure she wasn't back in her thoughts anymore. The walls of the carriage were still of red velvet and not black and silver, the seats still made of light grey cushions. She could see the snow-covered pine trees through the window, the green of the needles peeking through.

“Nazyalensky?”

She turned her attention forwards, finding herself staring into the warm hazel eyes of her kings. He had too serious of an expression on his normally smiling face.

“Yes, your Highness?”

“Did something happen?” he asked, lightly touching a hand to her arm, causing her to freeze for just a moment. She pulled away from him quickly, placing her hand on her other arm.

“Why would you assume that?”

“You seemed quite lost in thought. I thought something might be worrying you.”

She turned her attention towards the window, staring out at the winter scenery. “Nothing is worrying me,” she lied, “It's just been a long journey is all.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned towards her. He gave her a quick look up and down. “We can stop if you need it. I can get you something to eat or drink.”

“No need to worry,” she assured him. “We should get back to the capital anyhow. Genya and David are waiting for us.”

He sighed, leaning back against his side of the carriage. She took a glance at him once his gaze was focused on the window. The dark circles under his eyes had worsened. She could still see the gold around the centre that dissolved into the dark brown of his hazel eyes. It still had the sparkle in it, which she was glad had stayed. A sign his optimism was still present even though the situation of their country looked grim.

How long would they last pretending it was all okay?

–––––

They spent the rest of the ride making small talk and discussing possible trade deals they could make with the Kerch. All of it amounted to nothing, as they as a country had nothing to offer. But discussing it didn't hurt, especially with the new technological developments that scientists were making in labs. One day maybe, they could be back on their feet.

One day.

When they arrived back at the palace, Nikolai and Zoya went their separate ways. She went back to her chambers, ate dinner, sat on her couch flipping through papers having to do with her students at the Little Palace. All of it to try and keep her mind off of worse things.

Things Nikolai now suspected.

How could she have slipped like that? In front of anyone, let alone him.

But now that the topic was in her mind again, her thoughts seemed to unwillingly drift back. To the day the fold had expanded, the day she had run back to her town to find everything and everyone she knew had been killed for nothing other than the Darkling's thirst for power. The massacre at the Little Palace that had killed all of her friends and people she didn't know but still mourned for. Because she could have saved them. She had fought her battles and fought as best she could, but still it resulted in nothing. What could she have done differently? It was something she pondered every night. If only–

A knock came from her door.

She sighed. “What do you want?” She sounded a lot more defeated than she wished. She walked toward the door, already resenting the person who had come to her at this hour. It was almost midnight. “If you have more forms,” she turned the doorknob, “just leave them outside.”

Her eyes widened as she realised Nikolai was the one waiting there, holding nothing except what looked like a fresh cup of hot tea that smelled of cinnamon. He looked less like her king and more like a commoner, in nothing but pyjama pants and a sleep shirt, blond hair messy as if he had run his fingers through it too many times.

He grinned at her. “May I come in?”

“The sun set eight hours ago.” She opened the door for him anyway.

“I'll take that as a yes,” he said, walking in and glancing around the room. He took a seat on her couch, setting down the cup of tea on the coffee table. “I thought you might want some. I put some honey in there, no sugar or milk.”

He remembered.

“Nikolai,” she accused, crossing her arms after turning to face him, “why are you here?”

“Is a king not allowed to see his general anymore?” He leaned back into the cushions, making himself at home. Just great.

“Not this late, he isn't.”

“Dear Nazyalensky,” he put a hand to his heart, “you hurt me.”

“And I will do it again,” she rolled her eyes, walking closer to the couch. “Why are you here?”

His eyes began to calculate the room around him. “I told you,” he said, “I wanted to see you.” He smiled, though this time it was less genuine, which he didn't seem to realise.

She walked closer to him, giving her signature glare. “Why,” she asked curtly, “are you here?”

“I'm just checking on you,” he said, smiling again, “seeing how you are.”

“Late at night.”

“Plenty of people would beg me to be in their chambers at this hour.”

“Enough with the bullshit,” she retorted, throwing her hands up in frustration before crossing her arms again. “Checking on me why?”

“You,” he said, worry coming through his voice. “You seemed like something was troubling you. In the carriage.”

“Why is that any of your concern?” She snapped as she turned away from him, picking up her papers and walking urgently across the room. “I've said nothing to indicate I'm anything other than fine.”

Nikolai paused for a moment to stand up and walk over to her. He stopped when he was only a few inches away from her, placing a warm hand on her cheek and tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes.

“Zoya,” he said, quiet but firm, “I know that isn’t true.”

She stood frozen for a moment or so, distracted by the comfort that came with his hand cupping her cheek. For just a second, she felt the sudden urge to lean into it, to drop her defences for once and just fall into him. But she snapped back to her senses, stepping back so he was no longer so close to her.

Because who knew if he would catch her anyway?

Hurt began to fill his gaze as she stared at him from a foot away, feeling a pang where her heart was. Her memories of every day she had battled, fought, lost someone, came flooding forward. A lump began to rise in her throat, her eyes starting to prickle as an unwelcome heat came to her cheeks. She held her papers tighter, lower her gaze, pushing past Nikolai to set the papers down on the coffee table. “Go,” she demanded, her voice weaker than she had anticipated.

“Please.”

She turned to Nikolai, the tears welling in her eyes. She did her best to blink them back as she looked at him. His gaze turned from hurt to shock as he saw her condition, finally, switching to one of a sad sort of compassion and something else she thought looked like protectiveness, though she was probably making it up. How did she slip in front of him, let him see her like this? It was the one mistake she had promised herself she would never make.

He pleaded to her, the pain seeping through his voice, “Let me stay.”

“I said to go.”

“Dammit, Nazyalensky!” Nikolai shouted that part, bringing all of her attention to him. “How do you survive?” he then asked. “Every day we get more terrible news, and you voice only of its inconveniences. Never the worry it caused anyone, just how it puts off more important tasks. I ask how you are after hearing it, and you tell me you’re perfectly okay.”

He didn’t understand, he never would. He was a king, who grew up with everything, who always had someone to talk to. He was never stupid enough to voice his worries to the whole of Ravka, but he had the assurance that those in his inner circle would always be there to listen and never use it against him.

He took a deep breath. “We currently have a monster who’s caused you unbearable amounts of pain living in a dungeon in the Palace, and yet you act as if nothing has changed.”

“I have to!” She yelled, marching up to him as tears streamed down her face.“I have to,” she repeated quietly. If I don’t then who will? If we are all consumed by dread, we can’t work, and if we can’t work,” she began to punch his chest, though she was too tired to do any damage, “then nothing gets done and we never stop worrying.” Her voice finally started to crack. “Everyone will have to go through what we did, and no matter how much you distract yourself with your work, it will come back to haunt you every day of your life–”

Zoya felt herself crash against Nikolai, his arms suddenly wrapped tight around her. She exhaled and felt the tension in her shoulders release, pressing her forehead into his chest as she finally let the tears fall free. A rush of emotions rose to the surface, causing her to fist her hands in his shirt to ground herself because she could no longer hear her own thoughts. Her breathing was still erratic as she felt him press a kiss to her hair.

“My ruthless Zoya,” she heard him murmur.

She sobbed, interrupting her usually silent cries, and felt her legs buckle, half from long-term fatigue and half from the overwhelming memories and feelings that had suddenly claimed her senses. One of Nikolai’s arms moved under her knees as he picked her up and held her against him. She felt too much right now, his arms around her the only thing bringing her comfort. She would remember the next morning that this was not proper, for her to feel this warmth and safety with Nikolai, for him to even be there at all. But right now she could not think; she could only feel his arms around her, the security she felt after dealing with so much danger that she didn’t know if she would ever feel it again. Her eyes were closed as she cried, and she didn’t bother to ask where he was taking her or why he had carried her because then she would have to hear her own weak voice when she would rather just let the tears fall silently anyway.

He set her down somewhere soft, she realized he sat her on what she realized were her blue couch cushions. She reached for the pillow closest to her, clutching it to her chest. She felt Nikolai sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. Zoya rested her tear-stained cheek on his shoulder. She let go of the pillow, wrapping her arms around his torso almost instinctively, moving closer so she could lean back against him. His other arm came around her, his hand moving to rest in her hair as she nestled her face in his neck, his fingers running gently through her midnight-dark waves.

“In the carriage,” she breathed, “I thought about if I had been one of them.”

He continued tracing patterns with his finger up and down her arm. “One of who?”

“The ones at the Little Palace.” She told him, her voice breaking as she remembered all her friends, the ones who never got to see her now. “There were too many.” There was no battling the monsters, though they did try to fight; it just mattered how fast you could run from them. She thought of lively Marie, who had gone too early. “It could have easily been me. And yet I was lucky. And still, we lost too many even with all they did to try and survive.” She wondered what her friends would say if they saw her now, a leader of Ravka. A girl who had helped build up a country again. A girl who had survived, despite the odds that had been stacked against her. A girl who was still here, somehow, and she didn't know how or why.

Nikolai tightened his grip on Zoya. “I had to watch my brother bleed out,” he exhaled. “It haunts me every day, knowing that if we had time to get him proper care, he may have lived. Without an arm, yes, but lived nonetheless.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I used to dwell on that,” he told her quietly, “But we are not the ones who caused all of it. The violence, the torment, the chaos. That was the Darkling, not us.” He pressed a light kiss to Zoya's forehead. “We are the ones who made it through.”

For a while, they sat together in silence, tangled in each other's arms for the comfort they had both been craving, knowingly or not. Nikolai continued to stroke her hair, soothing her aching heart and her racing thoughts, occasionally pressing a kiss to her hair as she held onto him for dear life. Time no longer felt relevant, the night dragging on, and eventually, they were both tired of waiting for it to end. Better to rest, ease their minds for once.

She welcomed sleep when it came. And just before she drifted off, she felt Nikolai’s lips against her forehead.

“My dearest,” he whispered, the last thing she heard.

It was the first time in months that she finally slept easy.

#userhannas #mine #mine.fic #fic.zoyalai #sh: zoyalai #zoyalai #lit: nikolai duology #nikolai duology #u: grishaverse #grishaverse #m: fic #kosfic #gvfic #angst #hurt/comfort #sad #userwidd #tricewithasee #writeremma #tuserjules #tuserlulu #userksheerja #useradhithi #usernate #providing eye bleach

[blacksdale]

fly over the ocean and change my mind

a crappy zoyalai fic for @shehrazades

sh: zoyalai fluff, post-kos ao3

prompt: “i’m so going to kill you!” want one?

“–And this one is going to have a heated steering wheel. There’s also going to be this thing called a radio, so we can play music and we’re going to have it hooked up to a system so we can talk to people on the ground while we’re in the air. It’s quite brilliant in my opinion.”

Zoya thought on the idea for a second. “Why don’t you just talk to the people you need to while you’re on the ground, and then use the ship to get away from them?”

Nikolai smirked. “Dear, why would I waste the opportunity to bless people with my presence even when I’m not with them in person?

They were walking along a beach he had told her about a few weeks ago, the sun glowing red as it set low in the sky. The water, usually blue, reflected violet as the waves lapped against the shore not a long distance away. For once, the place was not crowded, a few small groups sparsely placed throughout the sand. “Some of us actually would like a break from you.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “Very very much.”

He raised an eyebrow to look at her before returning to his signature smirk, his features glowing in the light of the red setting sun. “If you adore me, love,” he told her, “just say so. There’s no need to hide it.”

