#Flawless makeup application | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

niallerspayno · 29 days ago

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My Sunshine

Masterlist

You’re the bubbly, optimistic junior stylist working with One Direction. While you easily connect with the other boys, Zayn Malik is a different story—quiet, grumpy, and distant. But as you share quiet moments and unexpected sparks fly between you two, you can’t deny the chemistry building. As tension grows, you both must face your fears and open up, finding that sometimes opposites really do attract.

Tags: grumpy!Zayn x sunshine!reader, slow burn, fluff

…

Your nerves flutter in your stomach, but you smile widely, trying to hide the way your heart races. This is your dream job. Being here, working alongside Lou Teasdale, the stylist behind some of the most iconic looks for One Direction, is everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ve trained for this moment—learning the ins and outs of makeup, hair, and fashion—but nothing could have prepared you for actually being here.

The tour itself is massive, with sold-out shows all over the world. The band is bigger than life itself, and you’re the junior makeup and hair stylist, the newest addition to the team, tasked with making sure the boys look flawless for every performance, photoshoot, and press interview. It’s a big responsibility, and you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Alright,” Lou says, her voice cutting through your racing thoughts, “Let’s go introduce you to the boys.”

You nod enthusiastically, trying to keep the nerves at bay. Lou leads you into the spacious backstage area where the boys are gathered, laughing and joking as they prep for their first show of the tour.

There they are, standing in front of you like a dream: Harry, with his signature curly hair and laid-back grin; Liam, who looks every bit the leader, confident and always on point; Louis, playful as ever, giving you a quick nod as he catches your eye; Niall, looking like he could charm anyone with a simple smile; and Zayn. Zayn, with his intense gaze and quiet demeanor, barely acknowledges your presence at first, lost in his own thoughts.

“Boys, this is the new addition to the team, Y/N,” Lou announces, her hand on your shoulder as she turns toward you. “She’ll be working closely with me as a junior makeup and hair stylist. She’s excited to be here, and I’m sure you’ll all make her feel welcome.”

You smile as brightly as you can, even though your hands are shaking slightly. “Hi, everyone. I’m so excited to work with you all.”

The boys offer various greetings—Liam gives you a friendly smile, Harry winks playfully, and Louis cracks a joke, making you laugh nervously. But it’s Zayn who catches your eye last, his expression unreadable.

“Nice to meet you,” he says quietly, barely glancing in your direction before turning back to the rest of the group.

You don’t mind. You know you have to prove yourself, and you’re ready to dive in.

Lou pats your back, guiding you toward the hair and makeup stations. “You’ve got this,” she says, her confidence in you making you feel a little less jittery.

As you follow her, your eyes flick back to the boys one last time. Zayn still doesn’t seem to notice you much, but you’re sure that will change once you start working with him. And even if he doesn’t seem impressed now, you’ll show him just how good you are at what you do.

…

A few weeks into the tour, and you’ve already settled into your role, though it’s a lot busier than you ever expected. Lou’s been an incredible mentor, always there to guide you, offering tips on everything from makeup application to the way the boys like their hair styled.

The boys, too, have been incredibly welcoming, with Harry cracking jokes to keep the mood light, Liam offering tips on staying organised, and Louis never missing a chance to tease you in the most endearing way possible. Even Niall, with his ever-present smile, has a way of making you feel like you belong.

The camaraderie is easy to find with everyone, except for one person—Zayn.

He’s quiet, distant, and rarely engages in the easy banter you share with the others. You’ve tried to crack him. You’ve dropped a couple of harmless comments about his style, attempting to draw him into conversation. You’ve tried joking around with him while you fix his hair or touch up his makeup, hoping that your bubbly energy will wear down his walls.

But Zayn isn’t easily swayed.

His responses are always short, and while he’s polite, it’s clear he’s not exactly interested in bonding with you. Every time you get a few words in with him, it’s like trying to break through a brick wall.

“Morning,” you greet him one day, trying to keep the mood light as you set up your station for the show’s makeup touch-ups.

He looks at you, nodding once, but doesn’t return the greeting with his usual warmth. “Hey.” His voice is low, uninterested.

You’re undeterred, though. You’ve cracked harder nuts than him.

“You know,” you say, leaning in as you prep the makeup brushes, “I think you’d look even better in a bit of eyeliner. Just a suggestion.”

Zayn doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking to you for just a second. There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but he quickly masks it. “I’m good, thanks.”

You sigh dramatically, dropping the brush. “What’s it going to take to make you crack, Zayn?”

The corner of his lips twitches, but he remains silent.

“You’re tough, I’ll give you that,” you say, winking at him, determined to keep pushing. “But I won’t give up. Eventually, I’ll get you laughing.”

He doesn’t answer, but there’s a slight shift in his demeanor—a subtle, almost imperceptible change. You know you’re getting under his skin, even if he’s not showing it.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Zayn mutters, walking away. But you swear you see the smallest smirk tug at his lips, and it’s enough to keep you going.

You’ve got your work cut out for you, but you’re determined. Zayn’s grumpy exterior doesn’t stand a chance against your sunshine.

…

It’s show day, and you and Lou are busy prepping the boys for their performance. The air is full of energy as you move between each of the boys, touching up their hair and makeup, while Lou adjusts their outfits. The camaraderie between everyone is infectious—Harry is cracking jokes, Niall is teasing Louis about his shirt, and Liam is chatting with Lou about some of the tour’s logistics.

