Whoops dropped my first fanfic here
synopsis: AU where Zanka doesn't join the Cleaners and instead joined the Hell guards. His family set up an arranged marriage for the two of you.
content: SFW, fluff x reader | WC: 1427
・❥・Garden Walk・❥・
Zanka leaned against the stone pillar, cherry blossoms drifting around him at the garden’s entrance. Sunlight filtered through the branches, catching on his blonde-and-black hair, soft wind brushing through it.
One hand rested lightly on the staff at his side, almost out of place against the sharp lines of his black-and-white uniform. Yet the way he held it—casual, but certain—made it clear the weapon was important to him.
He turned toward you, his earrings swaying from the movement. His staff shifted slightly in his hand, grounding him. For a long moment, you thought he wouldn’t speak at all. Then his lips parted, the words cool and clipped.
“You’re late.”
The words cut through the softness of the garden.
You tensed, but still, your eyes lingered on him. He was lean, but defienatly not fragile, his strength was obvious in the way his uniform stretched against taut muscles. His eyes, clear and piercing, locked on yours. Your breath caught, the hush of falling blossoms suddenly too loud in your ears.
You shifted under his gaze, the weight of it impossible to ignore. “I—my father kept me longer than I expected,” you murmured, the excuse sounding fragile even to your own ears.
Zanka said nothing, only adjusting the long staff resting at his side before starting down the stone path. Its plain wood caught the sunlight, unremarkable to anyone who didn’t know what it could become.
Cherry blossoms crunched softly beneath his boots, the silence between you stretching as wide as the garden walls. You hurried to match his pace, your fingers brushing against your skirts to still their nervous trembling.
You caught yourself watching the line of his shoulders, the toned muscle tensing in every step he took.
He’s beautiful, you thought, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.
For a while, you walked in silence. Your steps fell soft against the stone, while his echoed sharper, the steady click of his staff punctuating the quiet.
You sighed, brushing soft petals from your sleeve before working up the courage to speak first, “you don't seem the type to enjoy walks in a garden,” you said, your lips tugging into a half-nervous, half-bold smile.
After an awkward beat, you added more softly. “But then again, I suppose neither of us really know each other"
Zanka’s pace slowed, just enough that you wondered if he’d stop altogether. His blue eyes slid toward you, cold and measuring, though something unreadable flickered behind them. He shifted the staff lightly in his hand.
“You’re right,” he said at last, his tone even but edged with a dryness that might have been amusement—or dismissal. “I don’t care for walks.” His gaze swept briefly over the blossoms scattered on the ground before returning to you. The corner of his mouth shifted, not quite a smile as he added, “I’ve never had the patience for this sort of thing.”
You blushed softly as you felt his eyes scan your body, your hands fidgeting with the silk scarf draped around your shoulders. The fabric slipped between your fingers as you tried to steady your quickening breath.
The garden suddenly felt smaller, the air thick.
Zanka’s gaze lingered a moment longer before shifting forward again.
“But,” he said, the word quiet but deliberate, “I can manage it today” His grip adjusted on the staff, its steady weight grounding him.
You blinked, surprised at the faint warmth in his words. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make your chest flutter. “I… I’m glad,” you said softly, letting your voice trail off as you tried not to seem too eager.
You let the silence hang a beat longer, then risked a small, awkward laugh. “So—what do you do, when you aren’t… avoiding gardens?”
He stared at you, slow and careful. For a second the mask slipped—just a flicker—and something like amusement flashed behind his eyes again. “Work,” he said flatly. “Practice.” He tested the staff against the stone with the tip of his boot, a quiet click.
Curiosity warmed you. You reached toward the staff before you could stop yourself, fingers hovering over the worn wood. He didn’t pull away. Instead he shifted the weight of it in his hand and, almost without meaning to, gave the ground a small, controlled tap. A neat puff of dirt rose and a swirl of petals lifted and spun around you both.
You gasped, half from surprise, half because the motion made him seem less like a statue. The sight made your stomach flutter, oddly thrilling.
Zanka’s jaw tightened for a beat, then he let out a dry exhale. “Don’t be impressed,” he said, voice low. “It’s nothing glamorous.” His fingers curled once more around the staff, steadying both tool and his temper.
You smiled despite yourself. “It was impressive,” you said, honestly. “Even if you say it isn’t.”
He looked at you—really looked—his eyes widened slightly, and his mouth parted, soaking up your praise before the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. Just like that, his entire demeanor seemed to shift with one compliment.
“Good,” he said softly.
You walked on, the sound of your steps softer now, almost blending with the faint click of his staff. The petals swirled around your feet, and for a moment the garden felt like a private world, separate from the expectations waiting beyond its walls.
“I didn’t think I’d enjoy this,” he said after a while, voice quiet, almost casual. “But… it’s tolerable.”
You blinked at him, startled by the admission. “Tolerable?” you repeated, teasing lightly. “That’s the highest praise I’ve gotten all day.”
He glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching again. “Don’t push it,” he murmured, but there was a trace of amusement in his tone.
You laughed softly, feeling the tension between you ease just a little more.
He fell into step beside you, close enough that the hem of your sleeves nearly brushed. The path opened onto a low stone bench beneath the pavilion, a large pond beside it. He dropped the staff against the pillar and sat. You took the other end, heart pounding so loud you worried he might hear.
The maid and guard dropped back, leaving you two with nothing but the rustle of petals and the distant murmur of voices.
“This is nice,” you admitted, feeling his warmth beside you. A small flush crept across your cheeks as your fingers nervously twisted the silk scarf around your shoulders.
Zanka watched you fidget with your scarf, then reached out once. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair back from your face, gentle. Your face turned red as you looked into his blue eyes.
Zanka watched you for a long second, then looked away, fast, like he’d been caught doing something private.
You swallowed, heart still racing from the sudden closeness. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence felt heavy but not uncomfortable as you both stared out at the pond, watching eager koi swim closely.
Your fingers twitched against the scarf, and without thinking, you let your hand drift closer to his, drawn to the warmth.
Zanka’s eyes flicked toward your hand, sharp and calculating, before he reached out slowly. His fingers brushed yours once, then again, before curling around your palm with a firmness that made your heart skip.
For a moment, he didn’t speak, just held your hand, blue eyes shifting from the pond to your face, watching every subtle reaction. Then, almost casually, he tightened his grip just enough to let you know he wasn’t pulling away.
Your pulse drummed in your ears, your lips parting slightly as you struggled to find words. You closed your mouth, choosing to savor the moment you leaned into his touch.
Zanka’s thumb traced small, absent motions over the back of your hand, slow and deliberate. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a mix of nerves and something unfamiliar, your fingers tightened lightly around his, testing, and he responded with the faintest squeeze, firm but gentle.
“You’re quiet,” he said finally, voice low, breaking the tension without shattering it. “Not used to holding hands like this?”
You let out a soft laugh, nervous but happy. “No,” you admitted. “Not like this.”
He tilted his head, studying you with those sharp blue eyes. “Good,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Then we’ll have to… get used to it.”
You stayed like that for a while, hands intertwined, letting the quiet hum of the garden fill the space between words. But all you could focus on was the warmth radiating from Zanka beside you.
・❥・
BOOM you've reached the end! let me know if you enjoyed it!
Updated the layout a wee bit as I had no idea how tumblr posts worked when I wrote this lol!