She turned to face him, feeling her cheeks begin to warm. “Because otherwise,” she chided, “who would keep your ego in check?”  

His eyes lit up then, and Zoya could tell that he gears of his brain were turning, and definitely not for anything to her benefit. She rolled her eyes in advance for whatever he was about to pull, and yet it changed nothing except bring more satisfaction to his expression. Right then, despite his teasing and insufferable arrogance, her world had never seemed more perfect. He leaned down, lips pressed to her ear. “You’re right,” he whispered, sliding an arm around her waist.

She had planned a thousand protests, thought of a million complaints, imagined every single insult she could use in retort to his antics. For all of his remarks, she had one hundred rude replies, one thousand ways to walk, and a million ways to run.

But now, everything around her seemed to stop.

All of them had left her as she stood frozen, noticing only the way his arm wrapped around her, the way her heart beat fast in her chest and her blood roared louder than the waves, the way her breath was caught in her lungs. Saints, what was happening to her? The commander, cold and composed, rendered tongue-tied by a mere whisper in her ear. The ground could fall out from under her feet, and she would not know or care if she was falling with it.

Another whisper woke her from her daze a few moments later. He mused, “Who would keep my ego in check?”

She now noticed the ground was no longer under her feet. Well, it technically was, but her feet were no longer touching it. She could also no longer see the ocean, which now seemed to be to the back of her. In the direction where she was currently being brought, now apparently draped over a certain someone’s shoulder.

“Lantsov,” she seethed, “put me down!”

“Maybe later,” he answered nonchalantly.

She tried to wriggle out of his grip, though it was too tight around her for her efforts to do any good. “That’s it, Lantsov!” She screamed. “I’m going to kill you. I am so going to kill you. I hope you regret this ‘cause I’m running as soon as you put me down! Hear that?” She hit his shoulderblade with her fist. “I’m running from you and I’m never gonna talk to you again! You’ll need to find a new general, and we both know I’m the best you’ll ever have so good! Luck! With! That!”

“Easy, Nazyalensky,” he said, his voice taking on a bit of a sing-song quality.

“Hear me when I say, you’ll wish you had never pulled this!” Zoya could feel the cool water touch her calves, which meant right now it was probably around his waist. Shit. “You. Wish. I will get you back for this once day, just you wait–”

Finally, he set her down, still hugging her close to him by the waist. She felt the water reach just under her chest, soaking the ends of her hair as it swayed around her, and if it weren’t for Nikolai being so close to her, she probably would have run back to the beach to avoid the chill. But every part of her felt warm when he suddenly crashed his lips over hers.

Her thoughts dissolved as she kissed him deeper, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him to her. She could feel his hands on her waist, holding her tight as though he didn’t ever plan on letting her go. There was no rest of the world anymore, just them alone in the water and the sunset and night fell around them. Zoya didn’t know how, and she probably never would, but even after so long every part of her still melted when Nikolai kissed her. With his taste making her delirious and his touch making her weak in the knees, her thoughts were too fuzzy and he became all she knew. Nikolai's eyes lighting up when he thought of new innovations, Nikolai waking her up at midnight to take her dancing, Nikolai falling asleep next to her with his face in her hair, telling her he loved her.

She always denied in her mind that he was going to be the end of her, but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad an ending.

After what felt like nothing and eternity, he pulled away, just enough so he could rest his forehead on hers. She could see his hazel eyes half-lidded, glowing amber in the light of the orange horizon. His cheeks were flushed just slightly, complementing the grin that had spread across his face, as if he were feeling too much happiness for him to contain.

Saints, did she love him.  

“So,” he chuckled, eyes lighting up, “you still gonna kill me?”

Zoya exhaled, letting a small smile come across her face. “Only if you don’t make it up to me.”

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek before placing a quick kiss on her lips and resting his forehead upon hers once more.

“Deal.”

#userhannas #mine #mine.fic #fic.zoyalai #sh:zoyalai #ch:nikolai lantsov #ch:zoya nazyalensky #lit:tnd #u:gv #m:fic #kosfic #gvfic #zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai duology #grishaverse #userada #usersultanah #writeremma #tuserjules #userkaelyn #userksheerja #usersai #usernate #useramma #userishani #tuserkeira #useropal #useranaya

[blacksdale]

take me back

a crappy zoyalai fic

sh:zoyalai angst, sadness based on chinese satellite by phoebe bridgers ao3

Zoya had been foolish to think she could make it through tonight sober.

It was a bit funny because typically, she would have loved to be at a wedding like this. The easy environment, the food, the champagne, the way the guests put aside their differences for a night or two, allowing for two souls in love to experience what should be the greatest night of their lives.

Which is why she felt like the biggest fucking joke of them all. Maybe if she weren’t drunk, she could be present at the moment, think about the joy of the party she’d be lost in if it were any other occasion. But she hadn’t taken into consideration the sheer shock of today; how the ceremony hit her right in the face and she had not comprehended what it might mean for her. She had an opportunity, and she blew it. Because he asked her first and she had said no. It could’ve been–should’ve been–her in that dress, with her husband smiling and thanking those who were giving them congratulations. It could’ve been the best night of their life.

I've been running around in circles Pretending to be myself

She knew he felt the same way she did, which should’ve given her some reassurance. But he still smiled. He was probably joking too.

She took another glass of wine from the table beside her, not caring who it belonged to. Those people had better shots of getting through this without a drink.

She saw Genya and David on the dance floor in an embrace, swaying along to the music. She loved them both, but right now even they seemed to sicken her. Everyone here was sickening her. The food and drinks that had come from far and wide from only the best caterers Ravka housed sickened her. The room, decorated in red and gold with string lights swaying from the ceiling, stars shining in the sky visible through the glass roof, the room that she had helped decorate the day before, sickened her.

What sickened her most was the boy across the room, acting like everything was fine, throwing an arm around the shoulders of random diplomats like they were old friends and toasting to the new union and the new alliances that had been made. Every so often, he looked over at her, his smile faltering just a bit, as if someone had told him a bad joke that he was forced to laugh at. She wanted to punch him in the arm, yell at him about how he had made her go insane before jumping into his arms and having him never let go.

Maybe she did have more champagne than was necessary. Yet none of her common sense was able to keep her from downing more. If she drank, she could sleep, and if she could sleep she could wake up and have this be a dream. Though the light seemed too bright for that, or maybe that was the champagne too. Was it possible to get drunk in dreams if you wanted?

Why would somebody do this on purpose When they could do something else?

She needed air, though she didn’t know if it was the stuffy room or the ache in her chest that was choking her. Standing up, however, proved to be a hardship. The hem of her navy blue dress touched the ground, taking its place just under the heel of her shoe, causing her to catch herself on the table. That was the one bad thing about being drunk; she missed being graceful. She dusted herself off, standing up again and using her chair for support as she turned around to walk toward the exit, or was it the buffet table? The room was spinning and she didn’t know which direction she was going anymore.

To her disappointment, it was that of a wall.

Her head was already hurting, and the collision with the maroon-painted wall seemed to make it worse. Zoya stepped back a bit, rubbing the left of her forehead where the edge of the doorway had hit. She leaned back to take a look at her hand as she pulled it away.

Great. The alcohol was already making her woozy and now she had given herself a concussion. Maybe I should just sleep now.

And then, to her dismay, someone caught her.

She looked in front of her to find a pair of black-clad arms under hers, threads of gold embroidery around the wrists, her head pressed uncomfortably against someone’s shoulder.

“Don’t fall just yet, Nazyalensky, you still have a few hours to go.”

Even in her sleep, she knew that voice.

Drowning out the morning birds With the same three songs over and over

She tried to form the thoughts in her head, to form words on her tongue, but all she did was push away from him. She whipped her head to face him, glaring as she gave him a look up and down.

Nikolai still looked handsome as hell since the night started, but he looked even more desirable up close. And now that the party had been going on for a while, he looked just the slightest bit unkempt, a lock of honey-blond hair falling into his forehead, cheeks flushed from the wine, the first button of his crisp white shirt undone.

He was so beautiful it took all her impulse control to keep from crying. She felt her heart begin to swell and her throat begin to go dry and she felt the sudden need to wrap herself in a blanket and hide. It felt awful. She felt awful. She hated him. Did she hate him? Did she love him?

“What the fuck do you want?”

It seemed she hadn’t stopped him from noticing her current condition. He was back to her a second later, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and probably making her look weak. Why was he always the one who made her weak? She wanted to shudder at how familiar this was, his arms around her as he cuddled her close, touch so soft and delicate he never had to talk for her to know he cared, even though he told her anyway. A touch she had come to crave. A lump rose to her throat as she felt his fingers graze her shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, “there’s a guest room up the stairs.”

“But party–”

I wish I wrote it, but I didn't so I learn the words Hum along 'til the feeling's gone forever

“Zoya,” he pressed his lips to her ear, “you wouldn’t wanna see yourself like this either.”

“Like what? It’s not like I wanna see anyone else here.”

Nikolai led her out of the ballroom, steadying her as he brought her to the stairs. The light was easier in the corridors, coming from just a few lanterns along the sides. Her headache started to ease as she got the stairs. She wished nothing more than for him to go away, back to the ballroom to his friends and his wife, to the celebration meant for him and his happiness. But Saints, she was tired.

She was so tired.

She fell onto the landing halfway up the staircase, leaning her back to the wall and leaving him at last. She wished for him to leave, more than anything in the world. If she didn’t have to see him maybe she could have some peace after a while. The aches in her neck from sleeping on the stairs would be worth it.

Instead, he took his place beside her, tilting his head back and exhaling for what looked like the first time in years. He closed his eyes, the lantern light laying a halo over his hair and lashes that fanned his cheeks.

She looked straight ahead, failing to focus on the far wall. “Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “It’s my wedding, darling. It’s rude of me to not show.”

“No, your Idiocy” her voice sounded weaker than she liked, “I meant–”

“This corridor with you?” He nudged her shoulder. “Wouldn’t let you lose it out here alone without my presence to keep you sane.”

At this point, she was too far gone to tell him he was wrong. Or right. Was there still a distinction? She wracked her brain for reasons that proved one or the other; her thoughts seemed to be barren for a way to confirm.

“Besides,” he continued, “I wanted a break.”

Took a tour to see the stars But they weren't out tonight So I wished hard on a Chinese satellite

Please. She scoffed and pulled away from him, rolling her eyes. “Break from what?”

He pondered in silence, and she sensed him shaking even though he didn’t seem to know himself. “Everything.”

He didn’t have anything to be upset about. Saints, it was his wedding. If he didn’t like the girl, at least he liked gifts and the attention. Worst case scenario, the one thing he liked would be the food.

“Oh,” she rolled her eyes, turning to face him, volume in her voice rising, “like the congratulations and the decoration and the alliances and all the benefits for Ravka and the music and cake. It’s a wedding and you’re acting like it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” It’s pretty horrible for me.

“Zoya, you have no reason to be mad. This day hurt me just as much as it hurt you!”

“Well then why did you trick me?!” She yelled, feeling the tears start to stream down her face. “You tricked me,” she said, voice so faint that it was almost lost to the sound from the ballroom. She saw Nikolai’s eyes widen out of the corner of her eye, and she brought her knees to her chest and leaned against the wall once more, shivering despite the warmth housed in her chest.

He kept his eyes trained on his hands, his voice barely audible. “How would I have tricked you?”