But it’s when you move toward Zayn that the real fun begins.

“So, Y/N,” Louis calls, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he gives you a once-over, “We’ve been meaning to ask… Were you a big fan before you got this gig?”

You freeze for a split second, caught off guard by the question. You glance at Lou, who gives you a knowing smile, and the rest of the boys turn their attention to you, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Well…” you say, clearing your throat and trying to play it cool, “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always liked your music. Who doesn’t, right?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Harry. “So you were stalking us before you showed up?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that plays at your lips. “Okay, fine. Maybe I watched a few interviews. Maybe I definitely knew all the lyrics to your songs before this tour.”

The boys erupt in teasing, and even Lou shakes her head with a grin.

“No shame in that!” Niall chimes in. “I’m sure you weren’t the only one.”

“Alright, alright,” Liam says, putting a hand up to stop the chatter. “But now, the big question… Who was your favorite?”

You pause, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. It’s a loaded question, but you decide to own it. After all, you’ve been trying to keep things light with Zayn, even if he’s always a bit distant.

“Zayn,” you answer without hesitation.

The room goes silent, and you feel all eyes on you. There’s a moment of stunned silence before Louis grins mischievously.

“Zayn? Really?” Louis teases, waggling his eyebrows. “The quiet, brooding one?”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to avoid getting murdered by one of the rest of us?” Harry adds, grinning.

You laugh, shrugging with a playful smile. “Yeah, I mean, Zayn’s just… different. I like his style.” You pause, trying to find the right words. “He’s… got that quiet cool thing going on, you know?”

The other boys exchange exaggerated glances, eyes wide.

“Well, I’ll be,” Niall says, stepping forward. “I think we’ve got a match here, lads. Opposites attract, right?”

“Totally,” Liam agrees, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “So when’s the wedding?”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing continues to come.

“I mean, just look at them,” Harry says, putting on a dramatic voice. “Zayn’s the cool, mysterious guy, and Y/N is… well, sunshine in human form. It’s practically written in the stars.”

Louis snickers. “I think we need a duet, huh? Maybe ‘Opposites Attract’ for the setlist?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Zayn mutters, barely looking up from his phone, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe?

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” you say, trying to keep a straight face. “You guys are hilarious.”

But the teasing doesn’t stop.

“You know,” Liam says, nudging Zayn with a grin, “I think you’ve got some competition now. Better watch out, mate.”

“Don’t worry,” Niall adds with a wink, “I think we’re all just waiting for the first romantic gesture.”

Zayn’s lips twitch slightly, but he doesn’t respond. His usual cool exterior is still there, but there’s something about the way he’s reacting—like he’s not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Alright, alright,” Louis says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll stop. But we’ve definitely got team sunshine and team stormcloud here, don’t we?”

You laugh, even though you can’t help but feel a little flustered. “Sure. You’ve had your fun.”

As you finish up with Zayn, you exchange a brief, knowing look. There’s a subtle shift in his expression—a slight smile, maybe—before he looks away, as if pretending the entire conversation didn’t happen.

But you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you’re getting closer.

…

You’re on your second cup of coffee, trying to shake off the early morning fog as you bustle around the dressing room, adjusting outfits and making sure everything is set for the boys’ interview. Lou’s beside you, just as busy, but she’s got the kind of calm efficiency that only comes with years of experience.

The rest of the boys are still trying to shake off the sleepiness. Harry’s running around the room like a ball of energy, Liam is focused on his phone, Niall’s sipping his coffee with a grin, and Louis is picking at his outfit, clearly trying to make himself look ‘effortlessly stylish.’

Then there’s Zayn.

He’s slouched in a chair, arms crossed, eyes half-closed, clearly not a fan of this early start. You can’t help but grin at him.

“Good morning, Zayn!” you chirp, walking past him.

He grumbles something incoherent, his eyes narrowed as if the mere sound of your voice is too much.

“You’re way too happy for this time of day,” he mutters, his voice rough from sleep. “How can you be this cheerful this early?”

You laugh, raising your coffee cup. “Second cup. It’s my magic potion,” you tease.

He shoots you a deadpan look, clearly not impressed, but there’s something in his eyes that says he’s not entirely annoyed either. Maybe just a little intrigued.

“Must be nice,” he grumbles again, but the usual edge of annoyance is missing.

As Lou moves to touch up Niall’s hair, you continue bouncing between the boys, making sure everyone’s ready for the interview. Your usual banter flows easily—Louis teases Harry about his outfit, Niall jokes with you about your coffee addiction, and Liam quietly observes, nodding at the various preparations.

But through it all, you can’t shake the feeling that Zayn is watching you.

Every time you move across the room or make eye contact, you catch a glimpse of his dark eyes lingering on you for a fraction longer than usual. At first, you tell yourself it’s nothing—just Zayn being Zayn. But it happens again, and again.

You’re not imagining it. Zayn is watching you.

You try not to let it throw you off, keeping your usual bubbly self going as you continue with the boys’ preparations, but something in the way Zayn looks at you now feels different. It’s subtle, but it’s there—like he’s studying you, or maybe… waiting for something.

As the boys finish getting ready, you make your way back to Lou, trying to act casual. But you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips when you glance over at Zayn again.

It’s like something’s shifted, but you��re not quite sure what yet.

