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niallerspayno · 4 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.

…

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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pinovapie · 4 months ago

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DRDT Headcanons!! (1/idk)

Decided to post some headcanons for various characters!! (there might be some mild projection on my favourites lol) idk if i'll do more for other characters?? Also, sorry for less Teruko HCs,,, i meant to do 5 for each but uh,,, you can tell who my favourites are i guess??

Also, disclaimer, these are headcanons!! I wrote these before Chap 2 Part 2, they may be disproven and become out of date in the future!!

Under a read more to not clog up space,, also TW: (unintentional) Self harm

Ace:

He grew up on a farm.

His parents had a ton of kids in the hopes that at least one would be successful. Whoever got the best test results/ won an award/ has the highest salary (based on age, idk how old Ace's siblings are) was the favourite and showered with attention.

This meant Ace and his siblings grew up willing to literally and metaphorically shove eachother face first in the mud to be the favourite child. There was a lot of sabotage, insults and threats constantly.

He struggles to form meaningful friendships due to trust issues.

He'll hold a grudge for years. He probably still despises and talks shit about some kid who stole his chair when they were 6 or something.

He used to love animals until one day he woke up and the world was more terrifying than he remembered. The comforting bark of a dog is now a horrifying sound that sends him spiraling with panic.

He's overly sensitive to light and sound.

He chews his lip, bites his nails and scratches his arms/wrists when bored or uncomfortable. Maybe that's why he always wears gloves, to do less damage?

Nico:

Sometimes when it's too much they'll go non verbal. They're fluent in sign language as a result.

They sometimes judge the things people name their pets. They'd never say it out loud but they think certain pets have really stupid names.

They struggle with tone, often coming across as sarcastic and fed up when they're being genuine.

If they get postively overwhelmed (like flustered due to compliments etc.) they make cat noises instead of speaking (like meows, chirps, etc.). They find in really embarrassing.

If they are in a downward spiral, they'll grip something (their cloak, hair, a soft toy, etc.) and just hold on to try and ground themselves.

Nico took a couple skirts from the dress-up room to wear in private.

In a non killing game au, they'd join Rose in painting more frequently. They end up preferring watercolours though.

They may have a journal where they might talk shit about certain individuals in the class.

Teruko:

Despite her trust issues and bad luck with relationships, she's a romantic at heart. It may take a while for her to admit her feelings but she'd like someone to give her flowers and take her to dinner just as much as anyone else.

She likes horror films because she can experience the thrill without being in danger. I think she'd also like those rollar coaster simulators since an actual rollar coaster would probably be too dangerous with her luck.

She loves sliced cheese because she can avoid having to cut cheese with a knife. Similarly, she'll spread spreads with a spoon because it's less risking than with a knife.

Due to constantly moving, she owned a couple of those plastic picnic sets (the plate, bowl, cup sets) and had to wash them frequently. As a result she's secretly super grateful to Hu and Eden for cleaning after meals because it's one less thing to worry about.

She had to remind Charles to seperate his dark and light washing a couple times, even after the initial explanation of washing machines.

Levi:

He's on the Asexual spectrum. Like he'd never consider it himself but if his partner wanted to, he'd be comfortable with it because he likes making his partner happy.

He's usually trying to keep the peace but he will argue with friends or customers if they try to pick/buy a god awful outfit.

He worked at a boutique before becoming a personal stylist. He kept giving customers unwanted fashion advice that made their outfits the talk of the town. Word spread and after a little while people started showing up for the advice.

Does not understand humour or sarcasm at all.

He's fond of baby animals but would never hold one out of fear of hurting it.

In a non killing game au, he'd probably find out peoples fashion preferences so he can get them suitable clothes as presents.

He's probably the only cast member to politely listen to Veronika's rambles without wanting to throw up. He'd probably get roped into movie nights after Arturo and Ace triple locked their doors to avoid such movie nights.

Various people have caught him raiding sweet foods (sometimes even just eating sugar straight out the bag) at like 3am on multiple occasions.

#drdt #drdt headcanons #ace markey #levi fontana #nico hakobyan #teruko tawaki #danganronpadespairtime #danganronpa despair time

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perseidlion · 2 months ago

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One Night Can Stretch Into Forever - A Catwin Modern AU

I'm very proud of my WIP, a modern take on Edwin x Cat King. Cat is a personal stylist, and Edwin is an English professor. They meet one night in a jazz bar. They both start to catch feelings almost immediately, but Edwin is determined to keep it casual. Rating: E (soft E, non-graphic smut) Status: Ongoing. No less than 1 chapter per week, sometimes more.

