#where zoya tells him they can never work nothing can ever happen because she is unlovable???

[whatkindofnameisella]

i would like to clear the air and say that yes i am watching new girl for the first time. okay. i am allergic to popular things. great now that it’s out there i just got to mars landing and uhh my chest hurts i have been hit with a train?? no???? no no no no???? oh my god roachie despawned?????????? no???

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Hold on, I remember Alina suppressing her own power so that she wouldn't be separated from Mal but I have nothing in my memory about how Mal didn't get found out as a living amplifier. It is such a big deal that the Darkling is one but was it ever explained why Mal avoided detection? Did his amplifying only work on Alina?

Yeah it’s never explained 💀It’s implied that Alina has felt a a “jolt” several times when she’s touched him but also it’s apparently not something she recognizes as an amplifier.

These both happen in S&S, during the chapel scene:

And then more obviously telegraphed foreshadowing a bit earlier:

You could argue that Alina’s idk new at being Grisha and can’t tell but Zoya literally slept with him (iirc? she def made out with him at least, there was skin contact!) so there’s no reason she shouldn’t know???

I guess the book tries to suggest that his amplifier power only seems apparent when he… closes his hand around her wrist?

But it makes no sense when the Darkling has an entire separate tragic backstory— written… while LB was working on R&R, so literally concurrent with the Mal amplifier reveal— about how he had to avoid touching any Grisha in his youth at all because they would immediately realize what he was and kill him for power.

Like this bit in Demon in the Wood makes it super clear that he’s not holding her wrist lol

And this seems to imply any touch is dangerous?

Which, I mean is also in keeping with the trilogy proper where any time the Darkling touches anyone at all it seems to have a noticeable effect. You could maybe argue that the trilogy cases are him using his power on purpose, because it seems to be something he can control at all. But also that still doesn’t jive with shdhff the main moment Demon in the Wood hinges on!

Honestly I’d respect it as a discrepancy more if it was lampshaded as Morozova’s amplifiers being special or it having to do anything with Ilya Morozova specifically trying to hide that quality in his daughter that he resurrected and Mal… inherited that? I also just think it would be funny if it was addressed and the Darkling was taxidermy fox.jpeg about it because it would probably piss him off soooo bad that Mal just never had to worry about any of the issues of being a living amplifier.

But afaik it’s just never discussed lol

[dylanobrienisbatman]

The main problem with the whole mal vs the darkling thing in regards to being possessive (or really when it comes to any of their traits) is the fact that throughout, the darkling is clearly framed as the villain and his actions reflect that, whereas Mal as supposed to be the good guy and best romantic partner for Alina, and yet he has all these awful character traits and tendencies. So its less about how awful the Bad Guy is (since he's supposed to be), and more about how awful the person that we're supposed to believe is the best option for Alina is. I don't ship either, just my two cents.

Okay well... two things. First, your comment about "its less about how awful the bad guy is, since he's supposed to be", takes every comment I've made about Darkles out of context, which seems fitting since everything Darklina's spout about Mal is out of context. Him being the Bad Guy is fine, and if you like him AS A VILLAIN, and acknowledge all the bad shit he does, then my posts aren't for you. I think he's a very interesting villain, and a lot of the terrible shit he does that I have to keep making posts about make him a good villain, the problem is when the terrible shit the "Bad Guy" does is romanticized and viewed as the reasons why Alina SHOULD have picked him. So, don't assume everyone gets that "hes supposed to be awful". The point my post was making is that Darklina's love to call Mal possessive, but then turn around and act like Darkles literally enslaving her in somehow sexy and romantic. It's fucking not, and it's transparent as hell that y'all romanticize and sexualize the actually possessive character, and then project false character traits onto Mal. It's so transparent, it's almost funny.

But, more importantly, to your second, very wrong point, I wonder how much of the narrative about Mal having "awful character traits and tendencies" is actually a commentary on Mal as a character, or is it just Darklina's lying about things Mal has done and everyone accepting that misinterpretation as canon. Because, if were making a list...

Fuck boy - False! Mal was not a fuck boy! He was an attractive teenager who hooked up with consenting girls his age when he could, and he was not in a relationship during that time. Alina had never told him how she felt, so he is not beholden to her. (Also, nobody seems to have an issue with the fact that Darkles hooked up with Zoya in the show, that doesn't make HIM a fuckboy... interesting) (also also, nobody seems to discuss Darkles literally sexually assaulting Alina, and lying and manipulating her to get her to be physically intimate with him so he can use her... double interesting).

Slut Shames Alina - FALSE! The ever favourite callout line from Darklina's "He's all over you" isn't him slut shaming her. First, he has no idea what their relationship is like at that point, but more importantly, he is making an observation of her status in the little palace and how she has become his tool. He has dressed her up in his colors, made her put on a show for his benefit, and has created a situation where Alina appears to be his. Mal is noting that after months of searching for her, believing she was being hurt, tortured, or worse, when he arrives to save her, she looks like the Darkling's pet. (and, even if he WAS angry because he perceived them to be romantically involved, boy just spent months fighting for his life, lost multiple friends, and almost died to find her, all while coming to the realisation that he was in love with her, and then he shows up, after not hearing from her for months... I'd be pissed as hell too.) Important Note: He even acknowledges that what he said was wrong and tries to apologise, before Alina tells him that he was right. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 286). He also then apologizes, completely unprompted, for what he said. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 297).

Fat Shames Alina - False! This one is particularly laughable to me, because its one of the Darklina arguments that falls apart the second you actually read the scene. They are running for their lives in the forest, and Mal has to hunt and gather to feed them. He is noting that Alina's appetite has increased since he last saw her, and he makes a joke (ya know, how you do with friends) about how it would be easier to keep her fed if she still had her more meager appetite from before. He makes no comment on her weight, or her size, and he is not actually commenting on her appetite in a negative way, he is just acknowledging that it's a lot more work for him now that she eats more. Right before he says the line, the quote even proves that he isn't shaming her or thinking badly of her: "With a bemused expression, he watched as I gobbled down my portion and then sighed, still hungry". He is noting a change in her, and complaining that its made more work for him. If you think thats the same as fat shaming, well... thats a you problem.

Hates Alina's Powers - FALSE!!!! How to begin... do we talk about it was Mal's idea to hunt the stag in S&B, because he knew she needed it to be more powerful so she could stop the darkling? Do we talk about how he vowed to find the firebird for her, even though he was terrified of what all that power would do to her? Do we talk about how he literally died so she could achieve the power she needed to save the world? Or maybe we could talk about how he believed in her power more than anyone else, like when everyone was making bets about her abilities with the Cut and he knew she'd go further and better than anyone else expected her too, or when he tells her that he was never afraid of her powers, only what seeking all that power would do to her (which is literally the theme of the books, that power corrupts and seeking unmatched power can destroy you)? Mal being afraid of what is going to happen to Alina, being protective of her and worrying over her, is not the same as him hating her powers. He exists to help remind Alina of the themes of the story, and to guide her into maintaining her humanity.

Abusive - ... Do I even need to explain this one? Must I deign an explanation as to why this favourite Darklina lie is so fucking stupid, and also totally hypocrisy? No? Because we all know Darkles is actually the abusive one and they're trying to project their own shit onto Mal to further their abuse apologist agenda? Cool. Moving on.

Possessive of Alina - False! Throughout the entire series, Mal is quite literally the opposite of possessive, but yall just cant read. Not only does he quite literally step out of the way and allow Nikolai to court Alina without argument, which is the most direct example of him not being possessive, he also spends two full books believing, and repeatedly saying over and over and over, that they can't be together because he is not good enough for her. Mal believes, fully, that Alina deserves more than him, better than him, because he's just a tracker and a soldier, just a regular man with nothing to offer her but his love and his protection, and she is a Saint and should be a Queen. Possessiveness is the wish to own and control someone, it is literally the opposite of Mal believing that he's not good enough and doing everything he can to ensure that Alina achieves everything and gets everything he believes she is owed. A possessive character would not tell her to tell him to leave because he has nothing he can offer her, no title or land or country or crown. A possessive character would not promise to be the blade in her hand, because he believed he had nothing but the blood he could spill to offer her.

Angry - True! Yeah, omg, you caught us, Mal is ANGRY! Heaven forbid a teenager who is traumatized beyond belief and has to give up everything in his life, his position in the military (he deserted for her), his friends and the job he loved (Mikhail and Dubrov died for him, and he can't be a tracker in the army... because he deserted... for Alina), and, most importantly, he has to give up Alina (she should be Queen, he believes, and he has to give up the future he imagined with the girl he loves, who he was pretty sure loved him back, because she's a saint and queen and he's just a man), and more, is ANGRY. He has to be the one to find the amplifiers that he knows will end up hurting her, because thats what she needs to save the world. He has to sit by while Nikolai treats him like the dirt on his shoe and tries to woo Alina for his own personal gain (because Nikoalai did not love Alina. Maybe he came to care for her, but he proposed and spent all of S&S trying to get her to marry him when it was obvious they were not in love. He straight up says its so that the next King of Ravka can be married to the Sun Summoner. It's a power grab.) and he can't do anything about it. So yeah, Mal is angry. And yeah, sometimes he's even angry at Alina, just like sometimes she's angry at him. But they always find their way back, always apologize and try to be better for each other, and if you think anger is a toxic trait, and not simply a natural human emotion, might I suggest touching some fucking grass?

Idk why you thought I'd stand for Mal slander on my blog, cuz I will not. So, I'm gonna stop there, because I have shit to do today, but I really do wonder how much of Mal's 'toxic' or 'terrible' traits, that make him such a 'bad' love interest for Alina, really comes from Darklina's who refuse to actually read the text critically at all, and instead take everything he does and says out of context to further their agenda that Alina should have ended up as the Darkling's fucking slave forever, because thats the "girl power feminist" ending somehow. Mal supports her, loves her, sacrifices for her at every turn, and does everything he can do, to the point of literally dying for her, to ensure that she can defeat Darkles and save the world. He protects her, and when they end up happy and safe together on the orphange that they've rebuilt to help the children that were victims of Darkles war and genocide, he spends his days bringing her tea and cakes and flowers, kissing her silly under the stairs in the view of all the teachers, and calling her names like beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart for the rest of their ordinary life together, if love can ever be called that.

[unrequitedloveletter]

Certainly- Kaz Brekker

The reader is a bit of an astrology and astronomy alike geek for this, which I hope y’all don’t mind! Also, in this case, phones exist so lets pretend that phones exist in Ketterdam, making it a bit of a modern au, I guess!

Also, this’ll probably be a bit ooc for Kaz

Fic type- angsty fluff

Warnings- blood, mentions of death, and the reader is sick (nothing specific, I just kind of took random symptoms and made up a word for the sickness)

You were determined to see the stars before you went, and as you grew sicker, none of the crows knew when that would be, so, after a little convincing, the crows had gotten Colm to let you spend a couple of months at his farm in Novyi Zem, where the stars were the clearest at night, not burdened by light pollution or the screams of lively cities. 

It was the seven of you crammed into a basement, sharing beds, but none of them cared, and you were just glad to be with the people you called family. You were happy that they were with you, that Kaz was willing to wheel you everywhere when you got too weak to stand, that Jesper still made jokes, even despite watching you deteriorate. You were grateful for Inejs smile, Wylans music, Ninas impeccable tastes and Matthias and his big arms that could lift you and put you down without issue. 

The six of them had started taking shifts taking you outside. Nina took you outside Sunday nights, Matthias Mondays, Wylan Tuesdays, Jesper Thursdays, Inej Fridays and Kaz Saturdays. Wednesdays you rested up; ate when it was time to eat, used the bathroom when you needed, took a shower if it were the appropriate time, but other than that, you slept.

It was Kaz’s day to wheel you out, and you’d had a particularly rough day that day. Inej went with him, promising not to intrude on the time that you would spend together. She’d do backflips and run across the roof of the farm if you asked her to, but she’d not interrupt otherwise. 

“I love the stars,” you whispered, leaning back in your wheelchair and tightening the hold of the blanket over your lap. “Thank you both. For doing this.” 

“Don’t you worry, love,” Kaz murmured. “Just keep your eyes on the stars, okay?”

“We’re happy to do this,” Inej added. “All of us are. Really.” It was like both of them could sense it as well as you could. You had a feeling that the night would end terribly, just like the morning had begun.

You’d woken up only to need to rush to the toilet immediately, blood coming up your throat like bile, staining your skin and leaving your bottom lip red as a cherry. 

Kaz had been at your side in a minute, Nina and Wylan right behind him. Wylan kept your hair away from the sides of your face, Nina slowed your heartrate and Kaz wet a cloth with cold water to get your body temp down. 

Kaz had forced himself to stay in the moment, to not let his thoughts stray to the urge to sleep in the same bed as you to make sure that nothing happened while you slept--to be there in case something did--but to stay on the sun as it set and the faraway sound of Wylan playing his flute with the window open so that you’d be able to hear it. 

Once you’d gotten settled under a tree, Inej ran off, making her way inside and up to the barns roof, where she sat, keeping a watch from a distance as Kaz let you rest your head against his shoulder, gloved hand interlaced with yours. 

“I love you, Brekker,” you murmured. “Please don’t forget that. Ever.” 

“I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re gonna stay around and get better until we can spar again, and you can beat my ass even though I’ve my cane as a weapon.” 

“You know full well I can’t promise that,” you wished that you could. You desperately wished. “I’m going to die young, Kaz. I’m not gonna get to eighteen, much less eighty.” Kaz hated you for that.

He hated you because everything that you said somehow managed to be right. It was like you had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and while, on missions, it proved useful, in that scenario, it just proved annoying. 

“You’re gonna make it to eighteen if it kills me,” he informed you. “I’ll take you around the globe if I need to, just to make sure you end up okay. I will not live a life without you in it, Y/N.” 

“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “Incredibly sweet.”

“Only to you, L/N.” That was the last bit of conversation for a long while as the sun set and the stars came out.

“Did you know that the moon isn’t circular?” You pointed lazily to it, bright and beautiful amongst the even brighter stars. “According to scientests, it’s actually shaped like a lemon!” Kaz didn’t fight his smile.

Of course you’d be spouting off the little factoids you knew about space. You loved it, how vast and crazy it all seemed. 

“And that the clouds at the center of the Milky Way smell like raspberries and rum?” Kaz snorted.

“Okay, now, theres no way that ones true!” 

“Oh,” you leaned up, booping his nose without a care in the world. “But it is! It’s in a study somewhere, I think! Look it up!” He laughed, pulling you closer to him as you rambled.

Inej had started doing running flips across the roof, spinning and dancing and no doubt laughing as she did. Kaz knew it was an elaborate effort to get you to smile, and it seemed to work as she moved; a delightful silhouette amongst a star filled sky. 

“I love you, Kaz Brekker,” you whispered. “You don’t need to say it back, but I really, truly do love you with every bone that exists in my body.”

“I love you too,” he said it without hesitation. “And I’ll love you until we’re old and grey, I swear it.”

“Don’t hold me to that promise,” you murmured. “You know how bad this is. Stop thinking that I’ll make it into the new year. I probably wont.”

“You will if it kills me, Y/N,” he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll drain the bank dry if I have to, I swear to Ghezen.”

You didn’t say anything after, too exhausted to even think about starting an argument with him, simply not wanting to. 

But then, an hour later, Kaz felt fear trickle into his stomach like it hadn’t ever in his life.

“And then theres Supernova. It’s like a star that’s dying having it’s last celebration. Like when we get a really big win, or when we get away with what we intended to get away with, and we all get shitfaced before we collapse onto our beds and sleep for the night? A supernova is a dying stars explosion. It’s the last celebration that the star has before it dies out.” you’d been rambling.

“Tonight is my... tonight is my...” Kaz had called for Nina right then and there, screaming her name while he felt you go slack against him.

“Zenik!” He screamed, not caring at all if he were to wake up Jespers father. “Zenik, call in that fucking favor with the bloody Ravkan prince!” Matthias came barreling out after her, phone in hand, already speaking to someone as Nina began working, steadying your heart and trying her hardest to keep you alive. 

Kaz had to force himself to walk away from it all, pushing his feet away after giving your shoulders one last squeeze and walking far out into the field. 

Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he found himself glaring at the sky, wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wishing that there was someone around that he could gut like a fish. 

“Saints,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Sankt Ilya, Sankt Adrik, Sankta Alina of The Fold, I know I am a terrible person, but Y/N is not. They’re good, they smile, they laugh, they’re kind to others when those people probably don’t deserve their kindness. I know I’m damned, I know that you probably strongly dislike me, but they’re different.” He’d never asked the Saints for anything before, and he never would again.

“Please, just, let them live. Let them get the life that they deserve. I’ll do my best to make them happy, but you have to let me,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as they came. “They deserve the life that you’re so willing to take away, and all I ask is that you don’t take it.” He heard the sounds of the ambulance car and raced back to you, gripping your hand as they helped you onto a stretcher and out of the field, through the house and out the entrance. 

I won’t lose them, he told himself. A world without them is one that’s unbearable. 

O N E Y E A R L A T E R 

You laughed as Nina chased you through the halls of the Little Palace, running quickly through the endless corridors, your laughter carrying through them as you kept yourself in front of Nina.

Nikolai had kept you in the Os Altan palace since that night, where Inej laughed and danced and did her flips, whilst Wylan played the piano and Kaz sat beside you, listening to your ramblings without a care in the world. 

“You seem delighted,” Nikolai noticed as you stopped in front of his office. “I’ve never seen you walk without that Brekker boy at your side, much less run while Zenik is on your tail!” You shrugged, laughing as Ninas front crashed into your back.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a year,” you murmured. “I figured I’d see if Nina was up to chase me around this morning, and I haven’t stopped running since!” You peered in through the open office door, looking for that familliar mop of dark brown hair.

Nina wrapped her arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be here any minute,” she murmured. “He and the boys are just finishing up a job for Nik in East Ravka, but Matthias told me the second that they’d left!”

“Trust me. Y/N,” Nikolais smooth voice murmured. “I put them on one of my fastest boats. I knew how long it’d take them to get from here to east Ravka and back, and I promised him he’d be here when you finally awoke.” 

“Hows it feel, anyway?” Zoya appeared at his side. “Eighteen, I mean.” You shrugged.

“I miss Kaz,” you murmured bluntly. “I hate that I have to tell him that he was right, but I still miss him.” 

Nikolai took Zoyas hand, pulling her close as you and Nina watched, smiles on your faces. 

“Young love,” Zoya teased. “Zenik, let go of them so that they can turn around.” Nina obeyed, letting you go and moving to lean against the doorway with Nikolai and Zoya. 

You turned, and smiled when your gazes met. “You were right, Brekker,” you murmured, walking toward him as he held out your gift to you. “I’m better now, and the second that you’re ready to spar, I’m gonna beat your ass, even though you’ve your cane as a weapon.” He grabbed your pinky with his the moment you were within distance.

“How’d the heist go?” You murmured once the two of you had walked out of earshot. 

“Good,” Kaz let himself be close to you as you two moved, squeezing your pinky as you slowed your steps. “Plan went off without a hitch, for three idiots and a mastermind with a limp. I brought you this from it,” he held the gift out to you again, and you took it in your free hand, examining it.

“I had to ask permission for that,” he murmured. “I had to get the Ravkan kings seal of approval to steal that for you.” You laughed, looking it over.

It was a journal. Black and leather bound, pages crisp and untouched. A pen was tucked into the cover. 

“I promise, we’ll go home soon,” you responded. “I miss Ketterdam. I could go for some waffles.” 

“Don’t they have waffles here?” Kaz questioned.

“Not Ketterdam waffles, love. Ketterdam waffles are unlike any pathetic waffle from here! Doused in syrup and whip cream--” You let out a satisfied sigh. “So good it’s almost surreal!” Kaz smirked.

“Waffle date when you’re well enough to return home then?” 

“Certainly.”

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch- Part 11

The Darkling x Reader

I’m backkkkkkkkk besties 🥰🥰

The rest of the day was spent doused in the work the Darkling had given you earlier, so the time you would have spent otherwise mulling over his plans for the stag had to be pushed out of the way.

You had plenty of time left until the evening's dinner, where you would be formally announced as Deputy General to the Grisha of the Little Palace. You had already signed off on official letters to the camp commanders and First-Army leaders stating your position, but you doubted there would be any fuss from them.

Your own Grisha is who you had to be worried about. They didn't do well with change. Especially not when it came to a mysterious all-powerful Grisha coming and taking control of an army they'd never seen them be a part of before.

Nonetheless, this was happening whether they wanted it or not. Ravka needed to present a united front and adding another person to strengthen said front was essential. All you hoped for was a peaceful transition, no blood-baths. To hell if they whispered or rumored, you could handle that, you've been handling it.

You had a list of ever-changing priorities in your head, and on top of it was always Alina. You cared for your Grisha, no matter how much they hated you or how much you disliked them, and Alina wasn't any exception. You felt a pang of guilt flow through you at the thought of Aleksander using her against her better conscience but you shoved it away quickly. There was nothing you could do but talk to him and question him about the plan.

The plan. The stupid plan. You called it stupid because you didn't know anything about it and against your better judgment, it made you doubt his trust. Was it so bad, so cruel, that he couldn't tell me? Before you came to the Little Palace, you told yourself you wouldn't blindly trust anybody anymore. Aleksander had to be held to that standard too.

Your door was left slightly ajar, you were sick of the knocking at this point so when you heard a feminine voice call out your name you looked up instantly, ready to be hit with more reports.

'Ms.Y/L/N? I have been sent by the General to see if you wish to use any of my help' The red-haired Grisha looked at you with her bright blue eyes. Her white kefta pressed to perfection.

'You must be Genya' You stood up and welcomed her in.

'Sorry about the room, as you can see I don't have a proper desk yet' you laughed and watched her closely as she studied you. 'What do you do exactly? It's been years since I heard of a tailor and I've never had the pleasure to meet one.'

You noticed a look of surprise at your black kefta. If she had any questions, she most certainly didn't feel comfortable asking, he probably told her not to ask.

'I do all sorts of things, change the color of your hair, get rid of pesky scars, anything you don't like about yourself really..... well except your character, there's nothing anyone can do about that' She waved off and sat you down at your vanity, carefully pushing papers to one side.

'So? How about it?' She looked at you through the mirror and you pondered.

'Maybe the eye bags need to go?'

She nodded deeply, 'Definitely' you couldn't help but feel a little offended, but mostly amused.

'What do you propose then, Genya?'

'Hmmm, the eyebags for sure, put some color on your cheeks,-' She combed her hands through your hair and bit the inside of her cheek '-the hair needs something too, perhaps some shine?'

'Perhaps' You mused.

'I shall get to work then' she smiled.

