you kissed me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever
★ synopsis: in between the push and pull of your relationship with zanka, perhaps all you needed was a little liquid courage.
★ tags: friends to lovers, underage drinking(drink responsibly guys), mutual pining, these two are just pathetic for each other, drunken kisses, sloppy make outs, I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as I could, suggestive themes(?) (is making out suggestive?)
wc: 3k
★ A/n: I wrote this instead of doing my accomplishment report, also I scoured the internet on the topic of "what does kissing feel like?" so safe to say I'm not well versed in the art of make outs, I almost considered asking my friend to make out with me so that I'll be able to write this correctly. also I remembered that they legit don't know what a moon probably is in the gachiakuta world due to the smog and pollution in the sky, so let's just pretend that they do for the sake of this fic. all images used were taken from pinterest, I do not own any of these pictures and full rights go to the owners.
To say that the adults from cleaners HQ drank a lot would be an understatement. They'd find many and any reason for a quick drink. A new cleaner was recruited? Time for a celebratory drink. They just defeated a big ass trash beast? A little drinking treat after the job would be nice. A comrade was heavily injured? They’ll buy them a get well soon drink (not including the kids of course). They’ll drink especially on holidays. Their table crowded and busy on these days, often leading to them not being aware of their surroundings. You've always known this — of course — ever the observant one. Zanka noticed this as well, he'd also take note of the way you'd grin at him a bit, as he always does with everything you do, eyes darting from him to the crates of drinks the adults set aside to chill. He'd raise an eyebrow at you, shaking his head in disapproval—while you'd just nudge his side with your elbow in jest.
Tonight though, was the night you decided to act upon an itch. while the adults thought that all the younger members of the cleaners were asleep, they popped out several crates of chilled booze and wine. What they failed to notice was your figure crouching silently with the shadows of the corners of the dimly lit room, waiting for the moment to present itself to you.
Enjin slung his arm around Gris, trying to coax him into a drinking contest. Semiu was tastefully appraising the glass of wine on her hand, swirling the deep purple liquid round her glass. Bro was happily popping open a bottle of beer alongside Delmon, who kept on forgetting to control his vocal volume and was being constantly hushed by Tomme whose side was accompanied by a smiling Tamsy, cradling a glass of white wine. Even the boss was included in this little get together, smiling at the scene in front of him.
A moment passed, then another. finally, the opportunity arose when Delmon cheered a bit too hard and it woke up Dear whose irritated stomping shook the entire building. As bro hastened to put Dear back to sleep, the others were fussing at each other to keep quiet. Leaving the ice box with the chilled drinks unattended. Quickly, you scramble on your feet, careful not to make any susurrations. Swiftly nabbing a bottle of red wine and two cans of cold beer. Dashing towards the other door, you look back to see the slight trail of wetness in your wake, but it's subtle enough to be mistaken for the residue of their little gathering.
Your feet padded through the halls of the graffitied corridor, colors melding into each other as you hurriedly made your way towards the end of the hallway. Knuckles rapping on the worn wood of the room next to yours.
"Psst! Zanka, it's me" a beat passed. Nothing.
You knocked rapidly once more. "C'mon zanka! Open up!" A few moments later, a groan came out from the other side. Then the door swung open, there stood Zanka Nijiku, looking irritated and half asleep. The back of his dark blonde hair sticking out in different directions like exclamation points.
"What the hell are ya' doin' here in the middle of the night?"
You smiled at him, shaking the bottle of wine and beer in your hands. At that very moment, his sleepy pertinence was immediately replaced with exasperation. Running a hand through his face, Zanka opened the door for you to come inside — you were grinning as you do so.
Placing the drinks on his table, you rummaged through his cabinet for any hidden snacks to munch on while drinking. Zanka watches you hard before inevitably helping you find snacks. His hand lingered a second more with every brush of your fingers, a rosy tint showing on the knuckles with every morsel of contact. He hoped that you don't notice. And you never do. Too busy thinking about having alcohol in your system to numb the painful yearning sensation in your heart for the man beside you.
You grabbed the drinks from the table and plopped down on the floor, your back leaning on his bed. Zanka loomed over you, his features being illuminated with the warm golden glow of his bedside lamp.
"We could get into trouble cause' of this ya' know?" He mumbled, but despite his hesitation in fear of getting reprimanded by Enjin, he still sat down beside you. Placing the snacks into a bowl that he got from his cabinet.
"I know, but we're almost adults anyways, you're turning 18 next month. Besides, how would they even know? I'm not gonna be telling…unless you are?"
Cold was the can of beer on your hands as you popped it open, looking at Zanka through your eyelashes. Daring him to tell Enjin about your little stunt. He decided against it, shaking his head in defeat. Despite you being the complete epitome of everything his upbringing went against —impulsive, chaotic, and mischievous—He could never say no to you, no matter how much he tried.
"Have ya' even drank before?" Zanka raises an eyebrow at you, accepting the can of beer, precipitation rolling down his fingers and onto the floor.
"No, but there’s a first time for everything. How about you? Oh wait–let me guess…" you take a swig of the cold beverage, scrunching your nose at the taste.
How in the sphere does Enjin even enjoy drinking this? You thought to yourself.
"you haven't because it ruins your discipline and all that jazz?" You teasingly poked at his sides as he circled the rim of his can.
"…I have, actually"
That stunned you into silence — for the first time since you've known each other. Your jaw slightly ajar from shock. Who knew the ever so disciplined Zanka Nijiku has indulged in drinking.
Letting out a smug and satisfied huff of air from your reaction. Zanka took a sip at his can, noting the bitterness and slight nutty notes of it on his tongue.
"Wait, for real!? W-when? How? You're not just fucking with me right?"
Resting his arm on his upright knee, he studies your face; the way your eyelashes flutter in anticipation with the most soulful pair of eyes he's ever seen, full of questions, full of life. The kind that he'd get lost in for hours on end. The electrified silence stretches on, debating whether or not to give answers to them. He bit his lower lip and sighed, giving in.
"Back in the Kamuatari district, when I was still with my family, they would host these fancy ass parties for special occasions an' stuff. Of course they'd give me the role of greetin' the guests alongside my siblings."
He bit the inside of his cheek, reminiscing the faint smell of polished wood of his family estate, the twinkling brightness of the ornate lights, the buzz of mingling guests from different sectors of the hell guard as well as the leaders of different districts. It was beautiful as it was imposing.
His train of thought broke as his hand was enveloped with the warmth of yours.
"you don't have to say anything if it relates to your family, I'm fine with wondering if you were bullshitting me or not" you squeezed his hand, directing a soft smile towards him.
a warm fuzzy feeling settling in his chest at the very essence of you in front of him, your touch warming the ever present chillness within him. He huffed out a laugh.
"nahh, it's good. m' fine with talking about it…if its with ya'" his voice was so small at the last part you almost didn't catch it. But you did.
"hmm? what was that?"
"nothin', not important. anyways, in one of these events, I was dismissed early by my siblings an' I happened to pass by one of em' cocktail tables an' by curiosity I just nabbed a bottle and bolted straight to my room."
you snorted, a giggle escaping you, leaning into him.
"no way!" you tried to hold your snickers in.
"yes way. I ran faster than a greased pig caught on fire, ya could practically see my soul' leavin' my body with regret." That sent you over, toppling into him with giggles and snorts at the mental image of a younger zanka—naive, stuck up, and obedient— clutching a bottle of wine while he reprimanded himself for even attempting his little stunt.
"Then what happened? Did you get caught?"
Zanka smiled, the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest growing with every laugh you let out. Feigning deep thought, he let out a snort himself. Amused at the memory of his younger self.
"Nahh, I drank the entire bottle' by myself and got so hungover the next day they thought I was sick with trash toxins."
He popped open the bottle of wine, pouring the deep maroon liquid into a tall glass he acquired from his little storage cabinet. Handing you the drink.
"Try this, it's much up to yer' taste than a can of beer."
You looked back and forth thoughtfully from the glass to the can in your hands, deciding whether to be picky and just take the glass or to be adaptable and just raw dog the can. You chose the latter, downing the entire thing in one go.
"Whoa! Hey!" Zanka bolted upright from his leaning position, patting your back as you sputtered out a cough. After the fits calmed down, you grabbed the wine still in Zanka's hand and proceeded to chug half of it, leaving you in a hiccupy state.
"Ughhh…is it just me or is the world kinda trippy right now?" You croaked out, several hiccups leaving your lungs.
"Yeah no shit dumbass, ya' just guzzled an entire can of beer an' half of your wine in seconds. I'd be surprised if ya' aren't drunk!" He tried to take the glass from you, leaving you to whine and clutch the glass to your chest.
"Noooo…hic—I'm not even tipsy."
"Well you obviously are, and I'm confiscatin' that" In a flash, he seized it from you as you yelped in protest.
You huff in frustration. "At least drink some of it, I bought it here for you y'know"
"If I drink my glass, will you please sober up? You'll get a nasty hangover if ya' continue like this"
You nod enthusiastically, letting out a frantic "mhmm!" as your cheeks flushed from the alcohol on your system. Everything around you seemed more colorful, more saturated. Even with just the dim golden light of the lamp. Maybe it was the booze… or maybe it was just because of the presence of Zanka beside you, warming you in ways that felt feverish, either way you smile with glee as he mirrors your actions—chugging the beer following with the wine and grabbing a handful of chips.
He sways slightly on himself. Blinking hard to clear his vision.
"Okay...now sober up" he grumble, setting the glass down on the floor.
Your lips quirked upward, pouring the remaining contents of the bottle into the glass Zanka just put down. "I'll sober up…after I finish this bottle!"
Zanka stared at you, clearly unimpressed even in the state of intoxication. Then he exhaled, lamenting the very heavy and painful hangover he's sure you both are going to have tomorrow. He makes a mental note to head to the infirmary to ask Eishia for some pain relievers and electrolytes juice for you in the morning.
★
The two of you went on to finish the bottle of wine, munching on the snacks afterward while you two rambled about random shit well into the night. Before you knew it, you were leaning your head onto his shoulder, while he was slowly tracing his finger back and forth on the length and edges of your hands, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
"Wow! look at the moon, it's so moony and luminous!" You rambled, pointing to the source of the soft light.