CHAPTER 1

A jazz club was not Cat’s usual scene. Normally, he spent his time at underground clubs and posh cocktail bars. Part of that was practical. As a stylist with rich and famous clients, he wanted to have his finger on the pulse of what was new and trendy. When one of his clients told him about a speakeasy that had been getting a lot of buzz, he was intrigued. He’d been seeing hints of 1920s-inspired fashion in next years’ winter previews his contacts had given him a sneak peek of, which made the jazz club even more intriguing.

London never had Prohibition, so the speakeasy vibe of Giggle Water was completely contrived. Fake or not, it was executed very well - from the hidden door at the back of a florist, to the exposed brick and brass finishings. He suspected the club might have actually been a Molly House that was given a jazz-era makeover. That would explain why, although the club was not explicitly a queer one, he saw many visibly queer people as he waited in the short line to descend into the club proper.

When Cat emerged from the narrow stairwell, he was greeted with a surprisingly open space with vaulted ceilings which suggested it was once a cellar for the historic building above. There was a small stage in the corner where a trio was playing klezmer music and the club was packed with young and fashionable people. That was a good sign that the visit was actually worth his while.

Normally Cat’s personal style leaned towards the garish and gender non-conforming. For once, he was there to see and not so much to be seen. His deep blood red blazer with subtle black brocade over a tight black t-shirt with a slight sheen and high-waisted, perfectly tailored slacks might be ostentatious on someone else, but on him, it was practically understated. His blond curls were tousled in an easy surfer style and he was wearing cologne that smelled like boozy cherries with a hint of musk. A diamond stud glinted in one ear and he was wearing a subtle amount of eyeliner to make his eyes pop and give them a slight cat-eye look.

As Cat scanned the well-dressed crowd, he started to mentally catalogue the vibe of the most well-dressed people. Waistcoats for women with very masculine tailoring were well-represented, as were asymmetrical blazers for all genders. A very masculine-presenting person breezed past him in a corset paired with wide-legged trousers with very high slits giving a flash of silver booty shorts underneath.

“Oh, yes,” Cat murmured to himself.

He’d have to get himself a pair of those pants. Maybe paired with a latex-look turtleneck and a diamond belt and ankle height go-go boots.

Cat had seen enough to know it was worth lingering awhile longer. It was still relatively early, and it was possible more interesting fashionistas and socialites would make their way into the club. So he got in line at the bar.

“The cocktails are quite excellent here. Though if you aren’t a fan of actually tasting the alcohol, you might find them strong for your taste,” came a masculine voice in a crisp, posh, English accent.

Cat turned to find a tall, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties. He was wearing a black and white patterned shirt with an identical tie, and an immaculately slim-tailored pair of black pants and a single breasted blazer that nipped him in at the waist. It was nothing groundbreaking fashion-wise, but it was trendy and well-tailored enough to catch his attention. He was holding a cut crystal glass with something dark and strong in it.

Cat gave him an obvious once-over, then grinned. “Well, I’d say that makes sense seeing as this is a cocktail bar,” he drawled.

“Oh, you’re American.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“No, not disappointed. Are you a tourist?”

Cat examined the stranger, one eyebrow lifted. He was having a hard time reading him. It felt like he was being flirted with, but it could also simply be smalltalk. There was a soft lisp to his voice and a certain flow to his mannerisms that made his gaydar ping. However, he’d made the mistake in the past, misinterpreting poshness for queerness. There was also a note of hopefulness from the stranger that made him think he wanted the answer to his question to be no.

“Resident,” said Cat. He smiled wide enough to show his naturally pointed canines that had given him the nickname in his childhood that he now used exclusively. His gaze flicked to the man’s full glass, then up to his face. “Unless you’re second-guessing your drink, I’m guessing you’re not in line. So?”

“Pardon?” said the man. He was holding himself confidently, but something in his eyes suggested nervousness.

“Are you going to offer to buy me a drink? Or have I…” he shifted a little closer, “...completely misread you?”

