aaaa hi rain!!! hope ur having fun on ur vacation :33 id like to request zoya and "relax" ❤️
send me a character + a word for a vacation themed drabble
relax; zoya
"you're always so uptight."
"well i can't help it -- i'm not a sadistic giraffe like some people -- i gotta store my anger somewhere --"
"we're sinners, that's what our powers are for."
you roll your eyes. "easy for you to say -- you overpowered freak of nature."
zoya grins, her entire posture an ode to nonchalance -- from her cocked head to the loose hang of her arm over the back of the ludicrously large sofa. her eyes are sharp as a werewolf moon and just a bright.
you shiver as you feel her gaze rake up the length of you, and you know now not to mistake hunger for mere interest as you might've done in your younger sinner days.
"aw, c'mon doc --" she leans forward, the unctuous lilt of her voice chasing goosebumps up both your arms, "aren't you supposed to be here helping me?"
you narrow your eyes at the nickname -- she'd taken to calling you that ever since you'd managed to somehow charm the stoic monolith that is dr. iron into taking you on as an apprentice.
"you have good hands," the doctor had said in her customary clip of a voice, and zoya hasn't let you live a peaceful day since.
"i'm supposed to be keeping you in line," you snipe, folding your arms if only to create some kind of barrier between the pair of you. whoever's hair-brained idea it was to put the pair of you in a single hotel room for this little "excursion" clearly has a cracked send of humor.
zoya tuts, sinking impossibly deeper into the oceanic couch.
"mm... chief specifically sent the two of us together, so that must mean she thinks we'll make a good team, right?"
you feel your eye twitch at the insinuation, but you make no move to stop her as she pushes up in one fast, fluid move to stand, towering over you, her silver hair shimmering like so much misplaced starlight.
you blink, trying to keep your expression placid.
the way zoya's pupils dilate as her eyes flicker over your face tells you that you were less than successful. silently, you curse at the heat prickling into your cheeks as zoya smirks.
"well, if you're really here to keep an eye on me... then you shoudl keep me close, right?" she asks, her voice dipping low and husky. you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to keep yourself from gasping as she bends down, caging you against the wall with a palm braced by your cheek.
"i -- this is more than close enough --"
zoya scoffs, "but you're still so tense, like a scared little bunny trying to outrun the big-bad wolf." her grin splits wide, and then wider; if you didn't know better, you'd have called it a leer, "c'mon bunny -- relax a little... have a little fun... no?"
you nearly squeak as she leans down, her nose nearly grazing yours, the hot skim of her breath washing across your lips like a curse, or a promise.
"z-zoya --"
"mm... you do sound good flustered -- i thought you might."
your breath crystalizes inside your chest as you blink up at her.
"wh-what --"
zoya chuckles, reaching up to tug on the end of a stray strand of hair, falling to frame your face before her fingers find the tip of your chin and she tugs at it with a thumb and forefinger, her eyes flashing.
"just shut up and let me make you feel good, kay?" she asks, and there's an odd, steely look to her that makes your stomach twist. you find yourself nodding, despite the distant ringing of alarm bells inside your head, warning you against beautiful women with wolf-moon smiles.
you take a deep breath --
"fine," you say, licking your lips.
you don't miss the way zoya's eyes track the movement, nor the thirsty bob of her throat as she swallows.
"do your worst," you match her smirk with one of your own.
zoya lets out a sound like a pleased growl before leaning forward to meld her lips with yours. and like this, you think, you really might really not mind leaping headfirst into the mouth of the big, bad wolf, all the consequences be damned.
Zoya couldn't keep her eyes off of you during the entire concert, hearing you sing and move so flawlessly around the stage, getting the crowd more excited as they followed you and sang the songs. Every beat of the drum had Zoya aching, wanting to be with you, wanting to have you in every way she could. She wanted to hear your beautiful voice singing in different ways.
After the concert is over and you're backstage, Zoya practically drags you towards the bathrooms. Once you enter, she brings you to the last stall, shoving open the door and lightly pushing you inside. The moment the stall door shuts, she's yanking your pants/skirt down your legs, then your panties.
Quickly undoing her belt and shoving her own pants down her legs, until she slips free. "Need you so badly, just stand there and take what I give you," Zoya whispers, before shoving you forward until your hands plant against the wall. Then she's shoving inside of you, groaning loudly at the feeling of you wrapped so perfectly around her.
She doesn't hesitate to start thrusting, holding you by your hips, moving her cock in and out of you until you're a trembling mess for her. Listening to your sounds of pleasure is music to her ears, because you sound so beautiful, even more than when you're singing. It's addictive, and she wants to hear even more of those intoxicating sounds.