…

The concert has just ended, and the venue is buzzing with the lingering energy of thousands of screaming fans. You step outside, seeking a moment of quiet in the cool night air. The distant hum of voices and equipment being packed away drifts through the stillness. Rounding the corner, you stop short when you see Zayn leaning against a brick wall, a cigarette glowing between his fingers.

For a moment, you consider turning back, not wanting to intrude on what looks like his private time. But before you can retreat, he glances up, his dark eyes meeting yours through the thin curl of smoke.

“You hiding out too?” you ask, stepping forward cautiously.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just shrugs and takes another slow drag from his cigarette. But he doesn’t seem annoyed by your presence, so you take it as a good sign.

“You were incredible tonight,” you say, leaning against the wall a few feet from him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice low. He exhales a cloud of smoke, looking up at the night sky. “Crowd was good.”

You nod, watching him for a moment before your gaze flickers to the cigarette in his hand. He notices, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“You smoke?” he asks, holding it up slightly.

You shake your head with a laugh. “Never tried it.”

That catches his attention. He turns his head toward you, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Never? Not even once?”

“Nope.” You grin. “Guess I never had the urge.”

He considers you for a moment, then holds out the cigarette, the embers glowing faintly in the dim light. “Wanna try?”

You hesitate, your gaze shifting between him and the cigarette. “I don’t know… I mean, isn’t this the part where I’m supposed to say it’s bad for me?”

He smirks, his voice tinged with amusement. “Probably. But who listens to that, right?”

With a small laugh, you reach out and take the cigarette from his fingers. “Okay, but if I choke and die, it’s on you.”

He smirks, watching as you raise the cigarette to your lips. “Just take it slow. Don’t try to inhale too much at first.”

You follow his instructions, but the moment the smoke hits your throat, you cough violently, your eyes watering as you hand the cigarette back to him.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Okay, fine,” you rasp, wiping your eyes. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Relax,” he says, his voice softer now. He steps closer, holding the cigarette out to you again. “Try it one more time. I’ll walk you through it.”

There’s something in his tone—calm, almost encouraging—that makes you take it. He positions himself beside you, his hand hovering near yours, his presence close enough to feel the warmth of his body in the cool night air.

“Take a smaller drag this time,” he instructs, his voice low. “Don’t rush it. Just… let it fill your mouth first.”

You do as he says, more cautiously this time. The smoke feels strange, but not as overwhelming, and when you exhale slowly, it curls out in a thin stream.

“There you go,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

You hand the cigarette back to him, shaking your head with a grin. “You’re such a bad influence.”

He chuckles, taking another drag as he leans back against the wall. “You didn’t have to try it.”

“Yeah, but you made it look so cool,” you tease, rolling your eyes.

He laughs softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

“Wait a second,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “Did you just laugh at me?”

His gaze flickers to you, and for a split second, there’s a flash of guilt before he smirks. “Maybe.”

“You totally did!” you exclaim, pointing at him. “Zayn Malik, laughing at my expense. Unbelievable.”

He chuckles softly, and this time it’s unmistakable. You stare at him, momentarily stunned.

“Oh my God, I cracked you.” You break into a wide grin, unable to hide your triumph. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Feels good to know I’m funny enough to make you laugh.”

He shakes his head, the smirk lingering. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” you fire back, your tone light and teasing. “You should laugh more, you know. It looks good on you.”

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it,” you say, softening. “You’ve got a great laugh. And your smile… It’s really nice.”

His smirk falters, replaced by something quieter, more unsure. “Dunno about that.”

“Well, I do,” you reply simply, your voice steady.

He looks away, exhaling smoke into the night air, his brow furrowing slightly. It’s as if your words are too much for him to process, too sincere to brush off entirely.

For a moment, the air between you feels heavy—not with tension, but with something tender, something new.

“I’m serious,” you add gently. “You should let people see that side of you more often.”

He doesn’t respond, not directly. Instead, he stubs out the cigarette against the wall, his fingers lingering on the spot for a moment longer than necessary. When he looks back at you, there’s something different in his eyes—like he’s trying to figure you out, and maybe himself, too.

“Guess we’ll see,” he mutters, his voice low.

And just like that, the walls you’ve been chipping away at feel a little less insurmountable.

...

The dressing room is a whirlwind of activity, the hum of pre-show excitement hanging in the air. You and Lou are working in sync, moving between the boys as they sit in front of the brightly lit mirrors.

“You’ve got ten minutes!” a stagehand calls from the doorway.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re almost done!” Lou shouts back, grinning as she flicks a strand of Harry’s hair into place.

You turn to Zayn, who’s scrolling on his phone, already styled to perfection except for one finishing touch. “Alright, Zayn, I’m bringing it up again. Eyeliner. Just a little bit. What do you think?”

He glances at you, his expression neutral but not dismissive. “Why’re you so obsessed with this?”

“Because it would look amazing on you,” you say, grabbing the pencil from the makeup kit and holding it up for emphasis. “Trust me. It’ll make your eyes pop under the stage lights.”

“Mate, she’s got a point,” Niall chimes in from across the room. “You’ve got the look for it.”

“Since when do you care about eyeliner?” Zayn shoots back, raising an eyebrow.

“Since she started nagging you about it,” Niall says with a grin.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to Zayn. “Come on. One try. If you don’t like it, I’ll never bring it up again.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to Lou, who’s watching the exchange with an amused smirk. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “This is all her.”

Finally, with a quiet sigh, Zayn leans back in the chair. “Fine. Do your thing.”

