zayne has a certain fascination with romance anime.

you and i are polar opposites is one of his favorites. he secretly headcanons to himself that that’s what your relationship would’ve been like had you started dating earlier. tani is basically his mini-me, after all. 

the ice guy and his cool female colleague is another good one, mostly for its relatability. he, too, can cause a bit of an indoor snowstorm when he gets flustered by your charm. 

and he would do absolutely anything to try rintaro’s family’s sweets in the fragrant flower blooms with dignity. he has to watch that one on a full stomach, or else his mouth will water. 

every season, there's always some fluffy show with a noble girl who goes to marry a prince. they’re all so similar, it’s really not worth trying the new ones. watch, he’ll prove it! episode 1, starting now. 

…before he knows it, he's imagining himself as the prince and you as the princess, overcoming evil dragons and misplaced envy from female adversaries [zayne shaking his head when there’s internalized misogyny in romance anime so you know he doesn’t support it]. but in the series finale, when the characters seal their love with a kiss, he finds the good moments outweigh the bad.

in some shows, when the hero is being particularly stubborn, refusing to acknowledge his overflowing feelings for the heroine, he gets the rare urge to throttle something. can you just tell her you love her already? he thinks. there are only three episodes left. we don’t have time for you to second-guess yourself! as he runs his hands through his hair, somewhat ashamed to be so invested in a romance between cartoon characters, a sudden thought makes him reconsider all his life choices. 

closed off and aloof despite being in love…does he behave that way around you? 

the next time he sees you, a bouquet will be necessary.

zayne likes romance shows because they’re fun, silly, and sweet. but even more than that, they teach him a lot about love that he missed growing up. as he streams each new episode, watching and learning, he gets a million more ideas of how to express his affections—how to be the loving man and partner that you deserve. 

academic dishonesty

zayne wants to put his head in his hands, but the quivering student in front of him already looks frightened enough.

“h-hey, dr. li. you wanted to talk about my paper?”

“yes,” zayne responds. “while serving as a special lecturer this semester, i’ve been exposed to many writing styles. however, on your most recent assignment, yours doesn't seem quite as human as your classmates’. it reads a bit…artificial.” 

it’s an accusation veiled in a cheap mask and a trench coat. the student knows where this is headed; still, they try to hold their ground. “i’m sorry?”

pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, zayne pulls out the offending paper from his oak desk drawer. “well, right here, for example. in your concluding paragraph, ‘you’ seem to write in circles, without ever establishing a coherent point.” he clears his throat and begins reading.

“‘a healthy heart isn’t just a benefit — it’s the key to a good life. why is this? the answer isn’t hard to guess — it’s straightforward. cardiovascular health doesn’t improve fitness. it is fitness. it’s life. it’s longevity. it’s legacy. in the quiet uncertainties of humanity, it’s the thing that never stops beating,’” he recites. 

the pinkish sun lights your path as you trudge downstairs and toward the kitchen. 

looking too put together for six in the morning, zayne stands at the counter, sipping water and going through yesterday’s mail. 

as always, there’s majesty in his simplicity. so much that you nearly trip on the very last step, entranced by the subtle flex of his forearms. you’ve been together for months now, yes, but you’ll never get used to this view. 

his gaze is already on you before your almost-tumble. the only change is, your misstep brings a ghost of a smile to his lips. “good morning,” he greets, reaching out to steady you. but you keep stumbling past his outstretched arm. 

for a moment, he questions if you’re sleepwalking—before you fall forward and thunk your head into his chest. “morninf,” you mumble. 

burnt out baby zayne with test anxiety causing a snow day at school bc he was so tired he fell asleep mid study session 💔 he successfully gets the test postponed but he feels so guilty after that he misses a few questions on purpose 💔 he somehow lands exactly at an 89.5 which the teacher rounds up to an A cause no matter how bad the ice is you’ll never catch him slipping iktr

once a week, you and zayne sit down to refill your matching pill organizers. they are rainbow and color-coded by day. whoever finishes first wins a prize of their choice, but it’s a needless stipulation—only there to give an illusion of fairness. spontaneity.

you don’t stand a chance against him, and he always chooses a kiss.

