zanka was used to you coming to spend time with him in your downtime, your presence fitting perfectly in his room. the scene of you sprawled across whichever furniture you picked and talking to him about whatever was one etched in his mind.
but this was different. you’ve been very obviously staring at his face for quite some time now—head perched on your hands and smiling like he was the cutest thing you’ve ever witnessed.
which was false. he was not cute.
especially not when he was trying his best to keep himself composed under your gaze, rather than stumbling over himself while flustered.
“stop what?” you asked, but he was sure you knew damn well what you were doing.
“lookin’ at me like that. it’s distracting.”
“i can’t help it! you’ve got such pretty eyes.”
“they’re so big and cute—“
you stopped mid sentence when you took notice to his tinted cheeks and—even better—the small smile sitting on his lips.
yeah, zanka couldn’t help the rush of joy he received from your compliments and affection. you picked parts of him he’s never noticed or liked, lifted them up and showered them with glory.
the part he could do without was the teasing, especially the drawn out “awwww” you let out at his bashful state.
he awkwardly angled his head away, shooing off your squeezes of his face and attempts to get him to look back at you.
he couldn’t handle all the affection in the moment, but your praises about his smile would be unable to leave his head for a long time.
damn you and your unexpected ways of getting to him!
gracieabrams
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
2087
tangentwithtanner
baratheonpilled
titsay
amandla