The room goes silent for a beat before Harry’s voice cuts through the air. “Wait. What?”

“You’re actually letting her do it?” Louis asks, his jaw dropping.

“You never let anyone touch your face like that,” Liam adds, his tone laced with disbelief.

“Guess she’s got the magic touch,” Lou teases, winking at you.

You try to suppress a smile as you step closer to Zayn, the eyeliner in hand. “Hold still,” you murmur, your voice softer now.

He watches you carefully, his eyes steady and dark as you lean in. The room is quiet again, save for the occasional rustle of movement from the other boys. When you finish, you step back, capping the pencil with a satisfied grin.

“There. Told you it’d look good.”

Zayn turns to the mirror, his expression unreadable as he inspects your handiwork. After a moment, he shrugs. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Louis echoes, laughing. “That’s the most praise I’ve ever heard him give anyone.”

“I’m just surprised he let you do it,” Niall says, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve definitely got him wrapped around your finger.”

“Shut up, Niall,” Zayn mutters, but there’s the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, your own smile softening. “Glad you trust me.”

For a moment, it’s just the two of you in the reflection, the noise of the room fading into the background. Then Lou claps her hands, snapping everyone back to reality.

“Alright, showtime!” she calls.

As the boys file out of the room, you catch Zayn glancing back at you, his expression unreadable but lingering just long enough to send your heart fluttering.

…

Later that night the bar is buzzing with life—laughter, music, and the steady hum of conversation creating the perfect escape after a week of chaos. Your group claims a booth tucked into a corner, a round table surrounded by curved seating that’s already too small for the number of people cramming in.

“Alright, everyone, shift your arses!” Niall declares, sliding into the booth and dragging Louis in beside him.

The others follow, jostling for space. You hesitate at the edge, scanning for an open seat. Of course, the only spot left is sandwiched between Zayn and Liam.

“Go on, love, we don’t bite,” Liam says, giving you an encouraging smile as he pats the seat next to him.

“Much,” Louis adds with a wink, earning a laugh from the group.

Rolling your eyes but unable to hide your grin, you slide in. Your thigh brushes against Zayn’s as you sit, the warmth of him seeping through your jeans. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t acknowledge it either, his focus seemingly on the drink in his hand.

“Cozy, isn’t it?” Niall teases, smirking as he watches you settle in. Across the table, you catch Louis giving him a knowing look, and it clicks—they planned this.

The first round of drinks arrives, and Lou raises her glass. “To surviving another week of madness!”

“Cheers!” everyone echoes, clinking glasses around the table.

The conversation flows easily, laughter rippling through the group as stories and jokes fly across the table. You’re quick to join in, throwing in quips and teasing remarks that earn loud laughs from Niall, Louis and Harry. Even Liam, always the polite one, leans into the banter, his grin wide as he engages you in a playful back-and-forth about your questionable taste in music.

Zayn, however, is quieter, his comments few and far between. Still, you can’t help but notice the way his gaze lingers on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

At one point, Louis launches into a particularly outrageous story about their last tour, leaving you laughing so hard you throw your head back, accidentally bumping into Zayn’s shoulder.

“Sorry!” you say quickly, glancing at him.

“It’s fine,” he murmurs, his voice soft, though there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“You could at least pretend to have fun,” you tease, leaning toward him slightly.

“I am having fun,” he replies, his tone deadpan.

“Sure you are,” you shoot back, grinning. “You’ve got the brooding loner thing down to an art.”

To your surprise, a quiet chuckle escapes him, and the sound sends a thrill through you. You’ve been waiting to crack him, and now that you’ve gotten even a small laugh, you’re determined to push further.

Across the table, Niall points at the two of you. “Oi, Zayn, d’you know you’re sitting next to the life of the party?”

“Please,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of you?” Harry pipes up with an exaggerated laugh. “Never.”

“She’s not wrong, though,” Liam says with a warm smile. “You’re keeping us all entertained. Even Zayn looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

“Barely,” you quip, nudging Zayn’s knee with yours.

Zayn glances at you, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “I’m just waiting for you to tire yourself out.”

Louis cackles. “God, you two are like an old married couple.”

Your cheeks flush, but you shrug it off with a grin. “Please, like Zayn could handle me.”

“That’s probably true,” Liam chimes in, smirking. “You’d talk him into the ground.”

Zayn shakes his head, leaning back slightly. His arm stretches along the back of the booth, his fingers brushing your shoulder—a casual gesture that feels anything but.

“I’d survive,” he says quietly, his voice low and laced with something you can’t quite place.

As the night continues, the group’s energy swirls around you, but you’re hyperaware of Zayn. The way his leg stays pressed against yours. The subtle glances he steals when he thinks you’re distracted.

When Harry insists on another round, you volunteer to go with him to the bar. As you slip out of the booth, your leg brushes Zayn’s again. This time, his gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades.

“Don’t miss me too much,” you tease, winking as you step away.

Zayn chuckles softly, his voice following you. “No promises.”

At the bar, Harry leans in with a sly grin. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Zayn,” he says simply, raising a brow. “He’s watching you like a hawk. You’ve got quite the effect on people, sunshine.”

…

The night wears on, and the bar grows louder as the drinks flow freely. You’re halfway through a spirited debate with Louis and Niall about the merits of your favorite movie when you glance around the booth and notice Zayn’s absence.