Continue reading on Ao3

#dead boy detectives #dbda #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #dead boy detectives fanfic #cat king #the cat king #ao3 link #catwin #edwin x cat king #cat king x edwin #modern au #fic wip #dead boy detectives fic

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cierraonline · 2 months ago

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IT’S ABOUT CONFIDENCE

Chapter one : It’s about confidence

Warning: none

Masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

SEPTEMBER 13, 2021

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY

“Ahhh, it’s time!” Kimora walks into her booked hotel room at The Mark, the hotel synonymous with the Met Gala.

The Met Gala is an annual fundraising event and fashion show that benefits the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (the Met) in New York City. But for Kimora West, this was like a Christmas holiday all in one day. Since she was five, Kimora dreamed of walking the carpet in a beautiful gown with grace. All eyes on her, wondering, How does she embody empowerment? What is her secret? And now, today was her day—and it meant even more to her because it was also her twentieth birthday.

“Is that my muse?” Karl Lagerfeld, German fashion designer and creative director for Chanel, calls out from the back room.

“I don’t know, are you talking about me?” Kimora smiles, greeting everyone that was present for preparation with a wave. She moves toward the bedroom, where the designer and the dress stand, both tall and beautiful in their own ways. “Stop!” Kimora pauses, staring the dress down, her eyes scanning over each inch of the masterpiece before her. “I’m not wearing that, am I?”

“Made just for you, inspired by you, darling,” Karl walks over with the help of his black designer cane, pulling the girl into an embrace.

“N-no,” Kimora shakes her head, accepting the hug. “I know we discussed and sketched out the dress with it being covered in pearls… B-but that dress right there deserves to be in a museum, not on me.” Kimora breaks away from the hold to take a few steps forward and get a closer look at the dress. “And the hat… oh my God. You’ve out done yourself. Younger me would be jealous right now.”

“Beautiful people deserve beautiful dresses,” Karl smiles. “A dress that creates a statement. A statement that lets everyone know you are here.”

“I know we need to get started, but I just can’t stop admiring it,” Kimora smiles, looking at the designer. “I feel like I need to handwrite a thank-you note to everyone on your team.”

“Just putting on the dress and shining bright like a diamond on that carpet is enough.”

“You guys,” Kimora turns to look at the camera that belongs to Vogue, as they’ve chosen her to broadcast her getting ready for the Met Gala. “Karl has always been there for me when it comes to anything custom and always manages to knock it out of the park… But this right here is just another level.”

“She’s a muse and a goddess, therefore she needs to be seen as one. And this dress right here will show that,” Karl tells the camera. “We’ve been walking together since she was fourteen, and each time we did a project, she’d say, ‘I can’t wait to see what you do when I get invited to The Met.’ And I’m like, sweetheart, it’s already planned out. Who needs a theme when you have extravagant glamour?”

“Fairy God-mother is going to die when he sees this piece,” Kimora pulls out her phone and calls her personal stylist, Law Roach, American fashion stylist or in his words image architect. Best-known for his work with artists such as Zendaya, Céline Dion, Anya Taylor-Joy and Kimora West.

“Hey, Princess!” Law answers his phone with a bright attitude, showing his comforting smile—the first thing that allowed the young woman to let down her guard when they first met.

“Hey, God-mother!” Kimora greets. “Are you around anyone? I want to show you my dress.”

“I just finished picking out Zendaya’s accessories,” the stylist informs one of his in-suite clients.

“Hey, Mora!” The mentioned Black beauty calls out from a distance.

“Hey, Z!” Kimora blows a kiss, showing love to one of the free-spirited young people in Hollywood she’s actually close with. “Okay… only you and Z can see… Look what Karl created just for me,” Kimora flips the camera on her phone, and instead of showing her face, she reveals the masterpiece that the German designer created…just for her.

“Oh my God!” The two gasped, looking at the screen.

“I want to say it’s beautiful, but it’s more than that… It’s you, like that dress was made just for you,” Law compliments the dress and the young business owner.

“Why, thank you,” Karl and Kimora take the compliment at the same time, causing them both to laugh at their dynamic, which has been built over a decade. “I’m letting you go. We have to start getting ready since I’m the last to enter.”

“Good luck. You’re going to look amazing,” Law concludes, knowing that he and Zendaya also have to get ready to leave.

“Happy Birthday, Mora!” Zendaya calls out.