So she moves faster and harder, the sound of her thrusts echoing off the bathroom walls, her grunts filling your ears as she leans down to kiss the back of your neck, lightly leaving marks behind to claim you. "Feel so fucking good, gonna fill you up so nicely that you'll be dripping for days." Zoya growled against your ear.
Eventually, you reach your peak, squeezing down around her cock and coating it in your cum. She thrusts a few more times before burying herself to the hilt, groaning loudly as she cums, filling your up fully until you're dripping with her seed.
Afterwards, she helps you clean up and adjusts your clothes, smoothing out your hair before shoving the stall door open. If you're limping, she wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close. "All mine, baby. All mine." Zoya whispers, kissing the side of your head, finally satisfied after aching for you during the entire concert.
Had this thought that I'm going to probably write out more thoroughly after work today, but imagine Drummer!Zoya dragging you to a bathroom after a concert to fuck you raw, because she had been eyeing you the whole night as you were singing.
Hi, I don't know if you still write for Shadow and Bone, but it doesn't hurt to ask, right? If so, could you do an arranged marriage au! with Zoya and the prompt "sorry, that was my first kiss." "I could tell." "...." "I'm kidding!"?
── .✦ 𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ summary ‣ [ in request! ]
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ pairing ‣ zoya nazyalensky x gn! reader
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ warnings ‣ none
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ word count ‣ 415
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ author note ‣ sorry, i was gone for a bit I had some exams and didn't have time to write
masterlist!
Zoya couldn't believe she was here, discussing a contract for her marriage. After the war, after everything she thought she'd marry someone she's actually in love with but life didn't turn out that way. She needed a trustworthy partner, someone she could rely on. That when she met you, you two became fast friends but the love just wasn't there. She was the one to ask for your hand in marriage with a few conditions.
You agreed as she is an amazing woman and friend. You couldn’t ask for a better life long partner or for however long she’d want to be with you. She was the most nervous you’d ever seen her the week before your wedding. She was pacing around her room and had been for the past hour. “What’s the matter? Do you want to call it off? I d-”
“No, no, no. We’ve already planned everything: the vows, the speeches, the reception, the honeymoon. It’s just…” She never finished the sentence but you had a pretty good guess where it was heading. It was clear she was still stuck in her head as her eyes were distant. You lightly cupped her cheek and slowly drew her in. Giving her the option to pull away if she wished.
But the moment your lips meet, it was as if you’d been swallowed up by the world. Zoya’s breath caught just as your lips touched. Your only thoughts were of Zoya. Was this what she meant or were you making a fool of yourself. Zoya placed her hands on your shoulders. You could feel the calluses and scars on them, the sign of her rank in the army. Her lips moved gently as the morning breeze on yours.
Her hands rose to rest on your neck as she pulled you closer. The passion grew between the two of you as time went on. When you finally parted, both out of breath. “Sorry, that was my first kiss.” You stared into her eyes for a bit before murmuring. “I could tell.” She gently shoved you away as you stumbled back. “I’m kidding.” She turned away from you.
“When we do the whole ‘you may kiss the bride’ try to make it last shorter.”
“Try? You wouldn’t know it even happened.”
“Sure, I wouldn’t.” You took a hold of her hand and started trailing kisses from her finger tips to her shoulder. “How could I ever get you to forgive me?”
SUMMARY: Jealousy isn’t an emotion Zoya thinks she is capable of feeling. You prove her wrong, and then remind her that jealousy can mean a little bit more than just wanting you all to herself.
WARNINGS: Jealous!Zoya, self doubt, not specified whether reader is Grisha or not.
PROMPT: Misc 9 - ‘Jealousy doesn’t suit you’.
NAVIGATION | GRISHAVERSE MASTERLIST | KO-FI
Zoya doesn’t usually do jealousy. It’s not a feeling she recognises, not with the life she’s lived or the battles she’s fought. But, then, you’re standing across the room, laughing a little too loudly at an Inferni, the one who’s been hanging in the background since the fight at the Little Palace. Zoya’s stomach twists, and she knows she’s stumbled into unfamiliar territory.
It’s jealousy. Sharp, raw, relentless, and frankly embarrassing, jealousy.
You catch Zoya’s gaze, and your smile falters, a flicker of something apologetic in your eyes. Before you can say anything, she’s walking over, heels clicking against the stone floor, and the heat in her eyes is undeniable.
“What’s going on?” Zoya’s voice is low, but every word carries a charge, like she’s ready to fight for you right there, even if there’s absolutely no real reason to.
Your brows furrow, and you’re caught off guard, but you don’t step away. “It’s nothing, we’re just talking.”