You scan the bar, your brow furrowing. He’s nowhere to be seen—no cigarette in hand by the doors, no figure tucked into a corner with a drink. It’s unlike him to disappear without a word, and curiosity tugs at you.

“Where’d Zayn go?” you ask Lou, who shrugs.

“Probably went for some air. You know how he gets in places like this.”

That’s all you need to hear. Excusing yourself, you slip out of the booth and weave through the crowd, heading toward the quieter side of the bar. The night air hits you as you step outside, cool and refreshing after the stuffy warmth of the bar.

It doesn’t take long to find him. Zayn’s leaning against the side of the building, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, the soft glow of the embers casting shadows across his face. He looks up when he hears your footsteps, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Thought you disappeared,” you say lightly, walking over to him.

“Needed a break,” he murmurs, taking a drag from his cigarette.

You lean against the wall beside him, letting the silence settle for a moment. “Big crowds aren’t your thing, huh?”

He exhales smoke into the night air, his gaze distant. “Not really. It’s fine for a while, but… it gets too much, y’know?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “Yeah, I get it. Everyone always expects you to be ‘on.’ It’s exhausting.”

He glances at you, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “You’re always ‘on,’ though. How d’you do it?”

You laugh softly, crossing your arms. “Lots of coffee. And… I guess it’s just how I’ve always been. It’s easier for me to focus on making other people happy. Keeps me from overthinking.”

Zayn studies you for a moment, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Guess we’re opposites, then.”

“Seems that way,” you agree, offering him a small smile. “But opposites attract, right?”

His lips twitch, the ghost of a smile appearing. “So they say.”

The quiet stretches between you again, but it’s not uncomfortable. You glance up at the stars, feeling the weight of his gaze on you.

“Do you ever feel like… I don’t know, like you’re carrying this invisible weight?” he asks suddenly, his voice softer now. “Like no matter what you do, it’s not enough?”

You look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “Yeah,” you admit, your voice just as quiet. “All the time. But I try to remind myself that it’s okay not to have it all figured out. It’s okay to just… be.”

Zayn exhales deeply, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you say gently. “But it helps when you let people in. Even just a little.”

He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Hey, someone’s gotta look out for you,” you tease, bumping your shoulder against his.

For the first time, his smile reaches his eyes. “Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the moment you’ve shared.

The silence between you stretches, filled with the quiet hum of the night. You can feel Zayn’s presence beside you—steady, grounding. For someone who’s always been so closed off, he’s letting you in, little by little, and it makes your heart ache in a way you can’t explain.

You glance at him, noticing the way his dark lashes cast shadows against his cheeks, the soft curve of his lips as he stares out into the distance. His face is unreadable, but there’s a tension in his posture, like he’s caught between wanting to say something and holding it back.

“Zayn,” you say softly, and his eyes flick to yours, guarded yet curious.

“Yeah?”

You take a breath, your heart beating faster. “I meant what I said before. About your smile. And your laugh. I wish I could see them more because… I like them. I like you.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, almost imperceptibly, he leans closer. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” you insist, your voice firm but gentle. “You’re so hard on yourself, Zayn. You don’t see what I see. You’re kind, and talented, and—”

You’re cut off as Zayn closes the space between you, his lips brushing against yours so softly it feels like a question. Your breath catches, but you don’t pull away—instead, you lean into him, answering his unspoken ask.

The kiss is tentative at first, like he’s still testing the waters, but as your hand comes up to rest on his chest, it deepens. His lips are warm, slightly rough from the cigarette, but his touch is careful, reverent. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world blur at the edges, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours. He’s breathing a little heavier, and his eyes search yours, vulnerability etched across his face.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“Regretting it already?” you tease, though your voice is soft, not wanting to break the moment.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—more genuine than any you’ve seen from him before. “Not even close,” he says, his thumb brushing against your wrist where your hand still rests on his chest.

For a moment, you stand there, the air between you charged with something you’re both too afraid to name yet. But as his eyes linger on yours, you know this won’t be the last time Zayn lets you in.

“C’mon,” you say eventually, your voice light to mask the way your heart is racing. “Let’s go back before they send out a search party.”

Zayn chuckles softly, and the sound makes you smile. “Alright,” he says, his voice softer now. “But let’s keep this… between us for now.”

“Whatever you say, rockstar,” you reply, nudging him gently before turning toward the bar.

You can feel his gaze on you as you walk, a warmth spreading through your chest. Maybe you haven’t completely cracked Zayn yet, but this—whatever it is—is a start.

…

It’s one of those days when everything is a bit too much. You’re rushing around backstage, trying to get the boys styled for the show while keeping your nerves in check. The usual upbeat energy you carry is nowhere to be found today, replaced by a mounting pressure that makes every little thing feel like a big deal.

As you dash past the dressing room, a tangle of cords trips you up. Your foot catches, and before you can steady yourself, you fall forward, hitting the ground with a sharp thud. For a split second, everything freezes—the hustle of backstage, the noise of the boys and crew—all of it. You’re just sitting there, stunned.

You hear a soft voice break through the silence. “Are you alright?” It’s Zayn, kneeling down beside you before anyone else can even move. He’s the first to reach you, his hands gently helping you sit up.

The other boys are quick to hover, crowding around you with their usual teasing and concern. “You good, love?” Niall asks, a grin on his face, though his eyes are laced with concern.

But it’s Zayn who stays calm, his gaze focused on you in a way that makes the noise around you fade. He can see it. The way your shoulders are tense, the slight tremble in your hands. It’s not just the fall. It’s everything.