“Thank you, baby,” the call ends, and the now-young woman looks to the designer. “Let’s do this.”

XXX

THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“For months, designers and stylists have been collaborating with our celebrated guests to achieve sectoral glory for this,” Gwendoline Christie speaks, as the actress and model Ashley Graham hosts the opening of the full production. “The first Met Gala back from lockdown due to the Coronavirus pandemic.”

“And now, after thousands of hours of planning and fitting their creations, we are moments away from being revealed.”

“I am Gwendoline Christie, and I’ll be with Ashley Graham all night, interviewing some of the most notable figures in the world. They’ll line up here in the tunnel as they await their big moment.”

“They’ll make their way up these stairs as photographers, journalists, and even other guests shout their names and capture every detail. And once they reach the top, they’ll find our co-host, Lala Anthony.”

“That’s right,” the camera switches over to television personality Lala Anthony. “We’re here to talk with everyone from this year’s co-chairs—Timothée Chalamet, Billie Eilish, Naomi Osaka, and Amanda Gorman—to the entire guest list that’s been kept under wraps until tonight. This is the 2021 Met Gala red carpet.”

XXX

“Now the doors to The Met have officially closed, and we’re at our last guest: reality television personality, business entrepreneur, and creator of Skims, Kimora West, partnered with Chanel and creative designer Karl Lagerfeld,” Gwendoline Christie states, watching the two enter the room. Instead of the normal flashes that had been occurring all night, the room stayed a blinding white, as the flashes never stopped, wanting to capture every angle. This commotion causes the guest that were still on the staircase to look over and pause at what they were witnessing

“Kimora West is here to make a statement… and I think… nope, I know she just did with that masterpiece,” Ashley Graham gawked, looking at the influencer’s silhouette in the dress.

XXX

As the night went on, Kimora received praise and hushed whispers of compliments about her assemble from figures in different industries, some she knew and others she met that night. Long story short, the young woman knew she would be the topic of discussion and the standard when it came to the Met Gala from now on.

But just like beautiful things, there are ugly factors. And for Kimora, that would be having to use the bathroom, where she’d have to get out of the airtight dress, squat to use the toilet, make sure she doesn’t poke herself with the nails glued onto her gloves, and get the head-to-toe dress back on without damaging it—since she was already asked to donate her dress to the museum.

“Do you need help?” Georgina, invited as a plus-one since she is Kimora’s best friend and assistant, asked, standing outside the stall, holding the influencer’s personal items like her phone and makeup retouch bag. She simply waited, offering assistance if needed.

“No, I should be fine,” Kimora tells her, managing to pull the dress down off her waist and gently into a large plastic garbage bag on the floor so the dress wouldn’t touch the bathroom floor. “The event is endling in like five minutes, and then I’m getting changed in the car to head to the after-party. Can you just find the location and order me DoorDash to deliver to the next place? I think it’s just cocktail hour, and I’m starving.”

“Ooo, what are we in the mood for?” Georgina smiled, pulling out her best friend’s phone and opening the food delivery app. “Shake Shack?”

“Oh my Heavenly Pink God, yes please,” Kimora moaned at the thought of eating food from her favorite place every time she comes to the Big Apple. “This might seem fatass of me, but can you order me 3 chicken sandwiches, two order of fries, and a cookies-and-cream milkshake? I usually would follow my diet, but I haven’t eaten in like a week to make sure I fit in this dress.”

“Your fatass is beautiful,” Georgina waved off her best friend’s nonsense. “You need to start eating more. It’s unhealthy.”

“I know!” Kimora groans. “I just want everything to be perfect down to every detail, including my body… Just so no one can say I didn’t earn it and that it’s just nepotism or something… you know?”

“I don’t,” Georgina shook her head. “But I know my best friend, and I know it’s just the Kardashian in you, trying to be perfect in order to be liked by society. Which you are. In fact, you’re voted the most liked and tolerable out of everyone in your family… which weirdly includes North and Mason. I’m going to step out into the hallway since the reception in this bathroom is just terrible. Scream if you need me.” With that, Georgina walked out of the bathroom, just as up-and-rising pop star Billie Eilish walked in, with one goal in mind: make sure she didn’t look like a disaster. As the girl stared at herself in the mirror, reflecting on her appearance after the Met Gala carpet and event, she wondered what in her right mind had made her think it was okay to wear a dress and Marilyn Monroe-inspired Old Hollywood makeup. Too deep in her head, she hadn’t heard a toilet flush, letting her know she wasn’t alone, nor did she see Kimora walk out and watch the blonde stare deeply at herself.