"That’s my fucking bed lamp"
"Oh..…well it looks like the moon. Y’know…you remind me of the moon zan-zan"
He hummed, gaze lingering soft at your features. "Oh yeah? Why is that?"
"It shines so bright even when it disappears over the brilliance of the sun, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful or meaningful. And despite its craters and flaws, that makes it even more pulchritudinous. And y'know how the moon goes into different phases?"
"Mhmm" He answers, thoughtfully. Looking at you so intensely—fully listening, his attention all on you as if you were to disappear the moment he averts his gaze—that you almost choke on your saliva.
"It goes through a cycle of phases, but each one is just as mesmerizing as the last. Heck! It even has a phase where it disappears completely from the naked human eye, but despite thinking that it's not there, that its glow has dimmed; It’s still there! In the night sky, it's radiance still persevering, even when no one notices it, even when it seems invisible…it's still shining bright."
The more you babbled on about the moon and how it correlates to Zanka, the more flushed your skin becomes, it might be from the alcohol, or it might be from your passionate introspective observational ramblings. Whatever the case may be, you have Zanka absolutely mesmerized by the mere sight of you, even more so with how deeply you just yapped about your observations on him.
"Wow… that's–…that's very perceptive of ya'...y'know sometimes I wished that I could go into your mind to know every little thing about what it is yer' thinking of in the moment" he admits, eyes now facing downward on your hand in his lap—the one he's been playing with for the past hour—face slightly painted in a rosy hue.
This time, it was your turn to hum in thoughtful agreement. The traces of his hand leaving lingering tingles on yours.
"Mind letting me into yours then? What're you thinking of right now Zanka?"
You turned your hand over, letting him trace the palmar creases within it. He studied it for a long time, like he was trying to memorize every fold and line.
"I can't say what I'm thinkin' about right now, cause' you'll think it's the booze speakin'" he mumbled against your hair, voice soft and faint, like it was meant to be heard by you and you alone.
"What do they say in weddings? Speak now or forever hold you peace."
"So we're doing vows now are we?" he smiled into your hair.
You weakly smack his thigh, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "All I'm saying is that you should speak what’s on your mind right now, or forever wish that you did"
"…it's a bit silly...sometimes—well, it's frequent—I'll think about how I'm just average, the best in a room full of the worst and the worst of the best, that I'm not even worth someone's time. But when ya' look at me, I start to think that maybe, just maybe, I'm worth something." He buries his face into his hands, throwing out his every thought that had anything to do with the very essence of you. This time, you were the one to look at him with intensity.
"Ya' see pass all of my walls that I put up an' it's fuckin' scary cause' I don' even know how ya' do it…and I wanna be able to do that to ya' too...an' I don’t even know where to begin…I wanna be able to learn every about ya' so…so bad"
"Then show me"
"Huh?" He looks up from his hand to see you leaning into him, your faces mere inches away from each other you could hear him gulp. The warmth of your breathe tickling his lips.
"Show me how you want to learn everything about me Zanka Nijiku"
With those words leaving your lips, he closes the distance between you two. Your soft lips meeting his slightly chapped ones. It starts out gentle, mouth closed and featherlight. Then it turns desperate and hungry. Your body moved on its own, straddling him. Your hands curl around the soft roots of his hair as he trails his hands under your shirt, pulling you in impossibly close to him. Tiny goosebumps forming all over your body from how good it felt to be held by him.
When you both pull back, his pupils are blown wide, ragged breathes escaping him, his hair tousled, and his face burning up. Your foreheads touched as you both tried to catch your breathes.
"We shouldn't be doing this…tell me to stop, please...tell me to stop" Zanka, ever so disciplined and responsible Zanka, was now begging you to tell him to stop, while looking absolutely depraved from the first taste of you.
He was panting now, rubbing his cheek into the crook of your neck, little noises of pleads and whining slipping from his throat.
"If I kiss you again…I–I don't know If I can even stop"
With that, you grabbed his face, looking absolutely ruined yourself. The warm and tingling sensation in your tummy increasing tenfold as Zanka looked up at you with his pathetic ocean blue eyes. Tears threatening to spill out.
"Fuck—please…don't stop"
Then he's on you again, carnal with the way that he uses his mouth on you, but tender in the way that he holds you. Worshipping and roaming his hands around your body, feeling every inch of where he could get his fingers on. Mapping you in his mind, immortalizing the sounds you let out inside his memories.
When you both let go, both of you were sporting flushed faces while catching your breath. Clinging to each other, his face nuzzling into the crook of your throat. You shivered as his fingers were drawing circles at the small of your back, causing him to smile into your neck.
"Are you okay? Was I okay?" He mumbled.
"Better than okay, you kissed me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever"
★ Additional A/n: I was gonna be evil and make a part 2 where reader wakes up and forgets the things that transpired the night before but zanka remembers every single detail and debates on whether or not to tell them about it, but I decided to spare you guys the angst. lmk if you guys want that tho, lots of love.
⤷ flavors of love; riyo confronts (name) regarding their feelings.
“(name).”
you freeze in your tracks. turning your head slowly in the direction of the voice, you notice riyo standing on the other side of the hallway. her expression is conflicted, almost suspicious. her calls to you are like gentle murmurs. private yet still audible.
once capturing your attention, her gaze quickly morphs into seriousness. she restrains the urge to bite the bottom of her lip. the topic was no secret. it’s been long suspected by the other cleaners and supporters. it was just time for her to find out for herself if the rumors were true.
“... do you like zanka?”
“huh?”
you blink slowly, her words suddenly on deaf ears.
you wondered what transpired this conversation. thinking back on today, you try to jog any memory that could possibly lead you to the correct answer. squeezing your eyes shut, you hone in. strangely, you didn’t think anything was out of the blue.
earlier that day, you had invited zanka to a brief cafe visit. this was something you did every month: you’d find a local cafe and invite someone for the ride. not only would it beat sitting alone at a table, it gave you the opportunity to chat with everyone else. it originally started between you and enjin, but it quickly moved onto people like riyo and tamsy, who surprisingly, accepted your proposal long ago.
the sun was shining and the skies were clearer than ever. if anything, it would be more unusual for you not to go out today. inviting zanka was just a coincidence. he’s been on expedition after expedition, training and working diligently against the clock to become stronger. without jobs keeping him busy, he would hole himself up in his room to meditate.
it felt like you hardly saw him anymore.
so when you’re sitting in front of him, legs swinging beneath the table, prodding at your meal—you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. why? you asked yourself. it wasn’t as if he was gone completely. he’d still visit the mess hall and sit beside you. though, your interactions were becoming more brief as days pass. eating meals with rudo and riyo aren’t bad. it’s just not the same.
enjin noticed the change rather quickly. commenting with a cigarette between his lips: you’re like two peas in a pod . the more you brood about it, the reasoning became clear. things felt different without zanka.
“you know, the best dish to make when it’s raining is mushroom pot rice.”
zanka peered up from his cup, one eyebrow raised in curiosity, “really?”
sitting outside on street tables,
“mhm. you can throw everything into a claypot and have it done in fifteen minutes. i suggest using a variety of mushrooms to add depth of flavor. however,” you let out an exasperated sigh, “growing different kinds is hard. you have to look for a very dedicated viander for it. even then, most of them won’t even have more than one kind. they just outright refuse you.”
“its okay, you can always use dashi powder for the water so it adds flavor to the rice. i heard a few people like to season everything at the end. for example, for gochujang butter rice bowls, you want to leave the compound butter on top to melt through.”
“i didn’t know you could do so many things with claypots.” zanka replied , eyes tilted slightly upwards as he thinks to himself. he suppose he should have known the versatility of claypots. his family owns one. he’s never used it himself so he wouldn’t know how to bring out its full potential. perhaps that in itself is a vital instrument?
humming under your breath, you stabbed your fork into your food. “if you let the butter settle on top and mix it at the end, it’ll coat the rice better. if you cook it down, it would get brown, but it wouldn’t taste the same. my favorite part about claypot rice is waiting for the bottom to get crispy. it has a really good texture if you let it become golden brown.”
“i’ve never had it before, but you make it sound pretty good.”
“then we should make it together!” you laugh, “i hate washing rice though. it takes forever waiting for the water to run clear, and it feels like the grains are slipping through my hands. i rather just cut mushrooms than go through all of that!”
for a second, zanka goes quiet. it takes a few gears to turn in his head before he comes up with: “if washing is a pain in the ass, i could wash the rice for ya. if we do our parts at the same time, we’ll get the job done faster.”
“really? that sounds amazing,” you cried out, “while the rice is cooking, we could make something else too.” pausing, you lean back into your chair, pursing your lips in thought. if you were going to make mushroom pot rice, what would be the best dish to eat it with?
any kind of meat works well. steak and garlic butter might be a great combination to try. maybe you could try something new and do something with seafood. shutting your eyes, you whine at yourself. there were too many options for you to choose from! the better answer might just be asking zanka directly what he wanted to eat with his rice.
peeking over to look at zanka, you closely observe his movements. he picks up one of his katsu sandwiches, raising it up to his mouth and opening wide, you notice the shine in his teeth. swallowing, you struggle to break free from this strange spell.
your face starts to grow heated when you notice there were obvious teeth marks in the bread. hurriedly pressing your hands to your cheeks, you shield the flushed color from his prying eyes. you must be going crazy if you thought something as dumb as his teethmarks on a sandwich was cute. shaking your head, you clear your throat.
“is there anything you want to eat with the rice?”
he is still chewing on his food but his furrowed eyebrows tell you he was thinking. you restrain crying out when you notice the way he presses his food against one side of his cheek, mimicking a puffy-cheeked hamster. you have to resist the sudden temptation of pinching them.
“... steak sounds good.” he answers, shrugging his shoulders, “i’m fine with whatever you wanna make.”
your words flutter, “ah.. then we can make steak! do you want to try gochujang butter or should we just stick using garlic butter?”