“Hey,” Zayn says quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek. His voice drops lower, just for you, “Come with me.”

Without waiting for anyone’s response, he helps you up and leads you away from the others. You don’t protest, too grateful for the space to let the walls you’ve been holding up start to crumble. He pulls you outside to a quiet spot, away from the chaos of the dressing room.

Once you’re out in the open, Zayn releases your arm but stays close. You can feel the tension from the kiss days ago, still lingering between you, but neither of you has addressed it. It’s there, unspoken. And now, as the weight of the day catches up to you, you realize how much it’s been bothering you.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to brush it off, but your voice cracks. You’re not fine. You’re anything but fine. You’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and a part of you just wants to break down.

Zayn doesn’t let you off the hook. He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “You sure? You don’t look fine. I saw that back there… you’re not okay.”

You let out a shaky breath, and before you know it, the floodgates open. The tears you’ve been holding back start to spill over. You can’t stop them, not with everything that’s been building up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you choke out, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep everything together. It’s all just too much…”

Zayn is silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, without saying another thing, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you in a hug. It’s warm and firm, like a shield from the world around you.

You don’t know why, but you break, your arms winding around him and letting yourself sink into his embrace. His scent, his presence—it’s all grounding. And for the first time today, you feel safe, like you can just let go.

His voice is soft, barely a whisper. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time. We’re all just… figuring things out, yeah?”

You nod against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat soothing. There’s something about Zayn’s calm, unspoken support that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to do everything on your own.

He pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he looks at you with those dark, understanding eyes. “You’ve been running yourself ragged,” he says, voice steady. “You deserve a break.”

You smile weakly up at him, still feeling a little shaky but grateful. “I don’t even know what a break feels like anymore.”

Zayn smiles, but it’s softer than usual. “Maybe it’s time you learned.” He gives you a gentle squeeze before stepping back, though his presence still lingers. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all need help sometimes.”

For the first time in days, you feel a flicker of relief. The weight on your shoulders isn’t gone, but it’s lighter now. Zayn’s not just the quiet guy you’ve been trying to figure out. He’s here for you in a way that feels real, that feels like more than just words.

“Thanks, Zayn,” you murmur, your voice steadying. “I needed that.”

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression softening just a little. “Anytime.”

As you and Zayn make your way back into the dressing room, the cool air from outside still lingers on your skin, but the chaos of the tour quickly rushes back in. You take a deep breath and, as if flipping a switch, slip back into your more familiar bubbly personality. It’s a little quieter now, more subdued than it was before, but it’s still there.

You give Zayn a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way it usually does. “Thanks again, Zayn,” you say, your voice light but carrying the quiet gratitude you feel.

Zayn just nods, the same unreadable expression on his face. There’s a softness there now, something that wasn’t there before. Something unspoken.

As you re-enter the dressing room, Lou and the boys are all immediately on you, crowding around, but you put on a brave face.

“Everything okay?” Lou asks, her voice gentle, as she takes in the shift in your mood.

“I’m fine, really,” you say, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite hit the mark. “Just a little trip, nothing serious.” You wave off the concern as best as you can, but the boys aren’t having it.

Liam arches an eyebrow, eyeing you with a look that knows something’s up. “You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something,” he jokes, though his concern is genuine.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m fine, just… one of those days.” You try to brush it off, but the boys are too perceptive.

“Well,” Niall says, giving you an exaggerated wink, “seems like someone was quick to swoop in and save the day.” His eyes flicker to Zayn, who’s just standing off to the side, arms folded as he watches the interaction with his usual calm demeanor.

Harry laughs and nudges Zayn. “Looks like someone’s got your back, mate.”

You try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as the teasing starts. You glance at Zayn, his posture casual, but there’s a glimmer in his eye that you’re not sure if you should be worried about.

“Don’t start,” you warn, though the words lack their usual edge. You can feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of what’s been simmering between you and Zayn lately.

But the boys aren’t backing down. Louis grins, shaking his head. “So, is there a special reason Zayn’s the first one to swoop in, or are we just lucky today?”

You roll your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays the fact that you’re trying to keep it together. “I’m fine, really. Zayn just didn’t want me to look like an idiot in front of all of you,” you say, the banter coming more naturally now, despite the lingering emotions from earlier.

Zayn doesn’t respond right away, but his expression softens just slightly. He glances your way and offers a small, quiet smile—barely noticeable, but it’s there. The others catch it, though, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Is there something going on here?” Liam says with a teasing grin, eyeing the pair of you. He leans in toward Niall, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. “I think we’ve got some chemistry brewing. Look at them.”

You feel your face heat up again, and you glance at Zayn, who seems unfazed by the attention, but you catch a slight shift in his stance—a subtle tension that’s never been there before.

“Stop it,” you say quickly, trying to deflect, but your tone is a little less forceful than usual. “There’s nothing going on, okay?”

“Right,” Harry says, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he crosses his arms. “Nothing at all. Just a little ‘hero rescue’ moment, is that it?”

The group bursts into laughter, and you can’t help but chuckle along, even though you’re not sure whether you should feel embarrassed or flattered. The teasing doesn’t stop, but there’s something different in the air now. It’s as if everyone’s starting to pick up on the subtle shifts between you and Zayn, the unspoken tension that neither of you has fully addressed.