Kimora walked forward, thinking sudden movement would snap the blonde out of her trance, but it didn’t. Even with turning on the sink to wash her hands, the noise had no effect on the girl. “You know, by now, everyone is past drunk because the food here is literal shit, so they have nothing else better to do than drink. They won’t notice what you really look like now—just a remembrance of what you looked like before,” Kimora offered a small smile.

“Huh?” The blonde finally stepped out of her trance and removed her eyes from her reflection, looking at the girl standing next to her.

“Get out of your head,” Kimora stated, before walking out of the bathroom. Watching the girl leave, Billie scoffed.

“Like you can understand, you’re a Kardashian.” She rolled her eyes, reverting her gaze back to her reflection in the mirror.

“Actually, I’m a West,” Kimora walked back into the bathroom, causing Billie’s eyes to widen, not thinking the girl had actually heard her words. “Plus, beauty isn’t actually about looks,” Kimora walked behind the girl, placing her makeup pouch on the counter, and trailed her hands on the blonde’s waist, traveling toward the back of the light pink, Old Hollywood classic-inspired dress. She untied it. “It’s about confidence,” she tightened the corset strings. “And when you have confidence, you stop worrying about whether you’re pretty enough because others tell you without asking.” She finished the tie with a bow.

“Are you saying I have low confidence?” Billie’s right eyebrow lifted.

“Yup,” Kimora emphasized, turning the girl to face her. “But it’s okay because everyone new to this level of fame has low confidence,” she said, taking out her red lip liner and beginning to mark the girl’s lips. “You’re trying to figure out your place in this new world. You’re filled with anxiety because you believe one wrong look or one word said wrong, and Hollywood will send you packing back home… News flash, it’s not about what you look like or pronounce wrong. It’s about how you treat your fans. They are the only ones who can send you packing, and by looking at how fast you got invited, I doubt that will be happening anytime soon.” She picked up the ruby red M.A.C matte lipstick and gently placed it on the girl’s baby-pink, plumped lips. “Studies show, the color red releases hidden confidence one didn’t know they had in them.” She softly turned the blonde back around to the mirror so she could see her retouched appearance. “And as a ‘Kardashian,’ I think you look absolutely beautiful and breathtaking,” Kimora smiled at the girl, watching Billie glance at herself with the light in her eyes she had at the beginning of the night. With one last feather-like touch, Kimora walked out of the bathroom, leaving the girl by herself, in which she mentally agreed with Kimora’s words.

XXX

Like many celebrities who attend the Met Gala, Kimora found herself with Georgina by her side at some random lounge surrounded by cameras… well, her for some reason, as she ate her crispy chicken sandwich. To Kimora, she didn’t see what the need for photography and video was for. But to those who had their cameras and phones in action at that moment, it was iconic. What other status beauty do they know that would sit in a popular lounge, where food is prohibited, wearing a custom ruby-red designer dress, hair and makeup meant for a goddess, pigging out on messy fast food and a milkshake, besides the world’s classic sex symbols like Marilyn Monroe, Anna Nicole Smith, and Pamela Anderson?

Especially when she’s the first young, mixed, or appearance-wise black-labeled sex symbol in American culture. That had many big figures in the industry and randoms at home ranging from men to women all waiting, itching for the day she turned eighteen years old to express their deep admiration for the young woman—just like they did with the Olsen twins…but bigger.

“That’s so weird!” Billie called out to her friend as they watched the scene people were causing with their flash photography and phones pointed at Kimora West. “All she’s doing is eating because she’s hungry. Like, you don’t need to record her. There’s no reason for all that,” Billie commented.

Little did the Grammy-award-winning singer knows, the beginning of her words were recorded by a cellphone and uploaded to social media with controversial words under it, in hopes of starting a backlash against her.

taglist @billiesrighthand @bilswildflower @bilsluckyheart @billiesgoodgirll @billsvip @billieshrry @dandelions4us @factsbybriggs @rhearipley-69 @cierraonline @amberg1998 @crystalblue88 @mercurylvd @saffsblog @ihavenoideayimhere @umadirectioner @harajukub4rb1e @sun81rise @jamiemundy7773 @cyberdreamlanddeer @steampunkprincess147 @zendayasredbottoms @efemerous @lady0ftheflowers

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evanpeterswifeyyy · 4 months ago

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Ted Talk number 2 already. This one is about Evan and Natalie discourse again.