“which one do you prefer?”
before you blurted out an answer, you stop yourself short. your instinct was telling you to say garlic butter , but that would be the selfish thing to say. after countless meals with zanka, you’ve come to learn that the man enjoys very strong-flavored food. he’ll eat anything from ramen to thick curries.
in this case, gochujang butter would be the correct answer. the flavor was much more pronounced than just garlic. it had spicy flavor profiles that would mix well with the natural sweetness of mushrooms. alongside steak bites, it was the perfect savory dish. it would make sense for you to say gochujang butter because you know he would like it.
for some reason, suggesting your own flavor made you feel slightly nauseous. you’ve practically chatted his ear off the entire afternoon. what makes it worse is that when you hear stories about zanka’s vocal personality, it felt like you were holding him down.
that’s when you realize: it wasn’t about garlic butter after all.
when he notices your change in mood, zanka reaches out with his hand, flicking your forehead. this left a lightly red spot on the surface of your skin that stung. “what are you thinking about?”
“ergh… nothing,” you retorted, holding onto the aching spot on your forehead.
“you liar.”
“why am i the liar?”
zanka crosses his arms over his chest, “because you look like you got something to say to me. if you have something, spit it out.”
pressing your lips tightly together, you looked away from him, “i was just thinking between gochujang or garlic butter. that’s all.”
“and that got you lookin’ so guilty?”
“well—i can’t really decide between the two of them.”
zanka finds your words hard to believe. during your time together, he knows that if there was something you wanted, it would be the first thing you say. there was no reason to hold back on your desires, is what you said to him long ago. if you were craving pork belly, you’d stop by on the way back from work to eat. and you’d always bring home leftovers for everyone else. if you wanted a chocolate cake, you’d leave in a blink. that’s the kind of person you were.
if there was something he knew best about you: you weren’t subtle.
you’re sitting here, chewing on the inside of your cheek, bouncing between something as obscure and insignificant as compound butter? there has to be something else taking up your attention. zanka gazes off to the side, mouth curved to the left as he thinks.
“i’m askin’ what you want,” he exhales. “don’t try so hard to spin it any other way.”
he glances back at you. his words became softer. more muted. a short promise made only for you. his heart felt like silken tofu. tender and easy to hold in your hands. he pushes towards you the rest of his sandwich.
“if you can’t decide, let’s just make both.”
from his words, your eyes started to regain their usual shine. your body instinctively brightens up. your smile becomes wide and beaming. reaching out to the other half of his sandwich, you take a large bite, crunching through the still crispy breading. the bread was tender and slightly sweet. it went well with the salty and savory katsu. alongside the bright, green vegetables, the hot mustard sauce the cafe was known for perfectly cuts down the greasiness of the pork.
while you were gushing over the flavors, zanka’s expression relaxed. after weeks of hunting trash beasts and getting covered in dirt, he was glad you came to him. it was hard not seeing you in the hallways. every time you came into the mess hall, he had to resist the urge to blabber about the local shops, for every store he saw, it reminded him of you. it took every ounce of restraint in his body not to abandon his routine.
but he is deathly aware of his feelings. they’re starting to overboil and fill the pot, threatening to leak outside the imaginary top. he doesn’t want to burden you with unnecessary things. especially if its related to love and feelings. you were too busy for those things.
underneath the weight of the raiders and having to uncover the mystery of the world, you were just staying afloat in your little world. spreading joy and happiness for survivors, your smile wanes every time someone comes home from near-death. he doesn’t forget the look you gave eishia in the infirmary. the kind that would make anybody’s heart wilt and die.
those pitiful eyes of hopelessness. the fear of being too much yet not enough at the same time, you’re a balancing act in an uncertain circus. seeing you shed tears on the bed, wiping them away as eishia rubs circles on your shoulder blade, has him holding back his feelings. first, it was gris. second was him. third was riyo. and now every mission is another big danger to your dream.
you know death was common—it doesn’t stop you from feeling sympathetic. zanka catches himself becoming colder each time an expedition passes. for some, that’s the way of the world. the strong eat the weak. the weak grovel. but he does everything he can to keep his head up. if there is one thing he promised to do, it was to come home. seeing you crying at his bedside would be infinitely better than never seeing you at all.
so he doesn’t mention his feelings. he’d rather keep them bottled up until it was the right time. and the right time being the day he rests his feet upon the top of the world, safe from the pits of hell he touched all those years ago. he will prove himself to be a better man.
in the corner of your eye, you notice a small child bouncing on their feet. with one hand interlaced with their father’s, they swing a lop-eared rabbit toy. their smile was bright and blinding, untouched by the darkness of the world. their hands were small and plush. uncalloused and clean. the young girl points to the same cafe, pulling on her father’s hand. pressing your lips tightly together, you remain quiet, watching as the two enter the doors with a jingle.
oh , you think you might miss the warmth of your parents. staring down at the rest of your sandwich, your expression caves back in on itself. on the other hand, zanka is still sitting in front of you, arms tucked over each other. he sees that look in your eyes. the kind of gaze you give whenever you wanted something. pressing his finger against the corner of his chin, he quickly comes up with the right answer: you wanted the plush, therefore, he should try to get one for you.
trailing his eyes down the dusty road, he notices a local vendor. there, at the very end, was a man standing in front of his booth. that’s when he sees the same lop-eared rabbit on the wall. this is when he finally spoke up.
“do you want the toy?”
you blink, absent to your surroundings, “the… toy?”
zanka points to the other side of the road but you aren’t paying any attention. you only nod your head, still preoccupied by the sight earlier.
“the toy… mhm,” you laugh, “that’d be great.”
so without another word, he reaches out to your hand, pulling you out of your chair and leading you towards the vendor. your eyes widen at his sudden act. with your feet almost tripping over themselves, you regain your balance and try to follow his eager pace.
they’re so warm . despite being slightly calloused from years of training, his fingers were carefully curled up against you. like porcelain china, you’re held so delicately in his hands, he’s afraid you might slip through. he presses his thumb against your wrist, staking his claim with the padded red spot. you don’t say anything—you’re speechless, words bumbling up and popping similarly to lemon soda.
he stops in front of the vendor, finally letting go of your hand. the man in front of you waves you over with a baseball, pointing behind him, there were several milk jugs lined up in a triangle. he briefly explains you the rules of the game: knock all of them with the ball and you win the prize. it was simple enough, zanka huffs to himself. he’ll be able to do this in a breeze.
“are you sure you want to play?” you asked.
“of course, you want the toy, no?”
paying for three balls, the vendor gives him a feigned smile, opening his arms wide to announce the start of his game. zanka reels his arm back, generating enough force that would knock a grown man to his feet. throwing it forward, he is shocked when he sees the milk jug move only an inch. he tries again with his second and third ball, but they only get so far.
his eyes narrowed. those jugs were weighed. he should have known the game was rigged from the start. the look on the vendor’s face tells him that he has him beat. turning over to your side, he sees you staring off at the wall, eyes blinking slowly at the plush. with his pride on the line, he throws down another few coins on the table, demanding for another retry.
gripping the baseball in his hand, he focuses hard on the target. if they were weighed down, then he needed to use more force. feeling the seam of the ball with his fingers, he frowns. unfortunately, his pitches are much too weak and out of practice. in no way could he possibly beat this challenge with just his hands. shutting his eyes to focus, he quickly thinks to himself. if this competition was for batting, his experience using lovely assistaff would push him to victory.
… speaking of which, he feels behind him, pulling out his staff. when the vendor notices this, he quickly leaned over the table, shouting at him from the top of his lungs.
“hey! hey, wait a minute! you can’t use that!”
“you never said anything about using vital instruments,” zanka smirked, throwing up the ball into the air. “you think i didn’t notice you rigged this game, you scuzzball?”
with the swift swing of his staff, he strikes the center of the ball. he overlooks the scene with a confident gaze, letting the pyramid topple to the ground. the vendor stands there, wide-eyed and astonished by the audacity of this man.
you clapped your hands, having watched in awe. “amazing, you made it look so easy!”
“i did, didn’t i?” zanka puts both of his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest, “well, you get the gist old man. time to hand over the prize.”
as much as the vendor wanted to scold him for his play, the nasty look in zanka’s eyes was telling him ‘shut up and give me the prize.’ unable to refuse, the vendor thinks he should fear for his life. with shaking hands, he took the lop-eared rabbit off the wall, handing it off to zanka.
“here,” he said, “take it.”
once he had the prize in his hands, zanka was quick to shove the toy in your direction. covering the lower half of his face, he shuts his eyes closed, too embarrassed to say anything else. it would have been a lot cooler if he did it in one try. if enjin was here, he would have made fun of him for his attempts. he’d most likely drone on about his own experiences with women to make up for it. luckily for zanka, you were in fact, not enjin.
squeezing the doll in your hands, you’re met with an unbelievable amount of softness. the fur was smooth to the touch. the color was like a light shade of coffee. white spots decorate the top, reminding you of cream. it was your first time receiving a gift like this. gliding your finger across the sewn buttons for eyes, you became teary.
a gift not bought, but earned.
thanking zanka, you held it close to your heart, embracing its warmth. it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever had.
returning to the present, you realize you’re still holding onto the doll. riyo is standing closer to you now. her pupils dilated. hands fidgeting in her pockets. there’s more in the back of her mind that she wants to say.
“do you like zanka?” she repeats.
“like?” you nervously say, “i like everyone here.”
“that’s not what i’m tryin’ to say,” she comes closer to you. pressing her finger against the snout of your toy, she frowns, “you’ve been looking at em’ differently.”
“what do you mean?”
riyo shakes her head. unfortunately, when it comes to anything other than food and trash beasts, you might be the most dumbest person out there. but she says this lovingly of course. “you’re so dense (name). picture this: would you rather eat pizza with enjin or zanka?”
you raise your eyebrow at her words, still confused by her point, “i’d want to eat with both of them.”
“choose one.”
“... i suppose i’d choose zanka.”
“even if he doesn’t like pizza?”
“then i wouldn’t be eating pizza with him!”
“you’d choose him over enjin who also likes pizza!”
