Zayne Fluff - Blog Posts

Zayne HCs pt.2

I had to make a part two of his head cannons because I just watched his Eternal Attachment play through and AHHHHSKFHDJDHKSHFKSHFKSHFK

Anywayyys I wrote this after watching the Medical Rescue Memoria play through which is why they may seem a little bit angsty but overall FLUFF FOR THE WIN!!!

Enjoy!

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-Zayne who calls you whenever he’s having a bad day, because your voice puts him at ease.

-Zayne who comes home more quiet than usual whenever a surgery was unsuccessful that day.

-Zayne who finds comfort in laying on your chest and having you brush your fingers through his hair.

-Zayne who is so scared of losing you that he always touches a pulse point whenever you two are close, just to remind himself that you’re there.

-Zayne who instantly relaxes as soon as he sees you, and has to hold himself back from wrapping you in his arms right there in public.

-Zayne who feels bad that his work hours don’t allow him to see you often enough, so he gives you a spare key to his home, hoping you’ll drop by more often.

-Zayne who daydreams about spending his life with you during unimportant moments of his day.

-Zayne who keeps any gifts you give him in a special drawer, so he can pull them out and appreciate them when you’re not there.

-Zayne who never corrects anyone who assumes you’re his partner, because he likes the way it sounds and hopes one day it’ll be true.

Let me Take Care of You

(Zayne x reader fluff)

Zayne rubbed his tired eyes as he leaned back in his office chair. It was nearly one in the morning and he was exhausted from the long day of work. As he stood up to begin packing his things from the day, he heard a knock at the door.

Before he could tell the person on the other side to enter, the door opened on its own.

“Doctor Zayne! Have time to squeeze in an extra appointment?” You playfully asked.

“Love? What are you doing here it’s late. Did something happen? Are you hurt?” Worry creeped into his tone as your abrupt visit had given him the impression that something was wrong.

“No I’m fine silly! I just thought I could pick you up from work! If you haven’t eaten yet we can grab some takeout from that noodle place. I hear they just updated their dessert menu too!”

Still unmoved from his spot at the door he stared at you dumbfounded. “You came all the way here from across Linkon to pick me up?”

“And get you food! I know how tired you get after your shifts and since I didn’t have anything going on I thought I’d pay my favorite doctor a visit.” You chirped. “Are you almost ready to leave?”

Zayne was completely baffled. No one had ever been so thoughtful towards him. The thought of you taking the time to travel all across Linkon at this hour just to make sure he ate and made it home safe made his heart fuzzy.

“I was actually just packing up. You know you didn’t have to come all this way. I’m perfect capable of transporting and feeding myself.”

Not backing down from his stubbornness you replied, “Of course you can, you’re brilliant. But sometimes I want to take care of you too. You spoil me all the time so it’s only fair that you let me do the same.”

Turning away to hide his reddened face he insisted, “You really didn’t have to-“

Reaching up to turn his face toward you, you insisted, “I want to Zayne. You don’t have to be so tough all the time. Just let me do this for you. Please?”

Finally giving in he sighed and leaned into you. “Since you’re so insistent I guess I’ll let you have this one.”

“Thanks Zayne.” You said, giving him a light kiss on the shoulder.

“No… Thank you.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. Whispering in your ear, “Now, where’s our first destination, Miss Hunter?”

Ick

(A short crack fic)

Ok don’t get me wrong, I love Zayne with ALL of my heart but I can totally see him being the type of guy to say something like “oh have did you recently start your menstrual cycle?” Whenever you’re being moody.

BUT NOT IN A MEAN PATRONIZING WAY AT ALL!!!

This man is a doctor, and im pretty sure he’s just always trying to find a rational explanation for everything. Which is why whenever you’re in a bit of a funk it’s his first logical explanation you know?

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It had been a long day at work with the Hunters association. First you missed your bus to work, then when you finally ran in you bumped into Tara who spilled her drink all over you, and then it started raining on the way home when you didn’t even have an umbrella.

Finally home, you just wanted to dry off and relax with your loving boyfriend, Zayne. You reached into your bag to fish out your keys but they weren’t there.

“Oh what the hell!”

You began dumping all of the contents from your purse onto the ground hoping to find the keys to unlock your apartment but there was no luck.

“Damnit…”

You started to shove all your belongings back into your purse when the front door opened slightly.

“Love? I thought I heard something rustling around out here. What are you doing on the floor?”

Scrambling to get back on your feet, you quickly stepped inside your warm home and began slipping your shoes off.

“Lost my keys…” you mumbled, not even bothering to look up at him as you said so.

“Oh of course.” He chided, looking up and down at your soaked clothes. “You know you should really change out of those. You could get sick if you keep them on.”