I’ve been seeing a LOT of smack about Evan at NYC fashion week related to Natalie because she’s a model and works for Karlie Kloss and I’d like to put in some RATIONAL thought about that topic.

Ok, let’s indulge the thought that maybe Natalie is suggesting and trying to convince Evan to change his style and go to fashion shows.

Evan is a GROWN MAN. He can make his own decisions. If Natalie is asking him to do something, he can say no. As far as I can see, he is not obligated to do anything she says, nor stay in the relationship.

Another thing, he cannot just show up. He is paid to be there by the brand. Otherwise he wouldn’t have any reason to attend unless his girlfriend was working there, but he was at the Loewe’s men’s show, obviously Natalie is not the one working at the show—he is. And he accepted to be there. Loewe nor Natalie cannot force him to accept the job or show up. He did that because obviously he wanted to. Crazy concept, I know.

He is working. May Natalie have had some influence or connection? Maybe. But to discredit Evan’s popularity and give her all the credit for him booking a job with Loewe is disrespectful to his integrity, especially as people who claim to be his fans.

He has every right and autonomy to have just been picked out by Loewe with no influence of Natalie whatsoever. And even if she is changing his style, genuinely she’s doing a good job. He looks fresh. It’s really refreshing to see him done up nicely after how shitty he looked in his previous relationships (Emma Snoberts).

I’ve also seen complaints about the outfit he’s wearing in the photoshoot, but he’s a model for the show and was obviously done-up by an artist/ designer. Natalie did not pick the outfit he’s wearing. So if you don’t like it, blame his stylist or Evan himself, because Natalie doesn’t change his clothes for him like he’s a toddler.

Yes, I loved his lazy hobo style just like anyone else. But to see him looking clean in his daily getup is so nice.

Why does everything Evan does now have to be related to Natalie? Can he not just change and mature as a person, and also make his own decisions? I can assure you, she’s not holding him at gunpoint to do something. Just because you don’t like his decisions and the changes he’s making doesn’t mean Natalie is abusive like Emma. If anything, I think it’s the healthiest relationship he’s been in for a while now and it’s obvious. Which is clearly why so many of you are jealous and are nitpicking anything to tear her down.

I’d also want to add some discussion on Natalie and her public politics.

There has been a photo resurfacing of her aparently being a Trump supporter, but the “badges” aren’t really clear enough. If anything they look like generic “I voted” stickers. Which usually have no affiliation to politcal party as far as I know.

Adding the photo and evidence here that people are using to claim she’s a “Trump supporter”:

Ladies and gents, the “Trump” badge:

I actually even looked online for an oval shaped Trump sticker like this and there was nothing. This is literally the sticker she’s wearing that people are using to claim she voted for Trump.

But, again, let’s indulge the thought that maybe she was a Trump supporter. She has every right to flip her political stance.

She is clearly extremely for abortion rights and female autonomy, which was taken away. And as we know, Trump isn’t the best candidate to regain those rights. At least not when he’s on the far right spectrum. That’s my opinion and observation, and it’s clearly Natalie’s too.

You are not obligated to stick to one political party or candidate forever. So maybe in 2016 she voted for Trump, boo fucking hoo. She’s not a hypocrite for changing her mind or her stance like any normal fucking human being.

There is literally nothing perfect Natalie can do for anyone, just like any normal human. And even if she was somehow this conventionally perfect figure head, you guys would some how still find ways to discredit her.

If you want Evan to be in a good relationship with someone (which obviously you believe is you, but with the way you treat him and Natalie he would never.) shitting on every single girlfriend he has because you don’t like the public appearance of their relationship and how it doesn’t suit your standards (or just because it’s not you, which at this rate it will never be) is not going to get anyone anywhere.