“what does that have to do with anything? your logic isn’t making sense to me,” your expression becomes strained and disgruntled. “if enjin wants to eat pizza, then we can eat it together with everyone. if zanka doesn’t like pizza, then we can try somewhere else. it’s common curtsey to find a restaurant that everyone can eat at.”
riyo sighs loudly, “the point i’m trying to make is: more than anybody else, you’re always making more time for zanka. even though you’re busy as hell, cooking up meals for those injured and helping eishia, you’re constantly finding ways to see him. you can’t tell me this isn’t romantic.”
“what? no!”
her words are clipped: “why are you so defensive about it?”
“huh?”
the red-haired girl lowers her gaze, “is there something wrong with liking zanka?”
“no! he’s perfectly fine,” you shake your head, “if anything, he’s too much. but in a good way. like—he’s too good. i’d feel bad if i’m dragging him out to different places when he has things to do. training rudo doesn’t sound very easy and from what i hear, enjin has high hopes for him.”
“so he’s too good for you?”
“that’s not what i said!”
“but you’re acting like it.” riyo’s lips curve downwards, “you think he wouldn’t give you the time of day. since when did you care about something like that anyway? when did you lie on the ground, waiting to die?”
“why are you making it out to be such a big deal?” for the first time in a long time, you raise your voice at her. clenching your teeth, you tried to hold your tongue but the words just keep spilling out. “we’re cleaners.”
you think you’ve gotten used to the title by now. cleaning up trash beasts, making towns safer, thats the kind of job you signed up for. however, standing here, underneath riyo’s hardened gaze, it makes you hesitant.
you lower your head, staring at the doll in your hands. “we have so much more to do than be in relationships.”
even if things turned out perfect with you and zanka, you don’t think it would last forever. expeditions will still be ongoing. trash beasts will always exist. the search for power never ends. and the dream of staying alive is a far chase. you don’t think you’d be a good partner either. you’re not like enjin—you aren’t a team leader. you’re sure from the bottom of your heart you’re not like riyo either, you don’t have the same confidence as her. rudo, as new as he is, had his own positive qualities that you envy.
zanka is an incredibly hardworker. you know this better than anybody. he’s the first one to wake up in the morning and the last to go to sleep. his work out is gruelling and after every fight, he’s reviewing his process like a set of notes. every mission for him is a chance to prove himself. every battle is a step forward. to this day, he’s training in the fields, honing his skill.
someone like you, living so carefree in your small bubble, couldn’t possibly understand. you’re only now realizing, after all those life-threatening battles, all those times zanka came back to you half-alive and struggling with his breath, the world was bigger than you imagined. soon, it won’t just be him lying on the infirmary table. it’ll be enjin. it’ll be riyo. and it’ll come to rudo. you just can’t risk something like that happening.
so in a perfect world, could you call zanka your boyfriend?
“if that’s the case, why are you still holding onto that?” riyo pulls on the doll by the ear, tugging on both sides. “if you don’t care about relationships, you wouldn’t be holding onto this so tightly.”
she pinches the tip of its ears, “stop getting in your own head about this.”
the two of you stand in momentary silence. you find it strange that no one came by your hallway. perhaps with the starry sky bleeding through the windows, they were better off sleeping. although the night was cold, your body was as warm as the sun, burning up with a mixture of indescribable emotions.
“ what’s the point of life if the food sucks? ” your eyes widen, breath hitching at her words. “since the first time we met, i’ve been thinking about what you said. personally, i didn’t care what i ate before, but being with you made me realize there was so much more i was missing out on.”
“you’re not the kind of person i imagined giving up so easily.”
riyo starts to laugh, “it doesn’t matter if we’re cleaners now. if we’re going to die in the end, might as well enjoy every second of being alive.”
“you can’t tell me that’s not a good way to see things. its your motto after all.”
“riyo…”
you close your eyes, trying to stifle a chuckle. since when did riyo start giving pep talks to people? better yet, when did you decide that this was better? running away, denying your feelings, when did you start lying to yourself? so many different questions and yet only one clear answer.
covering your mouth with one hand, you look down at the stuffed animal. as you’re rubbing the fabric of the toy’s cheek, your face grows hot. you suppose that underneath all these insecure layers, your heart heard her words loud and clear.
“when did you become so deep?”
she lightly knocks into your shoulder, shrugging as if she didn’t give you the speech of a lifetime. “what can i say? you taught me something.”
“you’re stupid,” riyo couldn’t help herself but laugh louder this time. this is also the first time you’ve insulted her in years. the last time she remembered something like this happening, was a long, long time ago—way before she joined the cleaners. “you’re so stupid, riyo.”
“but…” you crouch down to the floor, pressing your forehead against the plush toy. your cheeks were burning at this point. heat was rising from your heart to the tip of your ears. riyo places one hand on her hips, glancing down at your embarrassed expression. your lips are quivering—trying to find the right words, your heart thumps against the front of your ribcage. tears of relief start swelling in your tear ducts.
crashing out at zanka, wishing he knew someone out there loves him, believes in him.
a soft bread thumped off zanka's head.
and a familiar voice echoed from up above the well.
“do you wanna die so bad?”
“leave me alone,” zanka huffed, his voice hoarse from dehydration. he hugged the ruined staff closer to himself, and mumbled, “yer all the same.”
“sorry, i took so long to find you,” you said between munching your own bread, the tone of your voice the same as ever, as if the situation you found zanka in was normal. “if i were the same as them, do you think i'd give you bread?”
“who asked ya to look for me?”
you took a big bite off your bread, and dropped the remaining bread off the well with force. it landed on zanka's feet, it didn't hit him, even though you kind of wished it did.
“i wish you know some people actually care about you.”
that's when zanka heard the tremble in your voice. he thought you probably had a field day along with your other classmates after he fumbled in picking a weapon
“who gives a fuck if you picked a stick?” you looked down on him from the well and saw how he had his head hung low, and his hold on the stick was tight.
you continued to glare at him, tears stinging your eyes. “i may have picked a strong option but i might not be able to cultivate its potential to the fullest—unlike you. it may look strong, but in my hands, it might be worthless. and you? you might have picked a damn frail stick but i know you can give it worth.
zanka's ears perked up, and his head jolted a little by your words. his fingers gripped the stick harder, to the point his fingerprints might be engraved on it.
“but if you want to lock yourself forever in your walls, then so be it.” your voice echoed against the walls of the well. “it's not about the weapon you chose, it's about you and how you're going to wield it.”
you bit your lip, and turned away from the well. you didn't want to leave zanka there, you know he needs someone to pull him out of there, but if he's just going to push you away… might as well just leave him alone to collect his thoughts.
you harshly wiped the tears that streamed down your cheeks, and cursed to yourself. “stupid. does he not know someone out there loves him?”
zanka shifted on his seat, he felt a lump forming in his throat, and his eyes starting to damp. he slapped his forehead with force.
“why would y’say all that and go?”
🚯 idk why i wrote this.. i think this is what i want to tell zanka and myself too i guess
a/n: @asli2906 gave me this idea and i love it so much because our king deserves some comfort too, he’s always so hard on himself and while it makes him great, he deserves that soft balance, too.
ac goes to firstsun_d
the bathroom smells like chemicals and something citrusy underneath, sharp enough to make your nose wrinkle. zanka’s perched on the edge of the tub, towel draped around his shoulders like he’s bracing for impact, knees knocking together because he refuses to sit all the way down. you tell him, again, that he’s allowed to relax. he snorts, like that’s a foreign concept.
“if i relax, i’ll mess it up,” he says, staring at his reflection. the blond in his hair has grown uneven, darker roots bleeding through like a confession he didn’t mean to make.
you tug on the gloves, snap them at the wrist, and step between his knees. “it’s hair dye, not a final exam.”
he huffs. “everything feels like a final exam.”
that makes you pause, just for a second. you squeeze the tube, mix the color, watch it turn thick and creamy, and when you start applying it, you do it gently – fingers careful, like you’re handling something already bruised.
zanka’s shoulders slowly lower as you work. he always pretends he doesn’t need this kind of care, but he melts under it anyway, like his body knows before his pride does. the bathroom light catches on the mirror, softens the angles of his face. he looks even younger like this. tired, but softer.
“ya ever think,” he starts, then stops. swallows. tries again. “ya ever think ya could’ve been better if ya were just… built different?”
your hand stills at his temple. you don’t pull away.
“better how?” you ask.
he laughs, but it’s thin. “stronger. faster. smarter. quieter. louder. pick one.” his jaw tightens. “kyouka never hesitates. goku never doubts. and i–” he exhales through his nose. “i think too much. i screw up. i come in second and tell myself it’s character buildin’ like that makes it sting less.”
you start moving again, slower now. more deliberate. “you think they don’t struggle?”
“i KNOW they do,” he snaps, then winces like he hates himself for the tone. “sorry. i just–” his hands clench in the towel. “it’s different. when they mess up, it’s a bad day. when i mess up, it feels like proof.”
that lands heavy in the room, settles between the sink and the tub. the dye brush makes soft, slimy sounds as you work it through the blond strands.
“proof of what?” you murmur.
he doesn’t answer right away. when he does, his voice is quieter. “that i’m the weak link. that i’m tryin’ harder because i’m worse.”
your chest aches. you lean in, forehead resting briefly against the side of his head, careful not to smear anything. “zanka,” you say, and you put everything you have into the way you say his name, “trying harder isn’t a flaw.”
he lets out a shaky breath, like he’s been holding it for years. “tell that to my brain.”
“okay,” you say softly. “i will. as many times as it takes.”
you rinse the brush, switch to your fingers, massage the dye in. he closes his eyes without realizing it. when he speaks again, it’s rough.
“kyouka used to tell me i was too loud. too emotional. goku said i overthink. and i know they didn’t mean it like… like weapons. but sometimes it feels like they carved those words into me.” he swallows. “sometimes i don’t even know if i’m angry at them or at myself for believin’ it.”
you move in front of him again so he has to look at you. dye-stained gloves, tired eyes, all of it honest.
“you’re allowed to be hurt,” you say. “even if they didn’t mean to hurt you.”
his eyes go glassy. he looks away, embarrassed, like he’s already apologizing for being human.