Zoya narrows her eyes, steps closer until the space between you feels electric. “Talking, hm.”
The Inferni clears her throat, clearly sensing she’s in the way, and moves off, leaving you and Zoya alone. You reach out, hesitating for a moment before threading your fingers through hers with a tiny smirk. “You’re jealous.”
Zoya doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looks down at your intertwined hands, then back up, her expression softening.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you say quietly, almost to yourself.
Zoya smiles, uncharacteristically a little nervous. “Maybe it doesn’t. But, I don’t have to be perfect.”
Your eyes darken, and you pull her close, kissing her temple and letting your voice dropping to a whisper, “No. You don’t.”
It’s late when you finally find a moment alone, away from the restless buzz of the Little Palace and the lingering tension of recent battles. The moonlight filters through the windows, casting pale silver light over Zoya’s sharp features. You watch her, the way her jaw sets, how her eyes flicker with unspoken emotions.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you ask, “If that Inferni was bothering you?”
Zoya shrugs, though the slight tension in her shoulders betrays her calm facade. “Because I’m supposed to be above it.”
“Above what?”
“Jealousy. Weakness.”
You scoff softly, stepping closer. “I don’t think you’re weak. I do think you’re jealous, but weak? Never.”
Zoya’s lips twitch, a ghost of a smile. “You don’t know what it takes to be this strong.”
“I do. I see it every day,” you grin as you reach up, fingers brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “And I see all of it, even the parts you don’t want to show.”
Zoya closes her eyes briefly, leaning into your touch. “I’m tired of hiding them.”
The confession hangs between you like a fragile thread.
Days pass, and the tension between you ebbs and flows. Zoya is as fierce as ever, commanding, sharp, a force of nature, but in the quiet moments, you catch glimpses of vulnerability that surprise you.
One afternoon, you find Zoya training alone in the courtyard. The sun beats down, sweat glistening on her skin, and every strike of her staff is precise, fueled by something deeper. You sit on the stone bench, watching. After a particularly hard hit sends dust swirling, Zoya pauses, breathing hard.
“You should rest,” you call out gently.
Zoya shakes her head, stray strands of black hair practically glued to her forehead and cheeks. “I need to be better.”
“Better for what?”
“For everything,” she says, and then softer, “for you, for us, for Ravka.”
Your heart skips a few beats. “Zoya, love…”
She drops the staff, turning to face you fully. “I’m scared,” Zoya admits, and, Saints, she sounds it. The word feels improper coming from Zoya, sounding almost foreign.
“Scared?” you echo.
“To lose you to something I’m not strong enough to face.”
You stand, crossing the small distance between you. “You won’t lose me.”
Zoya’s eyes search yours, somehow vulnerable and fierce all at once. “How do you do it? How do you stay when everything around us is chaos?”
You smile, brushing the back of your hand along her cheek. “Because I love you, and because you make me feel like I’m home.”
Zoya’s breath catches in her throat, and then she exhales a sigh of relief. She leans into your touch, resting her forehead against yours. “I love you, too.”
That night, the two of you lie tangled in sheets, the world outside muted and distant. You trace patterns on her skin, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your fingers.
“About jealousy,” you start quietly.
Zoya hums, eyes still closed. “It doesn’t suit me.”
“Maybe not, but, it’s real.”
Zoya opens her eyes then, meeting yours in the dark. “Real can be dangerous.”
“But, it’s also human.”
She nods slowly. “Then I choose to be human with you.”
The words are a promise, soft and fierce all at once.
The next morning, Zoya wakes with the sun, her usual sharpness softened by a quiet contentment. You watch her from the bed, the way the light falls across her face, illuminating every line and curve you’ve come to know so intimately. She catches you looking, and a slow smile spreads across her lips.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” she says again, voice teasing now, bordering on mockery.
You laugh softly. “Maybe not, but, I think it suits us. It means we care.”
Zoya reaches out, pulling you close, fingers threading through your hair. “Then I’m glad to be jealous. I’ll be jealous forever.”
“And, so will I.”
And with that, you lose yourselves again, in each other, in the messy, beautiful truth of love.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ summary ‣ the coldhearted driver and her rival, no one could have guessed they'd end up togther but it's all a PR stunt
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ pairing ‣ f1 driver! zoya nazyalensky x f1 driver! gn! reader
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ warnings ‣ misogyny & self-doubt
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ word count ‣ 1k
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ৎ˚ author's note ‣ if there's some f1 terms anybody doesn't understand i can put the description before the fic (written for @laanswife as apart of an old poll)
masterlist!