Your harassment of Natalie is harassment towards Evan as well, because he chose her. That is his decision. If you shit on Natalie and she finds it, and in any shape or form it affects her—mentally, emotionally, physically—it is going to hurt Evan too because obviously, he cares about her and is a caring person. Whether you like that fact or not, it is at the end of the day—a fact. They are dating, so whatever the other person is feeling will reflect onto the other, and I’m sure Evan wouldn’t want to see Natalie hurt in any sort of way. We know she sees at least some of the hate, and we have no idea how she really reacts to it. But I’m sure it’s not positively or happily.

He’s not a bird locked in a cage to be gawked at. He’s a human being who is doing something at this very moment, living, breathing, talking, having thoughts and feelings. And so is Natalie. And I’m sure both of them have seen your neurotic behavior.

News flash, Evan most likely does not like you if you act that way, and he most definitely doesn’t want you.

So sit down and grow the fuck up. Most of you are grown adults saying this as well. Act like one.

Thanks for listening to another rant again, I’m genuinely so tired of this. No, I am not defending Natalie. But so far, you guys have no real evidence she has done or is doing anything you claim, and it’s not even that bad regardless. Until Natalie does something actually wrong, I will call out this stupid shitty behavior. The real person I’m defending at the end of the day is Evan, because all of it circles back to him, and it is an extremely disrespectful painting of his character that I’m sure no one is hoping for. I’m sure at this rate most of the actual Natalie haters will have stopped reading long before and stormed away fuming out their ears, but regardless, if I can share this info so other people can have an argument back against their bullshit then it’s worth it.

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psychic-refugee · 4 months ago

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Wenclair as a ship in itself I understand. It can be fun, and interpretation is up to the fan content creator. Wyler, Wenvier, Enjax, Wenclay and AroAce Wednesday I think are all equally valid interpretations. Just as any other combination.

Shipping non canon relationships is a choice made by personal preference.

I less understand the expectations of Wenclair being actually possible to become canon. I feel like it’s only possible in the sense that “anything is possible” because no one can ever truly predict the future.

However,

Tim Burton does not have a history of producing LGBTQ+ focused projects. There are barely any background characters that are prominently and explicitly queer in his long CV.

The Ottingers are outliers and background characters with a second of screentime. I have doubts we’ll ever see them again, and honestly, they are the farthest I think Burton is willing to go.

Millar also doesn’t have a history of writing main cast LGBTQ+. He and Gough only reference the relationship between Enid and Wednesday as “friendship” and “sisterhood” when confronted with the idea of Wenclair. (NME, 24 Dec 2023).

Netflix has a documented poor history of treatment of shows with prominent lesbian leads (First Kill, I Am Not OK With This, and Warrior Nun).

Given all of that, I’m also not in the writers’ room, so time will ultimately tell if my skepticism is warranted.

Nonetheless, there is overwhelming evidence that Wenclairs have detrimentally affected Jenna and Emma. I don’t see them wanting Wenclair to happen and they certainly aren’t entertaining the mere possibility of it any longer.

Jenna has not mentioned Wenclair in a positive light since that one interview in Teen Vogue, 9 Dec 2022. It’s been over a year since; a lot of stuff has happened. Plenty of reasons for Jenna to have changed her mind.

Emma made a non-committal comment about “how anything is possible” when it comes to S2 and Wenclair. (Variety, 30 Jan 2023) But, again, that was over a year ago and a lot of toxic behaviour has happened since then.

Just as with Jenna, Emma has a lot of motivation now to not support Wenclair becoming canon.

Emma also pushed off the possibility of Wenclair beyond S2, she gave the excuse of Wednesday needing a “season of singleness.” Id. Wednesday WAS single in S1, she never claimed anyone as an SO. It sounds more like Emma was a hostage trying to appease her kidnappers by telling them what they wanted to hear. She pushed off the idea of Wenclair to a season that’s not guaranteed to materialize. That’s called passing the buck. If S3 never happens, then she’s not responsible for adhering to an implied promise of Wenclair being possible at all.

Now, Emma has made it a point to stress that shipping is fine as long as it doesn’t cross over into real people. (NME, 27 June 2024).

Wenclairs failed to do that in a spectacular fashion.

Emma admits that Wenclair was a joke they told amongst themselves when it first became apparent it was a popular ship. Id. Wenclair is “funny” to them because they never intended for it to be a ship, but fans choose to interpret it that way.