“Really? I was just thinking about getting into bed with these on.” You snapped.

“You seem to be upset…”

“What? Me? Never.” You sarcastically remarked.

“You’re definitely irritated. Have you perhaps started your menstrual cycle?”

“Excuse me?!” You were angry angry now. “You think just because I’m upset I’m suddenly on my period?! That’s so sexist! Besides, you know my period was last week anyway. Why would you think I suddenly started again?”

“Studies have shown that some periods can last up to-“

“ZAYNE!!!”

Missing You

A Zayne x Reader one shot

Zayne stepped inside your shared apartment letting out a sigh, tired from his long day of work . After hanging up his coat and slipping off his shoes he made his way to the kitchen where he expected to see you rummaging around, looking for snacks.

What he did not expect to see however, was you wearing his silk robe. He stood there admiring the way it looked on you. The way you tied it had shown off the curve of your waist and hips. The too-big sleeves slipped off your shoulders, exposing your slim neck. And the deep V of the robe had given him the perfect view of your chest, and the marks he had left there the night before.

“Oh, Zayne! I didn’t hear you come in.”

You jumped, setting down the cup of tea you had just been making.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said, eyes trailing down your body. “Looks like you had fun while I was away” He gestured to the robe.

“Oh! Well I- you were-“ you buried your face into your hands, unable to speak through the embarrassment. “Sorry…”

He gently removed your hands from your face, and placed a finger under your chin so you were now facing eachother. “Don’t be sorry. I think it looks nice on you. Although I do remember getting you your own, have you misplaced it?”

His hands now roamed around your waist, rubbing circles and squeezing lightly. “No I just… missed you.” You blushed.

The hands on your waist had come to a stop and now wondered there way to your back where he pulled you closer to him. “Missed me?” He smiled. “If I recall we were together this morning which was” he glanced down at his watch, “Less than 14 hours ago.”

“You make that sound like nothing! I haven’t seen you at all today and you expect me not to miss you?” You groan into his chest.

He smiles down at you, pulling you closer “I didn’t know my absence effected you so much”

“It’s just- I don’t feel as whole whenever you’re not with me you know?”

His teasing demeanor now gone, he pressed his forehead against yours. “I know.”

Looking up at him through your lashes you questioned, “you do?”

“I always miss you when we’re apart. Every time I leave for a surgery, every time you go off to fight Wanderers, every moment I’m not with you I feel like a piece of my heart is missing.”

Feeling your heart jump at his words you reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. “Zayne…“

He placed his hand on top of yours. “So if wearing my robe makes you feel a little bit closer to me then please feel free to go borrow it anytime.”

“Besides,” he mumbled, lowering his head down to your exposed neck “I quite like how it looks on you.”

Dating Zayne HCs

* BF Zayne who checks his phone first thing in the morning to see if he got a text from you

* BF Zayne who always orders extra sweets whenever you go out together so he can share with you

* BF Zayne who tracks your period and keeps extra boxes of pads and tampons in his home is you ever need them when you come over

* BF Zayne who loves holding you on his lap and playing with your hair when he reads

* BF Zayne who kisses your forehead and links pinkies with you as a small form of PDA

* BF Zayne who would send you emails reminding you when your next appointment with him is, or simply just emails reminding you to take care of yourself

* BF Zayne who’s the first one to take care of you when you’re sick. Lightly scolding you for not taking care of yourself while he lovingly dotes on you

* BF Zayne who takes you one dates to bakeries and libraries, letting you have the first bite of each treat or grabbing books too high up for you to reach

* BF Zayne who caresses your face with both hands when he kisses you, keeping you close to him only until you need air

* BF Zayne who melts when you run your fingers through his hair, leaning into your touch and humming softly and you massage his scalp

nurse for a day

synopsis: who knew a sick doctor could be such a handful? 

tags: stubborn zayne who hates being sick, reader takes care of him anyway, sleepy delirious zayne, fluff fluff fluff, humor(?), suggestive for .5 seconds word count: 2k 

a/n: i personally think i ate with this one 

It was quiet. Too quiet. 

As you slink through the seemingly empty house, ducking into shadows like you’re on a stealth mission, you really wish your boyfriend weren’t so damn stubborn. 

On your earlier phone call, Zayne had tried admirably hard to mask the nasally tone in his voice—to pretend like his frequent coughs were simply him “clearing his throat.” But you knew better.

He doesn’t get sick often—what with knowing exactly how to prevent it, and all—but when he does, he detests it for several reasons. The most pressing one, at the moment? You love when Zayne is sick.

Not because you think he deserves it, not because you want to see him suffer, but because you get to play nurse. After so many days being taken care of and scolded by the best doctor in Linkon, you finally get to return the favor. 