So he had the luxury of being oblivious. “Into thinking it was all going to be okay.” She wrapped her arms around her legs. “That this wedding wasn’t ever happening, at least not with her. That we could figure something out before it came to this.”

I want to believe Instead I look at the sky and I feel nothing

He swallowed, placing a hand on her arm, running a finger back and forth in soothing patterns. “I never meant to trick you,” he avoided her eyes, “no more than I tricked myself.”

The conversation went still, the atmosphere filling with tense silence that she wished had been reserved for other people, all the sound in the hall coming from the entrance to the ballroom. Nostalgia filled her as she remembered when it had been easy for them to make small talk, sit in a room together and talk about nothing when nothing significant had happened.

If only they were insignificant.

“You get used to it,” he murmured, “after a while.”

Zoya’s voice came out small when she spoke. “Used to what?”

He moved his arm back to her shoulders as she heard him give a light chuckle. “Appearing optimistic even when everything falls apart.”

You know I hate to be alone I want to be wrong

Her eyes started to water without warning, her cheeks beginning to rush red with alcohol and confusion and heartbreak. Saints, this was supposed to be easy. She had let people go all the time, regardless of what they felt. This wasn’t supposed to happen. People needed reasons to cry, and yet, her tears flowed without care.

She rubbed her eyes with her hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she felt her head fall into his shoulder. She smiled, trying to keep her eyes focused on the wall in front of her. Zoya could almost feel the blankets around them, her head on his chest as she clung to him, falling asleep to the beat of his heart as he spoke about the future for them that he fantasized, the one that was impossible from the start. She smirked. “Maybe you could gimme lessons.”

He planted a kiss on her temple; she let her eyelashes fall closed to the touch of his lips. “I would never do that to you,” he whispered, pulling her closer as if to protect her from whatever came their way, whatever had already hurt them.

Too late.

“I’m already broken,” she mused, burying her face in his neck as tears ran down her cheek, “what harm could it do?”

Sometimes when I can't sleep It's just a matter of time before I'm hearing things

Nikolai moved his other hand into her jaw, tilting her chin so their eyes met when she looked up at him. “My lovely Zoya, you were never broken,” he told her, keeping his voice low, “just battered and bruised.” He kissed her forehead. “But never broken. Although if you were, I’d love you just the same.”

But was he still allowed to love her now, anyway?

They couldn’t do this anymore. He was married. Saints, they were at his damn wedding. Why was she here? Why was he here? How did any of them end up here at all? It wasn’t allowed before. It was not allowed now. She pushed away from him, feeling an abrupt cold was over her, contrasting the warmth she had felt from the champagne.

Back to reality, they went. There was no use in imagining a future that was never going to take place. The rest was already too painful.

“Nikolai,” she mustered all the steel she had, “go back to the party.” She pushed away, wrapping her arms around herself and looking down at the carpet so he would no longer see her cry.

“Zoya–” he reached for her arm. She felt his finger brush her wrist, and it took too much control to not run into him.

“I said go!” She repeated with her teeth clenched.

“Zoya, please–”

“Go!” She yelled, squeezing her eyes shut as she heard his footsteps tread back towards the ballroom. Please, she begged her thoughts, don’t let me remember this tomorrow. She already felt her lungs being ripped out to remember her head in her hands as he left for the final time.

Swore I could feel you through the walls But that's impossible

His absence had already left a hole in her that she couldn’t fill; all she wished was that he didn’t feel the same.

#mine #mine.fic #fic.zoyalai #sh:zoyalai #lit:tnd #u:gv #m:fic #kosfic #gvfic #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai duology #king of scars #grishaverse #usersana #usersultanah #usernate #userzuha #tusergrace #userishika #tusernini #useradhithi #tuserkaelyn #userishani #userzara #userslily #tuserandy #tusergolden #ofdeepfears #usersai

[blacksdale]

mesmerized 

a crappy zoyalai fic for @wafflesandkruge

sh: zoyalai college au want one?

“Nazyalensky!” A certain someone’s voice called from behind.

She turned around to see him walking quickly towards her. She closed her eyes, forcing her head to clear despite the reluctance of her thoughts.

“Can I join you?” He asked quietly when he caught up to her.

“I suppose,” Zoya told him, “because it’s too late to make you turn back now.” She turned back around, continuing her walk back to her apartment. “Though I don’t understand what you could want from me.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing her focus back to her route, trying her best to ignore his presence beside her. Zoya had not seen him since the night before at the dance when it all happened. The candlelight, the dance floor, their argument all came flooding back. Everything that she didn’t want to remember. Nikolai looked as if he hadn’t slept, as if a look of worry had made itself home in him. Yet, even then, he was still a sight to behold: cheeks flushed, snowflakes falling in his hair, hazel eyes glittering despite the weather, brown leather coat wrapped tight around him. The sight tugged at her chest a lot more than she would have liked. Everything about him seemed to brighten their surroundings, despite the overcast sky and the snow on the ground and the chill in the air as they walked past buildings equally as grey. He looked like a painting of someone’s long lost love.

“Nothing you wish to say to me, my general?” He asked jokingly from beside her. “How handsome I look or how much you missed me?

“No,” she told him, keeping her voice flat, “nothing at all.”

They both fell in the same step as they walked in silence, the unison a constant reminder that there would always be something between them, no matter how hard Zoya wished there wasn’t. She kept her gaze focused in front of her, trying to ignore the tension in her shoulders, the warmth coming from Nikolai beside her, the traitorous thoughts in her minds that told her they were possible. He kept trying to make conversation as they walked, about anything from the weather to new library books to whatever cafe had just opened that served the best pastries. She ignored him, however. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that everything was okay, that she was not angry. Their argument that night came flooding back despite the protests of her common sense.

“I don’t understand why you’re so frustrated I have other friends.”

“It’s not that you have other friends, it’s that Kirigin is a dick.”

“You and Kirigin make stupid jokes together every single time you see him.”

“I still don’t like you talking to him.”

“Well, it’s not as if you would rather talk to me. What with your phone blowing up with your 15 girls on speed dial.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re insufferable.”

Something snapped Zoya out of her trance as Nikolai’s steps suddenly stopped at the stairs to her room. Maybe she wouldn’t have to talk to him after all. But a hand grasped her wrist before she could enter the street, and she turned around, meeting his eyes despite her goal to avoid that both now and forever. Despite the dark, he still looked ethereal in the faint glow of the moonlight shining through the windows. Saints, she wished something–anything–could make this easier, but apparently, the world was against her.  

“Zoya,” he said with urgency, holding her gaze. “Please.” His eyes were wide now, a look of sorrow taking over that she wished would go away. She felt something crack in her chest when she looked at him, which she tried her best to bury despite the tears rising to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She ripped her hand from his grasp, trying to bring her emotions back into check. She crossed her arms, glaring at him from below. Her walls were not about to fall now. “Oh, what do you even have to be sorry for?” She was not dealing with this today. Or ever. Maybe one day, when they were both married and had other lives without each other, but not now, with so much still on the table. “For being an idiot? Because you’ve never apologized for that before–”

“For assuming,” Nikolai stepped closer to her so that they were barely a few inches apart. Zoya could feel her heart begin to beat fast, her cheeks begin to flush. He cleared his throat before looking at her again. “That you knew.” He said quietly.

She crossed her arms again, bumping into him slightly, the touch causing her emotions to go off balance. She blinked trying to clear her thoughts. Lifting her head to look up at him, she met his eyes again, challenging him, though she didn’t know for what. “Knew what?” she retorted.

His look of frustration suddenly changed to one of hurt, and Zoya immediately felt her heart crack in half. She had just wanted to keep what they had, after all. He looked at her, hazel eyes apologetic. “That I wanted you. And I wish you wanted me too.” He studied her then, waiting for a reaction.

What could she say to that?

She could feel her heart beginning to beat faster. She could feel the tears pushing to flow, though she didn’t know why. She could feel Nikolai’s gaze on her as her eyes calculated her surroundings, a nervous habit that only he had figured out. Saints, not now. Anytime but now. Nikolai lifted a hand to her face, pushing a strand of black hair behind her ear. She froze at the gentle touch of his fingers on her cheek, though she didn’t know whether the chill down her spine came from that or the cold. Everything had narrowed then, to the point where all she could see was Nikolai, and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her chest.

“You wish I wanted you?” was all she could manage.

He smiled again, bringing an arm to wrap around her waist, bringing her closer so her face rested only an inch from his. His eyes were closed, lashes fanned across his cheeks as he held her in his arms.

Zoya closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him down to her as he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist. She felt relief flood through her as he kissed her deeper, his fingers beginning to run through her hair, causing her thoughts to dissolve until he was the only thing she knew. She broke away quickly, only to open her apartment door, and then his lips fell soft over hers again. He picked her up this time, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. He set her down on the couch, keeping her close as she lost herself running her fingers through his golden curls, the way he still held her like she was the most cherished thing in his world.

They pulled away for just a moment to breathe, though Zoya could tell that her head was still swimming. Nikolai gazed at her again, reaching a hand to cup her cheek as she rested her forehead against his, and though she wouldn’t tell him now, everything about him still caused her to see stars.

Saints, he was going to be the death of her.

#mine #userhannas #mine.fic #yes ik its awful im so so sorry #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #userwidd #writeremma #tricewithasee #tuserjules #useradhithi #tuserjoss #usersultanah #userzahra #userzara #useramma #fic: zoyalai

[blacksdale]

watch what we’ll become

a crappy zoyalai fic for @aceofjesper

sh: zoyalai college au want one?

“Nazyalensky, really, I have absolutely no idea why I signed up to take any sort of science class.”

She smirked. Nikolai was back on another “I hate science” tangent, probably thanks to the bio textbook cover that was currently in his face. Zoya was studying, and he was bored, so they often sat together on her couch as Zoya studied. She continued to run her fingers through his blond curls as she read, his head in her lap as he talked about whatever was currently on his mind.

“It’s required, that’s why.” She told him, her tone flat. “You have to take it to graduate. It’s called a course requirement. I thought you would be familiar considering that you–I don’t know–go to school here.”

“That may be, tsaritsa, but that does not make me an expert.”

“It’s one of the first things they tell you when you get here.”

“Oh well,” he mused, “I must’ve missed it.”

She lowered her book to catch a glimpse of his face: bright hazel eyes glinted with mischief, a smirk playing on his lips, a light sprinkle of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His grin widened after he saw her lower the book, causing her heart to flood with something she couldn’t quite place but that she gladly welcomed. She moved a hand to cup his face, letting her finger trace across his cheekbone, along the line of his jaw. He closed his eyes, lashes fanning against his cheeks, painting a picture of someone who she still couldn’t believe was here with her. After a minute, he opened his eyes, the gold in the centre blending in the with the black of his pupil as he looked up at her. “My dearest Zoya,” he asked her softly, “my darling, why is it that we can’t spend our entire lives like this?”

She laughed momentarily before meeting his eyes again. “Spend our lives like what?”

“Sitting on your couch as you read and I talk incessantly about subjects that don’t have any real meaning. My head in your lap as you stop reading to tell me I’m disturbing you and then you see how handsome I am and stop your complaining and kiss me gently on the cheek, telling me how you love me and all I have to say.”

“I wouldn’t say I love all you have to say.” She said as she pushed a stray hair back from his forehead. “You say too much for that.”

“You do love me, though,” he smirked, “because if you didn’t then that would spectacularly ruin all my plans for us. We would never be able to move to a castle in the countryside and pretend we were a king and queen, dancing in the ballroom late at night and staring at the stars from the balcony.”