Zayn stays quiet through it all, his arms crossed as he leans against the wall, his gaze flicking between you and the boys. He doesn’t join in the teasing, but the small smile that tugs at his lips tells you he’s aware of it. He knows what they’re getting at. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind it so much anymore.

“Alright, alright,” Lou says, laughing at the exchange. “We’ve got a show to get ready for, yeah?”

But as everyone goes back to preparing for the night ahead, you can’t help but notice that the teasing hasn’t really stopped. It’s subtle now, though, more of a knowing glance here and there, a comment made just loud enough for the two of you to hear. It’s like the boys have figured it out—there’s something between you and Zayn, even if it hasn’t been fully acknowledged yet.

…

The dressing room hums with the usual pre-show energy—hairbrushes, makeup palettes, and chatter filling the space. You’re darting between the boys, fixing hair and smoothing stray strands, trying to keep the chaos under control. Lou stepped out a while ago, trusting you to finish up, but you’re starting to think she might have left you to fend for yourself on purpose.

“Nearly done, Harry,” you say, running your fingers through his curls to set the final piece.

“Thanks, love,” he replies, grinning at you in the mirror. Then, with an exaggerated stretch, he stands and grabs his jacket. “Think I’ll grab some water before we head out.”

You glance at him in surprise. “You don’t need a touch-up or anything?”

He waves you off. “I’m flawless, darling. You know that.” He winks, strolling toward the door.

“Subtle, Harry,” Louis mutters as Harry slips out.

“I’m getting coffee,” Louis announces next, his tone far too casual to be convincing. He’s already halfway out the door before you can respond.

Niall follows with a cheeky grin. “Might grab something to eat.”

“Think I’ll check on the stage,” Liam adds, standing and stretching.

Your brow furrows. “All of you, at once?”

None of them answer, though Liam shoots you a knowing smile before disappearing into the hallway.

The door clicks shut, leaving you alone with Zayn. The silence is deafening in their absence. You glance at him in the mirror, catching the way his eyes flicker to yours and linger.

Your heart begins to race, and you turn back to your station, pretending to fuss with a comb. “Guess it’s just us then,” you say, your voice too light to sound casual.

He doesn’t reply at first, but you feel the weight of his gaze. “Yeah,” he finally murmurs.

The tension in the room is thick, the air charged in a way it hasn’t been before. It’s been a week since the kiss at the bar—a week of stolen glances, quiet moments, and a magnetic pull you’ve both been ignoring.

When you finally meet his eyes again, his expression is unreadable, but his lips part as if he’s about to say something.

“Zayn…” You don’t even know what you’re about to say, but the words don’t matter.

He stands, moving toward you slowly, deliberately. “I’ve been thinking about that night,” he says softly.

Your throat tightens. “Me too,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

The distance between you shrinks. His hand brushes yours, his touch light and hesitant, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, your breath catches as he tilts his head, his gaze locked on yours.

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s like a spark igniting. His mouth is warm, firm yet gentle, and he tastes faintly of spearmint gum. The kiss starts slow, testing the waters, but when you respond, his hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer.

The world narrows to the two of you—the faint hum of the dressing room lights, the subtle scratch of his stubble against your skin, the way his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. Your own hands move instinctively, tangling in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers.

His kiss deepens, more urgent now, and you’re vaguely aware of the counter pressing into your back, grounding you. His lips trail from yours for a moment, brushing the corner of your mouth before returning, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You lose track of time, the kiss consuming every thought, every sensation—until the door creaks open.

“Seriously?” Louis’s voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of ice water.

You and Zayn break apart so fast you nearly trip over yourself. Your cheeks burn as you turn to see all four boys standing there, grinning like they’ve just won the lottery.

“I knew it!” Niall crows, pointing at the two of you.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. “Didn’t think you’d actually do it in the dressing room, though. Bold choice.”

“Oh, come on,” Louis says, clearly enjoying himself. “This tension’s been unbearable. You two were practically begging to be caught.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands as your embarrassment bubbles over. Zayn doesn’t move far, though. His hand stays on your waist, steadying you, and when you glance up at him, there’s a flicker of amusement in his expression.

“You all planned this, didn’t you?” you demand, your voice muffled behind your hands.

“Maybe,” Liam says with an innocent shrug, though his grin gives him away.

“Doesn’t matter, though,” Louis says, smirking. “We’re just glad it finally happened.”

You groan again, but as Zayn’s hand lingers on your waist and his thumb brushes a small, comforting circle, you can’t help but feel like the teasing might just be worth it.

The boys are still grinning like a pack of mischievous schoolchildren, their delight at catching you and Zayn mid-makeout entirely too obvious.

“Alright, alright,” Zayn mutters, stepping slightly in front of you as if to shield you from the onslaught of teasing. His voice is low but firm, though the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “You’ve had your fun. Leave it.”

“Oh no, mate,” Louis says, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and smirk firmly in place. “This is gold. We’re not letting this one slide so easily.”

Harry winks at you. “We were wondering how long it’d take for you two to finally crack.”

Your cheeks burn hotter, but you manage to find your voice. “Okay, fine! Yes, we kissed. Happy now?”

Louis arches a brow, his smirk widening. “Kissed? As in, just now, or—” He pauses for effect, dragging it out. “Have there been… other moments we should know about?”

Zayn tenses slightly beside you, and you glance at him. There’s an unspoken question in his eyes, like he’s asking if it’s okay to share. You sigh, deciding there’s no point in hiding it now. “There was… one other time,” you admit, your voice quieter. “At the bar. A week ago.”