Except Zayne isn’t particularly…appreciative of the favor. You’re a very strict nurse, he’s frowned at you several times before. You tell him over and over again that you only want him to feel better, but that doesn’t stop him from holing up in a bunker every time he comes down with something. It’s the only time he avoids you. 

And now, he’s hiding from you. In his own home. 

You know he’s here. When you arrived, his freshly washed car was sparkling in the driveway, a full mug of jasmine tea was still steaming on the kitchen countertop, and various office supplies were left scattered across the coffee table. As if he’d heard you coming and frantically abandoned ship. 

You’d searched the usual spots: his empty bedroom, so pristine it looked like a hotel cleaning crew had stopped by; the walk-in closet, to make sure he hadn’t disguised himself among the hangers; and his study, where there’d been nothing but heaps of paperwork threatening the desk’s structural integrity. 

He’s being extra sneaky this time, you scoff to yourself as you tiptoe around upstairs. Room after room, and no endearingly, adorably, annoyingly stubborn doctor inside. 

But then, pressing your ear to the laundry room door, you hear it. 

The unmistakable crinkle of a candy wrapper.

You’ve never felt so lucky that Zayne reserves his self-control for you and not sweets. 

With a deep breath and a crack of your knuckles, you jiggle the doorknob slightly before bursting into the room. The man inside, hunched over the floor next to a tissue box, jumps at the sudden noise before freezing in place. And then, slowly, shyly, he spins to face you with the wide eyes and stuffed cheeks of a disgruntled hamster. 

Zayne has spent enough time with you to know what the unimpressed look on your face means: Explain yourself. 

“I don’t remember you knocking,” he sniffles curtly, unable to hide the way his stuffy nose constricts his throat. The rosy blush on his cheeks is the only indication of his guilt. 

“I don’t remember signing up to date an escape artist,” you shoot back, satisfied with his resulting wince. “What are you doing all the way in here? Was the space under the desk in your study not suitable this time?” 

“Just wanted a—”sniff—“change of scenery,” he jokes lamely, gesturing to the sleek washer and dryer towering over him. 

Sighing, you crouch down in front of him, taking in the wall of chocolate wrappers barricading him in. “Is the idea of me taking care of you really that bad? I’m just trying to help.” 

“That’s exactly it,” he says dryly. “You always help more than what’s needed.” 

At that, your eyes narrow into slits sharp enough to cut through bone. His bones, if he’s not careful. “Excuse me?” 

“I mean,” he clears his throat, grimacing at the dull burn in his sinuses, “You always help me exactly how I need it, and more.” 

“That’s what I thought you said. Now, come downstairs so I can give you the medicine you need, Dr. Zayne. And hand over the candy.” 

It was no secret that Zayne loved sweet things. The confiscated tub of chocolates sitting on the counter was evidence enough. 

But as you look down at his frowning face, cup of chemically red liquid in hand, you can’t help but wonder if it’s because Zayne loves sweet things that he hates taking medicine. 

Once he’d finally trudged into the kitchen, you’d sat him down on a barstool before fishing the dreaded bottle out of the cabinet. “Why not a lozenge instead?” he’d asked. “One of the citrus ones.” 

You hadn’t fallen for his trap, of course. But as he eyes you like he’ll make a break for it any second now, a weary part of you wishes you had. 

“You know,” you lean in conspiratorially, “they say if you plug your nose, you won’t taste it as much.” 

“Illness doesn’t make me a fool,” he mutters bitterly. “I, more than anyone, know how fruitless that trick often is. It doesn’t even work on the kids in the pediatric ward anymore.” 

“And why would a 27-year-old man need the same encouragement as sick children, I wonder?” you crack slyly. 

Zayne looks away, taking a sudden interest in the floor tiles. 

Snorting, you double-check the dosage in the medicine cup and hold it out to him. He regards it with abject misery, his big, hazel eyes staring up at you pleadingly, and you feel a crack in your resolve.

“Fine,” you grumble, pivoting to raid the pantry behind you. Retrieving the most acceptable pastry you can find—there are about 7 different options—you set the blueberry muffin on the island in front of him. 

At the peace offering, those hazel eyes light up slightly, driving out some of the pallor on his face. With a deep breath, Zayne grunts softly before downing the liquid like a shot, shuddering at the aftertaste. Eyes closed in a lasting grimace, he reaches blindly for the muffin before you push it into his grasp, and he sighs in contentment when he bites into it.

Running a hand through his dark hair, you can’t help but grin fondly. 

If only the pediatric ward could see him now. 

After Zayne recovered from the horrors of modern medicine, he’d sullenly asked for more tea, since the batch he’d made earlier was cold now. Pinching his cheek, you’d sent him to sulk on the living room couch so you could keep an eye on him. Which had worked, for several minutes. You’d gathered the ingredients, and he’d flipped blankly through a journal, intermittent sniffles reassuring you of his presence. 