****

After your pampering session with Genya and prying her open (more like soothing her) to talking about life at the Palaces and her life, you came to the conclusion that you would die for her. She was so kind and strong, no wonder she and Alina were always seen together, they were two peas in a pod. Her humor and wittiness, like yours, was refreshing, a breath of fresh air in the stiff and formal palace.

You didn't bother changing. The truth was you were tired already and a full day hadn't even passed of your new job. How did I do this for so many years? But still, you managed to put on your bravest smile and walk in the domed hall with your head held high and your black kefta on a show like a trophy.

Unlike the other time you and Aleksander dined together here, he was already sitting in his chair. Ivan was standing, ready to announce any war news and casualties. You could see Alina looking at you with a confused look on her face, but she still gave you a welcoming smile.

You sat down and cleared your throat in the deafening silence. Ivan began to speak but you heard none of it. Your head too full with thoughts on how this situation could go. You felt Aleksander move his hand to your thigh in a calming manner. You looked over to him and shot him a tight smile, before looking back to Ivan who was sitting down. Here goes nothing.

You stood up with Aleksander. The Grisha in the room couldn't understand what was going on, who was that person, wearing black nonetheless, sitting at the right side of the Darkling, on her own custom chair. The list of anomalies was never-ending.

He spoke first 'Today is a monumental day for the Second-Army, for all Grisha, for Ravka. Y/N Y/L/N has returned to the Little Palace and will be reprising her role of Deputy General, Second in Command of the Second Army.'

Nobody spoke but if looks could kill, I would be halfway into my grave by now.

'Ms. Y/L/N will play an essential part in our fight for freedom and justice. She is an outstanding leader, sometimes even better than I am, for she leads with compassion and understanding for all. She deserves nothing but the utmost respect and loyalty. If you for one second doubt her abilities, you might as well put cuffs around your own wrists, for disrespecting her is disrespect for me. I put my full faith in her.'

He turns to you and sits down, giving you all the attention.

'None of you will remember my reign as Deputy General, but I assure you I know what I am doing. The Little Palace and your lives are of most importance to me. I am here to protect and care for you, yes I will be giving commands, but rest be assured they are in your best interest.'

'I don't represent one order of Grisha, I represent and unite all of you-' You look towards the Etherialki '-I can summon the strongest of gales and light the Palace's fires-'

You turn your head toward the Materialki '-I can bend any metal, bleed fabric of its color-'

Your eyes meet Fedyor's '-I can soothe a heart and crush every bone in a body-'

You stand straighter '- and I can summon the shadows, call the darkness. With me at your side, I will make the Grisha kind loved once again, we will not be hunted or enslaved. Ravka's borders will be peaceful. I am putting my trust into each and every single one of you to help me achieve our utopia'

You sit back down and only then do you notice your shaking hands. You don't dare look up out of fear but a calming hand on your back almost forces you to. And you're glad because almost every Grisha in the room is looking, no, worshipping you. Their eyes glazed over and their mouths open in shock. Even Zoya looked astounded.

He leans in to whisper in your ear 'I'm so proud of you'

*****

You ate amongst the other Grisha that night, feeling a sense of belonging and confidence pulsing through you. It went down way better than you'd expected. Nobody threw a fit or tried your life. And you were happy. The sleep you had that night was the best you'd had in years.

The next morning, and the morning after that, was taken up entirely by work. Aleksander went away and so you were left with the runt of the jobs. But you had made yourself extremely comfortable in his quarters. At first, you only came to make use of the war room, then you sat at his desk to drink your tea and concentrate on work, and ultimately fell asleep in his bed, enclosed by his scent and those forgiving black sheets.

There was so much work to do and only so many hours in the day, and Aleksander decided to make life that much harder by renewing the search for Morozova's stag. You couldn't keep up.

You were waiting on a certain somebody. You had instructed the oprichniki to bring her here right after she was done with Baghra, no later. And so you stood there, inspecting the war table when a gentle knock echoed throughout the room.

'Come in'

'Deputy General' She addressed you with a curt nod.

'Please Alina, call me Y/N' you looked at her from your place at the table, hands resting on the map. She looked slightly uncomfortable but way less scrawny than when you'd first seen her. Her hair was filler and her skin glowed. She looked healthy now. Aleksander must see this too.

'I can see using your powers has affected you in more ways than one.'

'Oh-yes umm.. my appetite's grown so much since I got here it's rather funny' She was growing more comfortable.

'That's completely normal if you're using your powers more often' You smiled and walked around to her. 'I thought we could have a cup of tea or two, and you could tell me all about yourself Alina, and the things that are troubling you. I don't want you to feel like you're all alone in this place.'

'Dep- Y/N I assure you I am most certainly fine. There’s no need t-’

'I was once like you… and I can sense a troubled soul with my eyes closed.'

She stared at you with her defensive walls up, not letting any emotion slip though the cracks behind her eyes.

‘Alina… I mean you no harm. I’m just worried. Isn’t it nice to have someone worry for Alina and not the sun-summoner for a change?’ You cracked a sad smile and walked over to the tea the servants had brought.

‘Sugar?’

Part 12

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

[laurore-stormwitch]

So this was supposed to be a birthday gift for my friend @not-just-human, but of course I am a day late (ily). This is to remember the major week-long breakdown we had when we first read about this. I am so so happy that I met you. Enjoy this endless yearning and pining about Nikolai giving Zoya the dragon timepiece

I’d give us time if I could - ao3

word count: 2282

“Do you intend to keep prying into my work from the corner or are you planning to make yourself useful at some point?”

Zoya kept her eyes trained on the document she was scanning as she talked, having finally had enough of the intent gaze that had been studying her. Behind her back, she heard Nikolai chuckle lightly, the sound echoing in her veins.

“I’ve been here a while. I am surprised you haven’t heard me.” Of course he had, and she had let him. His silent presence was far from unpleasant, though; it brought a sense of security to the room that she had wanted to enjoy for a while. Maybe it was the silent part that was shocking enough to not startle him from his rare lack of talking. “Are you perhaps losing the usual sharpness of your senses, General?”

It was not a matter of hearing; Zoya felt him, always, everywhere. She just knew, in some deep buried part of her, when he was there; he awoke something in her, quickened her pulse, muffled her thoughts. It could have been a consequence of her newly acquired powers, or that unbreakable connection that had seemed to have been forged between them. Either way, she had deliberately chosen not to dwell on the answer. Zoya discarded her pen and shuffled the papers away, turning on her seat to face him.

“What do you need?”

Nikolai was leaning on the doorframe of her bedchamber, his figure stark against the flickering of the fire. He folded his arms, cocking his head and producing his signature mischievous grin in her direction. She really wished he would lose the habit of appearing in her room late at night; even more, she wished he could avoid doing so with his hair ruffled and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

Or maybe you just wish he would stay and let you fix those buttons, her traitorous brain provided. If only to oppose those thoughts, she scowled at him, shooting an annoyed glare at his lack of response that only made him grin wider. He pushed back from the frame, walking towards her and coming to lean on her desk beside her instead, peering at her from the upside down. Zoya tensed up, unnerved by his excessive proximity and the salty scent of his skin invading her nose. His gaze wandered around the room, lingering on the two-stars flagged ship on the wall before coming to lock with her eyes.

“I’ve come to check on my General”, he mused. “Can a king not oversee his most trusted ally’s work?”

His voice had a strained edge and he kept fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. He looked almost nervous. Which was not preamble to anything positive. Zoya suppressed a groan, going for another baleful glare. “Cut to the chase, Nikolai”, she clipped out.

He just looked at her, seemingly at a loss for words, which was even more worrying. His eyes darkened, the shadow of something passing over them, something treacherous, the promise of an undoing. It had peered in vulnerable flutters in these weeks, carrying sparkles of electricity between them.

They had not talked much about what had happened in the Fold, aside from the detail of their worst enemy coming back to life; Zoya carefully avoided the subject of whatever it was that they had shared, whatever it was that made her heart ache whenever he entered a room. It drove him to search for her, to ask for her company, for her presence. It lingered in the swift gazes they exchanged or the casual brush of his hands on her. Either way, it had to remain shrouded in darkness; these moments he seemed to look for made the task to toss the desire away tiresome, if not at peril to be forsaken. She heard him discreetly take in a long breath before talking, the forced cheerful tone masking a tension she could sense enveloping the room.

“I have something for you”, he finally said. “Then I’ll leave you be.”

The force of his feelings was a tidal wave of confusion that threatened to drown her; Zoya used all of her might when he was near to put a blockade against them. It was one thing to be forced to experience other people's troubled sentiments, but with Nikolai, she did not want to know. She did not want to bask in whatever inner battle was waging inside him; it would not help either of them to hold the knowledge that their hearts were being tortured by the same hopeless war.

Zoya struggled to keep her focus and control over her power; her perfectly still posture unveiled nothing of the turmoil in her chest. She arched a brow at him; losing no more time in chatters - another clear enough indicator of his nervousness - Nikolai reached inside his jacket and delicately handed her a fine case with his royal seal branded on top. Zoya turned it over, resting her folded hands with it on her lap and coming back to fix her eyes on Nikolai’s ones with a silent question.

“It’s a - “, he started, straightening himself and wrapping his hands on the edge of the desk. He cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet, his restlessness betraying more than he let on. “It’s a gift, sort of. I thought you deserved a reward. A token of appreciation.”

“For what?”, Zoya inquired, half suspicious and half startled by his gesture. Again, those shadows swept through his features and his fingers twitched.

“For fighting beside me, I guess”, he said easily, shrugging his shoulders. “And saving our pitiful lives.”

“I do it on a daily basis”, Zoya diminished, tossing her hair. “You constantly put yourself in life-threatening situations. It hardly shocks me anymore, and I certainly don’t consider it a cause for celebration.”

Nikolai smiled at that, his genuine smirk recalling the familiar ease between them and clearing the strain from the air. Of course I saved you, you idiot , Zoya thought, and she knew her blue eyes had softened at the sight of him. I could not bear to lose you. “Undoubtedly”, he conceded, humming in agreement. “Think of it as a reminder of our heroic gestures and epic adventures. I spared you the torture of hearing me proclaim a poem to our valor and chose a symbolic practical gift instead.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, blowing a disgruntled scoff. “I would have not let you come as far as a sentence. Do not ever try to pull that poetry nonsense on me.”

A laugh burst from him, and the sound made her feel so light she thought she could float.  “Just - “, he paused again, the words faltering on his tongue. Saints, what had gotten into him? He looked more like an excited schoolboy than a king. “Open it later. If it’s awful, at least I can be spared your disgusted face at my ghastly taste.”

“Your taste does lack finesse.”

“I like to pride myself with having gotten to know a fraction of your likings in these years. So perhaps I did not go completely off track with that”, he said, gesturing to the case still resting in her hands. He pushed himself up, running a hand through his hair. The king looked at her again, and she could see the words forming in his throat and dying on his lips, all the things he wished he could tell her. But that was not their truth to live. That was not their chance to gain. And whatever he would say, it had to not be what he desired. “Besides, it’s a useful gift. You always grumble about how late I am, now you could actually prove it.”

Zoya pursed her lips at the wink he gave her. “I do not grumble.”

"Occasionally. You’re extremely graceful in that too, don’t worry.”

With that, he turned to leave, as nonsensical and abrupt as he always needed to be. And Saints, she wanted to grab his arm and tell him to stay. She wanted so many futures she could not have, so many endings to this night that were forbidden.

“Nikolai”, she heard herself call to him, not sure where her own voice was coming from. Nikolai stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze darting back to Zoya still seated unmoving on her desk. His fingers were already curled around the handle; there they stood, facing each other at the brink of a duel or a surrender, at the crossroad where they kept finding and losing themselves. It would take a step, a touch, a slide of a tongue on lips. A syllable, a breath. Instead, there was silence, one that asked to be filled with mendacity, for it would be softer to tolerate than the blazing truth of an ember of hope that had already gotten extinguished. Zoya swallowed the bitter taste of pretense; she wondered how long it would keep scraping, if older pain got sweeter like a priced bourbon or turned rancid if left there to rot.

Thank you , she wished to tell him at least. A small thing it would be, yet one that would risk freeing a flood. “Close the door on your way out”, she said instead, her voice cold but lacking spite. “It’s late.”

Nikolai stood; she had chosen the path, and he knew he had to give in. It was not like they had another choice. And so he just nodded, the ghost of a smile grazing his lips because whether she spoke it aloud or not, he would always know. “Goodnight, General”, he murmured, taking his leave.

It would take her some time to get up from her seat and will herself to rest. Zoya remembered when they had found themselves in a similar position; it was three years ago, and in the box he had given her had rested the medal that had made her his General. He had been as jittery as tonight, with that grin that had never changed. Back then, the dance between them had been different, though the exchange of playful banters and silent truths had been the same.

It would then take her some other time to bring herself to open the case, and when she did, a part of her died while another came roaring to life. She could have wondered and wondered forever what it meant; if it was a promise, a farewell or a desperate plead to wait, to cling to his endless bright capability of finding a way when a way was not possible. Zoya would not try to sort out its meaning. She laid on her covers with the watch beside her, turning it in her hands as it caught the moonlight shining through the windows. When sleep came to claim her, she left it on her nightstand, focusing on its mellow ticking, a sliver of order to the chaos.

Coward , growled the beast inside her, trashing to be set free. Would you let him leave every time, until he comes back no more?

She thought back on the way she almost pleaded his name, on those seconds that stood suspended in time, when none of them had moved. She could have let go of her defenses; but then what? Why had she not said whatever was pressing in her lungs? Zoya had almost grown accustomed to those troubling doubts; she had every answer to them.

Why? Because they could not afford the tears that burned like daggers in her throat. Because they could not afford the longing that flared up the golden freckles of his irises. What would have happened if she had asked? She would have shut her lashes, and he would have reached for her, and the things that could not be would have weighed impossibly on them. The things that could not happen, in any of the lives they might be free to live.

The watch kept ticking. The dragon kept roaring, and the thorn wood kept strangling her heart, puncturing her skin.

They would keep marching. And the things that could not be would stay hidden in the silence and the rhythmic beat of a pointer slashing whatever time they had left. If she was someone else, Zoya might have hoped they could have it, not just symbolically, the gift of time. That those seconds that dripped away were not passing, that it was time they were earning. Wishful thinking and broken ideals lead nowhere, as a general knew. And she was not someone else, if not a soldier.

Nevertheless, when morning came, the timepiece rested on her nightstand, still ticking away. Zoya glanced at it as she got dressed; she brushed her hair, buttoned her kefta and put her boots on. And it kept ticking away, mercilessly calling to her.

And so she huffed in irritated surrender, and snatched it up and clasped it on the insides of her uniform. An instant relief flooded her; it matched her pulse, soothing her thoughts. She gave a tug to the kefta , smoothing its ruffled folds. She knew Nikolai would notice she was wearing it, at some point; for once, she could not bring herself to care that he was going to have this victory. Let him have it; and let her have something of him to hold.

That boy is going to be the death of me , she thought sourly, peering at herself in the mirror. A whisper arose from within, the careening thrum of her heart suggesting a different story, flashing the blank page of another chapter she could start writing, if she would only be brave enough.

What if he will be life?

[jomiddlemarch]

what it is to be a thin crescent moon

Chapter 21

“…no matter what you say, Alina, I’m worried about you, but I guess I’ll just say what old Ana Kuya always did and hope her advice was better than her borscht ever was—remember where you’re from and you’ll never go too far astray. Never thought I’d need to put that in a letter to you, but then I never thought a lot of things…”

“Who do you think you are?” the beautiful dark-haired Squaller called Zoya said, her tone making it unclear whether she meant the question rhetorically. She made a slight gesture with her hand and there was a gust of air, sharp and cold and bitter, at Alina’s throat. “Who does she think she is?” Zoya asked, repeating herself for the small group that was listening, most avidly, in the sunny courtyard Alina had just a moment ago found pleasant and relaxing, letting her guard down as the conversation turned to discussion of all the quirks of the Little Palace, well beyond General Kirigan’s insistence on pickled herring or the mysteries of what Baghra brewed in her oppressively stuffy hovel.

“I’m a Grisha, just like you,” Alina said. She’d come early to the sparring rooms, full of a nervous energy that even casting sfera hadn’t helped and Togtuun had very politely and with an amused expressed kicked her out of the Library, suggesting other avenues of education be pursued. She’d trained alone for an hour and then Master Botkin had worked with her, laconic but surprisingly helpful for all that his remarks were few; he had a sense of the body’s urge to strike that she recognized without possessing more than a thimble-full.

“You’re nothing like me,” Zoya replied, looking at her much as Alina would have regarded a wriggling weevil in a wholemeal loaf. “And you’re nothing like the rest of the Grisha.”

“To be Grisha is to be exceptional,” Alina said.

“You can tell yourself that all you want,” Zoya said.

“I didn’t say that. I’m quoting Morta Mindaugus. Perhaps you haven’t read her work in the Library. It is taxing but there’s a lot to mull over, it’s an especially rich text if you really devote yourself to it,” Alina replied.

“You can hide in the Library all you like and quote whoever the kurva you think will impress everyone, but you’ll never really be one of us,” Zoya said.

“What’s this truly about, Zoya? Because if I’m real enough for General Kirigan to accept, then what else do you want?” Alina asked, seeing the very slight alteration in Zoya’s expression when she mentioned Aleksander. What happened to the women who shared his bed, Baghra’s words echoed in Alina’s mind and she remembered how Zoya had identified her on the skiff, how closely she had stood to Aleksander when he was only the Darkling and Alina was a fearful otkazat’sya, dirty and small and drab until Aleksander cut her open and her light filled his tent.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Zoya said. “I already took what I wanted, that First Army solider you were following around—I had him on his knees within five minutes—”

“You attacked Mal?”

“Oh no, what an innocent you are! He went down very willingly,” Zoya said, laughing, reveling in her conquest as if Alina were still breaking her heart over Mal. Alina before the Fold would have been hurt, more by Mal’s constant appetite for women than this particular assignation, but so much had happened since then, the only person she felt sorry for was her earlier self, her light all locked up, weak and scrawny and desperate. Zoya was intent on riling her up or humiliating her or both and Alina couldn’t see to what end; she turned, began to walk away and felt a gust of air knock into her back like a great, brutal fist.

“You weren’t dismissed,” Zoya said, which drew a shocked sound from the few people watching the exchange. The air pummeled Alina again and the breath within her lungs trembled. She forced herself to approach Zoya, raised her hand to strike as Master Botkin trained her but Zoya moved again, using her own hands instead of altering the air into weapons, hitting Alina in the ribs, the jaw, and then sending the wind to cudgel her until someone else cried out,

“Stop! She’s down, she’s hurt! Someone call a Healer—now!”

“No,” she said, working to say the word, the way she’d first worked to cast sfera when Aleksander instructed her. She didn’t want him to learn about this from anyone but her, or maybe Ivan, didn’t want him to hear how she’d collapsed, how Zoya had attacked her, how the other Grisha, Marie and Nadia, Misha and Vladimir, had all watched it happen, stepping in only when it wasn’t clear how badly Zoya had injured her. For all Baghra’s ominous warnings, Alina was sure the old woman hadn’t meant something this simple, Zoya’s utter inability to accept she’d been rendered irrelevant to Aleksander, when she had thought she would always be special to him; Alina wouldn’t make Zoya be her enemy, because it was all the other woman hoped for now and it was a burden she could keep from Aleksander. “No, I’m all right, I’ll be all right—”

“Starkov, I will take you back to your rooms,” Master Botkin said, appearing as if from the aether, that substance Ilya Morozova always ignored in his disquisitions on merzost. Alina managed to scrabble into a sitting position and was halfway to her knees when she felt Master Botkin’s hand at her elbow, raising her up and then bearing nearly all her weight in a way none would appreciate. “Nazyalensky, go to the training rooms and wait for my return.”

“Yes, Master Botkin,” Zoya said smartly, unchastened.

“And think of what you will say,” he said. He had a way of being so very still, his choice to speak was like a visitation from another world.

“What I’ll say?”

“To General Kirigan,” Master Botkin said. “You will want to choose your words with great care, I think. Very great care. He does not believe in exile.”

They walked together back to her suite in near-silence, Master Botkin continuing to support her without commenting on how little improvement there was in her strength. It occurred to her that she had no idea how old he was and how he’d come to the Little Palace, not because she hadn’t asked, but because no one seemed to know. When she sat down in the chair closest to the door of her room, an elegant little caned chair that seemed chiefly to be for the decorative receipt of shawls, pelisses, and various and sundry accessories, she thought to thank him but he spoke before she did.

“I will not talk to the General of what happened without your permission, Sun Summoner. But if you grant that, I will not evade his questions, nor will I…downplay the events as they occurred, not saving my own failure of oversight,” he said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Alina replied. It still hurt to breathe and her light felt distant, as if it had gone to a place it was too great a strain to reach.

“But you are injured and I did not prevent it,” he said. “Whatever the General’s assessment, I have failed you on my own terms.”

“People get injured in the training sessions all the time,” she said. “Not even the Healers mind very much. It’s how we learn, at least partly—”

“This was not training. Miss Nazyalensky was not engaged in formal combat, she did not observe the rules of engagement, and her attacks on you were most personal in nature,” he said.

“Oh, that,” Alina said, waving her hand about. It felt like it was made of lead, some contraption of David’s that wasn’t working properly.

“I know what is it to be told you are not Grisha when you are,” he said. “To be cast out, cast aside from those already living in the shadows, simply because of my heritage. The General is a wise man, learned, with wide experience, but his own life has not taught him this lesson. Miss Nazyalensky is half-Suli, that makes her words, her actions, even less defensible.”

“Then she has her work cut out for her, doesn’t she? If she has to explain herself to General Kirigan,” Alina said. She was taken aback by Master Botkin’s directness, but it was a relief to hear him talk, to see eyes like her own reflect her face.

“She does,” he said. “I suspect she’ll manage it, but not without a cost to herself. A cost dearer than she would have anticipated.”

“The General won’t forgive her easily, you mean,” Alina said.

“He won’t be the only one. He wasn’t the only one who hoped to find a Sun Summoner,” Master Botkin said. “And the Grisha who are not Ravkan-born, the Fjerdans and the Zemeni and Kerch, the few Kaelish and the fewer Shu who find their way to the Little Palace, they also wanted you to come.”

“It wasn’t me they wanted, it was maybe the idea of me,” she said.

“You are better than the idea they had. You are real, with your temper and your laughter and your much-lauded loathing for herring,” he said. “Nazyalensky made a poor choice. She could have made you an ally, even a friend, and now—”

“And now, she’s worse than an enemy. She’s a supplicant and she’ll cause me no end of trouble, but I can’t give up on her,” Alina said. Master Botkin did something then that was even more unusual than all the other unusual things he’d already done—he smiled.

“No, you can’t. You won’t,” he said. “I’ll leave you now. Make them give you the pepper soup with their tonics.”