She smiled at the sight of them together, staring their lives. It was something she rarely thought about herself, but hearing Nikolai talk about all of his wishes left her a little bit giddy at times. “I would make a magnificent queen,” she mused.

“You do look dazzling in a blue gown,” he replied, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Zoya could feel her cheeks begin to warm, despite how small the gesture was. He smiled as her cheeks began to colour and she lifted the book to hide her face again, but he already knew. “Nazyalensky, you don’t have to be ashamed that you love me. So many others do, of course. You know you are not alone in how charming you find me.”

Zoya scoffed, keeping her face hidden behind her book. “Do you ever get tired of listening to yourself?”

“Never, my tsaritsa,” he laughed, “as long as you’re here to listen to me.”

“Well, if you keep talking, then I won’t be,” Zoya said, slamming her book down beside her, allowing Nikolai to see her flushed expression.

“We will just have to find a balance, I suppose.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Though once you spend enough time with me, I’m sure you will be so enamoured that you will let me talk as much as I please.”

“You think of yourself very highly, I see.”

“If you were me, you would think so too.”

“If I had to hear me talk incessantly, I would probably replace myself with a dummy and leave myself to my ramblings as I would be too wrapped up in my own head to notice that I had been replaced with something stuffed.”

He smiled at her again, hazel eyes still sparkling. “But I would notice you were gone in a second, Nazyalensky. A dummy would never have eyes that are as pretty as yours, and I would be so hurt that you would leave me that I would wallow in my sorrows until you found me and were so taken aback that you forgave me for all that I had done.”

She smirked at him. He really was going to be the death of her. “You think my eyes are pretty?”

“You have other qualities,” he told her, “but yes, your eyes are stunning.” He raised a hand to cup her cheek. “Your beauty will forever make up for all of the biting comments you make about me.”

“Nobody else is keeping your ego in check, so it’s my responsibility,” she said, leaning into the warm touch of his hand. “And you know you love me anyway.”

He looked up at her again, eyes sparkling in the light. “I always do.”

#mine #mine.fic #zoyalai #userhannas #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #userwidd #useramma #usersultanah #writeremma #tricewithasee #usernate #tuserjules #tuserkeira #tuserfatima #userksheerja #userchai #userharry #userisha #userjordyn #fic: zoyalai

[blacksdale]

just say yes

a crappy genya/david fic for @blackkwood

@grishaverseonline valentine’s gift exchange

fluff, mild confusion, confession background zoyalai ao3

“You can’t come to the lab today, Genya.”

She crossed her arms, glaring at her boyfriend. She always went with him to the lab, even when the smell of…whatever he worked on made her want to gag. “But I always go with you to the lab,” she huffed. And you should be glad.

“We’re doing dangerous experiments,” David scribbled in his notebook, avoiding her eyes. “I can’t have you there if you’re not a part of it. I don’t want you in danger.”

Genya shuddered as she thought back to the time when some acid had almost fallen on her kefta. “Fine,” she sighed, “but next time I go on a trip, you’re not coming with me either.” She fiddled with a loose thread by her wrist.

“Fine with me,” was all he said in reply.

She walked over to him, and he met her eyes for the first time, frantically throwing his notebook in another direction. Most of the time he was so excited to show her his plans for lab experiments, so what was making him avoid talking to her?

“Well.” She kissed his cheek anyway, causing his cheeks to flush just a bit. “Goodbye then, I’ll see you tonight.” She strode in the direction of the door. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” was the last thing she heard.

–––––

From Zoya’s look of disdain and Nikolai’s absence when she arrived in the war room, it seemed that both of the boys had abandoned them for the lab that day.

“What could they possibly be planning?” Zoya threw her hands up in frustration. “Nikolai is going to blow up the lab, anyhow. He had responsibilities here. The least he could do is leave a note.”

Genya sipped her tea. She may be perturbed by David’s behaviour, but at least she would have some gossip after today. “You seem awfully annoyed that Nikolai isn’t here. You hate him. I thought a break from him would bring you some relief.”

“What would bring me relief,” she snapped, blue eyes blazing “is if he were responsible for once.” She slammed her hand on the table.

“All I’m saying is your normally relieved when he’s not around,” Genya observed. “It’s odd that you’re so anxious for him to show up.”

Zoya sat down across from her, an expression of contempt now hanging over her features.  “Can it.”

“Fine, fine,” Genya backed down as Zoya placed a stack of papers on the table between them.  “What’s on the agenda today?” She ran a hand through her hair.

Zoya placed her chin in her hand, resting her elbow on the table, the silver threads at the wrists of her kefta reflecting the light. “Double the work for us.”

Genya took part in the stack of paper, absentmindedly skimming the words she wasn’t planning to remember. “What do you think they’re doing in the lab today?” She raised an eyebrow. “David said it would have been ‘too dangerous’ for me to go today since I was not taking part in their experiment. But I’ve been there for dangerous experiments plenty of times, and he’s never sent me away.”

“Maybe they’re pranking us,” Zoya suggested. “I wouldn’t put it past Nikolai to do that.”

Genya sighed. “You should have some faith in him, you know. He does take this job very seriously.”

Zoya tossed her hair over her shoulder, meeting Genya’s eyes with a glare before going back  to her work.

“He really wants you to like him, you know,” she revealed. “At least that’s what David told me.”

“Everyone likes him. Why would my opinion make a difference?”

“David says that to him, you aren’t everyone.” She hoped Nikolai wouldn’t kill her later if he found she had told Zoya the truth.

“How is David doing, by the way?” Zoya asked, scribbling on some form. “Other than keeping you from his lab.”

I will crack you one day, Zoya Nazyalensky, she thought.

“He’s nervous,” she set down the papers, meeting Zoya’s eyes. “Well, he’s normally nervous, but now he’s more so than usual. Also more distracted. But he’s always distracted too.” She exhaled. “But something is off, I can feel it.”

Zoya slammed her pen on the table, smirking. “Fuck it,” she mused, “if they get to skip work we do too.”

“What do you–”

Zoya grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her seat and dragging her towards the door. “Where are we going?” She questioned. Zoya didn’t do this. She was losing her mind. They both were losing their minds.

“The lab.”

Oh hell yeah, they were.

“I agree,” Genya smiled.

–––––

When they got to the lab, however, nothing seemed to be going on. From what Genya knew about “dangerous experiments”, they normally resulted in holes burned in the walls and giant smoke towers or fires engulfing the building his flames or the entire floor is flooded and the lights have gone out. But today, it was almost still, which seemed to scare her even more.

Zoya walked in front of her, black hair flowing in the wind as she pushed open the door to the hall. They had to be somewhere here, she knew, and she was going to find out why.

They pushed open every boring beige door, disappointed to find only sketches of things she didn’t understand much of other than measurements. There had to be something going on, so where was it? Where were they?

Finally, she felt Zoya tug on the sleeve of her kefta and saw her pointing towards the balcony, where she saw a flash of blond hair. If they couldn’t find David, at least they could crack Nikolai for where he was.

They ran to the doors to the balcony, pushing them open and running out, only to find Nikolai and David just…sitting and talking.

“When are you gonna tell her?” was all she heard Nikolai say.

“Tell me what?”

They both turned around, eyes widening. “We thought–”

“Well, you thought wrong.” Zoya retorted. “What are you up to? And if you don’t tell me I am going to make you.”

David’s soft brown eyes blinked rapidly behind his glasses, making Genya’s heart begin to burst just slightly. She saw him breathe deep, gaze flashing from her to Nikolai to Zoya and back. She felt a pang. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed him.

“David,” Nikolai told him, “just do it now.”

David stood up, making his way over to her. He inhaled before placing a hand on her cheek, causing her face to go red as he looked into her eye. “Genya,” he breathed, “I’m sorry I said you couldn’t come today. I just didn’t want you here because I was planning something.” The light from the sun illuminated his features, making her heart beat fast. “I never meant to make you feel hurt. I just figured you’re you, and you deserve something grand. It would take a lot of planning, as I’m not much for grand things.” He ran a finger across her cheekbone. “But sometimes plans don’t work, and they didn’t today. So I’m just going to do this right here.”

He reached his other hand into his back pocket, hiding it in his hand before bringing it between them both. Slowly, he opened his hand for Genya to find a circular red ruby faceted into a band of gold.

She felt the tears start to rise, her breath starting to catch. “David–”

“Genya Safin,” he took his hand from her cheek, getting down on one knee. “I have loved you from the moment I met you, and the longer I have known you, the more I fall in love with you again and again. Every day I wake up next to you, I wanna spend the day with you, and the more I talk to you, the more I listen to you, the more you talk to me, the more I know I want to spend the rest of the life with you.” His gaze flicked to the floor before going back to her. “So, will you, Genya Safin, make me the happiest–”

“Yes,” she croaked a tear rolling down her cheek as she went to him. He stood up, ring in hand, catching her in his arms as she crashed her lips to his, head still spinning. She couldn’t remember if it was a dream or not, but if it was, she was never waking up.

She pulled away, cupping his face in her hands as he held her waist.  “A thousand times yes.”

He slid the ring onto her finger, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips before wrapping her in his arms again.

Safe to say that work ended early that day.

#[im sorry this is terrible eye bleach is provided </3] #[sorry this is literal garbage] #mine #mine.fic #sh:david and genya #lit:tgt #lit:tnd #u:gv #m:fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #david kostyk #genya safin #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #usersana #usersultanah #useradhithi #usersnini #usersnate #userishika #userishani #tusergrace #userzara #userzuha

[blacksdale]

clandestine meetings and longing stares

a crappy zoyalai drabble for @dogdromer

sh: zoyalai post-kos want one?

“So I see you’ve picked your bride?” Zoya asked, waiting in her king’s chambers. She knew that the time would come eventually, that she would have to be prepared. But apparently, she still was not. The realisation hit her that this was the last night they would spend together. The last night they would sit in his bed and talk about whatever was on their minds, confide in each other as friends did, act as if they could keep up the charade of whatever they were.

This was their last normal day.

He sat on the bed beside her in his nightclothes, running a hand through his tousled golden hair as he gave her a melancholy smile. “I suppose I have.”

Zoya stared straight ahead as she tried to think of something to say, something that would clear the anxiety in the air. He had asked her to marry him once, back when he didn’t think there were any other options. She had turned him down of course; Ravka would never accept having a Grisha queen. Now she and Nikolai sat side by side, nervously pondering the future of their country. Nikolai would have an heir now, at the very least, as well as the backing of the Shu military against Fjerda. His proposal to Ehri had been what brought some sense of security to their falling country, a fighting chance against their enemies.

But none of that stopped Zoya’s heart from clenching inside her chest as she realized nothing would ever be the same between them.

She smiled as she stared straight ahead. “What now?” she replied, though she didn’t know if she was asking Nikolai or the world around her. “You’re going to have to charm her out of trying to kill you again.”

The mattress suddenly dipped beside where she was sitting, and Zoya whipped her head to see that Nikolai had fallen with his back against the sheets, his gaze trained on the painted constellations of his ceiling. “I think I can manage,” he mused, though his eyes had taken on a look of worry.

Zoya sighed, staring out through his window toward the night sky. This was the last time they would see the stars together.

“I hope so,” she laughed softly, “because Ravka can’t have a king if his wife keeps trying to get rid of him.”

He returned her laugh as he gently placed a hand over hers, causing Zoya to freeze for just a moment. This was the last time he would ever be there to comfort her. “That would make ruling a bit difficult, wouldn’t it?”