But as you gawk at the abandoned sofa, you realize he must have ducked you while your back was turned. 

Yep. Definitely an escape artist.

With a frustrated growl, you hurriedly plunk the tea bag in and listen for signs of movement. Hearing the faint clicks of a keyboard, you stomp up the stairs to his study, not caring if the drink in hand sloshes over the rim of his favorite penguin mug. Serves him right.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you snap, setting the cup on his desk to put your hands on your hips.

“Working,” he answers with an innocent upturn of his lips. 

“I mean,” you clarify, “what do you think you’re doing when you should be resting?”

Too distracted to keep typing, Zayne switches his attention to the stack of papers before him. “I feel much better already,” he lies flatly, breaking eye contact when yours bore into his. 

As an incredulous laugh escapes you, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What would you say to one of your patients if they tried to work through an illness?” 

“I’d say that as a medical professional, I only have the jurisdiction to advise them on the best course of treatment. Once out of hospital care, it’s up to them to exercise judgment and decide if they’re able to work or not. Like I’m doing now,” he retorts, and you almost commend his ability to bullshit such a polished answer.

“Right, of course,” you entertain him sweetly. “So is that why you just scrawled your signature through the bottom of that confidentiality agreement?”

With sluggish alarm, Zayne jerks his head down to survey the damage, and sure enough, his swooping penmanship has rendered the contract illegible.

“How could I have missed the signature line?” he whispers, face aghast with disbelief. “I…I don’t even know what…”

“I do,” you sing triumphantly, walking around to haul him up from his armchair. “I know exactly what’s wrong.” 

The main reason Zayne hates being sick isn’t the symptoms. It isn’t the unneeded pity, the inopportune sick days, or even the insidious slide of what tastes like poison down his throat.  

No. Unfortunately, for your stubborn snowman of a boyfriend, the main reason Zayne hates being sick is simply of his nature: cold medicine makes him terribly drowsy. 

Its heightened effect on him is just like his alcohol intolerance—something in his genes just can’t handle outside influences. 

So as you lead him back to rest on the sofa, laying his head across your lap, it becomes clear you’re now dealing with an oversized koala. 

“You smell nice. I think. I can’t really smell anything,” he murmurs into your navel, tickling your skin with his rhythmic deep breaths. 

“Mm. You smell nice too, under the medicine scent. Like jasmine tea.”

As you gently massage his scalp, he burrows into your stomach, lifting his head up seconds later as if remembering something. 

“Did you d’something different with your hair today? Looks nice,” he slurs, blinking at you with sleep-laced eyes. 

“Yep!” Nope. “Thank you for noticing, Zaynie. So observant even when you’re sick,” you coo, rubbing soothing circles into his back. 

With a delirious hum, he smiles softly at the praise before his gaze lands on your chest, rising and falling above him. “You’re very…warm,” he whispers, baby pink tongue wetting his lips. But just as he leans up to nuzzle into you, you stop him halfway. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” you chide, catching him by the scruff. “Not right now, at least.” 

A quiet sigh is his only resistance, and as he slumps back down, he brings a hand around your waist to leave a lingering kiss on your stomach. 

“Are you tired, Zayne?” you ask, cradling his head in your palms to meet his clouded gaze.

“Mm. I’d like to go to bed now.”

As you turn off the bedside lamp, preparing to leave Zayne in peace for the night, feverishly warm hands pull you down onto the mattress. Lying beside him, you flutter your eyes closed as he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. 

“Aren’t you worried about getting me sick?” you question, raising a brow in the moonlight. 

Chuckling, he shakes his head languidly. “Sinus infections aren’t contagious,” he yawns. “But even if they were, transmission would only give me the chance to look after you in return.”

“Are you sure? Someone once told me I’m too stern of a nurse. I’d hate to be the same way as a patient.” 

Zayne frowns contemplatively as he rests a hand on your hip. “Even though your methods are…involved,” he swallows, “I appreciate the consideration you’ve shown me today. Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Approval from the illustrious Dr. Zayne,” you whisper, gently tapping his reddened nose. “I hope this means he won’t hide from me next time.” 

As he winces, you can almost see the events of this afternoon replaying in his mind. “If he can help it, there won’t be a next time. But yes, I won’t hide from you again. I truly do feel better with you here beside me.” 

“And you’ll feel even better with proper rest,” you remind him. “Sleep. I’ll stay right here until you do.”

Finally relenting, he turns on his side, holding you to him like a child with a teddy bear. 

And though he’s never believed in them before, when Zayne wakes the next morning, nose clear and fever broken, he thinks you might be a miracle worker.