“Because it has healing properties for Squaller-inflict injuries?”

“No, because it’s the Head Cook’s specialty. And the General doesn’t like it,” Botkin said.

The pepper soup was delicious. Aleksander’s expression upon finding her ordered to her bed when it was time for their shatranj game and then hearing an expurgated explanation from Healer Balakina who had agreed to remain until he arrived, to spare Alina a second exposure to unrestrained Grisha power, was less so, but he schooled his features into a blandness acceptable to Liucija and kept his tone measured after the door closed behind her.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Alina, having been Healed and pleasantly full of spicy pepper soup, patted a spot beside her where she lay in the wide bed.

“Come sit down, Sashenka,” she said.

“That’s not an answer,” he said but he walked over and settled himself down, almost as if he weren’t wearing his usual black kefta buttoned to his throat, every bit of him exquisitely turned out, but a loosely belted banyan in some dark color that wasn’t black, his feet bare. “You aren’t going to give me one? You know I can find out.”

“I know you can. I know you won’t, because you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t bring it up if that’s what you meant to do,” Alina said. “I’m all right, let’s start there—I don’t want you getting upset for nothing and you can see there’s nothing to upset you—I’m resting and the Healers have said that’s all I need now.”

“Now,” he said. “I’m not feeling reassured, Alina.”

“There was an incident in the training rooms. A conversation that took an unexpected turn. If I spent more time with Master Botkin, I might have acquitted myself better,” she said. She wanted to tell him the truth, she wanted him to know she would, but she didn’t want him agonizing, for his own sake and for hers as well. “I got distracted, I was thinking of something Mal wrote in his last letter, how I should remember where I came from. I think I wasn’t alone in that.”

“Do you mean to speak to me in riddles?” Aleksander said, reaching over to take her hand in his, letting the force of his shadow sidle along her light, making her sigh with the peace of it. His lips curved in a small smile. “I’ll be frank, milaya, I’m terrible at solving them.”

“Zoya remembers how it used to be,” Alina said, bringing his hand closer, bringing him that much closer to her, near enough she could touch his bearded cheek if she wanted to.

“That—it was never serious, between us,” he said, earnest as a boy.

“I think she knows that,” Alina said. “It doesn’t mean that’s what she wanted—”

“I never made her a promise, she received no special favors,” he said.

“Didn’t she? Isn’t your company alone a special favor, General Kirigan, Lord of the Grisha?” Alina said. “Hardly any of the rest of them have ever seen you as anything else, maybe Ivan, Fedyor—”

“You’re saying Zoya feels herself a woman scorned, when she had no claim on me? That she sees you as a threat, a rival?” he replied.

“I think she isn’t a person used to coming in second, with anyone,” Alina said. “She thought, or, probably, she felt—”

“Even before you were here, Alina, that is not what it was between us. No matter what she thought or felt. You have no rival,” he said. “As the Sun Summoner, you cannot. As Alina, you do not. Will not. I’m not making a promise, I am stating the incontrovertible truth.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.

“And now, will you tell me what happened?” he asked.

“I told you, it was a dispute,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You said it was an incident and it does matter. You were hurt, if the Healers came,” he said.

“Nothing serious—”

“You expect me to take that on faith? Would you accept it if I said the same to you?” he pressed.

“It wasn’t serious and you know that. If it had been, I would’ve blinded everyone in the vicinity with my light, like I did on the skiff. You would’ve felt me call,” she said. “Zoya isn’t a Fjerdan assassin. And now you can trust at least that she doesn’t have some master plot against either of us—she couldn’t have put herself in a worse position to carry out anything secret.”

“I don’t like this, Alina,” he said, not specifying what exactly he didn’t care for—that she’d been attacked by another Grisha, again, that she wasn’t telling him everything, which she wasn’t and they both knew it, that neither of them could be sure what would keep her safe—to be closer to him or more distant.

“I know,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment and slumping back onto the pillows.

“I can go,” he said.

“Why would you think that would make me feel better?” she asked.

“I can stay,” he said and she could hear the happiness in his voice. “I’ll just—”

“Lie down with me,” she said. He had to remember the first time he’d said as much to her, what seemed like such a long time ago, in the cottage in the woods, a bleak, cold night ahead of them, two strangers who’d recognized something in each other. “For a little while, anyway.”

“Of course,” he said, letting go of her hand to unfasten his kefta and take off his boots before he settled himself beside her. “Sometime, it would be nice to do this without one of us being hurt or sick or cold.”

“It would,” she said, moving to lay her head against his chest, feeling his arm wrap around her. She felt him relax, his body and his power both easing with the contact, his breath even and soft. They were quiet for a while and then she spoke.

“Mal said to remember where I’m from. Zoya said I didn’t belong here.”

“You’ll never forget Keramzin, you don’t need any reminders,” Aleksander murmured, moving slightly so that he could brush his lips across the crown of her head. “And you belong here. I made this place for you, long before you were born, moya dusha.”

“But you didn’t know about me, the Sun Summoner was just a myth everyone says,” she replied, his hand stroking her hair.

“I hoped. The world is filled with impossible horrors. Why could it not bring forth an impossible good? As the years went by and I lived and lived, I thought, if I were patient, if I made a place for you to come to, one day, you would,” he replied. “And you did.”

The next morning, Alina woke up alone, as she had expected. Aleksander had kissed her before he left, the briefest touch of his lips to hers, the tickle of his beard against her skin, wordless in the moonlight; he drew the curtains closed as he walked out of the room. She slept for a long time, the suite full of sunlight and her own strength returned to her, finding Genya bustling about with one of the younger maid she sent off to run the bath. The heady fragrance of clove pinks drifted in and Alina smiled as she caught a whiff of the scented bath oil.

“You look well today,” Genya said, perched on the side of the bed, not far from where Aleksander had been.

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea about yesterday,” Alina said.

“I don’t think they will,” Genya replied. Her auburn hair lit by the sun, she glowed like a sankta’s gilded ikon.

“You say that but in a way that makes me think you’re not just talking about my appearance,” Alina said. “I admit, I don’t really look forward to dealing with Zoya—”

“You don’t have to,” Genya said, before Alina could say anything more. “She’s gone.”

“What?”

“The General,” Genya replied. “He sent her away. To rethink her priorities.”

“That’s what he said?”

“That’s what we’ve been told,” Genya said, shrugging very elegantly. It was clear there would be no overt challenge to the General’s edict, for a variety of reasons. Genya patted her on the knee, revealing a glimpse of a delicately faceted gold bracelet, each link chased with an obscure design, the workmanship too fine to be anything other than that of a master. “How about a soak in the tub and then breakfast?”

[alinastracker]

Infuriating: Part Two (ao3)

Part One was Mal and Alina’s camp love story. Now it’s Zoya and Nikolai’s turn.

For Zoya Nazyalensky, it was hate at first sight when she met Nikolai Lantsov at Kamp Keramzin. But as she learns who the spoiled blond really is through the years, Zoya has to sort out feelings she never expected having. 

Before

Zoya Nazyalensky hated Nikolai Lantsov.

She hated him before she had even known his name. Perhaps hate was a strong word for someone she had only one, brief interaction with. But Zoya had always been more inclined to feel more intensely than most children, and so she found it a perfectly fitting description.

Zoya was bouncing in the back of her aunt’s beat up SUV the entire way to Kamp Keramzin. Up until two weeks ago, she had been preparing to spend another miserable summer with her mother and her alcoholic boyfriend, hoping that her father would visit her in between business trips. Then one afternoon, Aunt Liliyana had stopped in for an unexpected visit. Zoya had hoped she would take her back to the tiny coastal town Liliyana called home, at least until school started up in the fall, but she had come with something even better: a registration pamphlet for Keramzin.

Her mother had scoffed. “You know I can’t afford that shit.”

But you can afford the drugs, Zoya thought but didn’t say. Despite everything, she loved her mother. She wanted to make her proud. But it seemed like nothing Zoya did was ever good enough for Sabina to turn away from the allure of the drugs and the liquor, or worse, the abusive men she brought home.

“I’m paying for it,” Liliyana said. “That is, if you want to go?”

Zoya had absolutely wanted to go.

Though now that she was here, hugging her aunt for dear life, she found herself filled with nerves. She knew Liliyana had scraped together nickels and dimes to send Zoya to camp. Looking around, she could already see, just from the state of their clothes, that the other children here had more than she did. Could she even survive a whole summer away from her family? Maybe she had been naive, hoping to escape.

“My little storm,” Liliyana sighed. “This is going to be so good for you. Free that troubled mind of yours.” She tipped the young girl's chin up, locking eyes with her. “Remember, you are Zoya Nazyalensky, and you are worthy.”

Zoya tried to hold the thought in her mind as she walked past the line of other cars and parents dropping their children off for the summer, her duffle bag of belongings slung over her shoulder. A bored driver waited in a car near the front of the line as a blond woman who reeked of money patted the head of an equally blond boy who looked to be around Zoya’s age. The expression on his face was as sour as spoiled milk.

“It’s not fair,” the boy huffed. “Vasily doesn’t have to—”

“Your brother has his horses, and you will have this.”

“I was fine at home! I wanted to spend the summer on—”

“Yes, on your little gadgets.” The woman sighed. “And how well did that work out last summer? Mrs. Ivanov’s dog needs anxiety medication now.”

“The thing with Feliks was an accident!”

“Regardless, you are here because of your own actions, Nikolai. This is your last chance, or next year it’s boarding school. No more hijinks, do you understand me?”

The boy — Nikolai — pouted, but grumbled out a semi-respectful, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, now run along.”

Zoya, realizing she had stopped to listen, picked up her pace as naturally as possible. Mentally, she scoffed. How privileged this boy was, huffing and puffing. Didn’t he know how much her aunt had sacrificed just to send her here? How thankful Zoya was, and she hadn’t even stepped foot in the place yet?

She decided then and there that she would stay far away from the spoiled brat.

So naturally, he was put into her group for orientation. There were six of them in total, and as they went around introducing themselves, Zoya wasn’t sure she liked any of them. One girl, Marie, seemed tolerable enough, she supposed.

“Nikolai Lantsov,” the blond boy said when his turn came. A couple of the others exchanged glances that Zoya couldn’t interpret. If Nikolai was surprised by their reaction, he didn’t show it.

Her turn came, and she tried to remember what her aunt had told her as she said, “Zoya Nazyalensky.”

One of the boys frowned. “Nazyalensky? That’s a mouthful.”

She was half-ready to show him what a mouthful really was when Nikolai said with a casual shrug, “I like it.”

Maybe the boy wouldn’t be so bad after all—

Nikolai had turned to her then, a frown tugging at his lips. “You have something on your shirt, Nazyalensky.”

Zoya looked down at herself and sure enough, there was a stain, likely from one of her grandmother’s meals that were almost always served with a rich sauce. Most of her clothes had some kind of stain or little holes from the sheer number of years she’d owned them.

She was back to hating him.

Their first summer had been more of the same. Nikolai would say something almost nice, only to follow it up with something that made her want to punch him. Zoya ignored him as much as humanly possible, but like any invasive species, he kept popping up.

Regardless of the ever annoying Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya loved every second at Keramzin. She wrote multiple postcards to her aunt with updates, and even a couple to her mother. Despite not being as well off as most of the other kids, Zoya always kept her aunt’s parting message close to her chest.

You are Zoya Nazyalensky, and you are worthy.

And she quickly learned that half of being popular was believing that you should be. She walked through camp with her head held high, and if that made her a little intimidating to the others, so be it. At least when it came to her age group, Zoya found herself holding court. The girls wanted to be her, the boys (and some of the girls, too) wanted to kiss her — all the more so during her second year at Keramzin as she further grew into her looks. She was naturally gifted at most of the camp activities. Everyone wanted her on their team for games like kickball and tug of war. She could swim laps around everyone in the lake. Finally given the opportunity, Zoya simply thrived.

As the years went on, the only one who matched Zoya’s popularity at Keramzin was Nikolai, much to her dismay. But unlike Zoya, Nikolai hadn’t had to work for his level of adoration from the other campers. He wasn’t good at most of the activities, but everyone still wanted him on their team. He didn’t need to be good. Rather, Nikolai capitalized off of his good looks, his money, and his natural charm — though Zoya would dispute him having any of the latter. But she couldn’t deny his money. His father was some big shot in the business world, the Lantsov name apparently rather well known. And, as much as she wanted to deny it, he was attractive. Golden blond hair, hazel eyes that always held a wink of something mischievous. He was annoyingly smart and worldly, though she would never tell him that. She would never tell him most of her deeper feelings regarding him. For him.

Because despite her best effort, Zoya found herself by Nikolai’s side again and again every summer, like clockwork. Despite being well loved, neither of them had really bonded strongly with the campers in their year. It didn’t help that he was the only one who could handle her jabs and withering glares, laughing them off as if she couldn’t possibly mean anything she said. But she definitely meant every word.

Mostly every word.

Instead, they had found themselves entangled with a group that had formed in the year below them. Alina Starkov and Malyen Oretsev, the two most oblivious people to ever live. Genya Safin, so naturally gorgeous and put together that Zoya had let her jealousy convince her she hated the girl at first. But then Genya had shown her how to do her hair in more ways than Zoya's usual ponytail, and helped her make something out of her meager clothing selections, even going as far to stitch up holes in some of her more worn tee shirts. Why she looked at David Kostyk of all people with puppy eyes she would never understand, though Nikolai was rather obsessed with the genius boy, too. Nadia Zhabin, one of the funniest people she had ever met with an incredible amount of wit. Mikhael and Dubrov, two textbook definitions of himbos.

And if the group had looked up to Zoya and Nikolai as their cool older friends, at least for a couple years, they pretended like it didn’t go to their heads.

Zoya tried to explain to the girls why she hated Nikolai during one of the camp’s Sleep Under the Stars nights, ditching her group to pull her sleeping bag over to where Alina, Genya, and Nadia were camped out.

“He’s arrogant, spoiled rotten, and downright infuriating,” she’d said.

Genya had been the one to bravely raise a brow and ask, “Are you sure you don’t just have a crush on him?”

“Absolutely not! I can't stand him.”

Zoya had kept up the same attitude, even as her traitorous hormones had begun to notice the strong line of his jaw, the hard muscles of his back when they were swimming at the lake. He was still an asshole — even if it was mostly accidentally. He was still spoiled. Cocky. Often deserving of a good punch to his pretty face.

Until her fourth year of camp, when everything in Zoya’s life changed.

When Zoya was called to the camp’s main office one day halfway through the summer, she assumed someone had ratted about her sneaking off into Maxim’s cabin last night. He was a year older and quite the kisser. But as soon as she had seen the look on Mr. Botkin’s face, she knew something was terribly wrong.

“Miss Nazyalensky, I’m so sorry to have to share this news with you,” he said in his thick accent, his face softer than she had ever seen it. “Your mother called. There was an accident involving your aunt.”

Zoya barely heard the next words out of his mouth. Drunk driver. It happened fast. Funeral in a couple days. Can’t afford the bus ticket for home and Novokribirsk, so—

She ran out of the office after that, all the way back to her cabin, ignoring other camper’s worried glances and calls for her. Of course, her stingy, selfish mother would only pay for one ticket. Zoya knew the woman expected her to stay at camp and use that one ticket to get home at the end of the summer. But screw that. Zoya would use it to go to her aunt’s funeral, even if she had no way home afterwards.

Zoya was in the middle of stuffing her bag, too frantic to care about folding her clothes or being gentle with fragile items, when the cabin door opened. She barely noticed. Zoya couldn’t stay here another second, the place she had come to love more than her own home, the place she had only been able to attend because her aunt had paid for her stay the past four summers.

Her thoughts were as panicked as her packing. Had Aunt Liliyana been driving home from an extra shift when she had been hit? Or from her first job to the second she had taken on? Would she have needed to do either of those if she hadn’t paid for Keramzin? Was her aunt gone because of her?

Zoya ignored the footsteps, assuming one of the girls was coming to grab a hair tie or change into a swimsuit. Or maybe one of them had seen her run from the office and had come to ask about her. She had no time for that.

But the hand that gently — albeit firmly — closed around her wrist, halting her movement, definitely didn’t belong to Alina, Genya, or Nadia.

“Zoya?” Nikolai said, his voice taking on a gentle tone she’d never heard from him before. “What’s going on?”

Zoya pulled away from him. “I don’t have time to pander to your needs, Lantsov,” she snarled.

Never deterred by her icy demeanor, he perched on the edge of her bed. “You’re quite capable of working and speaking at the same time, if all those insults you’ve thrown at me over crafts serve as proof.”

“Fuck off, Nikolai.”

He sighed. “Zoya, please,” Nikolai said, bringing her to a momentary pause. Please was not often found in his vocabulary, not in such a genuine manner. “The others are worried, too.”

The words came out in a tumble as she stuffed the last few items into her bag. “My aunt was in a car accident and now she’s dead and the funeral is in a couple days and I have to go but my mother will only buy me one bus ticket so I have to decide between going home or going to the funeral and of course I’m going to the funeral, I’ll fucking walk the miles home if I have to but I just have to go—”

Nikolai took hold of both of her wrists now, and only then did Zoya realize the zipper she was hopelessly trying to close was stuck. “Breathe, Zoya.”

She shook her head. Tears had been building behind her eyes since Botkin had said the words your aunt was in a car accident and at any moment they were going to spill over. She couldn’t cry in front of Nikolai Lantsov. “I can’t,” she whispered, and cried anyway.

Nikolai let go of her hands, taking a moment to carefully zip up her bag, before he pulled her into his chest. Later, Zoya would curse herself, but all she could do in that moment was let Nikolai hold her as her body shook with sobs.

“I’ll call my driver,” he murmured eventually. “He’ll take you to Novokribirsk and home to Pachina and anywhere else you want to go.”

“No—”

“Yes. I’m stupidly rich, Zoya. Let me at least do something good with it.”

The next morning, a friendly older man named Igor waited for her in a brand new Rolls Royce outside the gates of Keramzin. Botkin took her bag to the trunk while she said goodbye to the friends that had walked out with her. It was the most vulnerable she had been with them, and were the situation not so heartbreaking, she knew they would have teased her about it. Instead she only got hugs and promises of texts and pictures. To everyone’s surprise, she saved Nikolai for last.

“Thank you, Lantsov,” she murmured into the crook of his shoulder. Were she not so miserable, she might’ve noticed how good he smelled for a sixteen year old boy in ninety degree weather.

“Don’t be a stranger, Nazyalensky.”

To Zoya’s surprise, she wasn’t.

  Now

Zoya Nazyalensky still hated Nikolai Lantsov.

At least, she pretended to, because admitting the truth was much more terrifying.

“Are you even paying attention, Zoya?” Genya sighed.

No, she wasn’t, because she was watching Nikolai bend over to tie his shoe, marveling at his ass. How he had only managed to get hotter through the years was a sin, and nineteen was already looking to be his best year yet.

Genya shifted, purposely blocking her view of Nikolai’s tight behind. “Focus! This is only going to work if we’re all on board.”

Zoya waved her off. “Yes, yes, I’ve got it. I’ll send Oretsev into the shed for you when the time arises. I still don’t think this is going to work. Both of them are too stubborn for their own good.”

“I don’t know,” Nadia countered. “They’ll never get over their problems if they keep avoiding each other. Never underestimate the power of forced bonding.”

“Exactly!” Genya said. Out of all of them, Zoya knew Genya wanted this plan to work most of all, convinced that Mal and Alina were destined lovers. And sure, the feelings between those two had been obvious — until last summer when they’d shown up hating each other. Personally, Zoya thought love and fate and all that sappy nonsense was utter bullshit. But she cared for Alina, too, so fine, she would help with this silly plan, even if she didn’t believe in it.

When they finally pulled it off a week later, however, Zoya couldn’t regret it more.

“Find somewhere else to sleep, I want the room to myself tonight!” Alina had barked as she stomped away from the activities shed, Mal grumbling off in the other direction.

“Wonderful,” Zoya deadpanned. “How long until she cools off?”

Genya bit her lip, shrugging. “I don’t know. I think we should give her the room tonight.”

“We should what?”

Nadia nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we can sneak into the boys cabin. I can probably con Mikhael out of his bed.”

“I’ll just sleep with David,” Genya agreed.

“And what about me?”

The two of them gave her quizzical looks. “You’ve shared Nikolai’s bed before, Zoya. I’m sure he won’t mind,” Nadia said.

They were right, of course.

The dynamic of her relationship had changed with Nikolai after the year her aunt died. She had spent the rest of the summer in bed most days, barely able to get herself dressed. Surprisingly, her texts with Nikolai had been the bright spots of her days.

The service at Keramzin was horrible, so he must have been sneaking into Botkin’s office — the one building with wifi on the grounds — to send her stupid photos and relay all the goings-on of the day. Lost tug of war, again he’d captioned a photo of himself covered in mud. Another day he wrote, Group is discussing Alina and Mal’s “ship name” which is apparently something people do for couples????? (which they still aren’t, btw) Idk, Genya and Nadia are pushing for “malina” which is just so lazy to me. Oretskov is much more sophisticated, and as a woman of taste, I think you’ll agree.

For the rest of that summer — no, for the rest of that year, most of her laughs and smiles had been brought on by Nikolai Lantsov, which was absolutely fucking mind-boggling.

nikolai: nazyalensky you will not BELIEVE

zoya: this better be something actually unbelievable, lantsov

Nikolai proceeded to send a video of his brother, Vasily, getting absolutely yeeted off of one of his prized horses with the caption “MERRY FUCKIN CHRISTMAS TO MEEEEEEE.” Zoya only responded with you are going to HELL, but she laughed so hard her stomach hurt, so she supposed she’d be joining him.

Zoya worked her ass off during her junior year to be able to afford Keramzin in the summer. It felt good to be back with her friends after the painful year she'd had since losing her aunt, and she had found herself being excited to see Nikolai most of all. Though nothing on the outside had changed — Nikolai was still a pompous rich boy and Zoya still took jabs at him at every opportunity — there was plenty changing under the surface.

A week before the start of holiday break during her senior year, Zoya's phone lit up with Nikolai’s stupid face. She had made his contact photo one she'd taken over the summer after Dubrov had smashed an egg over his head, yolk dripping down his face. Zoya had a policy of not answering unplanned FaceTime calls. But for whatever reason, she made an exception, answering with a scowl on her face so he at least understood the offense.

“What the hell are you FaceTiming me for, Lantsov?”

“Hello to you too, Nazyalensky.”

Nikolai looked to be in the treehouse in his backyard. When he had first called her from the place, she had laughed, because what eighteen year old still had a treehouse? Then he had showed her around the place. It was more workshop than treehouse, a number of little inventions and other products of his mind scattered around the wooden structure. Couldn’t you have found a room in your mansion for this stuff? she had asked. Nikolai had shrugged. “I like being outside. And away from everyone.”