Finally, Zoya crashed down on the bed beside him, looking up toward the ceiling at the lanterns burning out. “I guess it would.”

She felt her fingers lace with Nikolai’s as they lay and stared at the ceiling, a look of worry and sorrow overtaking them both. He ran his thumb across the back of her hand, the gentle touch allowing her to even out her breathing. Zoya silently cursed herself for letting her head race right now, for being unable to be in the moment, for being unable to enjoy the last time she and Nikolai would be alone together in peace.

They turned to face each other for the first time that night, and for the first time, she saw the true look of nostalgia in his hazel eyes. He looked too sad to be planning his wedding; they both did. But no one could see them now, so they both shared their worries with knowing looks, no words necessary.

Finally, after a few minutes, Nikolai spoke up. “You know, I always hoped I would marry for love,” he murmured, “and that’s a stupid thing for a ruler to wish.” He sighed. “But even so, I always wanted it to come true.”

She smiled sadly across from him, chuckling just a little bit. “You had a pretty cruel awakening, then.”

“I did,” he said quietly, “didn’t I?”

Zoya returned her face to a neutral expression, allowing her eyes to calculate the room around her before focusing on him again. His blond hair shone in the lantern light, giving it a glow that made it almost look like sunlight, save for the night sky outside the window. His hazel eyes glittered, despite their sadness, the gold around the centre shining against the dark brown around the edges of his iris. She drank in the sight, knowing it was the last time she would ever see it. “You deserve better,” she told him softly, a lump rising in her throat. “It doesn’t have to be me,” she said, “but you deserve better.”

She felt his hand cup her cheek, closing her eyes as he ran his thumb along her cheek, trying to breathe easy.

“I know,” he sighed, resting his forehead on hers. “So do you.”

#userhannas #mine #mine.fic #i wrote this in an hour #thats enough explanation #lit #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #userwidd #tricewithasee #usernate #usersultanah #userksheerja #userharry #tuserjules #tuserkeira #userbie #tuserfatima #writeremma #tusergrace #useramma #fic: zoyalai

[blacksdale]

lost in your current

a crappy zoyalai fic

sh: zoyalai

college au

cw for light gore (nothing bad happens they just watch some criminal minds) 

ao3

“Stay,” he said.

She thought it had meant to be a joking suggestion. He would simply call her a cab, or something or other. Zoya had spent the night at his place studying, and it had gone on a lot longer than they both had anticipated. It had ended unproductively with empty coffee mugs littered around the apartment and Nikolai’s face down in a textbook, unable to look at any more calculus. Zoya had looked at the clock and realised it was past 1:30 and suggested that she should be getting home, and she was almost out the door when Nikolai had asked her not to go.

However, the remark had clearly come out a lot more serious than he had intended, causing his eyes to widen for but a brief moment.

Zoya blinked and looked back at him, blue eyes now half-lidded but still giving him the signature glare. “I’ll be fine on my own, thanks,” she retorted, “and I would honestly rather walk home in the pouring rain than deal with any more of your arrogance.”

“Nope,” he said, blinking his eyes to keep himself awake. He looked at her again, her eyebrows raised in confusion. “I’ll set up the couch. You can’t walk home now, so you can sleep here.”

Zoya looked out the living room window, seeing the rain she hadn’t realized had begun to fall. She really had been awake for too long. She definitely didn’t want to stay, but walking home alone in the pouring rain certainly didn’t seem appealing either.

She crossed her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why is that any of your business?”

“Because,” he said, “It would be improper for me to let you walk home alone. And there’s no way I can mess up this face by going and getting a cold from the rain while walking you home.”

She sighed, though it was less of frustration and more of fatigue. “Fine,” she said, the lack of contempt in her voice concerning to her, “I’ll stay. But only tonight, okay?”

Nikolai laid a black fleece blanket on top of the couch cushions. “Alright, tsaritsa.”

“If you want me to stay here,” she punched him in the shoulder as she walked toward the coffee table, setting her bag on a chair, “then you can’t call me that anymore, you know.”

“Why, I thought I was the one doing you a favour here.”

“You. Wish.”

He turned around, glancing at her. Her hand subconsciously went to her hair, which she usually wore down, that was pulled behind her in a ponytail that only looked half-finished since she had only pulled her hair halfway through. Her cheeks felt too cold, and though she tried to hide it, the shivering suggested that her arms were crossed for more than just her look of disdain. Saints, she felt tired.

Nikolai finished setting up the couch, setting two pillows down at one end. “You need something to sleep in,” he remarked.

She looked up at him, stormy blue eyes still sending a glare his way. “You better not say ‘my bed’, or else I’m going to strangle you.”

“But you're freezing,” he said, smirking. “Also, I meant pyjamas.”

“Still, I think I can survive being 'freezing' for a few hours.” She said though her pulling her coat tighter around her seemed to say otherwise.

“I'll get you a sweatshirt and some pyjama pants.” He began to walk toward his room, turning back to give her one last look. “Be back in a minute, tsaritsa.”

“They won't even fit, you know!” she called to him, “you're too weirdly tall.”

“Well, you're weirdly short!”

“Fuck you!”

-----

Zoya stepped out of the bathroom in a navy blue hoodie and black pyjama pants, both of which were way too big on her. She took a look in the mirror and scrunched her nose at the look. She looked ridiculous, yet for some reason, she felt oddly comforted. She hated the latter a lot more. “I look like I was swallowed by some college boy’s closet.”

No reply.

“You know, if you’re not here I’m gonna leave.”

She couldn't think of anything else he could possibly be doing right now other than being stupid, so what was the silence? She snapped her head over to see if he had set some fire or flooded his kitchen or something of that nature, but he didn't. Instead, he was just staring.

At her.

“Oh, what the hell are you looking at?” she complained loudly, causing him to blink rapidly and shake his head.

“Looking at what?”

Zoya turned her attention back toward the mirror. “Is there something in my hair? And why are you not telling me? Yes, I know it looks awful but you don't need to make a scene.” She ran her fingers through her dark hair, trying to detangle whatever knots were in there, the effort proving futile as her scalp hurt the more she pulled at it. She gave up and crossed her arms, huffing at her reflection. Her shoulder-length black hair was too frizzy, the bags under her eyes too visible even with her glasses too foggy, and she was increasingly becoming more resentful to how big these clothes were on her.

After dragging her feet into the other room, Zoya lay on the couch that Nikolai had made up for her. She hadn’t expected it to be so comfortable, she realised, as she sank into the grey-coloured cushions and pulled a fleece blanket over herself. Despite the enormous sweatshirt she was wearing, she was still somehow too cold. Was the thermostat broken? Or did Nikolai just like to freeze his ass off every night. Either way, it wasn’t worth pondering, so she reached for the remote on the coffee table and curled up against one end of the couch. She flipped through the Netflix shows for an oddly long time, rolling her eyes at all of the cliche sitcoms Nikolai had seen, before finally settling on something to watch right now. Yes, she was tired, but that didn’t mean she slept easily. She needed something to soothe her to sleep.

She was about ten minutes into the episode when she heard footsteps behind her, followed by a sigh and what sounded like a facepalm. “Zoya, you know this show keeps me awake. It’s disturbing.”

“It’s not disturbing,” she scoffed. “You’re just a wimp.”

“There’s a corpse with acid burns where the eyes used to be in the middle of the screen.”

“This isn’t even close to the worst one.” She muttered, turning her head to look at him standing behind her.

He walked over to sit on the couch beside her, holding a hand in front of him to keep from seeing the TV. “I still don’t understand how you watch this before you sleep.”

“I have many talents that you happen to not have a shred of aptitude for,” Zoya replied, her tone deadpan.

“I,” he said, lowering his hand after the scene went away, “am talented in all aspects. But that,” he said, gesturing toward Zoya and her indifferent expression, “is not a talent. That just means you have something wrong with you.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupid comments, resenting how her heart had begun to beat faster. “There’s a lot more,” she told him, lightly shoving her palm into his temple, “that’s wrong with you.”

“I don’t know what you’re suggesting, tsaritsa. Everything about me is perfect.”

She looked over at him, taking in his tousled golden hair and perfect smile. He hated this show, and she couldn’t tell for the life of her why he was staying to watch it with her. She turned her attention back to the TV, hoping to hide the colour coming into her cheeks. He was only letting her stay as a favour. They were just friends, that’s all. Just good friends. He just felt obligated to ask her and she just didn’t feel like walking home. Zoya tried her best to focus on the rest of the episode. She swore she could feel Nikolai drawing closer, but she didn’t dare look over and give him the satisfaction of him having her attention. To her dismay, the combination of the action happening onscreen and the strain in the room with him only seemed to make her more awake. She sat up a little bit more, trying to calm her mind, keep her feelings in check. She would not let herself fall, not now.

She looked over towards Nikolai about halfway through the episode, finding his hazel eyes to be wide open, though he did seem to be invested. She thought about teasing him for all the times he made fun of her. She took a glance back at the TV. “You might not want to be this invested,” she said, causing him to look over at her.

He smiled at her and raised an eyebrow. “And why might that be?”

She thought about what was about to happen, considering the first time she saw this episode. “This is the part where it gets super gory, and you’re going to want to leave, so–”

But suddenly Zoya couldn’t remember anything that had ever happened on Criminal Minds, because Nikolai’s lips had caught hers.

Oh, okay.

He was kissing her. That was what was happening. Her thoughts were swimming too much, between the studying and the invite to stay and the sweatshirt he gave her and how soft his lips were on hers. Everything else that day, everything else ever seemed to fade as he pulled her closer by the waist and threaded his fingers in her hair. She fisted her hands in his t-shirt, pulling him towards her so she could kiss him deeper, feel his heart beat in sync with hers.

He pulled away breathless a few minutes later, smirking as he brought his focus back to the show, leaving her with no acknowledgement.

––––––

Zoya Nazyalenasky wasn’t used to being left speechless, but apparently, this was a day for firsts.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about kissing him more than enough times, but she had been wrong about how he would feel. How her thoughts would melt, how her self-control and common sense would falter, how much she would want it. How much she would want him and his everything. She didn’t know how much she would miss his lips and his touch once he pulled away.

And why had he pulled away so quickly? What did that do for him? She knew he didn’t really feel that way about her, of course. But for just one millisecond she had thought that maybe he returned how she felt.

Her eyes were in an out of focus until the episode ended, and she paused the screen and turned to him, her expression furious. He smirked, seeming so nonchalant despite everything that had just taken place.

She threw her hands up in frustration and shouted at him. “Nikolai, what the hell was that for?” Stop making me question everything I do.

He chuckled lightly, acting oddly okay with it all. “Why, tsaritsa, what else does someone do as a distraction from scary movies?”

She raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, making the disdain in her voice for him apparent. “I don’t know, maybe they don’t watch the movie anymore? Or they go get food? Or do literally anything other than kiss a girl they don’t really like? Especially when they are already friends with her and have around 15 people on speed dial for hookups. Oh wait, no.” Why was he so ignorant? Why was he smiling? Hell, he looked like he was about to laugh. “If you wanted a hookup, you would have just gone for it. You wouldn’t have planned the whole ‘stay with me, it’s late’ rouse. So you just wanted to fuck with me.”

Zoya finally smirked as everything changed at the last statement she made. He no longer looked like he had a leg up like he knew what she was going to say. He, surprisingly, looked very hurt. She wished he just hadn’t been stupid in the first place, but now at least she was winning this. Winning whatever bullshit game he was playing.