“i don’t want to resent them,” he whispers. “they’re my family.”
“and you’re allowed to need space from them sometimes,” you add. “both things can be true.”
something in his face breaks – not dramatically, not all at once, just a quiet fracture. his shoulders slump. his breath stutters. he presses his forehead into your stomach, careful, like he’s asking permission even now.
you drop the brush and wrap your arms around him, gloves and all. his grip on your waist is tight, like he’s anchoring himself. he shakes, just a little.
“i’m so tired,” he admits, voice muffled. “of chasin’ this version of myself that never feels close enough.”
you rest your chin on his head. “then stop chasing,” you say gently. “let yourself be caught.”
he lets out a wet, disbelieving laugh. “ya make it sound easy.”
“i didn’t say easy,” you reply. “i said possible.”
the timer goes off eventually. neither of you moves right away. when you do rinse his hair, the water runs cloudy, then clear. blond renewed. softer. brighter.
when you towel-dry it, he watches you like you’re doing something sacred.
“… thanks,” he says. not just for the dye. for everything.
you kiss his forehead, right at the hairline. “anytime,” you say. “even on the days you’re hard on yourself. especially on those days.”
he nods, slow and earnest. and for once, he looks like he believes you.
Hi, I would like to make a request. I just read your first kiss fic, and it was adorable. I was wondering if you could make an extension of that fic, or is it a prequel? I want Zanka to be crazy jealous. Based on the vibe, I kinda figured Zanka is generally more intimidating compared to the Reader, so the Reader interacts more with her classmates. Also, because of her status and skills, it attracts Attention. That combined means Admirers, and with the Reader being more approachable. Hence, Zanka literally beating off her admirers with a stick and more hijinks. Bonus if Reader gets jealous too.
hellooo , my fic isnt actually a series or a prequel? it was supposed to be a one-shot LMAOOO
but i dont mind contuining itt, i love these cuties
You were sweet, sociable, and smiley. So, incredibly smiley. Who wouldn't like you?
Zanka would beat the shit out of anyone who showed the slightest amount of disdain towards you. He wasn't the top student training to be a Hell Guard for a reason. He's presumably and expectedly the strongest amongst all your classmates, and you admired him for that. He preened, of course. Every time you stared at him with glittering eyes, he'd beam with pride.
Of course, everyone in the world knew you were together.
They've noticed the way Zanka's eyes dart to you in sparring. The way he'd trot over to your side when you finished an opponent. The way he'd congratulate you and give you extra pointers on your footwork or something. Not to mention that he walked you everywhere, doesn't matter if it was just for lunch, out of an exam, or all the way home. He was always with you.
And in the rare moments that Zanka wasn't directly beside you, his eyes would be zoned in on whatever you were doing. He'd stare lovingly, chin on his hand, as he watched you talk to one of your friends. No one would dare comment on the small smile on his face that he never seemed to notice. He was softer, more relaxed, ever since you started dating him.
At this point, they might as well see you two as married instead of just lovers.
But not everyone knew the universal rule that was don't make a move on Zanka's partner.
Yes, he would beat the shit out of anyone who insults your name. But he would also beat the shit out of anyone who complimented you too much.
Zanka would never admit it, not in a MILLION years, but he's a very jealous person. He's had to work his ass off for everything in his life, okay? He's had to work his ass off for you, not like he'd do it a million times over, of course, he loved you so much. But he was not letting these fakes act like they've strived for your attention and affection.
That right was only reserved for him.
He never minded that you would talk to guys or gals— he was the one who always walked you home, anyway. But he also couldn't, well, more like wouldn't, take any responsibility if he went a little harder on the guys who thought they had a chance with you in training.
He's not the type to outright show his jealousy. Hell, he's aware of what he's feeling, and he'd rather jump off a cliff and get hit with a trash storm than take that out on you. He didn't need an image to maintain with you, no, but he'd rather be the cool boyfriend in your head. Plus, he doesn't wanna be seen as possessive or anything. That's just not Zanka.
He understands the need for connections, and he knows that the string that binds your relationship with him would never be as much as frayed, but he draws the line at blatant flirting.
"You did really great earlier! Really kicked my ass. The name's Luo." A guy from a lower class struck up a conversation. You always trained with Zanka, so you were ranked higher than most of your classmates, but you also didn't mind being below Zanka. The Golden Throne was his goal, and you didn't want to get in the way of that.
"Thank you!" You replied cheerfully, still seated next to Zanka in the classroom. He didn't pay any mind, of course. He trusted you more than himself. So, he remained quiet, gazing down at your notebook as he reviewed the answers you got wrong. He'll tutor you later after you talk to whoeve—
"Wanna grab lunch with us?"
Almost immediately, every student in that room whipped their head at the audacity of this guy. Then, all eyes were on Zanka. Not you, not the guy. Zanka.
You just chuckled politely, expression shifting into discomfort as you tried to think of a polite way to decline his offer. You were a pacifist at heart, really.
Meanwhile, your boyfriend was already glaring daggers into his very soul. The pencil in his hand was gripped a bit too tightly, as if he wanted to snap it in half. But it was yours, and you'd get all pouty on him if he did break something of yours.
Zanka's already memorizing each and every pore on the man's face because they were training with the lower classes earlier. He's gonna make sure that he is this guy's next sparring partner. Zanka didn't even know his name, but asking his partner to grab lunch with him? Ballsy.
"She's taken, bud," Zanka huffed out when you didn't offer an immediate response. His gaze pierced the very being of his soul as he scoffed. "Beat it."
Yeah, like he was gonna beat the guy's ass later.
And guess who had the audacity to stutter at Zanka's words. Everyone just looked away, knowing that someone was going to pass away later.
"Excuse me?" Luo spoke, appalled at the words. You just scooted closer to Zanka, taking one of his hands and lacing your fingers together. "He's my boyfriend. Sorry, but I usually only have lunch with him."
Zanka beamed, of course, chest puffing out in pride as he smirked at Luo. He would give him the finger, but he didn't want to look bad in front of you. So, he settled for giving Luo a shit-eating grin instead. You sigh, knowing that your boyfriend was still going to absolutely own this guy when it was time to spar, despite the obvious showing off he was doing already.
And he did just that.
Luo never truly stood a chance against Zanka. Not in a million years.
Especially not when he was still seething in jealousy.
Zanka was quiet whenever he fought, carefully analyzing his opponent's every move. He was just buffed a lot more, and he hesitated a lot less. You're watching, after all.
Your expression was so cute, actually. Expectant yet sheepish. You knew all the way why he was like this. He was ruthless against the poor soul who tried to make a move with you. He moved like water with that staff, and his hits were still as heavy as a building falling on your head.
"Ghh—!" Luo heaved, panting on the ground as Zanka held the training staff against his neck. He wasn't even breaking a sweat, not breaking his expression of dead calm. If you looked closely enough, everyone would know he was looking down at Luo. There was a certain gleam in his blue eyes— his own way of saying that he was inferior.
"Your footwork. It's inconsistent," Zanka huffed, twirling the staff in his hands as he turned his back on Luo. He said nothing else before trotting over to your side with a smug grin. He lowered his head in your direction, clearly expecting a compliment from you.
You could only sigh. Cupping his cheeks, you press a kiss against his forehead. "Jealousy looks good on ya."
"Damn right." He mumbled quietly.
Now, that went both ways.
Zanka was equally as attracted to you when you were just as jealous.
It was no secret that Zanka was a star. The top student, the most likely to sit on the golden throne, and not to mention "effortlessly" attractive. Of course, he had admirers, but he was always endlessly devoted to you, so why would you be jealous?
Same reason as he was, really. Because some people didn't think before they acted.
This time, the incident happened when sparring actually began. It was your turn on the grounds, and you wielded the same training staff as Zanka's. It was shorter, yes, but that didn't mean your reach wasn't wide. You trained with Zanka until you both dropped because that made you both clingier in the end.
You weren't really putting much effort into who you were fighting; they were pretty easy to block and parry. Then you saw.
Some girl was trying to get his attention.
Oh, he watched your expression shift from nonchalance to slight irritation. Zanka watched it go down, really. The way you quickly dismissed your opponent with a firm sweep of your staff to your foe's legs before finishing it with a push-kick to the face.
Your boyfriend's eyes widened, watching it all go down smoothly. His lips twitched upward, but his expression returned to normal in a mere millisecond. You were hot like this. Even if he was blatantly ignoring the girl trying to ask him for pointers about fighting. He stopped entertaining, well, not entertaining, more like talking to girls in general when you two became an official thing.
But he'll gladly taunt you every so often to see this side of you.
Between the two of you, you were the chatty one. It was clear that you were the cheerful one, too— the sun to his moon and all that. That just meant you went quiet when you were jealous.
You huffed, using your staff to just nudge the girl away from Zanka's right side and taking your rightful place beside him. You didn't even bother saying anything, just glaring like he would. He taught you well, clearly. Very well. Is this what your parents meant by good influence? Damn, he'll keep influencing you if this is what you look like when you were on jealousy's side.
"Mm, careful now, princess," he hummed, gently grabbing your elbow before he started to tug you along to the faucets. "Yer gonna get wrinkles if you keep frownin' like that." He chuckled, pinching your cheek with his free hand.
"Hmph, that chick didn't have enough skill to even breathe in your general direction." You pouted before adjusting his hand placement. You nudged off his arm, shifting his grip to hold your hand instead, and he followed almost instantly. His fingers interlocked with yours as he grinned.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever helps ya sleep at night, princess," he bumped his hip with yours before you let out an irritated grunt and punched his shoulder.
"Ass! Don't tease me 'bout it!"
"Yer cute when yer like this! I can't help it!" He laughed, dodging your next few attempts to hit him back.
Your classmates could only stare in exasperation at the sickeningly sweet display.
Request two !! I hope yall like this one mehehehe
lowk i feel like zanka would learn to control his jealousy because of his family's name n heritage, but he'd defo show it his own way by beating the shii out of his opponents LMAO
thank u for reading, hope you enjoy !!
i'll be hitting two birds with one stone, theyre gonna be making out soon MEHHEHEEHEHE
zanka wakes up, having the best birthday present in his arms.
zanka nijiku x reader | 1.1k words. | masterlist.