“Only psychopaths FaceTime with no warning.”

“Noted,” Nikolai said, entirely unbothered. “Anyway, what are your holiday break plans?”

“I’m working and finalizing uni applications.”

“Can you . . . not do that?”

Zoya’s glare would send most people running, even given through a screen, but Nikolai only waited for an answer. “I need the money for Keramzin.”

“What if Keramzin was taken care of?”

“Why are you even asking?”

“Ah, right. I was hoping you would come on holiday with me.”

She laughed, because surely he must be joking. But his face was serious. “What?”

“My family is going to Bora Bora. Sort of a work thing for my father. Anyway, all the families are going, and I got my mother to agree to me taking a friend, so . . .”

“You’re seriously asking me to go to Bora Bora with you?”

“Uh, yes?”

Zoya shook her head. “I have to work. And do my uni shit. Why are you even asking me of all people? You have other friends.”

“None of them are as pretty as you, Nazyalensky.”

“You know flattery doesn’t work on me, Lantsov.”

Nikolai frowned, bringing the phone obnoxiously close to his face. “Please, please, please? I’ll go absolutely mental if I have to spend the whole week on my own with these privileged, white assholes.”

“Nikolai, you’re a privileged, white asshole.”

“Exactly! So you’ll come along then?”

“No.”

Naturally, Zoya went.

At first, she thought it might actually be a good decision, going with Nikolai. They sat next to each other on the plane ride there — in first fucking class — sharing Nikolai’s AirPods as they scrolled through stupid TikTok videos. It was strange, seeing him at this time of year when she had only ever seen him during the summer months. But it was nice, too.

And god, Bora fucking Bora! It was beautiful and warm and somewhere she never would have visited on her own. Certainly not staying at the fancy hotel that they were at, a stretch of the beach rented out for this company thing of his father’s. Privileged white asshole friends had their purposes, it seemed.

But she too quickly realized exactly why Nikolai had chosen her to come along.

She’d come back out from using the restroom on their second day there to find Nikolai standing with his father, another older man, and a girl that had to be around her and Nikolai’s age. Zoya had just decided to wait for him at their beachside table, having no desire to get caught up in whatever rich people things they were surely discussing, when she was waved over.

Had they not all turned to look at her, she might have ignored him. Instead, she put on her best friendly face as she joined the group.

“This is Zoya, my friend from camp.” As casually as if it were normal for them, Nikolai slung an arm around her. “We’ve been close for years now. Zoya, this is Rose, and her father, Ruslan.”

Rose glanced between the two of them, looking slightly disappointed. “Oh, I thought . . . Well, nice to meet you.”

Zoya smiled, seething on the inside. Nikolai’s father didn’t look too happy, either.

As soon as she got Nikolai alone, Zoya turned on him. “What the fuck was that, Lantsov?”

Nikolai sighed, “Look, Zoya—”

“You brought me here to what? Be the pretty thing on your arm?”

“No! I mean, that’s a benefit, yes. My father wants to set me up with that girl and I’m just not interested, so I thought—”

“So you thought, bring your poor camp friend! She’ll have to be grateful to live the rich life for a week!”

“That’s not it!”

Zoya shook her head. “To think I thought you actually wanted me here.”

“I do!” Nikolai stepped toward her, and damn the rocky wall at her back for not allowing her to move away from him. He took both of her wrists in his hands, just as he had that day in her cabin. But this felt different, intimate in a way that sent heat rushing through her. “I want you here, Zoya.”

Was he looking at her lips, or was she looking at his? Was he leaning in, or was she? The heat must be getting to her, because she didn’t let herself think the way she was thinking about him right now. Nikolai was cocky and spoiled and maybe she had allowed herself to begrudgingly become his friend, but this was something else entirely. Zoya couldn’t let him kiss her, so she didn’t, tugging out of his grasp and stalking down the beach. He didn’t follow, and she prided herself on being strong enough to resist his pretty hazel eyes and his stupid kissable looking lips.

Strong enough sober, anyway.

On their last night in Bora Bora, Zoya and Nikolai joined the rest of the kids on the trip, who indeed were privileged white assholes, for a boozy bonfire on the beach.

“So, your name is Zoya Nazzzalienski?” one of the boys slurred, screwing up her last name so badly she knew he wouldn’t have said it right sober, either.

“Nazyalensky,” she corrected sharply, too many drinks in to play nice.

“Mm, it’s a mouthful,” Rose, the girl Nikolai’s father apparently found ideal for him, said.

The other boy nodded. “So foreign.”

“She’s just as foreign as you or I, asshole,” Nikolai snapped.

Zoya was surprised to see actual anger on his face. Part of her wanted to punch him for playing the white savior, but another part was incredibly turned on by the way his eyes had darkened.

Vasily, who was as insufferable as Nikolai had described him throughout the years, laughed, disregarding the look on his brother’s face. “Aw, calm down, Niko. He didn’t mean anything bad about your little girlfriend.” Vasily covered his mouth in a mock whisper, “My brother has always had a thing for charity cases.”

Nikolai seethed beside her. “Watch your tongue before I remove it.”

“It’s okay, Nikolai,” Zoya said coolly, resting her hand on his arm. She needed no one to fight her battles for her. “I know your brother is still learning how to socialize with people, his usual company being those horses of his and all.”

The group cackled as Vasily flushed, but said nothing. Zoya stood, leaving them to their drunken bullshit. Nikolai followed.

Halfway down the beach, he stopped them. “Fuck, Zoya, I’m so sorry. I knew they were assholes but I didn’t think—”

Zoya cut him off with her lips.

“Oh,” he breathed when they pulled apart. It was the first time she had ever seen him speechless.

From there, they found their way to Nikolai’s room, stopping every now and then to continue their fervent kissing. The luxurious four poster bed became a mess as they sprawled onto it, working off their clothes, rattling the headboard well into the night. Zoya left Bora Bora with love bites on her neck and the best orgasm of her life.

After waking up sober with an ache between her legs the next morning, however, the first thing out of her mouth was, “It was just sex. It didn’t mean anything.”

Nikolai paused, then nodded. “It didn’t mean anything.”

So yes, Zoya had shared Nikolai’s bed before. Bora Bora had been the first, but not the last. They had spent last summer, their first as full on counselors — and therefore having the much nicer cabins that came with the position — fooling around whenever the flask came out. Drunken fuck buddies, that’s all they were. That’s all they were supposed to be.

But that was before the voicemail.

Zoya hadn’t told the girls about said voicemail, though, and apparently none of them had caught on to her and Nikolai subtly avoiding each other these past two weeks of their last year at Keramzin.

Before she could think of an excuse, the devil himself came around the corner.

Nikolai smoothly avoided eye contact with her. “Just passed Oretsev. Guessing the plan didn’t go over too well.”

Genya sighed. “Don’t you dare say I told you so,” she grumbled.

He held his hands up in defense. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Perfect timing, Nik,” Nadia said, and panic rose in Zoya’s chest. “Alina’s demanding the room to herself tonight, so we’re castaways.” She sang the last part in the tune of that god-awful song that was plastered all over TikTok. “And Zoya needs a bed. You don’t mind sharing, right?”

Nikolai’s perfect face flashed with his own panic for the briefest second, fast enough that she might have just imagined it, and then he broke into one of his charming smiles. “‘Course not.”

That was how Zoya found herself in Nikolai’s bed a few hours later, the damned thing too small for any real space between them. She knew they were sharing the same thoughts. He could offer to take the floor, but then their friends would know something was off. And when Mal ended up leaving his bed to go camp in the woods for the night, they let Mikhael, who had given up his bed to Nadia, jump into it. Both of them pretending they were fine, that they might get any sleep like this. Neither of them had spoken much tonight, let alone the last two weeks, besides casual greetings and Zoya’s usual snide remarks in group settings to keep up pretenses. Nothing of the suffocating weight that had been crushing their relationship since New Year’s Eve.

While most college freshmen she knew had spent the night getting wasted, Zoya had worked a double and was so exhausted, she hadn’t even made it to midnight before passing out. She had woken up to a missed call and a voicemail from a very drunk Nikolai.

“Hi Zoya, it’s Nikolai!” He paused to laugh. “Guess you know that. Happy New Year! I’m so drunk.” Another pause, the sound of the phone hitting the ground as he dropped it, muffled music somewhere in the distance. “Oops, dropped the phone. Fuck, I had a really shitty night. My father won’t stop getting on me about choosing a major already, but he can piss off, because he wants me to do business and follow in his footsteps, but god I’d rather jump off this mountain. Did I mention I’m on a mountain? Nothing crazy, just snow and skiing and rich people nonsense. Anyway.” Another pause, accompanied with a hiccup. “You’re probably wondering why I called and I don’t know I just — It’s New Years and my family is pissing me off and the people at this party suck and I just want to kiss you. That’s what you do on New Years, right? You kiss someone. But I didn’t kiss anyone, ‘cause you’re not here. And if you were here, it still wouldn’t be right, ‘cause I don’t want to kiss you like in Bora Bora or camp last summer. I want to kiss you and shout about it to the world. I want to kiss you because you’re mine. I want it to mean something. I want—”

Zoya never learned what else he wanted, because the messaging system cut him off. She had listened to that voicemail about a hundred times since then, still not knowing what the fuck to say or feel. Exactly two messages had passed between them the next morning, and not a single one since.

nikolai: sorry, ignore the vm. was rather plastered, haha

zoya: right, ok

Now she had her back pressed to his front as if nothing had happened. When Genya popped up, apparently unable to sleep either, and suggested they go check on Alina, Zoya thanked the damn saints.

That is, until they barged in only to find Mal standing in nothing but his boxers, constraining an insane erection (wow, he was bigger than she’d guessed) and Alina hiding under the covers, clearly naked. Zoya was going to kill them.

“You little liar!” she spat. “You conned us out of our beds so you could get dicked down?!”

Genya seemed thrilled at the turn of events, and maybe Zoya would be too, if she wasn’t spending her night pressed against the chest of the boy who had confessed to — to something and left her brain endlessly screaming about it since.

Her anger at Alina and anxiety about returning to Nikolai’s bed must have shown on her face as they left their cabin behind, because Genya stopped them before they could reach the boys’.

“All right, what’s going on with you?”

“Yeah, come on Zoya, you should be happy for them,” Nadia said. “I mean, the plan worked.”

“I know it did and I am happy for them!”

Genya raised a brow. “Yes, you sound so very happy.”

Zoya let out a frustrated huff, and right there in the middle of the night, she finally spilled about everything that had happened between her and Nikolai. They knew about the friends with benefits kind of situation they had going on last summer, but in addition to not telling them about the voicemail, she had never mentioned Bora Bora, either.

“What the fuck, Nazyalensky!” Nadia whisper-yelled when she finished.

“You’ve been keeping all of this in for two years?!”

Zoya shrugged. So Alina wasn’t the only one with a secret. She had never shared what had come between her and Oretsev in the first place, after all.

“I can’t believe he took you to Bora Bora,” Nadia moaned. “Missing out on Nikolai is now the only time I’ve regretted being a lesbian.”

Genya patted Nadia’s back in comfort, but said, “And y’all never talked about the voicemail? Seriously?”

Zoya groaned. “Can we please talk about this tomorrow? It’s like, one in the morning.”

They agreed, albeit whining as they did, and when they made it back into the boys’ cabin, Zoya climbed into Mikhael's bed with Nadia.

The next morning, the three of them kicked Mal out of their cabin bright and early.

“Seriously?” he groaned.

“Sorry, dude,” Nadia said. “Girl emergency.”

He and Alina shared a hesitant look before Mal dropped a careful kiss to her lips, as if he hadn’t been railing her a few hours ago, and left.

Alina watched him go, then turned to the three of them with a growl. “Okay, I know I lied, but you had to kick him out so early?”

“Surprisingly, this isn’t about you, though we will get back to that.” Genya sat cautiously on her bed, as if the bodily fluids might have jumped from Alina’s bed over to hers. “Zoya shared some very interesting news with us last night.”

With a sigh, Zoya relayed the story all over again. The next hour was just a lot of screaming about the free trip to Bora Bora and Nikolai’s — in Alina’s words — very obvious love confession, which resulted in the three of them telling her she was the last person allowed to speak on obvious love.

“This all comes down to two things,” Genya said as they got ready, since they still had campers to take care of today. “How do you feel about him, and what are you going to do about it?”

Both were valid questions, but Zoya scowled anyway.

In true Zoya fashion, she spent the next week thinking about her answer. Every time the girls bugged her about it, she glared until they shut up. But it was good that they knew, because they helped her avoid him when she needed to, not that Nikolai was making it hard. She supposed her ditching him for Nadia’s bed hadn’t been very encouraging.

When she finally came to a conclusion, Zoya switched shifts with Dubrov one afternoon so that she was working one on one with Nikolai. Considering the shift in question, Dubrov had been more than happy to trade places.

The spot Zoya and Nikolai had found themselves in was shitty, so there really was no better place to finally have it out with each other than the horse stables on mucking duty.

When she reached the stables, Nikolai was already at work.

“‘Bout time you got here, Dubrov,” he said without looking up. “I was going to bring some horse shit back to the cabin for you if you didn’t — Oh.” He had finally looked up. “You’re not Dubrov.”

“No,” she said. “Not Dubrov. I switched shifts with him.”

Nikolai blinked. “You took mucking duty on purpose.”

“Yes.”

“Zoya would-die-before-letting-a-horse-sniff-her Nazyalensky chose—”

“Yes,” she growled. “And if you don’t shut up, I’m going to push you into the shit you're scooping.”

Nikolai shut up after that, and minutes passed as they worked in silence.

Unsurprisingly, Nikolai was the first to break it. “Why are you here, Zoya?” he asked quietly, as if he was scared of the answer.

Zoya swallowed the lump in her throat. “We can’t keep going on like this. Pretending New Years didn’t happen.”

“No, I suppose we can’t.”

She cleared her throat. “Nikolai—”

But he cut her off. “Must we do this here? Break my heart, Nazyalensky. Just don’t do it while I’m standing in a pile of literal horse shit.”

Break my heart, Nazyalensky. But the problem wasn’t Nikolai’s heart, it was her own. Zoya had always had a problem with feeling too much, the good and the bad. Her complicated relationship with love only made it worse. She thought of her mother, who’s love Zoya had tried so hard to earn only to come up short again and again. Aunt Liliyana, who she had loved more than life itself, taken from her far too soon. The desolation she had felt afterwards, wondering if she could ever dare love someone again. She had no positive examples of romantic love in her life, either. Liliyana had always been single as far as Zoya knew. Her parents had divorced, and Zoya could only ever watch as her mother brought toxic and abusive men into their home again and again. She wasn’t sure she even believed in love, or if she deserved it.

But then she thought of the people here at Keramzin. Of Genya and David, a couple that made no logical sense, but her gorgeous friend looked at the genius boy as if he personally hung the stars in the sky. Nadia, writing her love letters to her girlfriend back home. Even Mal and Alina, as oblivious they had been, were so clearly in love they were sickening to look at. They were all young, so maybe none of them would make it in the end, but wasn’t love still worth something even if it didn’t last a lifetime? Could she have something like what her friends had?

I am Zoya Nazyalensky, and I am worthy.

Zoya stalked across the stables and pulled Nikolai — pompous, entitled, infuriating Nikolai — into a fierce kiss.

Once he got past his shock, Nikolai kissed her back with just as much force. The tension between them finally snapped now that she had made her decision. They didn’t need to talk about it, Nikolai just knew. He always knew. This kiss was the answer to the voicemail she had never given him. Nikolai had wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted it to mean something.

And Zoya wanted it, too.

“Fuck, Nazyalensky,” Nikolai breathed between kisses, taking her bottom lip between his teeth. Zoya hummed her approval. “If we hurry . . .”

She understood, so as hard as it was to pull away, she did. They worked as if their lives depended on cleaning out the stables as fast as humanly possible. Had they not been literally handling shit for the past twenty minutes, Zoya would have gone straight to Nikolai’s cabin. Instead, she went to her own, aware of each passing minute as she changed and washed up.

Zoya had only taken one step into the boys’ cabin five minutes later before Nikolai pounced. Closing the cabin door, he pushed Zoya against it and kissed her like a starving man. She moaned against his lips, the surprise and force of it sending heat straight to her core. Her hands found his golden hair, his hands found her ass, and though they had been here before, it felt different. Besides being completely sober, the difference was in the way they held each other, like they had no plans of letting go. It was the way they kissed, desperate and deep, but knowing there were so many more on the horizon.

Nikolai scooped her into his arms, bringing her to the bed. The lack of space was no issue now. His lips started their descent down her neck, and she knew from experience that her makeup routine would have an extra step for the rest of the summer.

“I don’t know how much time we have before the guys get back,” he murmured. Zoya nodded, ready to tell him he’d better hurry up and fuck her then, when Nikolai continued, “But I’m still going to take my time licking you until you scream.”

Oh.

Clothes were discarded, and Nikolai moved down her body, murmuring about how he couldn’t wait to mark every inch of her. Then he was between her thighs, and quickly made good on his promise. Zoya couldn’t believe his tongue could be this good at something other than talking about himself.

“Fuck me,” she groaned.

Nikolai popped his head up. “All in due time, darling.”

Growling, she pushed his head back down, and before she knew it, she was screaming into his pillow as her orgasm quite literally left her shaking.

Nikolai shifted, but before he could crawl back over her, Zoya used her weight to push him onto his back, taking her place on top. He still had his damned boxers on, so she quickly fixed that problem. His cock sprang free, and god, she could be drooling for all she knew. Never would she let him know that she mentally referred to his member as massive.

Needing to taste him, Zoya dipped her head and dragged her tongue up the length of him. Nikolai swore, then swore some more as she sucked him into her mouth. She would also never admit how much she loved sucking dick. There was something powerful about it that turned her on almost as much as it did the men she took into her mouth.

“Zoya,” Nikolai breathed, and she understood the warning in his tone. With a sigh, she let him fall from between her lips with an audible pop. Their limited time meant she’d have to wait until next time to let him spill inside her mouth. Shame.

Nikolai supplied a condom from his bedside drawer and Zoya rolled it onto him. Before he could get her on her back, she straddled him, making her intentions clear. He raised a brow, surprised, but didn’t object. Zoya braced one hand on the headboard, the other twining with one of Nikolai’s, and lowered herself onto his cock. They moaned in unison as she took in every inch of him.

Her rhythm started slow but quickly gained speed, her hips rolling and her breathing ragged as she brought herself down on him again and again. As she bounced, so did her tits, and Zoya didn’t miss the way Nikolai kept staring greedily at her chest. When looking wasn’t enough, he sat up as much as he needed to get his mouth on her breast, taking her nipple between his teeth and soothing the bite he gave it with his tongue afterwards. That damned tongue again. When Zoya tired, Nikolai was happy to take over even from underneath her, thrusting his hips against hers over and over.

It was perfect. It was glorious. Zoya was an idiot for waiting three weeks to figure out what she wanted. And she knew she wanted this — not just the fucking, but the exasperating boy beneath her, too. All of him. All of it. She had told Nadia that love was for suckers, and she supposed she should have known that included herself, considering how much she loved giving blowjobs.

It was perfect, until the cabin door opened and in walked Malyen Oretsev. He made it halfway inside before he caught sight of them on Nikolai’s bed and froze.

Nikolai groaned. “Malyen, does your timing always suck so much?”

Mal visibly swallowed, and Zoya realized he was making a concentrated effort not to look at her tits. Maybe she should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Smirking, she said, “Payback’s a bitch, Oretsev. Now scram and tell everyone else to stay gone for a while, too.”

He nodded, still avoiding even the smallest glance in her direction, and ran out the door faster than she thought him possible.

Nikolai sighed. “Did that ruin the mood for you?”

In answer, Zoya lifted herself until only the very tip of him was inside of her, then took all of him in one swoop. Their moans mingled once more.

Breathing hard, she asked, “What do you think?”

Nikolai moved so suddenly, Zoya didn’t have time to process it until she was flat on her stomach. Behind her, Nikolai slammed his full length into her so hard, so deep that she thought she might come from that one thrust alone. He leaned forward, letting most of his weight settle onto her, pinning her down. It was oddly comforting.

Lips beside her ear, Nikolai whispered, “I think that I’m never going to have enough of this. I’m never going to have enough of you, Zoya Nazyalensky.”

Her twelve year old self never would have believed it, but she didn’t think she’d ever have enough of Nikolai Lantsov, either.

  One Year Later

It was the start of the summer holiday, and for the first time in seven years, Zoya wasn’t making her way to Keramzin. Instead, she was lazing on the sofa in the flat she shared with her arrogant, spoiled (and funny and smart and a bunch of other things she would never admit out loud), always infuriating boyfriend.

Said boyfriend strolled into the living room, handing a piece of mail to her. “Looks like the lovebirds made it to Russia safely.”

Zoya groaned as she read the postcard written in Alina’s neat handwriting, the only evidence of Mal being with her the sloppy signature next to hers. “They just got there and they’re already sending out postcards? Saps.”

“Absolute saps,��� Nikolai agreed, lifting her legs to make room for himself beside her, letting her feet settle nicely on his lap.

After a stressful second year of university and having their first summer outside of Keramzin, they planned to do absolutely nothing all break long. Except they both had internships starting next week. Nikolai had settled on an engineering major, though he was still dabbling on what to do for his minor. Zoya was studying climate science and had an internship with the local news station’s weather team, though she had no intention of being the kind of meteorologist that reported the forecast for the masses each night. How dull.

Nikolai had given his father an ultimatum at the end of camp last summer. He would stay at the university his father had chosen for him if and only if he accepted his choice to pursue engineering — and let Zoya move into the flat. Otherwise, he was withdrawing and enrolling into Zoya’s uni, which was not exactly the first, or hundredth, choice of the wealthier class.

Surprisingly, his father had agreed, but the joke was on him. Nikolai was never going to switch universities, because Zoya was transferring to his. Not in the name of something as sappy as romance, but because it had an outstanding climate science program and — most importantly — her excellent grades and extracurricular activities had earned her quite the hefty scholarship.

But at least for this first week of the summer, they were staying in their flat, vegging out as they caught up on Netflix and fucking until their neighbors complained on NextDoor.

“Should we do pizza tonight?” he asked, gently rubbing the soles of her feet.

Before she could answer, her phone rhythmically buzzed on the table. A FaceTime call from Genya. When Zoya went to answer it, Nikolai frowned. “I thought you didn’t do unplanned FaceTime calls.”

“It’s Genya,” Zoya said, as if that explained everything.

The red haired girl’s face filled the screen, albeit a little grainy from the less than stellar reception at Keramzin. She could see David beside her, nose in a book as usual.

“Guess what!” she whisper-yelled, a grin on her pretty face.