She fake-smiled as she went to leave the apartment, blinking back the tears she wished would stop flowing because she would not let herself become heartbroken now. “That was fun. Good for you. I can’t believe you just pull that shit and get away with it. I’m leaving now,” she told him, feeling her voice start to crack. She turned to face him for the first time. “Have fun with the rest of your life.”

Soon, though, any idea of leaving dissolved. Damn him, damn it all. Damn his gorgeous hazel eyes and his charm and his cleverness. This time, his lips came over hers harder, the force enough to cause her to stumble backwards and fall into the couch. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down with her as he held her closer and closer. Zoya could feel everything around her fade as he kissed her deeper and deeper. He pulled her onto his lap as he sat down, letting her wrap her legs around him. She could feel the heat spreading from her chest to the rest of her. She was burning up, and right now, she was content if that was how she would go. She leaned back against the couch cushions, letting her fingers thread in his hair as he trailed kisses down her neck and to her collarbone, leaving her breathless. She could feel herself falling to him as his lips met hers again, telling her everything he had been waiting to say.

Nikolai pulled away, after a while, his blond hair tousled and cheeks coloured. He kept an arm around her shoulders as she rested her head on his shoulder. Zoya looked to him, eyes half-lidded with delirium and relief and other things she would never be able to place. “Did you ever stop and think,” he asked her softly, “that maybe I kissed you because I like you?”

“You like me,” she whispered, laughing quietly as she met his eyes. She couldn’t see the gold around the centre anymore, only the dark brown around the edges. The rest was swallowed up by the black of his pupils. “And is that all?”

“No,” he told her, kissing her hair, “that doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He tightened his grip around her, just enough for her to become a little more lost in wanting. “First,” he explained, “I would tell you how you’re incredibly smart, and how you can do anything you ever put your mind to.” He kissed her forehead. “I would tell you how you’re wonderful, how you mesmerize me, how I could look into your eyes forever if I could.” He kissed her cheek. “I would tell you how I would think of telling you that, but I would see you and forget whatever I had wanted to say just because you became all I could see.” He kissed her lips again, this time slow and soft, but it still caused her to see stars. “And there’s so much more I would tell you, but that would take about as long as it did for me to tell you I liked you in the first place.” He smiled and laughed lightly, and her heart almost burst at the sight. He had been all she had ever wanted.

#mine #userhannas #mine.fic #yes ik its bad #eye bleach is provided #sh: zoyalai #zoyalai #ch: nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov #ch: zoya nazyalensky #zoya nazyalensky #lit: the grisha trilogy #the grisha trilogy #lit: nikolai duology #nikolai duology #u: grishaverse #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #userwidd #writeremma #usersultanah #tuserzahra #tricewithasee #usersnate #tuserkeira #tuserjules #thats it sorry to anyone who reads this

[blacksdale]

useless apologies

a crappy zoyalai fic for @chenhideos

sh: zoyalai idk what this is im sorry want one?

Nikolai found Zoya in the palace gardens after their meeting. She sat staring at the distance, a melancholy look in her sapphire eyes. The light from the setting sun cast a faint glow over her, outlining her features as if she were in a painting, her eyes closed with her lashes fanned out against her cheeks, dark hair lifted slightly by the wind. Her kefta was pulled tight around her to fight against the chill in the air, making her seem almost small as if she was folding in on herself. His unbreakable commander somehow seemed fragile, like something had managed to slip through the cracks in the walls she had built up.

Nikolai hated more than anything that he had been the one to cause it.

He took his place beside her on the bench, focusing on the sunset in the distance, trying to keep his heart from pounding faster than it already was. He looked a little higher to see semi-realistic clouds bathed in the light pink and gold of the early evening sky. If Zoya never talked to him again, at least he would get to enjoy this view with her.

“I hope you know,” he began softly, “I really am sorry.”

A huff came from beside him, and he could hear Zoya shift to cross her arms. “Well, you should be.”

Saints, what had he done?

Nikolai had spent so much time trying to earn her trust, trying to get her to hear it, get her to like him. She had come to work with him when she was only 18, having to run a crumbling country when she should still be in school. Despite how she would not have conversations with him outside of official government settings, he had tried his very best to know her, to learn what she liked, what she hated. He had brought her a different tea every day for a month, just so that he could know what made her happy, and when she told him it was chai he found someone to teach him how to properly make it so that she could have it every day. He found out what desserts she liked at parties, which music she liked to listen to while she worked. He had told her about his childhood, his time in the army, about Dominik and how his death destroyed him. He had told her about the time he spent on the Volkvolny, how trapped he had felt when the Darkling had cursed him. He told her about his troubles and anxieties he had about ruling so that she would know the facade he put him wasn’t actually him, hoping that maybe she would see him as a person and someone she could talk with, to know him in a way that was genuine and true. It had taken him a year to earn enough trust from her to the point where she finally told him about where she grew up, her mother’s antics, how Liliyana took her in, how she had run back after the battle with the Darkling to find a scribbled name on a wall to be the only thing left of her aunt. And he had thrown that trust away with a single ignorant question.

“I shouldn’t have been so quick to anger,” he told her, “as you were only asking a simple question. I was just confused since you were the one who pushed me to marry in the first place.” He paused. “I suppose it’s going to be a change for all of us, this marriage. We will be working more with Ehri now.” He smiled sadly at Zoya, whose black hair was obscuring her face as she continued to avoid him. “We have gotten used to our routine. Just you, me, Genya, and David. Our little cohort.”

“That’s not why I’m mad.”

Nikolai turned to see that she was facing him, blue eyes puffy and cheeks flushed. He felt a tug in his chest, and all of his emotions suddenly sank because he had done this. He had somehow managed to crush her, and he didn’t know how. Which meant he couldn’t fix it.

He had told her, “You were the one who said to marry. So why are you so mad that I did?”

All he wanted to do was fix it. The need for her to like him from when they first met suddenly returned, causing his thoughts to race and his pulse to quicken. He needed her to forgive him. She had to. He didn’t even care if she really did; he just wanted to hear it from her so that he could trick himself to think some part of her no longer hated him.

“So,” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, “why are you mad, then?”

Zoya crossed her arms, folding in on herself again, focusing on the horizon again. “You can’t be that oblivious,” she said, her voice flat.

“Zoya, please.” Maybe she would listen if he actually said her name. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away from him before he could reach her. “Oblivious to what?”

A sigh came from beside him, and he turned to see a tear run down her cheek. “It would only complicate things if I told you,” she said, her voice breaking at the last word.

A sense of panic suddenly came over him. He reached for her hand again, though he had nothing he could say that he knew would make things better. “There must be something I can do to make this up to you.”

She shook her head, standing up from the bench and wiping her eyes. She looked at him again, the sorrow in her eyes becoming almost too much for him. She didn’t look angry anymore, just sad. “No,” she told him, “it’s not your fault.” She began to walk back toward the palace. “I’ll see you tomorrow, your Highness.”

Staring at the sunset, Nikolai pondered his general until dark. Sometimes he forgot he still had so much to learn about her. He felt so ignorant for never realising something so obvious. Maybe behind all of her anger and walls, she still wished for someone to know her too.

#mine #userhannas #mine.fic #providing eye bleach w this one #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #userwidd #usersultanah #tricewithasee #writeremma #userzahra #userzara #useramma #userksheerja #userharry #tuserkeira #tuserjules #userisha #usernate #fic: zoyalai

[blacksdale]

impasse

a crappy zoyalai drabble for @storm-dog-pirate

sh: zoyalai i dont know what this is either ♡ + a ship for 100 500 word fic  anna’s new account

“So you plan to what exactly?” Zoya questioned. She rolled her eyes at her imbecile of a king.

She knew Nikolai didn’t have one, really. She just needed to help him realise why.

“As I said:” he began, “I marry Ehri, we have an alliance with the Shu. Use their army and money to fend off the Fjerdans and purchase the jurda from Novyi Zem to make the antidote.”

Zoya pinched the bridge of her nose, unable to comprehend how he hadn’t realized their plan was futile yet. “And what will they do when they know we’re making an antidote for the thing that fuels their military?”

He stopped dead then, realising once and for all that there were no more options. She wished he didn’t have to realise this now, that he had realised before as she had. Not only because it might mean they would be prepared for what might come, but because the look of defeat on his face caused something in her chest to tighten. He sat back in his chair as he stared straight ahead, the expression on his face changing from frustration to something blank like he had felt all the frustration he could and now felt nothing at all.

“Zoya,” he asked quietly. “What are we going to do?” It had finally hit him: they were caught between a rock and a hard place, and there would be no getting out. Nikolai, who was always so positive, so upbeat, even when everything had gone wrong, sounded so destroyed.

She sat down beside him, placing her hands in her lap as her shoulders tensed. Seeing him hurt somehow caused her to hurt too, although she had known what was coming for them. Maybe it was because she had only known. She had never truly believed it. It should have happened earlier; she had known, hadn’t she? She had known for so long that it all was hopeless. But now, sitting in the room alone with the most optimistic person she knew, the one who could smile when everything was falling, losing hope, it hit her like a truck. All of the negotiations they had made, the meetings they endured, the loans that they had taken, the battles they had fought were all for nothing.

Almost instinctively, Zoya reached to her left, taking Nikolai’s hand in hers. She didn’t know why she did, and she knew she would regret it later. But she could think of nothing else in that moment that might help. She laced their fingers together as his hand tensed, then relaxed. His calloused hands were warm on hers, offering her comfort she didn’t know she wanted as they sat in silence, the feeling of hopelessness hanging over them.

She wished she could tell him what their plan was, but the reason she had asked him was that she didn’t have one either.

#userhannas #mine #mine.fic #so sorry its bad am #u deserve better i know #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #am tag #userwidd #usersultanah #tuserkeira #tricewithasee #writeremma #userharry #userzahra #tuserjules #useramma #fic: zoyalai

[evasjacks]

Say My Name

World: modern au, cia/rogue nation au

Ship: Zoyalai 

Word Count: 3084

Chapter(s): 1/?

AO3

Nikolai had never paid much attention to his biology lessons, but he was certain that at that moment, he could have named at least fifty-three muscle. Each of them screaming in pain. 

He tried to lift his head to get a better view of the room he’d been placed in- fifty-four, his mind informed him grimly as the back of his neck began to ache. 

His training came up instantly, the routine overtaking his brain. He scanned the room. Small. Metal. Door? Locked. Definitely a cell. He tilted his head up, trying to see what bound his arms up. Chains dug into his wrists, attached to the wall behind him. Nikolai sighed, leaning his head against the wall, his brain foggy- how had he gotten there?

He shut his eyes, allowing memories to flash in his mind- a record shop, he’d gone in after dark, the place was empty save a pretty girl at the register with hair like fallen snow. Genya had given her a name, but he failed to remember her as anything but an undercover agent who had information for him. He did recall wanting to invite her for a drink, once he’d claimed the case Genya had left for him. 

There had been a glass room. A record player. No , his brain said, an explosion resonating in his memory, a hacked record player. Silky voice dripping out of the speakers, a man who knew Nikolai, not by code name or undercover occupation. No, this man knew him.

Smoke filling the air. He’d felt light-headed. The girl had been there, frozen in place, a gun was pressed to her head.

He thought he remembered a face, looming among the shadows, pale and drawn with ink-black hair. Two words.

The Starless.