BIRTHDAY FIC !! no pronouns used. zanka teases you... a lot. morning kisses (...a lot). fluff fluff. was this self indulgent? yes this was self indulgent.
the day before zanka’s birthday, you were both exhausted from a mission you were assigned to, so the moment you both got back to the cleaners’ headquarters at night, after patching up, you plopped down beside each other, comfortably sleeping in the other’s arms.
the morning sun coming through his windows woke zanka, welcoming him to another day of his average life.
but his average life is a hundred times better than that of the average average joe’s when he’s with you.
zanka was holding you in his arms, you lay on his chest, soundly asleep. he smiled at the sight he woke up to—you in his arms, safe and sound—this is one of the best things he still hasn’t grown accustomed to seeing, even after being together so long, and he considers himself lucky for it.
a smile crept on his face. he silently took in the beauty and uniqueness of your features—features he had grown to love even more each day, and that are etched in the back of his mind, so even if he’s not having any active thought process, all he could think of is you.
you shifted in your sleep, snuggling closer to zanka’s warmth, and this certain action made zanka’s smile even wider. he couldn’t resist chuckling, as this seemed to be the first time in a while he had witnessed you do this after weeks of waking up early for missions.
hold on… why was he able to sleep in today?
your eyes fluttered open slowly and closed again. your face was nestled in his chest, and he heard you mumble his name.
zanka hummed in response and started stroking your hair, to which, following his actions, you looked up at him.
“happy birthday, my pretty boy,” you greeted zanka with eyes you couldn’t force open and a sleepy smile.
oh.
“oh,” was all zanka said.
and suddenly, your eyes were slightly open, and your brows were furrowed.
you frowned at him. “you seriously forgot about it even after i pestered you all day yesterday?!”
“it slipped off my mind, but—”
you got up from his arms abruptly, a more serious look taking over your face.
“okay,” you said, your eyes still not fully open. “stay there. i have a birthday gift for you!”
“that can wait,” zanka whined. “come back ‘ere.”
he reached his hand to you, taking you back in the comfort of his hold. you tried protesting, but your body is still sore and fatigued from yesterday’s mission to fight back, and you don’t really mind being in his arms…
“i already have the best birthday gift i could ever ask for,” zanka whispered in your ear, and you could hear the teasing smirk he had in his voice.
slowly, your eyes finally opened fully despite how sleepy you still are. you felt heat creep onto your cheeks, the tips of your ears reddening, and your heart thumping faster.
because… gosh, why would zanka say things like that so early in the morning?
“i’m supposed to be the one saying that kind of stuff, you know,” you told zanka, hiding your face in his chest. “first, you don’t let me get the gift i prepared for you. then, you beat me to saying things like that… come on, let me win just for today.”
“i’m winnin’ everyday you wake up in my arms, though.”
you elbowed him lightly, earning a groan from him. “you are so annoying. i’m letting it slide because it’s your birthday.”
zanka kissed the top of your head. “i’m not lyin’.”
you looked up at him and met his own pair of sleepy eyes. “i would kiss you right now, but i want to do that when my breath is fresh.”
zanka blinked at you twice, then leaned in, giving you a peck on the lips. “i don’t mind,” he said.
he leaned in again, but you stopped him by putting your index finger against his soft lips.
“i do. you deserve all the best of things today.”
zanka snickered and grabbed your wrist to remove your finger from his lips. he slipped his fingers to interlock with yours, and got up, towering over you. he had one hand supporting his weight and the other wrapped around yours, and started peppering you with kisses all over your face.
you were way too flabbergasted and still half-asleep to process what was happening, and it took you a few seconds and a thousand more kisses from zanka for the cogs in your brain to finally move again.
“zanka, no…! i’m the one who should be doing all of this to you! you’re the birthday boy!” you had your whole hand taped over his mouth this time.
and dear god, zanka clutched your hand and kissed it. why the fuck is he acting extra like this today?
it’s TOO EARLY FOR THIS!
you took your hand back and covered your face in…—you don’t even know if you’re flustered, flabbergasted, ashamed, shy, or whatever.
“i hate you so much.” your voice was muffled against your palms. “i know you’re competitive, but you really need to let me win today.”
you heard zanka chuckle and shuffle around. you felt the weight of the bed next to you sink as he lay beside you again.
you removed your hands covering your face, and turned to your side to face zanka who was smiling widely at you.
“you’re so pretty, do you know that?” you frowned at him. “you need to let me pamper you for the day, please.”
it wasn’t even a question or a request. it was a statement, begging him to let you do all the lovey-dovey stuff to him today, and not the other way around.
“ya owe me a kiss, then,” zanka bargained, his eyebrow raised.
you rolled your eyes at him, lightly chuckling. “fine, i’ll give what the birthday boy wants.”
you gave him a quick kiss, looked him in the eye, and decided to give him another.
“consider that our pre-game,” you joked. “i’ve got more kisses… and of course! the gift i have for you,” you said proudly.
“ya don’t have to do or give anythin’ else. you’re more than enough.”
“i hope you know that you are too, zanka.” you smiled at him. “happy birthday. i love you.”
zanka’s eyes soften at your words, and he could only bring himself to smile.
to hear you say things like that is already a blessing. to have you by his side is everything he could ask for. and to be with you forever is the only wish he’ll have for the rest of his life.
the day is long, and he couldn’t have been more grateful to live a life right now.
🚯 happy birthday to the most gorgeous man the ground has ever known, zanka nijiku !!! had to capslock that one certain sentence because i was panicking with how the story was progressing like bro calm down it's probably like 6 or 7 in the morning BRUTHAH was this ooc was this ooc i dont know honestly do i look like i care it's 4 in the morning and im thinking of zanka nijiku oh god i'm doomed
can this be considered as apology for the angst fic i dropped yesterday . . .
I told yall im gonna write zanka for as long as i live
also if yall want you can totally request stuff in my asks n i'll write it
It was his first time feeling this way.
These emotions. They're new to him.
The Ground had its own way of celebrating New Year's. Fireworks, celebrations, maybe a festival or two. It depends on the city you reside in. The Kamuatari District, his hometown, had a brief celebration for the past year and the welcoming of the new one.
It was brief, but it was meaningful for the Nijiku family.
To Zanka, it was all a requirement. Something he had to attend because of the prestige of his family. Show up, eat, sleep, and go back to training the very next day. That was how it was for him.
Until you showed up.
He was probably eight years old. Curiosity still brimming in his innocent little eyes as he dragged his training stick around with him. His older sister had just finished training with him. It ended early, surprisingly. So, he was allowed to run around their estate. A little reward for doing good. Plus that pat on his head. It was his favorite part of his day currently.
Then, he heard you.
You, little you.
He remembered that day like it was yesterday.
You were playing on a swing set with your family back then, specifically your mother. You were part of the family who were only slightly below the Nijikus. Your family's combat power probably matched half of the Hell Guard. He remembered your father shaking hands with his own.
That meant you were well-respected as well.
He was curious. Who wouldn't be? It wasn't common in his family's district to have someone giggling so loudly. Zanka looked around, wanting to get a better view of you. So, he did what any reasonable eight-year-old did.
He climbed the fence that separated the two houses.
And of course, like most kids, he fell flat on his face when he leaned in too much. Thankfully, your mother only laughed at the entire ordeal, and his sister was still none the wiser.
"What's your name?" He asked, bright blue eyes brimming with curiosity as he stared at you. You had hidden behind your mother when he suddenly fell in your family's yard. Understandably, he'd be spooked too if that happened.
You looked hesitant, tiny hands gripping onto your mother's clothes before shyly peeking your head out and clearing your throat. You gave your name before stepping out in front of your mother.
Tilting your head, you crouched down in front of him before wiping dust off his cheeks and shoulders, which made him go a little red. "Are you okay?" You asked.
Zanka had never been so quick to nod. Ever.
In that moment, he made a best friend that his family actually approved of. He finally had someone who he could have sleepovers with, eat dinner together whenever his family was out being Hell Guards, and even train together (after a bit of convincing on his part).
Now, moving forward a few years, you were both fifteen.
If your classmates from the Hell Guard could describe you both in one word, it'd be inseparable.
You did practically everything together: training, lunch, studying, more training, and a bunch of other things. Zanka was the one who personally trained you whenever his older sister or brother wasn't available after classes. You joust with him until sunset, and he'd eventually walk you home.
You'd chat with him, clash training sticks with him, and eventually lie on the training ground laughing. Your parents didn't really mind you getting home late, knowing Zanka was always there to escort you to your estate before going back home to his.
No one was ever home anyway. He wasn't in a rush.
Not only that, he'd braid your hair. He even tried to style it with ribbons that one time, and you flaunted that shit during school and training. His sister taught him how to style her hair, so he tried doing it for you now. It wasn't a big deal for him. If anything, he liked arriving at your house early to see you all drowsy and barely awake.
Zanka's hands were callused like yours. The years of training with him did that. Yet they were so gentle with you.
A hand on your elbow when you're running errands together. A hand on your shoulder to guide you to a local shop to eat. His hands are on yours whenever he's correcting your form. It was like he was built meticulous at birth.
A true gentleman at heart, you knew. Beneath that stoic and nonchalant expression of his, there was a Zanka who laughed at you whenever your cheeks got too full eating dessert. There was a Zanka who wrapped up your bandages before his own. There was a Zanka who'd stay up later than usual just to make you a reviewer similar to his for a test.
He'd add the stickers you give him, too.
Now, don't get him wrong, he knew you were independent. But consider this as him returning the favor for staying his friend despite it all. Despite his family, the harsh training, and the periods of burnout he used to experience.
You were the reason he never experienced that anymore. He built a routine for you. He wanted to be better for you. For his family and their reputation as well, of course, but mostly for you.
You, the person whom he stayed up late training out the frustration of the day. You, the person who covered his ass in recitation when he wasn't sure of the answer. You, who often mimicked his own efforts to be better.