“Botkin has finally admitted his past as a secret ninja assassin?” Nikolai piped up from beside her. Zoya scowled in his direction.

“Oh, hi Nikolai. And no. Look!” Genya flipped the camera, and two children came into view, a boy and a girl studying a piece of paper together. From the look of it, they were in the crafts room.

“I haven’t forgotten what twelve year old campers look like, Genya.”

She turned the camera back so Zoya could see her eye roll. “No, smart ass. It’s Alina’s map!” Genya whispered the last part, apparently not wanting the kids to hear her. “She must have left it for a camper to find. And I swear, these two are like Malina incarnate.”

“Oretskov,” Zoya and Nikolai said together.

Genya very casually flipped them off. “Anyway, I wish y’all could see them. Running off into the woods and all that shit they used to do. It’s uncanny.”

Zoya shook her head. “No thanks, living that storyline once was enough for me.”

Nikolai, always thinking of the important things, asked, “Hey, what’s our couple name?”

“Zoyalai,” said Genya and an off-screen Nadia in unison. The latter continued, “And don’t try to give us shit about it, because there’s no way you’re coming up with something better out of Nazyalensky and Lantsov.”

Nikolai frowned. “Nazyalsov? Lantensky?”

Zoya wrinkled her nose. “Okay, fine, you guys win this round.”

She couldn’t deny it. Zoyalai had a nice ring to it.

[kazandthecrows]

All I’m Asking For Is A Day of Peace and Quiet

a/n: Hello everyone! I’ve been working on this for a while for @grishaversebigbang ! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it :) I’ve had the pleasure of working with some insanely talented artists on this project and I hope that you love the final product! 

Beware spoilers for all the Grishaverse books! The first chapter is up and I’ll keep updating it over the next couple of days! 

Corporalki (my badass beta reader): @purns-art

Materialki (the coolest artists I know): @aureatepaper (art link)   @alittleartistic (art link)  @crownofnight (art link)    @nataliert (art link)

Summary: 

Nikolai just wants to find the perfect way to actually propose to Zoya, but literally everything gets in his way. When the long lost ring he’d been planning to propose with shows up in Ketterdam, he finds himself going on an adventure with Kaz and his crows.

Here’s the link to read it on Ao3: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33702874/chapters/83764771

Or read chapter one below: 

Chapter One 

“I don’t need to go on a vacation, Nikolai.” A stressed Zoya Nazyelensky exclaimed. Nikolai didn’t believe one word of that sentence. They were currently walking through the halls of the Grand Palace because the only way Nikolai could get a word in with her is if he met her in between going to one of her several meetings with diplomats, rulers of other nations, or anyone who needed to request time with the new Queen of Ravka.

Zoya wasn’t one to outwardly show her stress, but Nikolai knew that something was up. She looked immaculate. Her hair was perfectly done, she was dressed the part of a young Queen, her dark blue dress made her look as if she was wearing the night sky itself, and she carried herself with confidence and never let anyone see her falter. But Nikolai could often see what others couldn’t. The forced smiles, the way her shoulders fell a little whenever they were behind closed doors. The responsibility was weighing on her in the same ways that it weighed on him, and on this occasion, he was grateful for his experience as a royal so that he could help her through it as best he could.

“Yes, you really do.” He pushed. He had caught her in a rare moment of peace. She had just left a meeting with a number of Zemeni diplomats, and she was on her way to another meeting with some ambassadors from the Wandering Isle. He matched her pace easily, walking alongside her in hopes it would make her slow down a little.

“I can count the number of times I’ve spent time with you in the last two weeks on one hand, and 90 percent of those times you fell asleep.” Zoya stopped in her tracks, catching Nikolai off guard.

“That’s not true.” She said, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Think about it, Zoya.” He pressed. “You’re tired, stressed, and I can see the early stages of burnout starting to take over.”

“I’m fine, besides, I don’t have the time to take a break.”

“If you can’t take a few days off, how about an afternoon?” He asked. Zoya stayed silent, but if Nikolai could just have a few hours of her time, that would be enough. She sighed, nodding in acceptance.

“I’ll see what I can do about clearing tomorrow afternoon.” Nikolai could have exploded with joy. Progress, he thought.

“Perfect, meet me in the gardens tomorrow, then.” He moved towards her gently and pressed a feather-light kiss to her cheeks. When he pulled away, he swore he could see his former general blush.

“I’m looking forward to it.” She said quietly. Nikolai smiled fondly at her as they went their separate ways.

“Good luck with your meeting, my love, I hear the Kaelish ambassadors can be quite charismatic!”

----------

The garden of the Grand Palace had quickly become one of Nikolai’s favorite places. It was large enough that you could hide from anyone you were avoiding and quiet enough that it felt as if you weren’t in the palace anymore. It was an area of sanctuary, and Nikolai knew that Zoya would find it easier to relax here.

He’d set everything up perfectly. He had laid pillows and a picnic blanket down with snacks and tea in an alcove almost completely hidden by azalea bushes. He and Zoya had already come out here before, and he knew that it was unlikely they would be bothered here.

The sound of footsteps alerted him to her presence. His face lit up at the sight of her. Zoya’s hair was down from all the pins and ribbons she was wearing previously, and she had replaced her dress with a much more comfortable-looking white shirt and a pair of light brown trousers. Her small smile grew into a grin as she spotted him lying casually on the blanket.

“Goodness Nikolai, did you do this all yourself?”

“I had some help.” He said sheepishly.

“Well, I’m impressed.” He laughed as she lowered herself down onto the blanket. It had been an extremely busy few months, and he honestly couldn’t remember a time where they’d ever done this. All their time spent alone together felt so fleeting.

“Please tell me that nobody knows we’re here.”

“Just Genya, but only so she can keep everybody out.” Zoya said cheekily.

“Perfect.” Nikolai chuckled, moving closer to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. Zoya’s eyes drifted shut, savoring the moment.

“I really do think that we should take a few days off and go somewhere.” Nikolai said earnestly. They both deserved a few days with each other, that’s all he was asking for.

“Nikolai, I already told you, I don’t know if I have time.”

“You know, I find that one of the best things about ruling a country is being able to do as you please.” He poked fun at her, but he knew her reasoning.

“Where would we go?” She asked seriously. Nikolai was pleasantly surprised, this was the first time she’d actually expressed interest in going anywhere.

“There’s a cottage about halfway between Keramzin and Balakriev, it’s technically ours so we could go there whenever you wanted. It’s in the middle of nowhere, no one would bother us, and we could even pay a quick visit to Alina and Mal if you’d like.”

Curiosity filled Zoya’s features. It had been a while since they’d seen their friends. It would feel like a break if they went to visit them.

“We’d have plenty of time to ourselves, and then we can also see some friends. It’s a perfect mix of hiding from our responsibilities and socialising.”

“That would be really nice.” She said, but Nikolai could sense she wanted to say more.

“But?”

“But, it just doesn’t feel right to leave.”

“Sleep on it, Zoya.” He urged, “it won’t be for long, and you have a support system here who can help keep things running while we’re gone.”

She was silent for a moment, and Nikolai was hopeful that he had gotten through to her.

“Alright, let’s do it.” She said stubbornly. Nikolai felt like jumping for pure joy. Finally, he thought, he’d finally managed to do what others had thought impossible. He’d managed to convince Zoya Nazyalensky to go on holiday.

----------

Nikolai paced across his room, picking up different items and placing them into the assigned bags as Genya helped him organise. The two had almost everything ready. They crossed each other several times in comfortable silence, until Nikolai stopped and looked up.

“Genya.”

Genya continued to gather items, but turned her attention towards him slightly, to let him know that she was listening.

“Yes?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know of a sapphire ring that my mother used to own?”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, questions filling her eyes. That didn’t exactly give him much hope, considering he was the one with questions to ask her.

“She had a lot of jewelry, Nikolai.” Genya said pointedly. Her time spent working for the Queen had meant she knew the ins and outs of everything she did, and everything she wore.

“Yes, but it was a very sizable sapphire ring.”

“What would you need with a sapphire ring?” She asked. Nikolai looked at her for a few moments, saying nothing. It was enough for her to realise why he was being so insistent.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, dropping the folded shirt that she was holding.

“Yes, oh.” Nikolai said, falling dramatically into the chair at his desk, one arm draped across his forehead.

Genya grinned. “I bet you regret giving Alina the Lantsov emerald now.” Nikolai scowled at her, only encouraging her laughter.

“Alina deserved the emerald, and she had a better use for it than I ever did.” He sighed.

“I didn’t realise that things had been moving so quickly between you two.”

“The last few months have certainly helped us grow closer.” After Zoya had become Queen, Nikolai had done everything he could to make sure that she wasn’t struggling, and they had spent even more time than normal together. Truthfully, Nikolai missed it, but everything that had happened, from the Darkling’s return to Nikolai being able to control his demon and his General turning into a literal dragon. He knew he wanted her to be his Queen, but now that things had settled down he had never been more sure of anything; he wanted to propose to her.

“I’m so happy for you Nikolai, you both deserve the world.”

“She’s my world, and she’s far too good for me.” He spoke softly.

“You and I both you’re perfect for each other, and also, there were many Lantsov heirlooms, there are some that were bound to have gone missing.” Genya said.

Nikolai vaguely remembered talk of a sapphire ring he was hoping to find, but he’d only ever seen it once in a box on his mothers' vanity. Thinking back on it, it reminded him exactly of Zoya. The ring was a beautiful, vibrant dark blue, and it would suit her perfectly. The only problem was that he hadn’t seen it since he was a child, and anything could have happened to it.

“Whichever ring you’re talking about, I don’t think I’d seen it on her.” Genya said, giving him a sympathetic smile.

Nikolai racked his brain, trying to come up with places where it could have been. He began pacing again.

“It would have been the perfect item for someone to steal and sell on the black market, wouldn’t it?” He said.

“Sure, but it could be anywhere.”

Nikolai smiled, his plans slowly coming together.

“If there’s anyone that could locate a lost ring, it’s Kaz Brekker.” Genya sighed, her head falling into her hands.

“Zoya is going to be so happy once she finds out that you needed Kaz Brekker’s help to get her engagement ring.”

“I’ll send word to the Wraith, perhaps Captain Ghafa will be of help.”

Perhaps if Nikolai and Zoya were away long enough, he hoped she would fail to notice that he’d been looking for her engagement ring across Ravka and Ketterdam.

“I’m glad that you’re going on this trip, but have fun convincing Zoya to take a break.”

“Don’t worry, she’s going to love it.”

----------

“This is a terrible idea.” Zoya stated, watching Nikolai step into the small cottage. He looked back at her only to see an unimpressed scowl on her face.

“I happen to think that a little break away from all the duties and responsibilities of a Queen might be exactly what you need.” He said, grinning. Zoya wanted to smack that grin off of his face.

“I shouldn’t have said yes to this, you caught me in a moment of weakness.” She had been half asleep when he’d brought up the idea, and she’d only agreed to it because at the time nothing had sounded more appealing than some peace and quiet. But she was the Queen of Ravka, and there was too much to do.

“Zoya, please relax.” He smiled, resting his hands on her shoulders softly. “Genya has everything sorted and it’s only for a few days. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen while we’re gone.” He hoped that would be enough to assure her that everything would be alright and that after all they’d been through she deserved a few days of rest, but Zoya Nazyelensky and rest were two things that did not seem to go together.

Nikolai had brought them to a small cottage just outside of Os Alta. The last few months had taken a toll on them both. Zoya had been adjusting well to life as Queen of Ravka, but a break from them was long overdue. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, Zoya was scowling, and all was right in the world.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we return and Genya is the new Queen of Ravka.” Zoya exclaimed, making Nikolai chuckle, his face suddenly turning serious.

“Yes, we should be afraid.” He said, and moved to put the bags they had brought into the living area. Nikolai thought it would be a good distraction for Genya to take over for a few days, they all needed some time to distract themselves. Zoya had barely had time to herself since becoming Queen, and more importantly, Nikolai had barely any time alone with Zoya. They never had enough time to relax with one another, so their trip was long overdue.

“Funnily enough, Genya actually helped me plan this.” He said, “So, the bedroom is to the left, the kitchen is through there, and the room you’re currently standing in is in the living room, although I can imagine you already came to that conclusion.” Zoya stared at him pointedly, still unconvinced.

“How can you be so relaxed about this?” She said as Nikolai sauntered towards her, and smiled softly. His fingers brushed her cheek softly as he glanced at her.

“Zoya,” he said in a hushed tone, “ you deserve to rest.” He cupped her cheek as she leaned into his touch.

“I’m well aware that resting is against every fiber of your being, but please try, for me?” The look Nikolai gave her made her want to melt into his arms and never leave them, so she nodded silently and sighed.

Although Zoya would never admit it, she was grateful to Nikolai for getting her away from the palace and taking a break for a little while. It had only been a day since they’d arrived, and they’d done nothing but eat, sleep, and lay in each other's arms and talk about the smallest things, from stories of both their childhoods, to Zoya’s upbringing in the little palace.

Zoya felt as though she could stay like this forever, covered in blankets, Nikolai’s arms wrapped around her. They had spent the whole morning like this, drifting in and out of sleep. Zoya glanced up at Nikolai to see his eyes were barely open, but he was looking at her. She smiled at him gently.

“You know, we might actually have to get out of bed eventually.” She said, bringing herself closer to him. Nikolai’s arms tightened around her, his thumb brushing her shoulder softly.

“Who says?” He mumbled, a content sigh leaving his lips.

“I say.” Zoya laughed. “The weather is beautiful outside, we should go and enjoy it while we can.”

Nikolai’s eyes widened at her request. “Well, it’s nice to see that your mood has improved since we arrived.”

“I have to admit, this is much better than having to rule a country.” Zoya said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Nikolai’s cheek. “But we should do something, or see something.” She insisted. Nikolai’s frowned, deep in thought. A thought came to Zoya’s mind, one that had even surprised her.

“We aren’t that far from Keramzin. How about we pay some old friends a visit?”

“You want to see Alina and Mal?” He said.

“At least this time it’ll finally be under better and brighter circumstances.”

The last time Zoya had been to visit Alina and Mal, she had brought the Darkling into their lives once again. Their appearance at her coronation was a welcome one, and while Alina and Zoya had their differences, the Darkling and the destruction of the Fold had changed them both.

“Alright, let’s go and see Alina and Mal.” Nikolai sighed, but only held onto Zoya tighter.

“Nikolai!”

“Just give me five more minutes.”

----------

The journey to Alina and Mal’s orphanage was short, and the fresh air and sunlight was welcome to Zoya, who was beginning to realise just how much she needed some time to do absolutely nothing but ride her horse and spend time with Nikolai. As they approached the orphanage, Zoya could make out a figure stepping out into the entrance. The figure stopped and waved a very Alina wave and shouted something inside. Momentarily, another figure trudged out the door. Mal.

Zoya could barely get off her horse before being enveloped into a tight hug. Alina was always more of a hugger than she was, but nevertheless, she found herself returning the embrace with the same fondness.

“Zoya, it’s so good to see you!” Alina said, her smile as bright as the sunlight she used to summon.

“It’s good to see you too, Alina.” Zoya returned the smile with her own, albeit a more reserved one. They turned to see Mal greeting Nikolai with a friendly grin and a handshake. Alina beamed at them and moved to take Zoya’s hands.

“I’m so glad that you decided to come and visit, it’s not often we get royalty for company.” Alina said, eliciting a laugh from Nikolai and Mal.

“I’m glad you still want me around, considering what happened the last time I visited.” Zoya said timidly, her mind wandering back to the Darkling.

“Firstly, it wasn’t your fault, and secondly, you’re always welcome here.” Alina said, her hands still grasping Zoya’s.

“Now, come inside, I even made tea for this.”

----------

Zoya and Nikolai had spent the entire afternoon catching up with Mal and Alina. It felt surreal, considering all that they had been through together over the past few years. They talked as if they were old friends who hadn’t destroyed the Fold, turned into a demon, lost all of their powers, or gained brand new ones.

Towards the end of the afternoon, when all the chatter had winded down and they’d caught up on each other's lives. Alina pulled Nikolai aside, asking for a few moments alone with him. Nikolai followed her out of the room and into the courtyard they entered a few hours prior. Once they were far enough away, Alina turned to him with an excited glint in her eyes.

“When are you going to do it?” She asked.

“Do what?”

“Propose! It’s about time, Nikolai.”

“Well, ideally I’d like to have a ring to propose with, and so far that’s not looking good.” Alina gave him a sympathetic look.

“You could propose holding a twig and she’d still say yes. It’s your fault you picked a long-lost ring.”

Nikolai and Alina and corresponded through letters in recent months, keeping each other updated on the happenings of Keramzin and the Grand Palace. He’d told her about the ring in case she’d be able to find any information, but they hadn’t had any luck.

“I’m well aware. Genya said she’d send word as soon as she hears something, and I still haven’t heard from my contacts, so if there’s nothing by the end of the month I’ll have to improvise.”

“You must really love her if you’re going to all these lengths to propose to her.”

“She deserves something fit for the Queen of Ravka.”

“Either way, she’ll be happy to marry you.”

----------

The next morning, the couple did not expect to find Tolya standing at the door, with a cloaked figure next to him. The figure lifted their hood, and the face of the Wraith became clear.

A very confused Zoya turned to Nikolai, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Captain Ghafa, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Nikolai asked. It had taken a considerable amount of effort to get in touch with her. As it turned out, the Wraith truly lived up to her name. She seemed to appear in the most random places. Nikolai had to request the help of allies in the Wandering Isle, Fjerda, and Novyi Zem to find her. Once he could contact her, he explained the situation and asked her to get into contact with anyone who might have had information on the whereabouts of the ring.

“I received your letters.”

“I must admit, I’m very surprised you’re here, you’re notoriously difficult to get a hold of.”

“I have a lead on the item you asked me to look for.”

Excitement coursed through Nikolai. Has she found it? Was this all coming together?

“And?” He asked eagerly, ignoring Zoya’s perplexed gaze.

“It’s in Ketterdam.”

[vanilla-vivillon]

Part two of Zoyalai kid as promised

Here’s part one- https://dablackdahlia.tumblr.com/post/650586205772201984/the-black-dahlia

Massive row spoilers

Prince Mycanae Juris Nazyalensky( My Kuh Nay Uh) was turning one years old

It was suprising how quickly he grew up

To Nikolai at least

For Zoya, who adored her son couldn’t wait for him to get older

For one thing while the baby didn’t cry to much at night (whitch was a blessing from the saints)

He couldn’t be Grisha tested

Most ravkans were tested around the age of seven though it varies

Myca was far to young

It was decided when he turned four he would be tested

And so the country was forced to wait four long years

Three more years to go Zoya thought to herself

Myca was an easy baby

That was what his doctors said

He barely if ever cried in the night and was sociable enough

Unlike Genya and David’s son Forrest Kostyk who from all of Zoyas interactions and everything Genya and David mentioned he was a nightmare

Constantly screaming

Hates to eat everything

And now that His teeth were a big enough size he started biting

She had gotten lucky

But Nikolai and her started talking about having more kids

And Zoya found she wanted more aswell

Nikolais pitch however would be far to amusing for her to not listen to

“Come on Zoya only children are the freaks in the playground!” Nikolai said gesturing incredulously

They just gotten Myca put to bed and were having much needed glasses of wine

He needed his rest for his birthday tomorrow

Even though they could’ve had many nannies take care of him that night, neither of them wanted that

Nikolai grew up like that and he wasn’t as close to his mother because of it.

Not to mention the old king was scarce most of his early upbringing

Zoya didn’t want that for Myca either

Of course with all of there duties they had to get some help but they always, always, made sure they put him to bed in the room across from there’s

“Nikolai I’m an only child” zoya retorted

“Touché, but what if something were to happen that Myca couldn’t become king? We would need another option!” Nikolai threw back

Nikolai having another realization

“Plus, it would’ve really helped me growing up to have a good sibling”

This was something Zoya thought about aswell

As a girl she wished for a baby sister

And so did her mother

Sabina had four miscarriages

The last one was the worst

She was safely in the third trimester when it happened

Sabina was distraught for weeks

And when she finally came to, she was different

Harder

Sadder

Meaner

And a couple years later marching Zoya down an aisle

“You know I’m already convinced Nikolai right?” Zoya laughed tired of this charade

Before Myca was born Zoya thought she’d have one

One child

One heir

But she had changed her mind and wanted more

Nikolai showed her a dazzling smile “perfect” he said with a kiss

Zoyas second pregnancy was different

Her morning sickness wasn’t as bad as her first

But a new thing has arrived

cravings

She was consuming unhealthy amounts of Ravkan chocolates

But nonetheless the baby’s due date was July eighth

The date came and passed

But it was nothing to be worried about

There was a lot of moments where they were like “this Is it, the babies coming” then nope

Zoya was 43 weeks pregnant

The baby would be post term

Nikolai would say this is a sign that this child was going to Be late for everything

A difference when Myca was born on the exact due date

But in the middle of the night July twenty second Zoya went into Labor

There second child was Prince Nazariy (Nah-Zuh-ree) Dominik Nazyalensky

He had Brown skin almost darker then Zoya’s and black hair

But it was his eyes that captivated people

He had sectoral heterochromia

His Blue eyes like his Mothers had parts of brown (example below)

They decided on his middle name after Nikolais friend Dominick after some rigorous debate

Zoya wanted to continue with Saint middle names

Nikolai argued Juris was a personal friend

In the end with Nikolais charisma he won

His name Nazariy was actually found in a simple baby book

While Mycanae was in old ravkan and they liked the nickname Myca

They were much more lax with there second son

They eventually decided to have four kids but wanted to wait until Myca would get tested before having there next two children

Time skip three years because your girl can’t detail everything

Myca was four years old and today was the day

He was dressed in his best clothes

What would happen is he would go up in front of the entirety of the Ravkan nobility and other ambassadors and such and would get tested

Zoyas power still couldn’t sense anything in him or Nazariy, but a couple months prior Forrest Kostyk was revealed to be an Alkemi

It seemed that when the grisha first used there ability it activates something and typically Zoya could sense it

Because now Zoya could see Forrest as an Alkemi easily

So while she couldn’t sense anything in her sons that didn’t mean there was nothing there

Zoya and Nikolai had finally gotten most of the details finished and it was them, Nazariy and Myca, and the triumvirate working out some details in the meeting room

Well, Nazariy was pretending he was a squaller by blowing on some paper

And Myca was clearly trying to convince him that wasn’t how it worked

It seemed Myca hadn’t quite grasped his two year old little brother couldn’t care less about what he thought

A fact that would never change over the years

“I don’t understand why we don’t just test him right here right now?” Adrik insisted for the ninth time “less risk”

“And then what if he turns out to be Grisha but presented before the nobility nothing happens? The grisha test only works when they just start out” Tamar responded

“It could still work in front of the nobility” Adrik insisted

“And if all else fails we can just tell him to summon a gust” Tolya added

Tolya was fiercely protective of the boys

It probably started when a couple months ago Myca showed a vague interest in his favorite Poet and the friendship bloomed

“Tolya most summoners can’t summon until days of practice” Leoni interjected “Plus, we’ve made plans on all outcomes and it’s to late to change them now, look on the bright si-”

“Nazariy spit that out!” Zoya interupted

Apparently the little hellhound put one of David’s nails in his mouth

Nazariy, learning his mother wasn’t to be trifled with quickly on, spit it out

Back to the conversation they started on a topic healthy debated

“There’s no way the kid is Grisha!” Adrik started on

“But Adrik he hasn’t gotten sick. And Grisha dont get sick to!” Leoni countered

This back and forth started since Zoya announced her pregnancy

It was a headache really

But when she turned towards the three boys who had come to mean the world to her it was all worth it

Nikolai was with the boys and was apparently taking on Nazariy’s side claiming him blowing on the paper was just as credible as Mommy’s lightning

Myca fought back and claimed any otkaxatsya could do that

It was something happening more often

Myca makes an offhand statement and Nikolai fighting the other side

It was adorable really how Mycas eyes would light up and debate with his father

Plus it would make him think more critically and would make a good king out of him

Not to mention how it really helped Nikolai and him bond

Nikolai and him had some trouble sometimes

Myca doesn’t usually respond to jokes

It seemed after his silly and rambunctious troublemaker of a brother was born he decided he would have to be serious enough for the both of them

Or at least as serious as a four year old could be

But rigourous debate on whether or not green looked good on Nazariy was something they both seemed to enjoy

And as much as Zoya wished she could watch forever it was time

Time to see if her baby boy had certain talents

Myca was scared

He was behind the door waiting to be presented before his mother, father, brother, who would all be seated on the thrones, and of course the rest of the nobility

‘People like you Myca!’ Nikolai would insist ‘there’s nothing to worry about no matter what happens!’