Somehow the memory made his pain triple, and he doubled over, pulling at his chains and gasping for air. He shook his head, blinking. The calculating part of his brain tried to update Nikolai on his surroundings. He had been in London, but this room didn’t feel like a British torture chamber- having been in one himself, Nikolai was certain he could recognize the differences. Had they left England? Or was he in someplace more secure?

Now that’s offensive , Nikolai considered. Had he not been large enough of a threat before?

The thing that had struck him, even in that record shop in London, when he had ascertained that he was under attack, was that the silky voice in the speakers had spoken American English. 

The door flew open, and Nikolai let a single eye crack open. He had begun to wish they’d left on his shirt to ward off the chill, but he quickly retracted those thoughts when he saw the person who entered the room.

A short woman with deep brown skin and raven black hair entered, her sharp blue eyes landing on Nikolai. She cocked a perfect brow at him, as though he should know better than to slump against the wall in his chains. It was a look that made him wish he’d broken out, if only to impress her.

She eyed him with something akin to disappointment, then shook her head, stalking to the other end of the room, where a small table sat. She lifted a small case, unlatched it, retrieved three small bottles full of a clear liquid from it, and set them aside. Every movement was precise, as though she’d already ascertained he would be watching. Which, of course, he was.

After she’d laid out some tools Nikolai had to guess would be his gift, she turned back to him. He got the distinct sense she was waiting for something, though from who, he couldn’t tell.

She approached him, scrutinizing Nikolai before speaking, and though her Russian was flawless, there was a slight edge to the words that gave away her English origins.

“What does he see in you, I wonder,” she muttered, more to herself.

Nikolai laughed, though it came out more like a wheeze. He managed a wink, “take off the cuffs and I’ll show you.”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the table and discarding her coat, leaving her in just a tank top and jeans. Nikolai raised a brow but she was completely ignoring him now. He hadn’t noticed that she was in heels until she slipped them off, dropping them onto the table. Not such a horrible way to die, after all , Nikolai thought, as the woman gathered her hair into a tail and tied it off.

He considered saying something to her, if only to break the silence but decided against it. She slipped something into her pocket, but just as she turned back to him, intent in her stormy blue eyes, the door flew open again. Three large Russian men entered, pale blond hair tied at the napes of their necks, almost identical. Nikolai recognized them instantly. 

These were the Brum brothers.

The very same ruthless killers the Triumvirate had been trying to track for decades. The funny thing was, they were all declared dead two years ago. An accident, he recalled, or a missing plane.

These also happened to be the very people featured in the file Genya’s snowy-haired informant had delivered to Nikolai, in the store that was a trap, that had been her doom. The one that had been blown to bits.

The one connecting them to The Starless cult.

The largest, and, Nikolai knew from research, the oldest, headed for the table, where the woman's set of knives still rested, gleaming in the dim room’s light. 

“You may want to leave,” this from the second brother, who had come to stand very close to the woman, a small smirk curling his lips, “this is no place for a little girl.”

Nikolai noted the stiffness in her posture, and though it might come off as fear, he had the distinct suspicion it was nothing but hard-earned restraint from her end. She merely tossed her hair back and said, “you promised me a show.”

If nothing else, I’m stellar entertainment , Nikolai thought, but his throat was too parched for speech, and the anticipation of more pain to add to his already aching muscles.

The man shrugged, making his way to his brother, and the selection of weapons laid before them. They weren’t watching the woman, and he suspected that in whatever organization they worked for, she had made a point of being underestimated. But why?

As if reading his thoughts, she caught his eye, then raised her hand as if to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, parting her fingers to reveal something metallic, glinting when it caught the light.

Nikolai frowned. The key?

She raised a brow at him as if she doubted that even with a key, he could make it out alive. Nikolai had a very sudden urge to prove her wrong. Then the brothers were turning back to him, the oldest coming to stand in front of Nikolai, an impressive knife held in one hand. His blue eyes were hungry.

Nikolai let a charming smile overtake his features, “Can I call you Brum One? Then the others can be Two and Three-”

His response was a well-aimed blow to his stomach, slamming Nikolai back against the wall. He groaned, wincing at the additional pain.

“I never mentioned,” Nikolai gasped out, “but those are some really nice shoes”

The man frowned, dropping his gaze to the plain black boots around his feet.

“Not you,” said Nikolai, “her.”

In the time it took for the man to turn his head back and face the woman, she had changed her stance and delivered a hard kick to his groin. He let out a howl, doubling over as the woman tossed the key over his bowed head to Nikolai. He caught it with ease.

The second brother was on her already, knife in hand, as Nikolai struggled to shove the key inside its lock. She ducked as he aimed for her face, grabbing his wrist and plunging the knife into his thigh. The second brother groaned, tearing the knife out and arching it downward. He missed by a hair's breadth.

A single cuff cracked open beneath his touch, clattering to the floor and startling the last of the Brums into action. The boy’s icy eyes locked on Nikolai and he barreled toward him, swinging a fist at his head. With a single hand still shackled to the wall, Nikolai pulled away, trying to duck before the collision, but the blow landed, striking him square in the jaw and snapping his head back. 

Blood was trailing down Nikolai’s nose, which seemed to satisfy the Russian, who pulled back for a second hit- this time, Nikolai snatched the fallen chain, ducking behind the man’s arm and wrapping it around his throat. The Russian cried out as Nikolai forced him to his knees, pulling the chain tighter and watching the blood fill the boy’s face.

“Lantsov!” the woman’s voice rang out, forcing away his attention. She had a knife in her hand and both brothers looming over her. Nikolai swore, dropping the third boy and clicking the key into place before racing over to help, his legs sore but determined.

Nikolai tossed aside the chain, and instantly regretted it when he realized he was weaponless. The oldest was closer, and he kicked a leg out, aiming at the man’s knees. He groaned, legs collapsing beneath him. The second brother attacked the woman, and she ducked, then sliced at air. In a single moment, she’d thrown one leg over the man’s shoulder, wrapping the second around his neck so she was perched on his shoulders. Then she took the knife and plunged it into his neck. He crumpled to the floor and she stood over his body, looking unamused.

The first was still bleeding from a wound the woman had delivered- she tossed Nikolai the same knife, still slick with the other man’s blood, and he let it sink into the oldest Brum’s lower back, just between his vertebrae, cracking his spinal cord. The last Brum collapsed with a sound part groan, part gurgle.

Nikolai looked up, breathing heavily. He met the woman’s eyes.

“Incredible,” he managed

“Slow,” she snapped back.

Before he could say anything to defend himself, someone was pounding at the door, demanding to be let in.

“Follow me,” the girl said without preamble, this time her English accent marked her as British. London, if he had to guess.

“Yes, general,” Nikolai replied, tailing her as she turned heel and crossed the room, headed towards a set of bars he hadn’t noticed before that separated his own cell from what must have been a way out.

The pounding grew louder, but the woman kept her gaze locked ahead, slipping a key out of her pocket and sliding open the bars. She tilted her head, indicating that Nikolai should move forward. He did so without question, throwing a mock salute her way.

He was just about to allow the torrent of questions racing through his mind to slip free when the bars slammed shut behind him. He whipped his head back. The woman stood on the other side- her stormy blue eyes steady.

“What- what are you doing?” Nikolai said, gaze snapping from the key twisting in its lock to the woman still on the other side of the bars, to the outer door that seemed close to bursting open.

“I have to stay,” she said simply. 

Nikolai gaped at her, “we just killed those men, you cannot stay here!”

She met his eyes, and there was something resolute in the way she watched him, as though she’d planned this to the last moment and he’d said all the wrong lines.

“No, You killed those men.” she said calmly, “I tried to stop you, but you got away.”

“Who are you?” Nikolai’s brows drew together, a mixture of confusion and surprise lacing his features. The trture chamber and load of people from various countries trying to kill him was old news, but a stormy eyed savior? That was new.

The girl nodded back at the door, “go, now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Nikolai turned heel and began racing down the hall, away from the strange girl and her stranger actions. A door burst open somewhere in the background, he heard her voice in Russian, trembling with something akin to terror.

He recalled thinking she’d worked to be underestimated among these people, and a small smile twitched at his lips.

Gunshots rang out as more men flooded the room, aiming at him through the bars, shouting profanities in Russian. Nikolai stumbled, evading one hit, then the next before turning the corner, his heart hammering in his chest.

Their voices faded as he followed the twists and turns of the hall. He winced. Nothing but him and the shadows, here.

Well , he thought dizzily, stumbling as he pressed a hand to his side, me, the shadows, and the bullet lodged in my abdomen .

Perhaps he should not have stopped to speak with the woman, simply taken the opportunity and run, but even as his steps became more clumsy, his head swimming with the aches of a hundred different pains, Nikolai could not bring himself to regret it.

Genya is going to murder me , he thought.

 ---

 There were no spas around, and Genya once again wished she’d gone to work at her mother’s instead of joining the Triumvirate- not for the first time. Her best agent- really, America's best agent- was missing. Had been for days. And the investigation the CIA Secretary was holding was becoming more and more intrusive, asking questions she couldn’t answer while sounding loyal to the right people.

David, bless him, had stood up for the Triumvirate in their last meeting. Our methods may be unorthodox, but we only want what’s best for our country. What’s best for The United States , his words echoed in her mind, sending a fresh well of emotion through her. When he was paying attention, her husband could really impress them.

As if reading her thoughts, the Secretary himself appeared beside Genya, light brows raised in amusement, eyes half-lidded. He seemed to retain the appearance of a drunk wherever he went, and then he spoke and one realized that he may not be drunk, but he was indeed an idiot.

“Miss Safin,” he greeted her, nodding his head once, “do you have a moment?”

Do I have a choice? She wanted to say, but held back, “of course,” 

“Is my brother around?”

She clenched her jaw at the way he said, ‘my brother’, as though Nikolai and he were close friends instead of mortal enemies. As if this entire investigation was not borne of his own jealousy towards his brother.

“No,” she said calmly, “I haven’t seen him.”

“Pity,” he said, “I wanted him to be here when I dropped the news.”

“News?” she inquired, stiffening already. Nothing that made him this smug could be good.

He turned his attention back to her, folding his hands behind his back. And had it been anyone else it may have been a regal gesture, but with Vasily, it merely emphasized his drooping stomach and tightened the buttons of his shirt. 

“Ah yes. The Triumvirate has been officially shut down.”

Genya sucked in a breath, “but sir-”

“It’s really out of my hands,” he said, though she knew it wasn’t. Genya bit her cheek against everything she wanted to say.

They had been running an investigation on a cult that had been wreaking havoc inside and out of America. It was for investigations like this, not strictly within the rules and regulations binding the CIA that the Triumvirate Unit had been created, initially. Shutting them down meant The Starless cult if they were really the ones behind all this, would get away. It meant they were no longer safe. It meant she no longer had a high position in the government.

And she still hadn’t heard from Nikolai.

 ---

 Nikolai hated Moscow. He hated every aspect of it- the way winter seemed to never leave, the way the people always cast him glares as if they knew he did not belong, and mostly, he hated their payphones. As he pressed one of their thick black plastic phones, slick with rain and some other liquid he didn’t wish to identify, closer to his ear, he wished they’d accepted the US's offer of peace years ago. Then at least, they might have bargained for some better technology.

“Who is this?” Genya’s voice, sounding skeptical. Nikolai let loose a breath, his fist clutching a stolen jacket around his body. He leaned against the cool glass of the phone booth.

“Sobachka,” he mumbled, using his code name. If the Secretary was still investigating their operations, their phone calls would be watched. He heard a beep come through as Genya switched to a secure line.

