#zayne mc

So true..I just wanna shower him with kisses... everywhere...my beloved doc 😘

It’s him

Husband! Zayne, who is always excited to go Christmas shopping with you, whether it be for decor or presents for the children at the hospital, he's always happy to be spending time with you. Regardless of how tired he'll be at the end of the day, Zayne would never make you feel like a burden for taking long on shopping trips, he always finds a way to make time for you on those days.

summary: "you are so loved"- the words slipped from her lips like a gentle whisper, careful not to wake the sleeping figure cradled in her arms.

tags: domestic fluff, domestic bliss, short and sweet, love confessions, call the dentist I'm sorry

words count: 1,267k

ao3 link 🔗

"You are so loved."

The words slipped from her lips like a gentle whisper, careful not to wake the sleeping figure cradled in her arms.

His head rested on her chest — because, as he always said, the sound of her heartbeat was his favorite sound in the world, the only way he could fall asleep peacefully when his mind was crowded with noisy thoughts.

Her fingers softly caressed his jet-black hair, thick and tousled as always when he slept.

She could feel his warm breath against the skin of her breasts, his favorite place to fall asleep.

They were enveloped in the silence of the room, while outside the window she could see golden and ruby leaves dancing gracefully in the night, lit by a few street lamps below, as the two of them sought warmth buried beneath the blankets, their bodies pressed close together.

Their sanctuary, their comfort.

Zayne’s face was relaxed — it always was when he slept curled up next to her — with an expression so serene, so at peace with himself and the world, like a child.

Smiling, she traced with her fingers the familiar lines of his face, now permanently etched in her mind.

His long eyelashes that had always framed his eyes, the cheeks that had grown fuller over the past few months, the curve of his nose and the little bump she loved to trace with her fingers, the small scar on his lip — always the first place she kissed.

She could have written pages and pages about how much that man in her arms meant to her, how every little thing he did — even the simplest — was just further proof of how worthy he was of all the love in the world.

He had always been.

Because Zayne was made of love — in every form and meaning of the word.

From the kindness he showed to every living thing, reflected in his golden-jade, cat-like eyes during the golden hour, sharp but tender when full of wonder, to his deeply selfless nature, never holding back when it came to others.

So mature in so many ways, yet also delightfully childish at times, as if he had preserved a part of his boyhood hidden all this time.

Despite his cold exterior, he could radiate so much warmth that it was almost a mystery how he could even possess his Evol — but then again, even the coldest ice can burn, and snow can bring warmth.

She remembered their first meeting as if it were yesterday, within the walls of Akso Hospital more than ten years ago, where his parents worked.

She had noticed him right away, even though he was half-hidden behind a tome almost bigger than he was, sitting at his father’s desk.

He was quiet, and yet he radiated a pleasant calm from his large eyes, hidden behind a pair of glasses.

He hadn’t smiled at first during that meeting—only when she offered him a crumpled piece of candy she’d kept in her pocket, as a gesture of friendship.

In that moment, his eyes had widened slightly, revealing the tiny golden flecks in his irises.

Then he had started telling her some medical facts he knew, and it was her turn to widen her eyes in wonder.

And when he created for her what looked like a cat made of snow, her eyes were filled with adoration and awe, exclaiming how incredible it was.

That was when she saw for the first time his cheeks and ears flush with embarrassment, his thin lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

And even now, she adored when that happened.

With every unexpected compliment, every stolen kiss in quiet moments, his expression became just the same as back then.

The tips of his ears would redden immediately, followed by his cheeks; his gaze would drop, and a gentle smile would bloom on his lips, followed by a soft scoff.

And she loved that.

The way he cared for things and people—from the patients who adored him deeply, to the little jasmine pot he kept by the window.

And of course, the way he cared for her.

Picking her up from work at any hour, on any day, always keeping her favorite drink and snack freshly bought in the car.

Those precious moments carved out with effort and love, just to spend even a few minutes together on the busiest days.

The long walks hand in hand, stargazing from the garden in summer, the list of breakfast spots to try together, or simply falling asleep in each other’s arms to end the day in the best way.

His patience.

His dedication.

His dry humor.

His gentleness.

She loved all of that about him, too.

But she also loved the things he thought were unworthy of love.

When they made love, she would always kiss gently the scars on his body—his arms, his hands—as if that could ease the pain they hid, giving them a new meaning.

She had learned to love even the silences, when the only thing she could do was stay beside him without saying a word.

Those were part of him, too.

Zayne Li, child prodigy of the Medical Academy, cardiac surgeon, an undisputed excellence in almost every field, admired by colleagues, patients, and the community.

But to her, he was just Zayne.

Her Zaynie.

She picked up her phone from the nightstand beside the bed, careful not to wake him. Once unlocked, she gazed, as always, at her wallpaper: Zayne with his surprised expression, caught mid-bite of cake, sitting across from her at their favorite café.

She smiled, as she always did when she looked at that photo. Then she opened the camera, turned off the shutter sound and flash, and quietly took a photo of his sleeping face resting on her—his thin lips slightly parted, part of his face comfortably pressed against her chest.

She would keep that photo in the dedicated folder in her gallery, hoping he wouldn’t discover it too soon.

Her Zaynie.

She put the phone back in its place again, returning to caress the nape of his neck and his bare back beneath the covers, occasionally running her fingers through his hair, just the way he liked it.

Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if all this had become reality long ago.

What it would have been like if he hadn’t left, that autumn so many years before.

Maybe she would have discovered even more things she didn’t know about him—or learned sooner the ones she knew now.

They would have had even more “first times” than the ones they had already shared up to that moment.

Maybe this, maybe that…

But truth be told, this was enough.

After all, everything she had in that moment was all she needed, as she held in her arms the most precious thing she possessed.

Zayne murmured something against her skin, nuzzling gently against her, as if seeking her warmth and scent even in his sleep.

That alone was enough to fill her heart.

Zayne.

Her Zaynie.

On a night that felt like one from a long-past autumn, this time she wouldn’t have let him go for any reason.

He would never need to again, because someone loved him too much, to let him slip away like a leaf in the cold wind.

"Please, never forget me. Never forget that..."

She whispered, then lowered her head slightly, brushing the strands of jet-black hair from his forehead, and touched him softly with her lips.

“...you are so loved, Zayne.”

English is not my first language

CW brief mention of death but overall pretty SFW

Zayne had been calling you all night and you didn’t pick up. It was a weird occasion every time you would arrive home later than he would. After all, he is the cardio surgeon. However, this last few days Linkon has been plagued with wanderers that you are in charge of eliminating so you have been arriving late over and over for the last week.

Today was different. It was the first time in a while that you saw a wanderer take a life. Nothing entirely new, yet still shocking in its brutality. You stared at your apartment’s door from the outside, your mind racing with fatigue and unresolved tension, and then glanced at the clock:

2:46 a.m.

Great.

With a shy groan, you dragged the keys from your pocket, your body protesting the constant strain. Fighting wanderers all week had caused lingering aches and pains that were impossible to ignore. Before you could even place the keys on the knob, Zayne opened the door with sleepy eyes and a small, affectionate smile.

“You…” you murmured with a soft, welcoming smile.

“You,” Zayne replied warmly as he swung the door completely open to let you in. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Like shit,” you admitted as you stepped in, and as soon as you were inside your apartment, you let your bag fall onto the floor. “Some days I love this job, and some other days I hate it… the daily life of a hunter,” you confessed, turning towards him. He simply stood there in thoughtful silence, leaning against the wall as if absorbing every word.

Zayne walked forward and tenderly removed a stray piece of hair that had fallen across your eyes. “You look tired… and,” he paused for a moment, inhaling deeply as if deciphering the lingering scents of the day, “you definitely need a bath,” he teased gently while beginning to unbutton your uniform with deliberate care.

He was so close that you could have easily rested your head on his chest as he undressed you slowly. When he finally finished, he grabbed your hand and led you towards the bathroom with an intimacy that belied the chaos of the night.

You sat, naked, sleepy, and sweaty, in the darkened room as Zayne began filling the bathtub with hot water. The sound of the running water mingled with the soft hum of the city outside, creating a cocoon of warmth and solace. “Babe, the lights?” you murmured, almost to yourself, as you tried to shake off the remnants of your exhaustion.

“I’d bet whatever you want that you have migraines,” he whispered back softly, his tone laced with affectionate humor, “the lights are not necessary tonight.”

He extended a hand, unseen in the dim light yet powerfully felt as he gently prodded your arm. You grasped it firmly, and together, in quiet unison, you both stepped into the bathtub.

“Turn around,” he said quietly. You complied and turned your back toward him, allowing him full access to wash your hair properly. You could feel his skilled hands gently scrubbing away the residue of the day with a soft sponge, massaging out every ounce of lingering stress from your shoulders and back. The sensation was almost meditative, a slow erasure of the trauma brought on by the hunt.

“I’m so proud of you, love. You save lives every day… you prevent those horrible accidents that we used to see on the news… you are so strong and capable,” he whispered, his voice imbued with admiration. As he slowly trailed kisses along the graceful curve of your shoulder toward your neck, he continued, “I’m so lucky to have such a strong and amazing woman by my side.”

He gently kissed your neck as he continued washing you, his voice a tender murmur and his caresses so soft that you found yourself nearly succumbing to sleep in his arms. His care was both an embrace and a promise—a quiet vow to heal your wounds, physical and otherwise.

As soon as he finished, he carefully carried you out of the tub—a tender action that drew an involuntary groan from your lips. “Your shirt…” you whispered, half-asleep and drowsy with the warm comfort surrounding you.

“I’ll change it,” he said reassuringly, as he enveloped you in a fluffy towel that felt like a warm, protective hug. He carried you to the bedroom with a measured grace, placing you gently onto the bed before turning his attention to finding some silky pajamas. You could see his familiar silhouette bathed in the gentle light of the moon streaming through the window, every movement emphasizing the toned muscles of his back as he sifted through the clothes.

After finding the perfect pair, he carefully dressed you, each motion deliberate and laden with care, and then placed you under the crisp, inviting sheets. “It’s late, so sleep well,” he murmured, his voice soft as he leaned in by your side and opened his arms for you to cuddle with him. You nestled against him, pressing your chest close to his, the comfort of his warmth lulling you further towards sleep.

“Night night, Zayne, thank you for loving me,”

after doing sylus doodles, wanted to do my pookie too hehe, everyone look at him eating desserts rn my cutie patootie

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