Myca thought he was trying to alleviate the pressure but it wasn’t working

Suddenly his que to come In was called and he walked in

Head held high and posture immaculate he waltzed through the door

The person who was testing him was the Baron of Banewood

An old man who hated nonsense, children, and Prince Nazariy since he was both of those things

He came forward and after some very boring speeches that Myca couldn’t bring himself to listen to until the Baron told him to stick out his hand

Myca complied and the baron produced a very big pin

Guess everyone wanted to be really sure he was Grisha or not

His eyes wandered to his family

Theyre faces looked calculatingly impassive

He knew it was a front

They needed to seem stable for the people

Nazariy who was standing next to the throne was having difficulties standing still

Myca felt bad for him

Half of being royalty is sitting still looking pretty

He trained his eyes back on his parents and saw his father give him a small wink

I got this, I’m prepared for the result, I can do this

As the pin was stabbed into his skin Myca felt it

That calling

That thing begging to come out whenever he saw his Mother doing something grand

Or when he really wanted his brother to leave him alone

And Myca let it overcome him

When he opened his eyes he could see the Baron knocked over and a small breeze

A firm hand clamped his shoulder

“Congratulations Mycanae” Tolya started dragging him away from the scene where the nobility were discussing the scene “Your a Squaller”

Hey so part two of the Zoyalai kid as promised. This was originally gonna be longer but then It became a 230 word monster and i cut it down and will save the rest for part three

35 likes and I’ll make part three

[delos-mio]

Out of the Woods - College!AU - PART 2

A/N: Part 2! I hope you enjoy this chapter. No major warnings apply! Thoughts, feelings, predictions always welcome <3

***

After dropping you off that evening, Nikolai found his mind to be running a mile a minute. It was 1am, relatively early by college standards, but he had no desire to go back to the party and no desire to go home. Instead, he walked around campus until his feet throbbed. He thought about your smile and your laugh, the way you bit your lip and the way you toyed with the ends of your hair. He thought about how you could very well be in the arms of another man right now.

He could have lived without that mental image.

It seemed wild to him that you could make so many feelings flood back to him in such a short amount of time. It hit him like a ton of bricks the moment you locked eyes, and it was instantly like the last 5 years of silence never even happened. God, he wished they never happened. How could he have been so cruel? Who just up and left the person they were very clearly falling in love without a trace? Nikolai, that’s who. And under the penetrating glow of the moon, for the next six or so hours, Nikolai hated himself for it.

Nikolai quietly tried to sneak back into the apartment he shared with Aleks around 7am. Generally, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, so he figured it’d be no problem. As the front door clicked shut behind him, another door clicked open inside the apartment. Alina, clad in only one of Aleks’s shirts, exited his room and immediately jumped upon seeing Nikolai. He quickly averted his eyes and turned his attention to the ceiling, trying to look anywhere but at the half-naked girl before him.

“So, I take it he wasn’t too upset I left the party early?” he asked before she blushed and quickly padded down the hall to the bathroom.

Nikolai pushed his hair back from his face and shook his head. Of course Aleks had company. He made his way to his room and let the back of his knees hit the mattress, flopping onto his back. His eyes fluttered shut as he mulled over the events of the evening. He knew he needed to turn his brain off and actually try to get some sleep, but that was still proving to be rather difficult. As he was getting lost in his own thoughts, he was interrupted by his door being flung open and Aleks leaning in his door frame.

“Do you mind? I’m really tired,” Nikolai grumbled, still not opening his eyes.

“You dog! You got home later than me,” he said with a smile evident in his voice.

“It’s not like that. You’ll notice I didn’t bring anyone home with me, now did I?” Nikolai was starting to get irritated by his roommate’s presence and hoped he’d leave him in peace and quiet sooner rather than later.

“Maybe not. But you could have. Seemed like you and Genya’s new roommate had something going on,” he pried.

“Can you fuck off? Respectfully?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you sleep. But you’re gonna tell me about her when you wake up.” With that, Nikolai heard his door shut again, leaving him in the stillness of his room. He fell asleep half hanging off the bed where he landed with the girl who got away on his mind.

----

When you woke up the next morning, Nikolai was still fresh on your mind. The way he smiled, the way he smelled…everything about him haunted your dreams. It didn’t even take a full minute before the guilt settled in. Jesus Christ, what were you thinking? Did Matt cease to exist because your first love cropped up out of nowhere? You just started flirting with Nikolai again like it was as easy as breathing. But you couldn’t help yourself—Nikolai had worked his way into your head instantly just like he had when you were 17. Like the first time you saw him take off his helmet, shake out his perfect, golden hair, and skate to the bench. It had been a wrap since that moment. You groaned into your pillow, feeling a little nauseous and a lot guilty. After freshening up and pulling a sweatshirt on, you wandered out into the living room of your apartment with Genya where she was eagerly chatting with Zoya over a cup of coffee.

“Fancy seeing you here, ditcher,” Genya teased as you grabbed a mug for yourself.

“I didn’t ditch,” you said. “Nik told you guys we were leaving.”

“Where’d you end up anyways?” Genya asked with a tiny smirk. This line of questioning amused Zoya and she gladly joined in on the antagonizing.

“I can only assume, knowing him, that you ended up somewhere more...private,” Zoya interjected.

“It wasn’t like that. I um, we ended up just going to get some food. Catch up or whatever,” you said while you shot daggers at Genya. You paused to take a sip of the too-hot drink before continuing. “Where have you been hiding Nikolai anyways?”

“He ain’t hiding- have you met the dude? I met him during Freshman orientation. Zoya and I lived in the dorm room next to him and Aleks,” she said as a matter of fact. “We’ve been hanging out ever since. Real good guy.”

“I know,” you sighed, pushing around a pen that was left on the coffee table.

“You like him! Oh man, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about him being totally your type. You and your pretty boys. Mhmm, I bet he liked you too,” Genya teased and smiled again.

“No, he’s just an old friend,” you lied. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Could have fooled me,” Zoya mumbled, but you caught it. The comment did nothing to ease the growing knot in your stomach.

“Seriously. He’s my friend. I kinda got carried away with the flirting last night, but I was so excited to see him, you know?” You looked at them both, silently pleading with them to let it drop. “We’re just friends. Nothing else.”

“That may be true now, but the dude has it bad for you. I saw the way he looked at you, dude,” Genya said softly, finally sympathetic to your anguish. “Can I ask how you know each other? Besides ‘high school or something’?”

“We didn’t even go to school together.” You leaned back into the cushions, letting your focus drift away from the girls across from you. “My parents own an ice rink in my hometown and I’d work the concession stand when I got out of school- do my homework and pour hot chocolate or whatever. Nik played hockey with his high school team there.” You smiled to yourself. “I saw him come off the ice one day and thought he was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. And one night, he walked right up to me after practice and started talking to me like we’d known each other forever. I didn’t have a ton of friends in school and hadn’t really been noticed by boys like...ever. So to have this super hot dude flirting with me was wild.”

“Oh my god, was Nik your first crush?” Genya squealed.

“I’d had a couple guys that caught my eye before him, but he was the first guy I really liked. First guy I kissed. First guy I…” you trailed off, letting the pause speak for itself.

“No wonder he was so happy to see you,” Zoya said.

“He kinda ghosted me when he left for college and I hadn’t talked to him since the last night we were together. I was too scared to try and find him on Facebook or anything. I didn’t want to see him with other girls hanging all over him and hurt my own feelings, you know?” Genya and Zoya exchanged a sympathetic look. “Anyways, that’s about it. Pretty boring stuff.”

“Babe…”

“I gotta start getting ready for work,” you said, abruptly standing and putting your mug in the sink. “I’ll see you guys later.” With that, you shuffled out of the room, hoping neither of them caught the hitch in your voice. So, maybe you weren’t as over that ghosting as you thought you were.

----

The weekend passed with a lot of idle time thinking about when you could possibly see Nikolai again. You were really regretting not scrawling your number somewhere for him. It was torture not knowing how to find him again outside of groveling to Genya, or hoping dumb luck would make you run into him.

You made it to Monday morning and somehow managed to make it to your 8:30 am class on time; a rare feat for you. Thankfully, the class was all engaged in a lively discussion of what constituted a modern classic novel, so it was easy to stay alert and engaged. Before you knew it, your professor was dismissing you and reminding you all about the paper that was due on Thursday. You shuffled down the stairs of the academic building and paused once you got to the quad. Normally, you’d head home for a few hours before your afternoon class, but you had a little time to spare today before your study group. But you also had Nikolai’s face burned in your mind. Would it be totally weird to try to find him?

The building that housed Science and History was only a quarter mile from your classroom, so you made quick work of the walk and tried to hype yourself up, telling yourself that it was normal to want to see him this bad- you’d missed out on a few years there! Of course you wanted to see your friend. When you got inside, you realized you had no idea where you were going. You had yet to take any sort of History class while at school and had absolutely no idea if he was even in class at this time. God, this was seeming like a dumber and dumber idea the more you walked around. After wandering aimlessly for a minute, you saw a familiar head of effortlessly messy golden hair slink out of a classroom.

Immediately, your eye was drawn to him. You were thankful he didn’t notice your presence because you were definitely staring. All weekend, you were sure you had a picture-perfect vision of him in your head, but you were abruptly reminded that he was much more handsome than you could dream up. He had traded in his button down shirt from the other night for a cozy looking grey sweater. You allowed yourself one more moment to admire him from afar before you approached. But Nikolai had turned to face you straight on, face lighting up the moment he saw you.

“I was wondering when you’d come around.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“So, you don’t think I’m crazy for wandering around a building I’ve literally never set foot in, hoping by cosmic timing you’d be here?” you smirked.

“I promise you, I don’t think you’re crazy. I mean, I was considering doing something quite similar myself,” You couldn’t stop the heat that started to rise in your cheeks.

“So, where are you headed now?” you asked, rocking on your heels.

“Well,” he pondered, “I was going to meet Aleks at The Moose if you’re walking that way.”

“I’m not, but I have a couple minutes before I have to be at my study group if you want to sit outside,” you offered.

“Of course, darling,” he grinned, hazel eyes playful as you found a bench next to the bike rack. “How was your weekend?”

“Not bad,” you shrugged. “I had to work both days, but it was pretty slow, so no complaints. I only got grilled by Genya and Zoya a little. It could have been a lot worse,” you smiled.

“They do love any information they can get their little hands on,” Nikolai said, leaning back into the bench. “You...didn’t see Matt at all?” he probed, trying with all his might to look and sound nonchalant, but failing.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Can I not take an interest in you?” he asked with gentle eyes, but you just glowered.

“No. I didn’t see Matt this weekend. We haven’t even talked since Friday, honestly,” you said. Nikolai didn’t interject at all, just looked at you to go on, if you felt like sharing. “We haven’t really been getting along lately. He’s a nice guy and all, but I don’t know how much we have in common. And he never seems to have time for me unless it’s on his terms. Like, he expects me to be available whenever it works for him, but he’s always conveniently busy if I ask him to do anything with me.” You kicked at a rock near your toe, eyes fixed on the ground, totally unsure why you just told Nikolai all that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. “I’m saying this as your friend,” he started, making you look in his eyes again. “You deserve someone who understands what a gift it is to spend time with you.” It was so simple, but it made tears instantly spring in your eyes. “Hey. Hey, now. None of that,” he smiled, thumbing a tear away. “Would you maybe want to come over Friday? Get pizza and watch a movie or something?”

“That sounds really nice, Nik,” you nodded. It was then he broke into a blinding smile and you were unable to stop the swirling in your belly.

“Could I—would I be able to get your number? So I can send you my address or whatever,” he added quickly; you were really starting to love seeing him get flustered.

“I think that’s a good idea, yeah.” You reached for some scrap paper and pencil from your bag and scribbled down your number, placing it in the palm of his large hands before standing up. His fingers just barely brushed yours as he took the paper before stowing it away in the front pocket of his jeans. “You can always use that number before Friday too, if you want,” you said with a sly smile and patted Nikolai’s cheek gently. His laugh carried a bit as you walked opposite directions out of the quad, your feet feeling like they were being carried by tiny, pink fluffy clouds.

Fuck. Did you just set up a date with Nikolai? No. No, not a date. Just two friends eating pizza and watching movies. Friends did that all the time.

But as you walked to the cafe where your study group met, there was a crashing wave of guilt that washed over you. What the fuck were thinking? All you were doing was playing with fire, practically begging fate to burn you. You were mentally beating yourself up, feeling like a total shit bag as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, seeing your group already gathered and breaking off into pairs, Matt beaming at you when you came into view.

“Hi, baby,” he said, kissing your cheek as you sat down next to him.

“Hey,” you smiled back with tight lips, hardly able to look at him.

You started going through notes for an upcoming Logic and Reasoning exam, but you found yourself unable to process anything you were reading. Your mind was elsewhere and you only managed half-hearted affirmations and hardly contributed any correct answers. Here Matt was, sweet and excited to see you. He was good, he was nice. Maybe you just needed to make more of an effort with him. Should he really want to do the things you wanted to do, or were you being selfish? You weren’t sure.

“Something wrong?” he asked suddenly, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Just don’t feel good, that’s all,” you shrugged, looking back at your notebook and computer. He accepted that answer and didn’t probe any further.

“So, you should come over Friday. I don’t have anyone else to hang out with and thought we could hang out,” he said into your ear, hand gripping your thigh.

“Can’t,” you said with a shake of your head. “I already have plans.”

“Oh there’s a surprise,” he said, half under his breath. And that...that was it. You immediately slammed your pen onto the table and looked at him with hard eyes.

“Would you just say whatever you’re trying to fucking say?” you seethed.

“Just seems awfully convenient that every time we’re supposed to do anything, suddenly you have plans with I don’t even know who” he said, clearly annoyed. “All I’ve done is try to accommodate you and do what you want, but that doesn’t seem to be enough,” he added with a melodramatic sigh, which was more than enough to set you off.

“Oh, that’s a fucking joke, right?” you laughed. “Maybe you’d know more about my schedule if you ever bothered to talk to me more than once a week. And you literally just said I should come over because no one else can! Like, I’m your girlfriend- I shouldn’t be your last ditch option,” you scoffed. “You know what? I can’t be here right now. Call me when you’re ready to rejoin all of us in reality.” With that, you grabbed your bag and stormed out the door, letting your feet take you quickly in any direction that was simply away. No, you were right about what you said to Nikolai- Matt only saw you as convenient.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

[nazyalenskyism]

Let’s Get Married 1

Summary: A Zoyalai modern AU with fake dating in latter parts.

Ao3: Let’s Get Married

Excerpt: He raised a brow, easing back in his chair, “can I help you?”

“What’s this?” Genya exclaimed without any preamble, grabbing a paper off the top of the stack in David’s hands and slapping it onto his desk.

“Paper, I assume, darling Genya.”

“I mean what’s on the paper,” she snapped, “it says you’re married.”

“That sounds great. See you at noon tomorrow. Yes, Madraya I know how to get to the Palm Court. Yes, I promise I won’t be late. Okay, I’ll see you soon.” Nikolai gently placed the receiver into the cradle before dropping his head into his hands. He was lucky that it was a Friday evening, the firm was empty which meant no one was around to witness this. He was nestled away in his favourite hidden corner in the law library which was the perfect place to get his work done, though he wondered how productive he would be now that he had to create a game plan for the following day. He was practiced in making sure his mother didn’t spill any secrets which was often the result of wanting to spite his father and one too many drinks, but no matter how good he thought he was his mother always managed to surprise him. And then there was the matter of his brother and father. He wanted nothing more than for them to burn with their continual mistakes, but he couldn’t. Whether it was out of some strange sense of loyalty to people who only made his life more difficult or to protect his mother who always stood silent at their sides when they tormented him, he didn’t know.

The only thing he did know was that he was about 15 hours away from another lunch with his mother and her gossiping group of friends where his father would decide not to show up at the last minute because Vasily wanted to go golfing in the Hamptons where they would undoubtedly spend the rest of the weekend philandering. Another weekend where his mother pretended she didn’t know what was happening, deciding to drop as much money as she could manage, just to irritate her husband. Then it would be Monday again, where Nikolai was left to pick up the pieces from the damage that his family caused, wishing that he could close his eyes and disappear off the face of the Earth for just a second if it meant he could be left without responsibility over people who didn’t care about him.

“What are you doing?” From between the shelves stepped out another lawyer, not just any other lawyer, it was Zoya. Zoya Nazyalensky was a talented lawyer who had joined the firm a few years after he had, right out of law school. She was skilled, hardworking, and an expert in making the most egotistical men shrink by simply raising her brow. They had worked a few cases together over their time at the firm, but more often than not, they had their separate cases that they chose to work on together. Most days they could be found in each others’ offices, working silently for hours with only occasional requests for advice or lunch orders. Despite all the time they spent working together, Nikolai, who considered himself something of an expert when it came to others’ feelings, had no idea if Zoya actually liked him or if she simply put up with him because he was the least terrible person at work. He always welcomed her company though.

“What are you doing here so late?”

She raised a brow before crossing the space and sinking into the couch cushions next to him. “I could ask you the same thing. In fact, I just did.”

“I’m putting some things together before the weekend.”

“Was your phone call that bad?”

Nikolai wanted to wince, “you heard that?”

“You were on speaker.”

“Saints, as if I needed that broadcast to the entire firm.”

“Oh, there’s no one here. You and I are the only ones left,” she said as she pulled off her high heels and curled her legs onto the couch.

“You haven’t answered my question, why are you still here?”

“You first.”

He sighed, she’d already heard the entirety of his conversation with his mother, it’s not like he could ruin her image of him further. “The sooner I go home, the sooner the reality of tomorrow will hit me.”

“Is getting tea with your mother really that bad?” she asked almost hesitantly.

Nikolai threw his head back, “I love my mother, but these luncheons usually involve my father ditching at the last minute to go and break his wedding vows, while my mother pretends she doesn’t know what’s happening

“And you have to go?”

“Someone has to make sure she gets home in one piece, and I trust her friends as far as they can throw me.”

“Isn’t the saying that you trust them as far as you can throw them?”

“I excel at everything I do, naturally but they can’t say the same.”

“Ah, I see.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again, her tone hushed as if speaking any louder would shatter the calm. “Is that why you don’t work for your father?”

Nikolai exhaled, “that’s a part of it.” His father was C.E.O of Ravkan Industries, and unlike his brother, Nikolai hadn’t joined the family business right out of highschool. Make no mistake, he wanted to be a part of the company, he knew he needed to be a part of it to spare the world of further misguided leadership from his family. It pained him, but they were the worst thing to happen to the company, and he often feared that he was the only person who could stop the trainwreck that was his family from derailing.

She nodded, “I know a thing or two about bad families.” Her legs had been drawn up to her chest, and she rested her head against her knees, eyes trained on him, “I can’t speak about anyone else, but your brother is definitely a jackass.”

“You’re right, I’m sure everyone who’s ever met him agrees. Speaking of which, when did you?”

“I came to your office a few weeks ago looking for you. He was waiting for you, gave me a sleazy once-over and asked me out. He got offended when I said no, and I told him that I didn’t date men who look like the Walmart versions of their younger brothers.”

Nikolai shook his head in amusement, “I’m surprised I haven’t heard him complaining about that. You must have really wounded his ego.”

“What,” Zoya said, fixing him with the withering glare she dished out when someone was being incompetent, “like it’s hard?”

“Ooh,” Nikolai groaned, rubbing a hand over his chest, “glad I’ve never been on the receiving end of one of those.”

She gave him a small smile, picking at a loose thread at her sleeve, “how do you usually spend your Saturdays when you’re not cleaning up their messes?”

“Go on a run, get pastries and coffee from the bakery across the street, read a book with my cat, catch up on some shows…”

“That sounds…. surprisingly pleasant.”

“ What did you think I got up to?”

“I don’t know… peach picking or something?”

“Aren’t you allergic to peaches?”

Zoya looked startled for a second, “yeah, how did you know that?”

“That time that we helped Genya with her groceries because she broke her leg? You weren’t paying attention and grabbed them, 10 minutes later you got hives.”

The look she gave him was intense and assessing, had he said something wrong? As much as he liked to think he knew how everyone operated, Zoya Nazyalensky was a bit of an enigma to him still. “What about you? What are you doing tomorrow?” he said in an attempt to maintain the conversation.

“I’ll go on a run with my dog, get breakfast, do some work, get some flowers and do my laundry. The usual.”

“Have you ever had lunch at the Palm Court?”

“No, but my aunt took me to the champagne bar when I graduated,” her smile was small, “it was the nicest night I’ve ever had.”

“I can’t promise that tomorrow will be anything less than a disaster, but would you like to accompany me to lunch?”

Zoya fiddled with the chain around her neck, fingers running over the seams of the locket, as if she was contemplating opening it. “Would it be proper?”

“You said it yourself, you have nothing else to do tomorrow morning, you’ll get a ridiculously expensive and delicious lunch for free.”