“Go,” she said.

“The Starless- it’s real, everything about that saintforsaken cult. We need to track them, start with looking into any agents that may have disappeared, dead or presumed dead."

His head was spinning and he shut his eyes tight, needing to get all the information out, needing not to pass out then and there.

"The Brum Brothers. Start there, then I need you and David to-"

"Nikolai we can't," Genya had never sounded so defeated and Nikolai stiffened. What fresh hell the Saints have in store for him now? "The Triumvirate has been shut down."

He didn't respond for a moment. Maybe he should have stolen a drink from the man who's jacket he was wearing. A drink sounded good right about then. He pressed the phone closer to his cheek again, drowning out the pain. "you don't know where I am. you haven't spoken to me, this conversation never happened."

“You’re going after them alone?”

I’m not alone , he thought, but the memory of the blue-eyed woman was already fading.

“I have to.”

Genya had always been the most reasonable among them, but at that moment Nikolai almost wished she would tell him to come home. 

"Good luck." is all she said. Then a beep echoes through the speaker, and Nikolai knows he's on his own.

Silky voices and slate gray eyes floated just out of reach of his thoughts. Whatever this cult was, whatever intentions they might have, Nikolai was going to find them.

And then, I’m going to get a very strong drink.

#hi its THEM #again #ada writes #m:w.zoyalai #zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #genya safin #david kostyk #grishaverse #king of scars #rule of wolves #kosfic #tgtfic #the triumvirate #m:fics #m:multichaps #tuserfatima #tuserannie #tricewithasee #idk who to tag tbh

[blacksdale]

best mistake

a crappy zoyalai drabble for @storm-dog-pirate

sh: zoyalai college au want one?

“Lantsov,” Nikolai heard, along with the pounding of a fist on his apartment door. “Open up NOW or I swear-”

He opened his door and tilted his head down to find an angry Zoya, arms crossed, glaring at him from behind her glasses. He was glad to see her, of course. He just wasn’t glad she came to see him like this.

He rubbed his temples, trying to will his headache to go away. “Lovely to see you as well, Nazyalensky.”

She stomped past him into his apartment, throwing her bag on a chair and turning back toward him in an angry huff. She walked back across the apartment to stand across from him, lifting her head so she could look him in the eye. “Lantsov, what the hell?” She shouted. Shit.

He knew that he had done something, of course. He just didn't know exactly what. Last night was pretty much a blur. He and his friend had gone back to his apartment after exams, the stress overtaking them. There was no party thrown; his apartment was fairly clean save for the magazines strewn on the table and his kitchen counter littered with junk food. But he and Dominik had sat on the couch and shared a few too many bottles of brandy, rambling on about things he could no longer remember.

He could not tell if Zoya was mixing his thoughts or clearing them, but he did know she would not leave until she had an explanation for…whatever he had done.

He looked back at her again, smiling even though it hurt him. “I don't know what you mean, Nazyalensky,” he replied, his voice sounding a lot wearier than he would've liked.

“Oh Saints,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “for fucks sake.” She reached into her pocket and took out her phone, angrily pressing in the password and hitting play on what he realised was a voicemail.

A voice mail that he had apparently sent.

“Zoya,” the voice–his voice–said, “I hope it's okay that I called you that. I know I don't use your first name but–you know what I'm gonna call you Zoya because it's your name and it's pretty. Like you. You're pretty. And smart. Even if you're mean.” The voicemail paused for him to giggle for a few seconds. “But,” he continued, still giggling, “I like it when you're mean. It's adorable. And I especially love when you're mean and the person isn't expecting it. Because they get a look on their face of shock, and then you smile.” he stopped laughing then, and he began to sound wistful. “I love it when you smile. And I love you, even though you make fun of me a shit ton. Well, I like you, technically. That's what I was going to tell you. I wouldn't say I love you first because that's too much, and I can't be scaring you off before I have you. But I guess so. I love your face. And you. You're perfect, Zoya. But I would still love you even if you weren't perfect. But I just,” he paused again, “wanted you to know. For future reference. I love you.”

The phone went silent.

Zoya crossed her arms, blue eyes piercing through him yet again. “So,” she accused, “we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk-dialled me to tell me you love me?”

He stared at her again. He hadn’t meant to tell her, not like this. He had planned to actually take her out and be in a relationship, first of all. He had hoped that he would know she loved him too. He would have told her quietly, so only she could hear it because they would be the only two that needed to know. And instead, he had ruined it by doing something stupid out of stress from his exams.

Nikolai had so much to say most of the time, but he had no idea what to say to Zoya now. He blinked, trying to keep the headache from messing with his thoughts. “I guess,” he told her, “that’s what happened.”

She looked at him again, the anger in her eyes now mixed with confusion and what could have possibly been hurt. Oh, what had he done?

“It’s true,” he blurted out. “There you have it.” He threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “I’m sorry. You probably hate me now even more than you already did. You can leave now if you want. Just please don’t let people know.” He pleaded at her with big eyes, hoping just this once she wouldn’t be cold to him.

Zoya walked up to him from across the room, standing so they were only two inches apart. She looked up at him, the anger gone from her eyes as she moved her hand to cup his cheek, calming his racing thoughts. She stood on her tiptoes then, and she kissed him softly. Nikolai couldn’t understand why, for the hell of it, but oh thank the Saints, she didn’t hate him. He brought a hand to hold her by the waist, pulling her closer to him.

She pulled away a minute later, lifting a hand to push a stray hair back from his forehead. “You’re still gonna have to take me out on a date, you know?” She laughed, her smile lighting up his whole morning.

He kissed her cheek, smiling stupid, before leaving her and going to make himself a coffee. “I know.”

#userhannas #mine #mine.fic #i have no idea what was happening when i wrote this #so i apologise #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #am tag #userwidd #tricewithasee #writeremma #usersultanah #tuserjules #usersnate #userharry #usersisha #useradhithi #useramma #fic: zoyalai

[blacksdale]

racing thoughts

a crappy zoyalai drabble for @plrate

sh: zoyalai i dont know what this is honestly im so sorry ♡ + a ship for 100 500 word fic  anna’s new account

They sat side by side in a swinging bench on the balcony, gazing at the stars as if they were ordinary people.

Zoya sat with her head on Nikolai’s shoulder, her arms wrapped tight around his waist as he talked on about constellations and their meanings. She didn’t know a lot about what he was saying. He knew a lot about most of what they saw, which was even more. But even so, she listened because whether or not she would admit it to herself, she loved him. Even more than that, she loved the happiness she saw in him now, which she had not seen in so long. He kept an arm around her shoulders as he told her story of this one and that, occasionally taking her hand so he could point to where the stars were in the sky, hoping one day they would align so he could always be as happy as he was now. But he still ran a country, and there were still difficult decisions to be made.  

Apparently, he wore the look of doubt on his face though, because in the middle of the night Zoya looked over to him, concern in her stormy blue eyes. “Something’s wrong,” she observed. Her eyes moved, calculating the night around them seeing if there was something she could see, something she could analyze, something she could figure out how to fix. “Nikolai, what’s happened?”

He met her eyes as he turned to face her, hoping he could keep the rest of his emotions in check as she studied him too. “Nazyalensky,” he told her. He tried his best to keep the anxiety from seeping into his voice. “It’s nothing.”

“No,” she replied, raising a hand to cup his face. She ran her thumb along his cheekbone, causing his thoughts to race but somehow calm all at once. She steadied him with her gaze as her blue eyes pierced into him, grounding him in reality. “It’s not.”

He gave her a sad smile. “Not in particular.” He tightened his arm around her shoulder, causing her to sink into him again. It was Zoya, he realized, that made the anxiety bearable, that made the tireless efforts of his job worth doing.

“All these years I’ve known you,” she said softly. She was almost laughing, though he could tell there was worry in her voice more than anything. “And I still can never figure out what’s going on inside your head.”

He gazed outside of the balcony into the sky again, trying to see if the stars had aligned themselves differently by now.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning his head to rest on hers. “Me neither.”

#mine #userhannas #mine.fic #sorry i know its bad #leave me be #i wrote this after being awake for 20 straight hours #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #widd tag #userwidd #usersultanah #tuserjules #tricewithasee #userharry #userzahra #useramma #fic: zoyalai

[blacksdale]

just convincing enough

a crappy zoyalai drabble for @blue-drarry-drarry-blue

sh: zoyalai a night of dancing and avoidance of people and feelings want one?

Zoya liked parties, for the most part. Dancing, food, drinks, the amount of drinking that usually caused something funny to happen. She was a fan of that.

The people, however, she was not a fan of. Especially the one she could see walking toward her at that very moment. Now. She would not talk to any more snobby Ravkan nobles tonight, not unless they wanted to be stabbed. She needed a way out.

Hazel eyes met hers from across the room. Though it was not the method she preferred, she had found a way. They met in the middle of the dance floor, Nikolai taking her in his arms right on queue. “Why, tsaritsa, are we avoiding more suitors tonight?” He whispered in her ear as they danced. She tried her best to hide the blood that came rushing to her cheeks.

She blinked, trying to bring her thoughts back into focus. “Wonder how you guessed,” she replied, deadpan.

He pulled away to look at her, his hazel eyes piercing into her thoughts in a way that caused her to want to go still. She kept dancing, trying to ignore the way he was holding her close, his hands at her waist as they danced through the night, how even after the party was over she did not want him to let go. How his eyes kept drifting to her lips. She was only doing this to reroute the attention of some nobles, after all. But Zoya looked across the room and still saw them looking at her. She cast a look towards Genya, seeing if she could somehow ask for help, but she knew Genya would try and initiate exactly what she was avoiding. So she danced with Nikolai into the next song, then another, and another, hoping it would be enough to get the nobles to leave her alone.

But still, it wasn’t. Because two more were sauntering over to her and Nikolai, looking as if they had drunk to stupidity. She needed out of this now. The dancing hadn’t worked even when he had twirled her and brought her back just to catch her, even though at this very moment she was resting her head on his shoulder. She needed something foolproof.

“Your highness,” she demanded quietly. “Kiss me.”

He pulled away to meet her eyes again, a smirk appearing on his lips. “My general, of course, I understand why you would wish for that, but this is hardly the time and place.”

“Nikolai,” she demanded again.

“Tsaritsa, I think we can wait for another hour since you’re walking me to my bed after this party is over anyway.”

She stomped on his foot, nodding her head toward the men in drunken stupors currently coming to ruin her night. His eyes widened, putting the pieces together as he looked back from the party guests, to Zoya, and the party guests again.

“Nikolai.” she stomped on his foot again. “They’re coming. Hurry up and kiss me or I swear–”

She was silenced when his lips came over hers in the middle of the dance floor, catching her off guard and causing her to stumble. He caught her with one hand at the waist, pulling her closer, causing her to almost melt at the touch. She wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders, pulling him down to her. Saints knew she was never going to do this again. But his lips were so soft, and he wasn’t pulling away either. His other hand went to cup her cheek, the gentle touch of his fingers causing her to almost burn up.

He pulled away a few seconds later, hands returning to her waist as the song changed once more, keeping up the charade for a few moments longer.

#mine #userhannas #mine.fic #juj tag #zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #grishaverse #m: fic #tgtfic #kosfic #gvfic #userwidd #userharry #usersultanah #tuserjules #usersnate #tuserjoss #userjordyn #tuserkeira #userzahra #userchai #fic: zoyalai