It took Zoya years to finally reach f1. She'd won a season in f1 academy but f1 since its creation had been a male dominated sport. For years the only time you'd see a woman on the broadcast would be a wife or girlfriend of a driver and ofcourse grid girls. It's only in recent years that women made an appearance driving themselves. It's a sobering fact for Zoya.
What and how she does, doesn't only impact her but any other future woman who wants to be in the sport. If she fails, they'd all point to her as the reason why women shouldn't be in the sport. That's something neither Alina nor her PR manager understand.
Alina came into the sport as a future contender for the championship. She sign with Mercedes, had a scandal with the team principal, Aleksander Morocov. She than left the team signing with a mid field team along with Mal, gotten her first podium the same year. She started dating her team mate, publicly. Zoya could tell Alina had talent and was a great driver but she could never understand her.
So much of what Zoya does is scrutinised to the smallest detail. What she wears, eats, drinks, everything. Zoya tries to not let it get to her but sometimes it gets too much. Maybe Alina is better at hiding it or it just doesn't get to her. She applauds her for that. The first time Zoya got on the podium, they asked her. "Do you have anyone you might dedicate this podium to?"
She started thanking her family and team to hide her disappointment. Then came the comments.
She didn't smile enough for the photo.
She was standing too close to the drivers.
Only P3? Why is she even in f1?
How ungrateful is she?
She tried ignoring them. She started putting up this cold cutthroat personality. Slowly brick by brick. Pretending she didn't care like nothing phased her. It was better than being called a cry baby. It didn't make her feel any better. Now, this. Her PR manager wanted her to be more approachable. They organised a deal with another driver for them to "date". The worst possible option but 'they tried everything else'.
It just had to be them, her rival. There's a respect that forms with rivalry otherwise it's just hatred. Zoya respected them, their talent, their dedication to the sport. She was even on the podium for their first win. Dating them, that's a different story.
You can’t believe this after everything. THIS will ‘fix’ your reputation. Who cares what the public thinks you’re just here to drive and win. Zoya is a nice girl and deserves so much better than you. What do you even have in common? Will it matter? Is it just public appearances? Why another driver? Wouldn’t this make things worse for the team? All these questions and more were circling your mind as the decision was relayed to you.
You couldn’t speak. It was absurd. Who thought this was a good idea? After the meeting was over you’d gotten Zoya’s number from the drivers’ group chat, texting her.
Were you already informed?
Unfortunately, yes
It seems to be that we are dating
How do they want you to go about this?
A few appearances here and there
Maybe some post on insta and whatnot
Basically the same here
I guess we are dating
That we are
It was frustrating, even if you did have the inkling of feelings for her, this will certainly put everything on the back burner. This is just a PR stunt, nothing more and nothing less. The first few days of your ‘relationship’ was nothing too bad, again just some photos and cryptic words. Zoya and you actually had a fun time coming up with cheesy quotes you could put on your posts.
“So, how about a classic, ‘No one makes me feel the way you do’.” She said as you were playing a racing simulator. “Now that’s too direct,” you could hear her scoffing. “Give me a better one then.”
“Ummm Maybe ‘You are my forever’.” She laughed. “That’s better? Are you serious? Also way too consequential. We’re set to break up after a year and a few months. That isn’t forever.” She was right. It’s only for less than two years. Those weren’t the right words. “Maybeee ‘Just in case you ever forget, I’m never not thinking of you’.”
“Perfect, the fans will love it.” It was a combination of carefully thought out photos and text approved by the marketing team but at some point the photos ran out. You had to make new ones. Both of you agreed to meet up at a beach in Italy early in the morning to take some relationship reveal photos. Zoya looked stunning in a sun dress. The dress was a combination of dark and light blues as well as glitter forming the night sky. It looked like it was made just for her.
The sun had only just begun to rise as the two of you walked hand in hand. Phones out and taking photos of one another. Trying to find the right balance between showing just enough of the other but not too much so it’s obvious. “I look awful,” she said as you showed her the pictures. “I don’t look any better here,” pointing to the ones on her phone. You tried many poses and angles. “All these don’t feel right.”
You’d kind of given up at some point and so had she. Nothing seemed right. “I have an idea,” she grabbed your hand pulling you up from the sand. You were now standing in front of her. She lightly tapped her cheek and moved so the side of her face was now completely facing you. You slowly lead in kissing her cheek and waiting there. Inches away from her, so she’d take the pictures.
You finally moved away from her. The phone between the two of you in an instant. “These don’t look too bad,” you nodded agreeing with her. “I’ll send them later and don’t forget tomorrow at eleven, post them on your story.”
“How could I forget? It’s the day we make it official.”