“But wouldn’t I be intruding?”

“My father’s going to cancel at the last minute, remember?”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

“He will. He always does, and he is nothing if not a creature of habit.” His phone rang at that exact moment, “like clockwork,” he murmured. “Hello.”

“Tell your mother that I can’t make lunch tomorrow, Vasya and I are going golfing.” The line cut before Nikolai could reply, not that he’d been planning on it.

“So, Nazyalensky, are we on for afternoon tea then?”

She sighed, “fine. But it better be as tasty as you’re saying it is.”

“It’s absolutely heavenly. The Dom Pérignon really brings out the subtle undertones in the Pistachio Dacquoise Cake. And the Devonshire cream is absolutely to die for.”

“I didn’t understand half of that.”

“Don’t worry, after the first time, you’ll be begging that we go back.”

She raised a brow, “is that a challenge, Lantsov?”

He grinned, “when is it not?”

“This is a pity lunch, I’m not going because I actually care about you.”

Nikolai nodded understandingly, “of course, of course. This is strictly a pity invite too, since this brunch will definitely be more entertaining than a Saturday spent at home.”

“Great. So we’re on the same page then,” her smile was sharp and Nikolai felt his blood rush at the sight. Maybe tomorrow would be bearable.

***

“Anything I need to know before we go in?” Zoya crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at the façade of the infamous hotel the following morning, suppressing the urge to run home. Was she nervous? For what? To meet Nikolai’s mother? No, that couldn’t be it. She was nervous to lose her bet with him, that was it. He had called her early this morning to make sure that the terms of the bet were solidified, if she fell in love with any of the food, she had to accompany him to any future lunches, whenever he asked. If she won, he had to accompany her to any errands she wanted. She had thought about making him assemble all of her IKEA furniture for the foreseeable future on the way here and had nearly bumped into him while she daydreamed about him carrying her groceries every week.

“If a question doesn’t feel like a trap, then it is one. If it feels like it’s a trap, then it’s definitely a trap. If it feels like someone is fishing for a response, then that’s a trap.”

“So, everything is a trap?”

“Exactly!”

“And you do this every month?”

“More like every two weeks.”

“Saints,” she swore, “and you don’t get sick of the food or company?”

“Well, they do let a little bit too much slide about their husbands’ schedules, most of them are on the board of my father’s company, and if I can get on their good sides they might vote for me over Vasily to take over one day.”

“You’re always playing the long game, aren’t you?”

Nikolai raised a brow, “and you’re not? We both know your ‘favourite hangout spots’ are coincidentally the same places where you can poach clients from Fjerdan Holdings.”

“Wait,” Zoya frowned, ignoring him completely. “If your father and Vasily are both skipping, who else did you invite? I'm taking your father’s place and what about Vasily’s?”

“I’m honoured you think I’d be invited in the first place.”

“You’re not invited?”

“Only when Vasily cancels, which is every time.”

“They really don’t invite you to family lunches?”

“I’m something of a problem child to them.”

“Nikolai,” she said and he could feel her gaze on him, “are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Zoya. I’m sure.”

“Let’s get moving then, we’re about to be late.”

“Ruthless as always,” Nikolai sighed, pushing open the door.

“Punctual, as always,” Zoya retorted, following him through the lobby, “you should take a lesson or two from me on showing up on time.”

“Never heard of fashionably late, Nazyalensky?”

“That’s just an excuse people with no dress sense use to justify their inability to choose a functional outfit.”

“Ruthless.”

“Honest.”

***

“Kolya!”A blonde woman dressed in beige exclaimed, beckoning him over before pulling him down into a hug . Zoya looked down at her pale blue dress, was she too colourful for brunch? But no, Nikolai’s dress shirt was the same colour as her dress, surely that meant that it was okay. She’d forgotten the ultra-rich nature of Nikolai’s family and the way that high society acted. Sure she made good money at work, but this world, the world of her clients, was something else. She’d grown up eating lunchables when she’d lived with her parents, while she suspected that he had never eaten anything that wasn’t prepared by a gourmet chef before he went to university.

“Madraya, this is my friend, Zoya,” he said, pulling away, “she’s the one I told you would be joining us this morning.”

“Thank you for having me,” she smiled, trying to put on her most charming persona, The Nikolai, as she liked to call it.

Nikolai’s mother shook her hand enthusiastically, “Zoya, this is Svetlana, Kolya’s auntie. Please! Sit, sit.” The other woman assessed her slowly from head to toe and Zoya shot her a cool glance, a challenge, to which Svetlana turned away from. Off to a great start.

Zoya reached to pull out her chair, faltering when she felt someone else’s on top of hers. “Your jacket,” Nikolai whispered, “I can take it.”

She stared at him. What? She went rigid as Nikolai helped her out of her coat, the warmth of his fingers brushing against her skin, making her thoughts freeze too.

“You alright, Nazyalensky?” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her chair out for her. “You should stop staring, it’s rude.”

She rolled her eyes at him, whatever spell had fallen over her was broken now, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he winked in return, but she could see the surprise on his face. Did he really think she was so ruthless that she had no manners?

“So Kolya, tell us about how you and Zoya met!”

***

Lunch was rather mild, and nowhere near as horrific as Nikolai has mentioned. In fact, it was pleasant, certainly much more enjoyable than any meal she’d had with her own mother. Nikolai’s mother cared for him in her own vapid way, and once Nikolai had reiterated that Zoya was not his girlfriend, Svetlana had thawed considerably, both of the women asking her about her clothes, work, and life. The lies came easily, they always did when it came to her family. She wasn’t embarrassed by her past but she saw no value in mentioning the people who had conceived her but had done nothing more than that. Zoya was also not in the mood to be pitted by these women, and she spun them a web of what they wanted to hear. A girl from a rich family who grew up doing all of the things they had.

She told them details from trips she had always dreamt of taking with her aunt but that they’d never been able to afford, easily replying to their inquiries of, “oh, I love Paris! When you went, did you eat at the cafe 3 blocks east of the Louvre? With the 100 year old bakery? It’s a must!” with an exact order of their most deep-menu items. Zoya smiled as they tittered on about the delicacies, as if an evening dining there didn’t cost more than what a month’s worth of groceries had cost as a child. To them her weekends were spent at tennis practice at the local country club instead of split between doing homework, working at her aunt's cafe and in the mail room at the law firm across the street to earn a little money. She didn’t say this explicitly of course, but she didn’t deny it either when they acted like she shared their experiences.

She’d never spoken to Nikolai about her past, nothing beyond the fact that she was raised by her aunt and that she had a younger cousin. He’d never asked, not out of a lack of interest in her, she knew that— but out of understanding that she didn’t particularly care to share that information. In the world in which she now found herself, anyone that deviated from the norm was looked down upon and she refused to be a source of entertainment for them.

The conversation quickly turned away from her however, with a few carefully timed lines from Nikolai. He brought up childhood memories of his own that made everyone laugh, recounting his numerous hijinks through the years. He told stories about the more interesting cases he and Zoya had worked on recently, his flow pausing naturally to let her throw in her own banter as well. She learned of the multiple times Nikolai had nearly burnt their beach house down, how he once “accidentally” lured a hoard of sheep to chase his brother when they were visiting Scotland, and how he was the youngest in his highschool graduating class, finishing at 15 before going to university, and then sailing around the world for a year.

As enjoyable as seeing Nikolai’s nose scrunch when his mother recounted a particularly adorable story was, by the time the desserts rolled around, Zoya felt fatigued. How did Nikolai do this all the time? When he wasn’t charming his family he was charming clients, coworkers, whoever he needed to. She had enjoyed the afternoon a lot more than she had anticipated, especially the food which was heavenly, like he’d said. But in the end she was adamant not to admit defeat to Nikolai even if it meant more meals like this. She would rather stab herself with the salad fork than admit he was right— or was that the dessert fork? Why were there so many forks? She was granted a bit of a reprieve when the ladies saw another group of their friends and decided to go chat with them at their table. Then it was just her and Nikolai, who had gone unusually quiet and was staring at her empty plate quite critically. “What’s wrong?”

***

Nikolai had been right, inviting Zoya to lunch had been a great idea, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d genuinely enjoyed one of these lunches. She had been brilliant, with the way that she handled all of their questions and discussed topics that interested them, the way that she’d chimed in at the perfect moments in his stories to add a little detail that made the anecdote even better. Everything had gone better than he could’ve imagined, except for the fact that it looked like he might be losing their bet, and after today, he didn’t think he would hate these lunches if Zoya were attending them with him.

Af first he’d been genuinely worried that she wasn’t enjoying herself since her reaction to the food had been muted, but the longer he watched her the more he was able to figure out exactly what was going on. He knew she wasn’t touching the desert tower because she knew that it would be her downfall. Most of the sweets were exactly of her taste and she was desperate not to lose to him. What had she intended on making him do if he lost that she was fighting so hard to win?

“Try it,” Nikolai mumbled, pointing at the tea tower, “it’s delicious.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, “you’ve said that about everything so far.”

“I’m serious, Nazyalensky. You’re going to love this.”

“I’m going to love it, or you’re convinced I should love it so that you win?”

Nikolai pulled a face, “why can’t it be both? Come on, it’s a dark chocolate cherry custard, that’s pretty much all of your favourite foods.”

Zoya peered at the dessert as if she was holding herself back, “it does look slightly edible…”

Saints, she would do anything to beat him, wouldn’t she? Nikolai smothered his grin, holding out a spoonful of the custard to her, “you know you want to try it.”

She let out an exasperated breath, taking the bite. Her eyelashes fluttered as she tasted it and she turned to him, scowling, “damnit, that’s so good.”

“I won’t say I told you so, Zo,” he laughed, as she smacked his shoulder with one hand, the other wielding a spoon that was digging into the custard on his plate. She hated that nickname.

“Well, Nik, or should I say Nikky? Or Niko? Or Nikola? Or--”

“Ah, that’s enough, dear,” Nikolai groaned, he definitely had worse nicknames.

“Whatever you say, Kolya.”

“Who would’ve guessed that brunch Zoya was a gloater?” His tone was teasing as he leaned in, brushing the bottom of her lip with his thumb to get rid of a chocolate smudge. “I certainly figured you were the modest type,” he trailed off, realizing what he’d done.

“Me and gloat don’t belong in the same sentence,” Zoya said, but her voice was low and her eyes were trained on his fingers. Nikolai repressed the urge to sit on his hands or flee from the table, but she said nothing and neither did he.

“Kolya, sweetheart, be a dear and wait for your father’s card.” His mother was back. Nikolai shot out of his seat, walking over to her. “We’ll be down the street at Svetlana’s daughter’s boutique. Zoya, hon, are you coming with us?”

“Oh, I’ll just wait with Nikolai,” Zoya smiled.

“Of course, dear.” His mother then pulled him aside, “you should bring your girlfriend around more often. It’s been so long since you’ve brought someone home.”

Nikolai looked at her, bewildered, “girlfriend? Zoya’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. Not even friends, coworkers is probably a better descriptor for our fully platonic relationship.” Was he rambling? He felt like he was rambling.

Instead of replying his mother simply patted his cheek with an infuriatingly knowing look before she followed her friends out of the dining room. Nikolai shook his head out, walking back to Zoya as they waited.

“ ‘Not even friends?’I have to admit, that’s probably the best thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” Zoya said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I was just taken aback,” Nikolai protested, “of course we’re friends, okay,” he said, raising his hands in surrender at her pointed glare, “I consider us friends at least, I don’t invite strangers to the brunch from hell.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she scoffed, flicking a piece of lint from his lapel absently. “The food was good, and they were nice enough.”

“Oh, they’re not nice at all,” he laughed, turning to take the card from the approaching waiter, “you just knew how to handle them.”

“I suppose I’ve spent enough time with clients like them to know how to act,” she frowned, “I didn’t really have to think about it.”

“That makes you a perfect fit in their social circle,” he winked, holding the door open for her, “you’re clever enough to outsmart them all, they can’t get anything from you unless you want them to have it.”

“I thought being clever was your brand?”

“I’m okay with having a worthy companion in that bracket.” Nikolai jested, surprised when she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as they began their way down the street. She probably just needed to keep her balance, he couldn’t imagine navigating the cobblestone path in the high heels she was wearing. He couldn’t recall her ever wearing anything but heels, now that he thought about it. Perhaps she would require further assistance walking in the future, he didn’t think he would mind that.

“But really,” she said, tilting her head up to look at him, “you’ve never thought about us?”

Nikolai turned away for a second, unsure of what exactly to say, and when he turned back to her, she was already looking away. “I can’t say I have. To be fair, I didn’t think you liked me until yesterday, or that you considered us friends until today.”

“Of course we’re friends,” she scowled, punching his bicep with her free hand, “we’ve been friends for years, you dolt. You think I waste my free time on people I can’t be bothered to tolerate?”

“Oh.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, “yes, oh. I always knew I was smarter than you but this is pathetic on your part, Lantsov. What did you think when I gave you that scarf for Christmas?”

“I thought you were just being nice?”

She groaned, “take that back. I’ve never been nice a day in my life.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes before she spoke, “you really didn’t think, ‘hey, we do our work together at the office, we have the same friends, and I’m the only person in the office that Zoya hasn’t threatened to throw out the 29th floor window? so maybe that means something?’”

“You threatened to throw me out the second floor window 3 days into working at the firm.”

“Exactly!” she nodded, “you would probably survive that fall. That was essentially me telling you I didn’t hate you that much.”

“You work in mysterious ways, Nazyalensky.”

“Hold on,” Zoya put out a hand to stop him, “your collar is up.” She stepped towards him, fingers brushing his neck as she folded the fabric, her gaze intent upon him.

“If it weren’t for my newfound knowledge that you consider us friends, I would think you were considering strangling me.” Nikolai laughed, feeling her pause in her movements.

“That can certainly be arranged,” she teased, smoothing out the lapels of his coat, her hands resting on his chest for a second. Her eyes met his and she looked away quickly towards the boutique, freezing when she saw the occupants staring out the window at them. “Why are they looking at us like that?” Zoya murmured.

“I think that Svetlana thought she could get me to marry her daughter.”

“Aren’t you all about love, is it really that bad of an idea? She owns a boutique, that’s pretty cool.” She stepped back, shoving her hands into her own coat pockets, and Nikolai instantly regretted opening his mouth.

“I’m not really her type.”

“I thought you were ‘everyone’s type?’”

“Am I?” Zoya turned away from his gaze, and he thought he saw her face flush. “She dated Tamar a few years back, and then she was with my sister for a few months, but I doubt her mother knows if she’s dating anyone right now.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You have a sister?”

“That’s a story for another time,” Nikolai grinned. “It may cost you another lunch date.”

“If they have food as good as today’s, every Saturday is yours.”

Nikolai smiled as Zoya waltzed into the boutique, an elegant but disruptive storm in his life. She hadn’t flinched when he’d called it a date, hadn’t hesitated when he’d asked her to accompany him again, hadn’t protested at the fact that he’d won the bet. Despite all the good that had come out of the day, he felt something gnawing at his chest, ‘what, you’ve never thought about us?” and he doubted it would ever leave his head now. ‘Whatever’ Nikolai thought, trailing after her. It wasn’t like even if he wanted to, they would ever be together. There was no use in worrying over something that would never happen.

[dylanobrienisbatman]

Omg give us ur rant abt hating d*rklina as a ship.. im petty

Okay Anon, so i saw this the other day and I wasn't in the right headspace to answer but i am now!

So to start off, I am firmly in the ship and let ship category. You like a ship, i don't care. That doesn't mean i won't rag on the ship itself but I don't send hate, I don't really engage with shippers from ships I don't like, and I am liberal with the block button and the blacklist feature. Cultivate your tumblr/online experience, y'all. You don't owe anyone on this hellsite (or any other) a damn thing.

However, I REALLY do hate d*rklina as a ship, and I have a big problem with the way the shippers talk about it, so I hope you were being serious about wanting a rant because here it goes.

As for the ship itself, i feel like the reasons I dislike it are pretty obvious and standard. It's abusive. He is her abuser. He manipulates her. He spends months grooming her and gaslighting her, intentionally trying to get her under his control so that when he literally enslaves her it will go over easier. He never actually loved her, he wanted to use her for her power. It's not complicated, it's not really 'up for debate', that is the way its written, and the author has explained that that was the intended interpretation of her work. I mean he literally sexually assaults her in the second book, and straight up tells her he's going to kill everyone she loves so that she has no choice but to fall to him because she is completely alone in the world. He threatens to skin her alive in the second book when they're on the boat, he has no problem torturing her to get Mal to do what he wants. That's not love. He does not love her. It's pretty black and white, its explicitly written as an abusive relationship. The point was to show how easily powerful men can manipulate and abuse young naive women who don't know any better and try to see the best in people. Alina 'fell' for the version of Darkles Sparkles that he intentionally created to try to control her. Nothing he told her was true, from his backstory, to them both being 'the only one like [each other]' (hello, baghra), to using Genya to convince Alina that Mal had abandoned her, everything he did was manipulation so that he could get her under his control. It is not a romance, it is not 'a ship war', d*rklina is not written as romantic. He is her abuser. Full stop.

There is also the point about him being just a generally horrible person all around. He's not morally grey. He just isn't. He sold an 11 year old into sex slavery, forced her to stay in that situation so he could use her, and then mutilated her when she defied him. He also groomed and abused Zoya, because he saw that she was exceptionally powerful and wanted to use her the way he wanted to use Alina. He enslaved Alina. He blinded and mutilated his own mother. He is a genocidal maniac. He shows no remorse, he doesn't care about anyone but himself and his own power. He is not the type of character that should be romantically shipped with anyone. If you like him, that's absolutely fine! One of my fave characters ever is Kai Parker from TVD. Dude was a straight up psychopath. He tried to kill multiple pairs of toddlers. He brutally murdered his pregnant sister AT HER WEDDING. He is a HORRIBLE person. But I think he's a brilliant character. But do I think he's a good guy, do I want him anywhere near any characters in that show in a romantic way (ehem b*nkai)? Absolutely fucking not. Being a fan of a villain character is fine, but fucking own that shit. Villains can be SUCH good characters, but they're still villains. Erasing the bad they've done so you can justify putting them in situations where they WILL harm the people around them because you can't level with yourself about the bad things they've done doesn't make you 'woke', it just makes you look like you don't understand the media you're consuming.

Which leads me to why I have such a problem with the way D*rklina shippers engage with the ship. They simultaneously wanna say "oh we know it's toxic/bad/abusive/etc., that's why we like it!" and then also they try to claim that it should be endgame, they romanticize scenes where he is abusing her (and by romanticize I mean they literally try to frame his abuse as romantic, not like "oh yeah my ship is interacting!!". those are different things. You can be excited about ship interactions without trying to say that things he is doing to her are actually romantic), they try to argue that he is morally grey/misunderstood/etc., and they straight up try to lie and say he's not her abuser.

If you wanna ship an abusive ship, own it. Be straight up about why you like it. It's okay to be into dark shit, y'all. It does NOT make you a bad person to be into dark shit. But this idea that fiction doesn't impact real life, and that people can't call the ship out for what it is is a problem is a very troubling trend in fandom. Nobody is saying you can't ship it, do what you want. But this idea that these people are 'oppressed' because fans of the show/book continue to point out the facts about the way the story was written and how the relationship is actually presented is fucking insane. Someone saying that D*rklina is abusive is not calling you out, they are stating a fact. It's the story as it was presented. You trying to say it's not makes it look like you have no reading comprehension. And this idea that 'well i'll be on the lookout for evil shadow wizards in real life lol' is such horse shit too. His shadow wizard powers aren't the issue. He is a powerful man who grooms and abuses young women. You're telling me you lived through the Me Too movement and you wanna act like thats not a real threat that young women face every day? You're telling me that you can't see that the actual real life connection you're supposed to be making here? Okay, well you should maybe deal with that and come back to me, because that's an issue.

Fiction is meant to teach us lessons. Darkles is meant to teach us something. He is meant to show us that sometimes, powerful men lie to, manipulate, groom, and abuse young women, and we should be aware of that. The story is about a young woman who is sucked into an abusive situation, and then she breaks free and in the end she is able to defeat her abuser. That is a really powerful story, and one that millions of real life women can relate too. To pretend that that story doesn't have real life connections makes you look insensitive and frankly, kind of cruel.

So basically, in the end, my biggest issue is that D*rklina shippers love to spout this nonsense about 'knowing' it's bad and that he's a villain, and 'that's why they like him', and then turn around and try to say that he's not actually the villain, he's not actually bad, and the things he does to Alina that are abuse are actually romantic and sweet. You wanna ship an abusive ship, you do you, but lets not pretend it's anything other than what it is, but romanticizing and normalizing abuse tactics so you can feel, what? morally superior? Cool? edgy and different? That has real life impacts. You are normalizing abuse. Real people will engage with that rhetoric, and it will make it difficult for them to see abuse when it happens to them or the people around them because they believe its romantic or normal to be treated that way.

You wanna be a villain stan? You wanna ship dark ships? Good on ya, but fucking own your shit, y'all.

[gravity-lifts]

Who’s Afraid Of Ghosts?

Hello everyone! Here’s my piece for the gvbb mini bang (organized by @grishaversebigbang) 

Here’s some absolutely amazing art by @generalstarkov link and  @emmaxtw link!!!! Also a wonderful edit by @jiangsziyas link!! 

This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. ~~ Sometimes, your friend tells a ghost story so stupid that you just need to prove that nothing bad happens in graveyards at night. Right?

ao3 link here

Fic under the cut warnings: violence, death of a minor character (non canon character) words: 2161

The group sat in a semi circle in the living room, sprawled across couches, chairs and each other, chatting amongst themselves, loud enough to make Zoya actually glad, for the first time, that Liliana wasn’t going to be home that night. She wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation --- she hadn’t really been for a while, more caught up in the flickering of the fire off of her friends as they talked. A shout drew her attention towards where Nikolai was sitting, looking equal parts regal and ridiculous in an armchair. He gestured wildly with his hands, trying to explain something to Tamar and Nadia who both seemed to not quite believe whatever tall tale he was spinning. It was probably just something about the mermaids he swears he’d seen the last time he’d been out boating.

However, as she turned back to the fire, she heard him mention the graveyard. Cursing her needless curiosity, she wandered over to Nikolai’s chair, just in time to hear him rambling about the person’s gory end. So, it was a ghost story, then. She settled in, back resting against his legs, waiting for him to restart with his new audience as Tamar and Nadia shuffled back to the couch and Alina drifted from where she’d been talking with Genya, probably having heard half of Nikolai’s story the first time, looking just as curious as Zoya felt about the beginning of a story that had such a gory end.

Nikolai sat up a bit straighter, his face brightening as he noticed that more people wanted to hear his story. He cleared his throat, and then he began.