For you? Zanka wanted to succeed, to flourish.
That was probably when he realized that this wasn't just about being "best friends." He wanted to hold hands with you in public. He wanted to feel that warmth in his chest whenever he held your cheeks to pinch them teasingly more often. He also wanted his classmates to be jealous, knowing that both of you were on another league, separate from them.
Of course, he's a gentleman, so he asked your parents if they were okay with him possibly courting you. They said yes to his surprise, okay, maybe not. They've been treating him as their own ever since they were kids.
And so, it began. Courting.
His routine didn't really change much. He was still Zanka Nijiku, after all. He had to maintain some level of dignity outside your and his quarters.
But you've noticed pretty quick that he's treating you differently.
Zanka never said it outright, but he definitely had a crush on you. You noticed the way he started gently grabbing your hand instead of your elbow, the way he brings you bracelets now, and literally puffs out in pride whenever you wear them. Stuff like that.
Especially with the way he started staying at your estate more than his was a general give away.
You ask one night when he was staying over, "Do you like me, Zanka?" You were setting up the futon next to yours, the one Zanka always slept on as he tidied up your study materials.
He hummed, glancing back at you for a second before he spoke. "Did ya jus' notice?" He asked as if he were unaffected.
In reality, on the other hand… HE WAS FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.
OKAY. He KNOWS he's obvious. Especially how it's only been a few months since he started a new routine. A more personal one to convey his feelings better. He just— thought you'd chalk it up to: "Oh, we're doing this now. Okay."
The tips of his ears were red as he approached you with his usual expression. His hand then went to your wrist before gently wrapping the back of your hand. He traced your knuckles, keeping his blue eyes on them before peeking at you.
"I've liked ya for a while now," he murmured, taking the pillow, his pillow, tucked under your arm before gently guiding you to sit down on the futon. His eyes were soft, his facial expression holding a bit of embarrassment.
You just stared up at him as he kneeled next to you, doing the rest of the setup himself before you could protest. You wouldn't. You've learned that he's never going to let you win in terms of acts of service.
You were still processing the fact that your best friend had liked you for years. Not like you've never felt the same, but you'd be content if nothing happened between you both. What you already had was comfortable and familiar. You were content.
"Don't tell me ya haven't noticed jus' a bit," he snorted softly. He wasn't that oblivious that he didn't know you felt the same. You've invited him to your house just to nap together more times than he could count. But he begs to EVERY GOD HE'S EVER DENIED that you feel what he feels to HIS EXTENT.
Zanka loved deeply. He's passionate about everything and gives his all no matter what. He wanted to dedicate everything to you, knowing you deserved every bit of his love.
"I have." You replied, pouting just a bit as you lay down on the futon. He soon followed suit on his own futon, one of his hands finding yours again. "I ain't an idiot, Nijiku." He chuckled at your words, lightly resting his fingers on your palm just in case you wanted to pull away.
But instead, you used your free hand to reach his bangs, pushing them away so that you could see his eyes better. Such beautiful blue eyes. There was always a fire, a certain determination in them that you could always see. Only you, though.
"Jus' wanted to make sure, as all," you whispered, smiling at him. And he went WEAK in the knees. His expression shifted from calm to embarrassed. Full-on red in the face. He always got this way whenever you got a little too close.
"Mmhm, sure, dumbass," he tried to brush off. "Yer an idiot who wants ta cover up you didn't know how I felt, 'das all!" He teased, grinning at you before you gasped in offense.
"I ain't stupid, and ya know that!"
"Says the lady who flunked a test after a month of reviewing!" He snickered.
"Yer the only one in class who actually passed, Nijiku!" You whined.
Oh, he can't take it anymore. You're too cute for him.
"C'mere!" He exclaimed, pushing himself up with his forearms before he moved to your futon quickly. You yelped, not expecting the sudden jump? Hop? You didn't know. All you knew was that you instinctively tried to kick him when he just started tickling your sides.
"Zanka! Stoph—HAHAHA it!" You laughed, trying to push his arms and him in general, away. You failed miraculously, though, seeing how he's stronger than you in terms of raw strength. He might look lanky, but he's actually quite built.
After a few minutes of rough-housing and tickling, he let out the last of his chuckles before resting his head against your chest. This surprised you, and he felt you flinch just a bit. Almost immediately, he attempted to remove his head there, but you shook your head.
"Was jus' surprised. Ya can stay there." You say, reassuring him with your hands, playing with his hair again. Oh, this truly was Zanka's haven.
Barely a few seconds of silence passed, just both of you savoring the moment before he wrapped his arms around your waist this time.
"We're a thing, yeah?" He asked, a little unsure that you'd say yes.
"Dumbass," you scoffed playfully. "Of course, we're a thing now."
Zanka has never slept more comfortably in his life, by the way. No amount of comfort in his family's estate could ever replicate that moment and the cuddle sessions that followed.
Now, back to the present.
You were sitting on the roof of the main house of his family's estate as the fireworks went off. They were beautiful. All kinds of patterns, colors, and sizes were painting the sky with light.
You were mesmerized by them.
Zanka was currently mesmerized by you.
New Year's. A time to leave behind the old and celebrate with the new. A time when the entire district celebrated the successes of the last year and left behind the mistakes that were made. He never did understand the appeal of it.
Yet with you here, it wasn't so bad.
It's been a few months since your relationship with him finally blossomed fully. It was official. You were a couple (like it wasn't already obvious to the majority of the district). You acted more married than actual people who were MARRIED DID!
Zanka could never complain, nor could you.
The only thing he might complain about is how he's never thought about kissing you yet. Like, properly.
You've kissed him on the cheek multiple times, and he's returned the favor by kissing your knuckles. But how would an actual kiss feel?
He's fifteen, and the only love like this he's ever known was from you.
So, he guesses it's time to suck it up and—
"You're staring," you giggled, looking at him with a sweet smile. He went weak, immediately. He gulped, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly before he chuckled in return.
"When am I not, princess?" He teased, using another pet name he thought of on the spot. It's becoming a habit at this point, calling you pet names he thought were cute.
"Oh, you," you nudged his shoulder, laughing before sliding to sit closer to him. Your arm looped around his, and he held it tightly. Your head leaned against his shoulder, and his head leaned against yours.
It was routine at this point.
Your eyes continued to watch the fireworks, and Zanka continued to watch the way your fingers wrapped around his arm. God, he wanted to kiss you. So SO badly.
You were just so soft, so perfect in his hands and in his eyes. And he—
Y'know what? Fuck it.
"Princess, can I kiss ya?" He whispered, burying his face in your hair to hide his expression. Was he too desperate? What if you didn't want to? Oh, GOD, does his breath smell? He was usually really well-groomed, so he doubted it, but STILL!
This was gonna be their first kiss, and he didn't want to ruin it—
"Zanka," you called out softly, cupping his cheek like he was fragile. He was the furthest thing from it, but DAMN did it make him feel good. "Do you really want to?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.
And he nodded. Not quickly like he was a kid, not nervously when they first started the relationship, a steady nod. A sort of way to say: "Yes, I really do want this."
"Please," Zanka murmured, leaning in towards you. His nose brushed against yours, his expression as soft and as desperate as it could possibly be. The boy's been dreaming about this moment for weeks! And you're just giving it to him for free.
"Been imaginin' it for a while now, princess." He chuckled, as if he wasn't literally dying for this moment.
"Let's make it a reality then, shall we?" You giggled, pulling him in closer as the fireworks continued to go off.
"To a new year," Zanka whispered.
"Yeah, to a new year," you replied.
And as the biggest firework soars through the sky, your lips press together gently as it explodes. A mirage of colors shines through the night, yet neither of you can be bothered to care at the moment. Your hands on his cheeks and his own on your arms to steady himself. The sweetness of the moment would probably have the entire district gagging.
Zanka was never the biggest fan of sweets, but he's a damn lucky man to share such a sweet moment with his lover.
And his wish this year?
All he wants is to have you at his side.
There was no doubt in his mind that you wished for the same.
HI GANG, again no proofreading bcuz PSHHH who needs that (im joking please i need someone to say if ive written a word too much or not)i raw dogged writing this on the site
but yah, have sickeningly, diabetes inducing, candy of the hansel and gretel witch house sweet level of this !!
i'll make a zanka masterlist as to not lose my works in my reblogs, bye bye !!
"Zanka…" You mumble, wiping off the grime off your cheek. There were a few scratches on your face, but you’ll deal with them later.
From above, the blade of your scythe was clinging to the roof of the well. It was how you got up and down, considering you were a horrible climber. Aside from that, your boyfriend was down in the well—sulking and brooding. A higher level of both those things, actually.
You stared at him for a while. Zanka had his face hidden between his arms with his legs tucked tightly to his chest. He hasn't attended "school" in two days, and you've made yourself the unofficial "get-Zanka-water-so-that-he-doesn't-die-of-dehydration-" service.
Your arms, hands, knees, and even face were scratched up from stupidly falling face-first. The rocks were hard and slippery, okay? It hurt to keep gripping onto the moss-covered bastards.
You huff again, pushing the bottle and the cup of water towards him with a frown. You were worried sick, duh. This was your partner! Your ride-or-die! Been so for the last three years (seven, technically, but you didn't start dating until you were fourteen). Now, he refused to eat or drink because of… the thing that happened, yeah.
"A bit?" You tried coaxing as you adjusted your position on the ground. You mirror his position, keeping your head up instead of hiding it. You didn't mind going through all this trouble. Although it was worrying your parents that you came back to the house at around three in the morning after Zanka climbed down a literal hole.
You were met with indifference, though. A small grunt accompanied by that stupidly stubborn huff. Discouragement hit you, honestly—considering it's four in the morning and you're supposed to be freshly showered for class and sparring, but nope. Your hell guard uniform was dirty, your wrist and side ached, and Zanka was still in the well.
"…don't want you dyin'," you mumbles. "Please?"
Now, it wasn't that he wasn't seeing the effort the love of his life was putting out for him. It's that he feels guilty at the concept of accepting it.