The room erupts into laughter and groans of mock disbelief.

“You mean to tell us,” Niall starts, pointing between you and Zayn, “you’ve been sneaking around for a week and didn’t say a word?”

Liam shakes his head, chuckling. “No wonder things have felt so off. The tension was starting to get unbearable.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry says, throwing up his hands. “We’ve all been walking on eggshells thinking something was up. Turns out, it’s this.”

Louis whistles, leaning back against the wall like he’s settling in for a good story. “And here I thought Zayn was the mysterious one. Looks like you’ve both been keeping secrets.”

You groan, rubbing your forehead as the embarrassment bubbles up. “It’s not like that,” you mumble.

“It’s not?” Harry teases, arching a brow. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks very much like that.”

“We haven’t even talked about it yet,” Zayn cuts in, his voice calm but firm. The boys all quiet down slightly at his words, their teasing smirks softening into looks of mild curiosity.

You glance at him, surprised by his honesty but grateful for it. “Yeah,” you add, shifting awkwardly. “We haven’t… figured anything out. It’s just—” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “We’re still trying to make sense of it.”

Louis raises a brow, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “Trying to make sense of it, huh? Is that what you were doing just now?”

The room fills with laughter again, and you groan, covering your face with your hands.

“Alright, enough,” Zayn says, his tone carrying just enough weight to silence the chaos. “You’ve had your fun. Now give it a rest.”

Louis raises his hands in surrender, though his smirk remains. “Fine. But don’t think this is the last we’ll talk about it.”

With a chorus of knowing chuckles, the boys start to shuffle back into the room, resuming their pre-show routine. As the teasing dies down, you finally allow yourself to breathe, glancing up at Zayn.

“Well, that was mortifying,” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

Zayn leans closer, his lips curving into a faint, reassuring smile. “Could’ve been worse,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “At least they didn’t walk in earlier.”

You laugh despite yourself, and the sound seems to ease some of the lingering tension. His thumb brushes one last circle on your waist before he finally steps away, giving you space.

But as the boys’ playful chatter fills the room again, you can’t help but notice the way Zayn’s gaze lingers on you from across the room—like even in a crowded space, you’re the only one he sees. And judging by the flutter in your chest, you’re starting to feel the exact same way.

…

The next morning the knock at your hotel room door comes just as you’re grabbing your jacket. Startled, you glance at the clock—it’s still early, barely past seven. Pushing down your curiosity, you open the door, and there he is.

Zayn stands in the hallway, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his hair slightly tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it. In his other hand, he’s holding two coffee cups.

“Morning,” he says, his voice soft and a little hesitant.

“Morning.” You blink at him, surprised to see him here, especially so early. “What are you doing here?”

He lifts one of the cups, offering it to you. “Brought you coffee. Figured you might need it before you head out.”

Your chest tightens as you take the cup from him. One sip confirms it—he’s remembered your exact order. The gesture is so small, yet it sends a warmth spreading through you.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping aside. “Do you want to come in?”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I—yeah.”

You step back, letting him inside. The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Zayn looks around briefly before settling on the edge of the chair by the window, his shoulders tense.

You sit on the edge of the bed, cradling your coffee. The silence between you is thick but not uncomfortable, more like it’s brimming with unspoken words.

Zayn exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking about this. About us,” he says finally, his voice quiet but steady.

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t interrupt.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Letting people in. Trusting them. It’s… hard for me. Always has been.” He looks up at you, his eyes raw with honesty. “That’s why I’ve been so stand-offish. It wasn’t because of you. It was me trying to protect myself.”

You swallow, his words cutting straight to your heart. “Zayn…”

“But you,” he continues, his voice softening, “you make it hard to keep those walls up. You’re… sunshine. You light everything up just by walking into a room, and I didn’t know how to handle that at first.”

Your breath catches, your chest tightening at his confession.

“I’m scared,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to keep shutting you out. I want to try. Really try. I want to be with you—for real.”

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. His vulnerability, his honesty—it’s everything you’ve been waiting for, and it fills you with a kind of warmth you didn’t know you needed.

“You’re scared,” you say finally, your voice gentle. “But you’re still here. That says a lot.”

Zayn’s lips curve into a small, tentative smile. “I guess it does.”

You set your coffee down on the nightstand and stand, moving to sit beside him. “You’re not the only one who’s scared,” you admit. “This isn’t… easy for me either. But I think we balance each other out, you know? You’re the calm when I’m all over the place, and maybe I can be the sunshine when you need it.”

He looks at you, his gaze softening, and you feel your chest tighten again. “I don’t just need it,” he says quietly. “I want it. I want you.”

You smile, reaching out to take his hand. “I want you too.”

The air between you shifts, the tension easing into something softer, sweeter. Zayn leans in, his hand lifting to gently cup your cheek. “You’re my sunshine,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow and tender, a promise wrapped in warmth. His hand slides into your hair, holding you close as your lips move together in perfect harmony. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“Guess that makes this official, huh?” you say softly, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Zayn chuckles, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

And as he pulls you into another kiss, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something incredible.

…

Part 2 - coming soon

Author’s note: I really enjoyed this one! Let me know if you’d like a part 2 or have similar requests💛

#one direction fanfiction #zayn malik x y/n #zayn malik x you #zayn malik x reader #zayn malik fanfiction #zayn x y/n #zayn x reader

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