“This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. In fact, one of them is telling a ghost story just like this one, a true story of a group of friends all together in a house-”

“Yes yes, this story is true and it’s about true things that happened truthfully, now, what actually happened? I thought this was a scary story, not just one about what we’re doing now,” Zoya cut in, pushing a curl of hair out of her face.

“I’m getting there! Just wait, I promise it’ll be scary. Now, in this story there’s a girl that doesn’t believe the ghost story that is being told. She tells her friends off for being superstitious, for believing in the story that had been told. Now, like I said, this is a true story, a cautionary tale, if you will. And, the story inside the story is just like that as well, about a kid who went to the graveyard after dark, only to be killed, right on the grave. Now, as I said, the girl didn’t believe this story when her friend told it. She believed it to just be a stupid tale meant to scare children much younger than them away from the graveyard before dark, back home to their parents for dinner and bed. She declared that she would go out to the graveyard, to prove that the tale hadn’t been true, promising to leave something of their choice on the centermost grave to show that she had followed through with her plan. And so, she set out, a candle in hand, ready to prove that her friends were all just overreacting over a kids story. Now, this is where the story starts to blur. Some people tell it with a happy ending, one where she runs away, never to be seen again. That, in my humble opinion, is bullshit,” he pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, the drumming of his fingers on the arm of his chair the only clue that he’s anxious to get to what he clearly thinks of as the important part of the story.

“In the much better version of the story, she goes to the graveyard, brave as can be. She walks to the grave, and sets her candle down, kneeling to light it as she hears footsteps behind her, getting closer with every moment she wastes fumbling with the matches. She stays there until she feels someone's breath on the back of her neck, feels the gentle press of a blade to her back, before it plunges in, then the searing pain took priority over everything else, a knife being twisted before it was withdrawn, leaving her to bleed on the cold graveyard dirt, candle lit at last. 

The next morning, her friends came to find the candle. They were speculating wildly about why she hadn’t returned home the night before, all joking about how she must have met another friend, maybe even a partner, before they stepped inside the cemetery and got their grim answer, in the form of her body, laying in a puddle of what was unmistakably blood, still shielding the candle from the elements.” He leaned back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair to either straighten it or ruffle it more, Zoya wasn’t completely sure. She was sure, however, that the story was completely untrue.

“So, Nikolai,” she said, standing up from where she’d been sitting on the floor and taking a step towards him. “You’re saying that if I go into a graveyard at night, I’m sure to die? Because, it is night right now, and last I checked, there’s a graveyard only two blocks from here.”

Nikolai sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose you’d like to go alone, as well? Haven’t I just given two examples as to why this isn’t a good idea?”

“Oh come on! You were telling a scary story, those are supposed to be like cautionary tales. Besides, it’s not the same graveyard. No one has ever been killed in this one, I think I would know if someone had been, seeing as I live right. By. It.”

Nikolai stood, looking genuinely concerned. Concerned enough to make her feel like this may not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had. Well, if she was anything, she was stubborn, so she might as well follow through with it. If anything went wrong, it would serve Nikolai right for basically daring her to do it.

She turned towards the kitchen, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she walked.

“If I’m actually going to prove your story wrong, then I might as well take something to prove I was there. Would a knife work instead of a candle? Of course I wouldn’t be lighting it on fire, but I could drive it into the ground to prove I was there.”

Nikolai just stared at her, before finally snapping out of whatever mess of thoughts had been running through his head. 

“I’ll come and get you if you’re not back after what, ten minutes? Zoya, I never thought I would say this, but please don’t prove me right.”

She scoffed, pulling her boots on.

“Please Nikolai. It’s a children's story! Don’t tell me you actually believe I’ll die from being alone in a graveyard.

She walked out the door, letting it slam behind her in a way that would definitely have made any parental figure furious with her, and started on her way to the graveyard. She must have zoned out while she walked as it seemed to have taken far less time than it normally did to walk there, but she found herself already almost in the center of the graveyard, knife in hand. She checked that she was in between two graves -- it felt rude to stab a grave -- and knelt, swiftly digging her knife into the dirt. 

She was quite ready to go back home, telling herself that it was just because of how cold it was, and definitely not because the wind whistling in the trees sounded like one of the monsters in the stories she had begged her dad to tell her when she was a child, even though she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep after hearing them. No, it was definitely the cold. 

She tried to stand, brushing dirt off of her knees as she rose, but she found that she wasn’t able to move past a low crouch. Behind her, the wind grew ever louder, swelling as it whipped through the trees. It sounded almost like babies crying now, less like the roar of monsters as it had before, or the crash of waves on the shore as it usually did, during the day. Uninvited, thoughts of angry ghosts appeared in her head, and suddenly she was a lot less certain that she was actually alone in the cemetery. 

She sank back to her knees, wondering if anyone would find her before morning, or if she would stay in the graveyard, laying dead until morning or even later, like in Nikolai’s story. She really should have thought a bit more before testing fate like this. 

Once again, the wind swelled, almost as if it was trying to push her over. Zoya straightened her back, lifting her chin. If she were to be killed by spirits, at least she would go out with her dignity intact.

Then, from behind her, she heard something. Something that sounded like… footsteps? They stopped, but now she could hear someone breathing a bit behind her. Perhaps she had been too hasty to assume that ghosts were the only thing that could hurt her here.

“Zoya? I’m here to get you! We were worried about how long you were taking. Are you going to turn around, or do I have to make my dramatic entrance to your back?”

She whipped around - or tried to, at least. Whatever was keeping her pinned to the ground was definitely still there.

Nikolai walked around her, probably to make his grand entrance, as by now he had certainly decided that she wasn’t going to turn. With him here, her fears of ghosts and murders seemed almost silly, especially in the glow of his flashlight. He held out his hand to her, entrance seemingly having been set aside. He was looking at her rather oddly, and when she raised a hand to check for dirt on her face, she found the reason in the almost dried tear tracks. She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying until now.

As Nikolai pulled her to her feet, they heard the sound of fabric tearing, amplified by the relative silence surrounding them. The wind had died, leaving everything deathly still. Zoya glanced down, finally seeing what had kept her on the ground. The knife she had brought was still pinning some of the fabric from her dress, clearly stuck firmly enough that it wouldn’t come out without a fair amount of force. She reached down and tugged it out of the ground.

“Well, Nikolai, I suppose we can agree that I was here? Or do I need to leave the knife in the ground for proof,” she said, wiping the dirt off of the knife as best she could on the remaining part of her dress, which was most of it, but she was entitled to some dramatics after what had happened. She would have to get rid of this dress anyway, especially since it was now missing a piece of the skirt.

Nikolai laughed, a bright sound, one that seemed rather out of place here. 

“Yes, I do think that everyone will believe your harrowing tale of the graveyard. Shall we head back now? It’s getting rather late.”

This time, it was Zoya who offered her hand. Nikolai took it, in silent agreement not to mention the fact that she had offered it, now or later.

Together they walked, hand in hand, back to the house where their friends were waiting. As they approached, Zoya could see firelight flickering through the window, and when Nikolai pulled the door open, she could hear them chatting and laughing. As soon as they had stepped inside, both Alina and Genya flew towards them, talking a mile a minute. Genya wanted to know why Zoya had been at the cemetery so long, Alina wanted to know if she’d seen a ghost. Or two ghosts. Maybe three, even, if she’d been lucky.

The four wandered back to the living room, Zoya assuring Genya that she hadn’t meant to stay as long as she had, and telling Alina that she’d seen exactly zero ghosts, ignoring her disappointed sigh.

Zoya sat again, feeling as though she’d be happy if she never had to leave this room again. It was warm from the fire, and the noise from her friends was comforting. She sank back into the couch, content just to sit here, with everyone, until morning.

[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.

[beeexx]

Part 2 of snippets from Ivan and Fedyor’s season 1 pov. Home is where the heart is.

Loving in a time of war. Read part 1 here. 

Ivan’s slept too little to be awake at this hour. It’s barely morning, the sun is just beginning to paint the sky, but the curtains haven’t been drawn properly and light dances off Fedyor’s sleeping face. They’ve moved during the night, Ivan is facing the door, his back to Fedyor, who has snuggled close, one hand wrapped over his waist and his face in Ivan’s neck, puffs of hot air tickling his skin at the steady rise and fall of his chest. Ivan’s lips twitch into a small smile as he carefully shifts out of Fedyor’s grip and gently places his arm back on the soft silk sheets. He scrunches his face up, like he subconsciously knows Ivan’s out of reach and Ivan reaches out to smooth the wrinkles over, pushing some of his fringe away from his eyes. His hair is soft and unfixed like it’s not often these days and Ivan likes it the best this way, when Fedyor, almost always so open, is even more open, the armour even he wears around the palace is stripped back completely and just there for Ivan to see. 

“It is too early even for you to be awake.” Fedyor murmurs sleepily and blinks his eyes open. He closes them almost immediately again, shielding them from the sun. 

Ivan hums agreeably but considers going outside just the same. He feels restless and his mind is already whirring too much for him to be able to go back to sleep so a walk on the palace grounds when most people haven’t risen yet sounds somewhat appealing to him.

“It is too early for walks too.” Fedyor says like he can read Ivan’s mind and he blindly reaches for Ivan’s arm before he pulls, making Ivan huff. He goes willingly, leaning over him on his elbows.

“Stay.” Fedyor opens his eyes, brown with speckles of golden inside of them and Ivan hums.

“I guess I could be persuaded.” 

Fedyor laughs and looks a little bit more awake immediately, attention fully on Ivan, expression a little smug suddenly. The morning light throws his sharp features into stunning relief and Ivan has yet to see a sight rival this man.  

“Could you now?”

“Depends on the bargain.”

“You know me, I drive a very hard bargain.” Fedyor’s eyes are crinkled up adorably as he tries not to laugh at their ridiculousness but his hand comes to rest on Ivan’s sheek, fingers trailing over his morning scruff. 

Ivan takes his hand in his and kisses each finger reverently and Fedyor’s breath hitches before he grabs Ivan’s face and pulls him down to kiss him roughly. Ivan cuckles against his lips but even when he does it he can feel excitement beginning to pool in his stomach and his toes curl as the kiss grow more heated, the promise of what is about to happen making him feel giddy.

…..

It’s later, in fact probably a lot later when Ivan gets up to get them some water. When he comes back he pushes aside the curtains completely, smiling as the warmth of the sun lingers on his face and takes in the view of the apple orchard that has finally started to bloom. He’s heard that it’s taken it longer than usual this year. 

Fedyor stretches like a lazy cat, sheets tangled in his legs but he accepts the water with a small proud smirk and Ivan rolls his eyes at him. 

“You want me to heal that?” He asks and pushes the pad of his thumb against the love bite on Fedyor’s throat. The kefta won’t be able to fully hide it, it will peek through if he moves his head, which Fedyor is very obviously aware of. 

“No.” Fedyor says simply and Ivan nods. “Do you want me to heal those?” Eyes sparkle with mirth as his own hand trails further down to Ivan’s neckline, dotted with little marks from their earlier love making.

“No.” He mirrors Fedyor’s words and Fedyor smiles, pleased. 

“Thought so.”

“We’re late.” Ivan comments but makes little indication he’s going to move away.

“Are we?” Fedyor drawls, aware that they are. 

“Yes.” 

“No one would notice.” Fedyor moves to sit behind him, placing a sloppy kiss on his shoulder blade.

Ivan snorts 

“We both know that’s not true.” But he leans into Fedyor’s touch anyway, his eyes falling shut instantly. 

“Well it’s not the first time we’ve been late…”

“No, I recall those other times vividly.” His tone is pointed and Fedyor chuckles against his skin.

“My love, I think you might need to get your head checked, because if you recall correctly you had a bit of a trouble streak back in the day.” It makes Ivan chuckle because while that might be true, Ivan always managed to get away with it back in the day, his reputation of orderly and seriousness serving him well. Less so for Fedyor who got the blame, he took it with a secret little smile and never corrected anyone so the assumptions that Fedyor was the one behind it stuck. He turns his head and angles it so he can capture Fedyor’s mouth in a hot searing kiss, never getting enough of him, not even after years together. He messes up Fedyor’s hair and he shifts slightly, Fedyor’s hand coming to rest on his chest again, responding to the way Ivan’s heart is beating under his palm. 

“Good thing I am older and wiser and know not to be late anymore.” He says against Fedyor’s lip before he draws back. Fedyor’s huffs and opens his eyes, brown eyes dark before he frowns and plops down on the bed, frustrated. It makes Ivan laugh and Fedyor waves his hand in retaliation sending blood to the lower regions of Ivan’s body causing him to suck in a sharp breath. Fedyor giggles and Ivan sighs. 

“Fine.” He agrees and climbs back into bed, his husband’s delighted face worth all the trouble they will get for this.

…..

Ivan doesn’t often get a moment to himself these days. He rarely has time off and even when he does have some time to do what he wants he’s rarely alone. But he’s more tired than he’s been letting on and a moment to himself is what he needs. He’s found a secluded spot on the palace grounds, by the lake but off from the common path and not visible if you don’t know where it is. There are birds singing in the treetops and the wind that keeps rustling the leaves is a comforting sound to his ears. 

He exhales. 

A twig snaps suddenly and Ivan freezes for a moment, hands raised the next, ready to defend himself against enemies. It turns out it’s just Zoya, who is clearly fuming as she walks angrily towards the clearing, sending leaves in all directions as she walks.

“I regret ever telling you about this place.” Ivan mutters. She stops, her furious expression slipping for a moment as she spots him before she scowls at him. If there was anyone in the little palace that could rival Ivan in scowling it would be Zoya. He ignores her in favour of closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing to get the moment of serenity back.

But Zoya seems to have other plans and the wind around them come back stronger and colder in a very unpleasant way as she keeps taking her anger out on the environment.

“If you don’t stop this right now I will burst a blood vessel in your brain.” He warns without opening his eyes and the wind abates around them. She stops using her powers to take out her anger, instead she stomps around and growls in frustration like a goddamned child. It is almost as annoying as her earlier tantrum. 

“Saints, can you go have a tantrum somewhere else?” He snaps, his patience all but gone. She glares and kicks a rock before she saunters over and drops herself down unceremoniously onto the bench by his side.

“It was not an invitation for you to sit.” He grumbles but moves anyway to make more room for her. 

“Good thing I don’t care what you think.” She snaps at him and he bites his twitching lips. Despite how extremely annoying Zoya can be Ivan likes her well enough from time to time. 

They both sit quietly for a while and it’s peaceful enough that Ivan forgets she’s there for a moment. Until she groans again.

“Aren’t you going to ask what is wrong?”

“Do I look like I care?” She rolls her eyes.

“If you want sympathy go find someone else to bother.”

“I am realising it was a seriously grave mistake to find you of all people, I should have gone for Fedyor, at least he is sane enough to like me.”

“You will hear no arguments from me.”

She gives him an imperious look that Ivan ignores. 

“What are you even doing here?” She asks instead.

“Trying to get some peace.”

“What, here?”

“Isn’t that the same reason you are here? To get away?”

“Maybe.”

“You are getting predictable Zoya.”

“It was this or shove Alina Starkov into the mud.”

That makes Ivan chuckle unexpectedly and Zoya smirks. 

“Impressive restraint on your end.”

“Oh I’m nothing if not impressive.”

“She is not worth the trouble you’ll get in.” He offers her and she rolls her eyes. 

“Says the one already in favour of the General.”

“I worked hard for that position.”

“So did I.”

“Well maybe you should start looking elsewhere for whatever it is that you want.” Her eyes narrow and the air vibrates between them in her fury.

“Maybe I should hurl you into the lake, that might make me feel better.”

“I’ll put you to sleep before you’ll even have the chance to move.” He doesn’t spare her a second glance, she’ll know the threat is real enough. She sighs before she grows silent, staring out onto the water, eyes distant.

“I worked hard to get where I am Ivan, every day I pushed myself harder to get stronger, better, faster and here she swoops in, all muddy and afraid and suddenly everyone loves her, I don’t get what everyone sees in her.” It’s a rare moment of vulnerability from her he’s not too used to seeing. 

Zoya is younger than both him and Fedyor and Fedyor had taken to the angry girl immediately when she came to the palace. She had warmed fast to him, everyone did, but it had taken a nasty incident with some older Corporalki girls where Ivan had stepped in that had made him and Zoya friends. Ivan might be stubborn, hard working and grouchy at times but he did appreciate stubbornness and commitment which she clearly possessed. She averaged fast when she got here and that didn’t go unnoticed by some older students who didn’t appreciate it and had chosen her as an easy target to take out their failings on.

He had held his hand out to her where she was sitting against the wall, her face downcast as she wiped furiously at her eyes. 

“I don’t want your help.” She had said, her voice steely.

“Good thing I’m not offering you help then.” He had answered her, just as curt, but his hand was still there between them and she had narrowed her eyes before she had let him help her up. She dusted off her kefta and Ivan had watched the smaller girl pull herself together, her pain masked behind a face of indifference. Fedyor would comfort her, offer up some great advice or something. He wasn’t Fedyor. 

“I’d say to keep up what you’re doing at least, the best revenge is success.”

She had studied his face for a moment and he hadn’t smiled or really given any indication that he cared, but a small smile curled at her lips anyways.

“Terrible advice, I already know I am better than those girls.” That made him grin though.

“Doesn’t hurt to hear it every now and then.”

“No, it does not.” She said more somber. She didn’t thank him and he didn’t need it, but something did pass between them that made them understand one another better and the small stubborn girl that didn’t give up had carved out a place in his heart. 

“Hope, that’s what they see.” He says, bringing himself back to the moment.

Zoya furrows her brows.

“It’s not something I can compete with.” She mumbles, a little sadly. Ivan sighs, his treacherous heart twinging in his chest.

“No, but maybe you shouldn’t.”

“It’s not my way to give up.”

“It’s wise to know which battles to fight and which to not.”

“I know which battles to fight.” 

“Zoya…” He begins, clears his throat from the soft voice that has slipped through. He starts again. “Chasing after the General will do you no good.”

She narrows her eyes again.

“What would you know about chasing?”

That makes Ivan laugh and it catches Zoya completely off guard for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Did you just… laugh?”

“You said something very funny.”

“Saints, I can barely make you smile on a good day and now you’re suddenly laughing?”

“Do you often try to make me smile?” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes at him before she averts them to hide what Ivan thinks might be a faint blush. 

“Shut up.”

“Gladly, I would like to return to my peaceful moment.”

“Will you tell me about your history of chasing or shall I have go to Fedyor to get that information?”

“Fedyor would keep my secrets from you.” She rolls her eyes.

“He would…” She says after a while. 

The birds have gone back to their twittering and he enjoys the sounds of the alive forest around him. 

“You’re lucky to have him.” Her voice edges on wistful in its sadness as she interrupts the moment yet again. 

“I am.” He admits because it is the truth. 

“I would like you to tell me how you met.”

“That will never happen.” 

She chuckles.

“I will get the story out of you one day Ivan, I just need to find the right bribing material.”

“That will take you a lifetime malen'kiy.” The old nickname slipping through. 

She smiles brilliantly at him and Ivan offers one back in return.

…..

Ivan is in their room when Fedyor comes back, sitting down, in the process of shaving. 

“I hear you let the sun summoner out of your sight today.” He comments, meeting Fedyor’s eyes in the mirror. His husband at least has the decency to look a little bit guilty before he shrugs and comes forward, wrapping his arms around Ivan’s shoulders. 

“It wasn’t so serious. She just wanted to see the acrobats. Besides, Genya was with her at all times.”

“I see.” He drawls, unimpressed. Fedyor shakes his head, a little peeved. 

“Love do you not remember being young? Wanting to be free, have some fun?” He raises a pointed eyebrow, voice a little stern and Ivan’s demeanor falters for a moment as a small little smile slips through at the memories.  

“Oh I remember.”

“We used to get in so much trouble.” Fedyor giggles, his annoyance forgotten as he places a kiss on top of Ivan’s head. 

“Yes and whose fault was that?” 

“Oh I remember your trouble making streak darling.” Ivan grins and goes back to the task at hand, not admitting anything. 

“She was fine you know.” Fedyor says after a while. Ivan grunts as a reply and Fedyor rolls his eyes, a little fondly. 

“I think it did her some good too.”

“Well she should be focusing on practicing her powers rather than avoiding duties and having fun.”

“What a boring life it would be, to not have any fun.” Fedyor says and spins the chair Ivan is sitting in around before he graciously sits down in Ivan’s lap, plucking the shaver out of his hand. 

“Some people could do with less fun.” He comments drily but lets Fedyor continue with the shaving. 

“Some with more.” 

Ivan huffs. 

“She could have gotten in trouble, then all the preparations for the future would have been wasted.”

“Well I told her off if it makes you feel any better. I tried out my impression of you, worked wonders.” Fedyor’s eyes spark like they do when he’s proud of himself, the joy so contagious Ivan can’t bear to be disgruntled. 

“Oh, that I am impressed by my dearest husband.” He is in fact a little proud. Fedyor grins.

“And, ah, I also think the General is quite fond of her, don’t you think?”

Ivan rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sure she won’t even get in trouble for her little rebellious act, in fact I think he’s a little bit impressed by her.”

“I’m sure it’s not the only thing he’s impressed by.” Ivan mutters and Fedyor laughs.

“My my, is that jealousy I detect?” 

“Don’t be stupid, I do not harbour any jealous feelings of the sun summoner, I am not Zoya for saint’s sake.” Fedyor only laughs harder and puts the shaver up to Ivan’t shin. 

“No, it would be quite unlikely of you to feel jealous when it comes to women.”

“They are not my type.”

“Oh I’m well aware.” Fedyor smirks and Ivan thinks of pushing him off his lap but he doesn’t want to risk getting his throat cut so he tightens his arms around Fedyor instead and Fedyor smiles sweetly before he continues with a ridiculous precision and care he will only extend to Ivan. 

“So, all done.” Fedyor says after a while and takes the towel from the sink, wiping his face clean. 

“Good. Thank you.” 

Ivan’s eyes travel to the newly arrived keftas hanging by the massive wardrobe and he can’t help but frown. Fedyor puts his finger on the scowl and smooths it over.

“No grimaces when there is a party happening.” He chides without any heat and Ivan’s eyes move over to his face instead. 

“You only want to attend this party because of the sweets my love.” 

“Ah there are going to be so many baked goods there.” Fedyor says excitedly. 

“Only you will get this excited over the prospect of sweets.”

“That is because there is nothing quite in this world that can rival sweets.”

Ivan lifts an eyebrow making Fedyor laugh.

“I said quite.” He defends with a laugh and Ivan stands up, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist and places a kiss on his nose. Fedyor’s legs wrap around him in return and his arms come to rest around his neck. 

“Come on, let’s get ready for your party then.” Ivan says with Fedyour’s laughter in his ears.