Zanka was stupid. He IS stupid. Stupid for thinking he could beat an actual fuckin' talent, oh, what a waste. His hands grip the body of the stupid stick tighter at the thought.
And here he is, wasting your time as well. The girl who's literally been through everything with him. He's making you skip school for his sorry ass. You're hurt and injured from climbing in and out of this stupid well. Why couldn't he just—do something right? You're doing all you can, doing your best, and all, and that's enough for your family.
Why can't his best be enough for his?
Better question, why did he have to try n' show off?
Again, his grip tightened on the "weapon" he chose. Sorry excuse of wood, really.
"…stop, botherin' with me, damnit," he huffed out reluctantly. His voice was scratchy from the lack of water and proper food he'd be depriving himself of for three days. "You're better off with someone else. Yer wastin' your time with me." An average guy who's got basically zero worth at this point.
Oh, now that just broke your heart.
You're trying your best to be here, okay? You left your class when your classmates told you to leave Zanka be. You didn't want to, and when they tried convincing you, you followed your boyfriend down the damn well. So, hearing him say that just… felt demeaning.
Your fingers pushed the water towards him again, and he pushed it away with his boot.
"Zanka—" You started.
"Stop it." He scoffed.
You opened your mouth to speak again, messy locks framing your face as you wiped your cheek. You hissed at the sting of the scratch, and he barely flinched at the sound. You were hurt because of him. Because you just had to follow him down, knowing that you weren't good at climbing at all.
You breathed out, trying not to tear up at him turning you away. "Can you at least look at me when you say that…?"
He sucked in a breath, a harsh one. Great, now he was hurting your feelings. Now, he's pushing you off like some jackass who wouldn't explain why he didn't want you around.
You're his ultimate weakness, and if he accepted your god-given grace that was your never-ending kindness, he knew he'd start bawling and ranting—
But he peeked anyway. And there they were, the teary-eyed beauty he swore he'd never hurt.
Shit. He's doing that to you right now.
He's hurting you.
Zanka, if possible, stiffened even more.
His head whipped out from under his arms, literally getting on all fours and startling you. His eyes, oh, those pretty, baby blue eyes, finally had some kind of spark in them when he realized the unintentional damage he'd done.
His hands, layered with calluses like yours, shakily reached out to the scratch that marred your pretty skin.
"Shit, you clumsy little shit—" he cussed. He's never had a clean mouth. It was probably the one thing your parents complained about. "You— ugh, you! You're not supposed ta follow me down here! At all! Anywhere!" He exclaimed as he scooted closer, nudging your legs apart just enough so that he could examine how many hits you'd actually taken from falling down the well multiple times in a day to get him decent water, food, and, surprisingly, his vitamins.
"Zanka—" you grumbled, pouting now as you blinked away the tears forming in your eyes. Before you could get another word in, he interrupted you. "No! Don't ya 'Zanka' me! Yer hurt cuz of me!" He says while pulling up your sleeve, utterly concerned for the stupid girl in front of him.
Well, at least he was interacting with you.
"I'm an idiot, understood? I was practically ostracized the second I picked up this—" he waved the staff around, "dingy lookin' thing!"
"But you, you still picked a cool weapon," he mumbled, his gaze falling to the alarm clock charm on your chest. You were a giver with the charm the size of a baseball around your neck as your vital instrument. One since you were seven. He didn't want to admit it, but the blonde was jealous. Extremely jealous.
You were kids back then, but even now, he was jealous.
Jealous that you had a family that loved you no matter where you ended up. You had the strength, talent, and skill to wield the scythe that was just as tall as you were. The dainty little shit had back muscles he could only dream of. Well, to be fair, you’ve been trained all your life for it, but damn, genetics played favorites!
But he couldn’t be mad. Not at you. Never at you.
Not when you're the reason why he’s so loved now. Not when you're the reason he has an actual reason to continue training for the Hell Guard.
The exhaustion caught up to him, pushing the flowery thing off your chest and onto your shoulder. Zanka then replaced the earlier position of the charm, pressing his ear against your heart. You, meanwhile, relaxed when he did this. You didn’t bother trying to separate his stick from him. Maybe he’s gotten attached to it all this time in the well.
“Drink, at least?” You pleaded this time, rubbing his arm with your free hand and reaching for the water bottle with the other. To your pleasure, Zanka actually took it this time. He examined it, at first, like he does with everything you give him. He then downed that bottle before setting it beside you. He was still in the uniform from three days ago, but neither he nor you cared about all that right now.
Your hand that was holding the bottle was now in his hair, stroking through the mess of two-toned locks. You placed a soft kiss on the top of his head, humming softly before pulling him in tighter. In turn, he did the same, adjusting his arms to wrap around your torso. You're fluffy somehow, so smooth to the touch, even in the Hell Guard uniform.
“Yer annoyin’… never leavin’ me alone.” He grumbled, but there was no weight to his words. Zanka missed your presence, missed having you like this.
“Mm, you don’t mean that,” you said with confidence, and he followed it up with a small chuckle.
“Ya, yer right. Might cry if you actually leave me alone.”
“Jerk.”
“Dumbass.”
…
A comfortable silence engulfed the limited space of the well. Only the sound of the occasional fabric shifting was heard from the two of you.
You never forced him to speak.
Zanka never forced you, either.
But surprisingly, he was the one to open up first.
“…jus’ thought I could be like the natural talent. Made myself look stupid fakin’ it.” He whispered, curling up in your arms despite being the taller one. “Ended up bein’ worse than the fakes I cuss out when we’re alone.”
You hummed, continuing your ministrations as you listened.
“I jus’—fuck,” his voice cracked. “I know yer not competin’ for the Golden Throne. Hell, I know ya get outta the way for it. But she—” he hiccuped, “she said ‘What is it worth making yourself look more impressive?’ What’s it for?”
There it was. The reason for all this.
For someone who’s been trying to prove himself, his worth, to his family and to himself, that comment hit something in his system.
You're fortunate enough not to worry about that, but Zanka wasn’t. In all honesty, you had a bone to pick with his family. An absolute grudge. Not because they were reluctant about his relationship before they heard your family name, but because they’re all pricks. Uptight pricks who were slaves to honor.
Zanka’s hiccuping, his throat straining to keep the sounds in, and his arms tightening around your torso cut your thoughts short, though. Your legs caged him in, knowing he’d prefer to be in quiet and tight company when he’s like this. Your arms tightened around him in return, pressing a few more kisses to the top of his head.
You turned your head to the side, nudging him gently to know that you weren’t looking anymore. He never liked showing you he was crying. It was an extremely rare occurrence when it felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he had requested that you not look when it happened the third time in your relationship.
You stopped looking after that.
To your surprise, though, you felt him tug on your sleeve. Sniffles came from Zanka as you slowly craned your neck to look at him, to offer comfort.
Seeing your boyfriend like that absolutely wrecked your soul. Blue eyes spilling with tears, teeth biting at his lip so hard that it could draw blood, and his body trembling as he continued to hold onto his staff.
“I’on know what to do anymore, love,” he whined, sitting up as he tried to wipe as many tears away as he could with one hand. “Nothin’s enough. Nothin’s ever enough.” He whispered, fingers curling into your uniform.
“I jus’ want it to be enough, is that too much?”
Yeah, your heart’s broken now. Not because of him, but for him. Because of his words.
“Oh, sweetheart,” you mumbled softly, wrapping him just a bit tighter. You buried your face into his hair, nuzzling your nose against him. You didn’t like seeing him like this at all. It was so unlike Zanka, but you knew that this was a rarer moment than most. Especially since he openly wanted you to look.
Zanka cried like a baby in your eyes. Lip full-on pout, eyes shiny with tears, and hands clutching onto any fabric that you were wearing. You knew he’d rather die than admit it, though. All you could do right now was to hold him, try murmuring comforting praises in his ears as your hands rubbed his shoulders or back.
And that’s exactly what you're doing right now.
Cutting classes again wouldn’t hurt much. Your permanent record needed to get a little dirtier, with how clean it was anyway.
…
The sun’s up, you’ve noticed.
You looked down at the sleeping figure in your arms, admiring how he looked despite crying for a while. You coaxed him to stop eventually, since you didn’t want him to be dehydrated. All he’s had was a bottle and a cup of water. That’s all.
“Zan?” You whispered his name like a prayer meant for him.
It did irreparable damage to his heart. Good damage, don’t worry.
“‘Sup,” he whispered in return.
“You still alive?”
“Mm.”
“Wanna get you water n’ food. Get up.”
You felt him shake his head from your chest, and you groaned. “Zanka—”
“Yer skippin’ training anyway,” he huffed, cutting you off before you could get in another word. “‘Sides. I don’t feel better yet.”
Not completely, he didn’t add.
Crying was a blow to his ego, but in front of you? It felt better; it felt nice to let a bit of emotion out. Especially how his family looked down on weakness, looked down at him.
Yet here he was, loving a woman who couldn’t insult the worst part of his soul even if she tried her hardest. Oh, he loved you.
“I’ll take the scoldin’ from your parents,” if they even had anything to say. The old folks approved of your relationship fully, apparently. Even saying that, Zanka was an amazing influence on you. Your family basically took him in as their son-in-law, considering how the two of you were usually never apart.
“Jus’ stay, ‘kay?” He hummed, tugging on your hand. Zanka tilted his head upward, making you tilt yours to the side in curiosity.
That curiosity was sated when he pressed a soft kiss to your wrist. And you folded, instantly. Any thoughts of booking it to your parents’ house and Zanka’s room were suddenly gone. Yeah, you could stay in this little hole with him for a little while longer.
You returned the kiss with your own, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips lightly just in case he wasn’t up for it. His cheeks reddened quite a bit from the affection, but he just chuckled. It wasn’t anything new to the couple, anyway. You changed his view on PDA years ago.
“Okay. No biggie,” you smiled softly.
Zanka did too.
“Dork.”
“Idiot.”
this is the first and PROBABLY last thing im gonna put on this tumblr page bCUZ my hyperfixation with zanka is HONESTLY INSANE
anw enjoy the baby blue boy being all vulnerable with u
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
gracieabrams
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