“put. that. down,” you hiss.

you swear, you need to grow eyes in the back of your head. 

zayne’s hand freezes on the roof of your nearly finished gingerbread house, where it was seconds from stealing yet another gumdrop. 

he clears his throat, wise enough to look guilty. “it was crooked. i was merely straightening it.”

snorting, you grab an extra tube of icing and shut the top drawer. “you’ve eaten at least six of them already, and that’s only the ones i’ve seen. were you straightening those, too?”

“i was.”

“oh, really? so you’re criticizing my decorating skills now?”

“…is it too late to change my answer?”

holiday gratitude

spice cake. chocolate-covered pecans. peppermint bark.

you don't know where they’re coming from.

every night, zayne gets home tired as usual—but there’s a distinct twinkle in his eye this week, likely linked to the random confections he’s been bringing back.

the kitchen counter is nearly buried in cake domes and cookie trays. any more, and you’ll be completely overrun. 

you try to give him grace. he can spend his money how he likes, and it’s probably a rough time at the hospital—the holidays usually are. if he wants to cope with a pile of desserts, well…as long as they’re eaten in moderation. 

but when he shuffles in one evening, nearly dwarfed by two round, icing-drizzled pastries, you know it's time to intervene.

stuck

zayne isn’t obsessed with your scent. he just cherishes it, that’s all.

but as he contemplates donning your puffy purple sweater, he wonders if he’s reached the point of excess. 

you left it at his house the last time you came over. ever since, it’s been hanging on the back of the sofa, calling to him like a candy bar. 

in your absence, all he wants is to be surrounded by the scent of you. if he only wore it for a few seconds, just long enough to imagine you're next to him, surely you wouldn't mind? it isn't as though he'd offer up the information, regardless. even he has to indulge in secrecy when appropriate. 

with shaky resolve, he prowls to the sofa, sliding the shirt down his shoulders. 

6 a.m.

zayne would rather stay in his nightmares. nothing he sees in them is scarier than what he fears he might wake up to every day.

he silences the alarm a bit slower than usual. he’s hardly concerned it will wake you anymore.

the blanket hangs half off your body—you’ve shifted it in your sleep. he wraps it back around you, taking in your soft expression. lying to himself.

right now, you look entirely at peace.

with tired eyes and heavy breaths, he allows himself to hope. he allows himself to wish.

maybe today will be better.

12 p.m.

he doesn't have much time.

tw: reference to binge eating

sorry but the main story activated my angstbrain…since it’s implied in zayne's bond “nostalgic sweetness” that mc is the reason for his sweet tooth…since she told him that desserts can help with bad days when they were children…

thinking about adult zayne who, when he withdraws from mc to protect her, can’t eat sweets anymore. he hasn’t seen her in weeks—a prison of his own making—and each day he tries to stave off the guilt and loneliness with a dessert.

but no matter how many he tries, there’s something off about the taste. he gorges and gorges in growing discomfort, frustrated tears searing the backs of his eyes, but the sweets just aren’t helping—not like they used to. every bite is a reminder of her—the one who’d taught him how to indulge, the one who’d scolded him when he ate too much sugar, the one he’d tried and shared a million treats with. but in her absence, there’s only bitterness.

it seems he’s lost his two sources of comfort in one move.

nurse for a day

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

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. 

zayne ☃️

fics

drabbles

headcanons/imagines

good heart

synopsis: zayne wonders if he’s mean. you reassure him otherwise.

a/n: surprise (not rly) first zayne fic :] it’ll be interesting seeing how i want to write him since i’m probably the most similar to him irl #neurodivergence. also posting the most depraved and fluffiest things i’ve ever written in the same week who said versatility

“Darling, have I ever been…mean to you?” Zayne asks hesitantly.

You’re cuddled on his sofa with your knees resting against him, halfheartedly watching a nature documentary. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight pour in through the floor-length windows, drawing most of your attention away from the grasslands and toward the trio of squirrels leaping over leaves in Zayne’s backyard. At his question, you raise your head from its place on his shoulder, squinting at him playfully. 

“Hmm,” you draw out, as if actually taking the time to consider his question. He blinks at you. “Nope! A little impassive, sometimes, sure,” you grin, poking his adorably neutral face. “But never mean.”

He forces out a weak smile at your teasing, gently lowering his gaze to your intertwined hands. 

When you don’t receive the usual politely packaged retort, you furrow your brows in worry. “Why do you ask? What’s wrong?”