People ran with Jenna’s comments, but I believe she was supporting it in jest in the way Emma reported in June. Jenna even framed Wenclair only happening in “a perfect world.” (9 Dec 2022) She said it would only happen in an impossible circumstance. I don’t get how people took that to mean she was trying behind the scenes to make it happen, or that it was a secret interpretation fans were meant to figure out on their own.

I think if she knew how much her “fans” would sexually harass her and Emma with the idea of Wenclair, she would not have said it at all. I think with how careful Jenna is with what she posts now, she knows better to say things off the cuff or in jest.

Wenclairs have taught her harsh lessons on how to interact with social media and interviews.

I think it says a lot that Jenna has only been photographed with her stylist in the past several years. She has had plenty of opportunities to do pictures with the cast since filming started, specifically Emma and yet…

Wenclairs have been so rabid and hostile to anyone challenging their fantasy that she only feels safe being seen with Enrique Melendez, her employee, or her family. That’s not normal.

I think there’s a reason why Wenclairs hyperfocus on Jenna making the ship happen and not Emma.

Jenna clearly doesn’t mind doing roles that involve sapphic elements (Miller’s Girl and The Fallout). The same cannot be said about Emma. Wenclairs are so quick to jump on Jenna’s CV of “kissing women” and pointing to that as proof of her queerness. By THEIR same logic, what does it mean if Emma has not done any role where she kisses women?

Jenna’s a great actress and I think could have chemistry and a rapport with a tree if the script called for it. I think she didn’t mind the idea of Wenclair at the time (regardless of how farfetched the possibility was or that it was never originally or seriously considered), but I don’t think she ever intended for people to interpret her characterization of Wednesday that way.

I think both Jenna and Emma regret implying or joking about the possibility of Wenclair as the fans started to sexually harass them on IG with comments on how they are for sure lesbians (neither have stated so) under their posts that have nothing to do with the other as well as everywhere else. Neither can celebrate their own separate accomplishments without Wenclairs mentioning the ship or obnoxiously asking “Where’s Jenna/Emma?”

Wenclairs also post explicit art of Jenna and Emma’s likeness in public forums such as Twitter/IG (and tag them or send it to them directly), and harass male coworkers Jenna has romantic scenes with (Finest Kind). Emma’s male co-star in AGGGTM has also experienced harassment.

Jenna has outright said she quit Twitter because she was sent explicit AI art of herself right after Wednesday took off.

I 100% believe it was sent by a Wenclair account and it was sexual Wenclair art, given the timing and their appalling behaviour to date.

“I ended up deleting [Twitter] about two, three years ago because of the influx after [Wednesday] had come out, these absurd images and photos, and I already was in a confused state that I just deleted it…It was disgusting, and it made me feel bad. It made me feel uncomfortable” (Entertainment Weekly, 25 Aug 2024) (emphasis added).

I think Jenna coming out and specifically saying there would be no romance for Wednesday (Digital Spy, 8 June 2023) after the December 2022 article is another direct consequence of Wenclair harassment. She changed her tune very explicitly and Netflix has not contradicted her, nor have the showrunners, writers, or Burton ever shown committed support for Wenclair. At most it’s “we’re open to it,” and that was before the harassment got as bad as it is.

Jenna’s playfulness is completely absent in all these interviews since Wenclairs started to harass her. Whatever they were “open to,” the Wenclairs shut it violently.

I wasn’t aware until recently that the Wenclairs were so creepy, invasive, and lacking even the barest of social graces that they were also harassing Jenna’s family.

Here is Aliyah, Jenna’s sister, scoffing and clearly exasperated by the shipping. I highly doubt this frustration comes from being asked just once, she’s probably fielded this question way too many times. She no longer follows Emma on IG.

There are also reports of other IG Lives by Aliyah outright stating that the shipping was out of control and detrimental to their family. Of course Wenclairs are completely crickets about this.

It’s bad enough Wenclairs shove their personal fantasies in Jenna and Emma’s face, but they do it to their siblings? Likely when the siblings were minors or barely adults as Aliyah is only 20.

Emma in the Variety, 30 Jan 2023 article also says her sister would show her stuff, meaning her family was also getting exposed to it.

The latest Vanity Fair article states that Jenna won’t ever make any romantic relationship public. (6 August 2024). She states that her relationships are “hers” and that her fans can’t separate the real her and the celebrity they have built up in her head. Id.

She makes an effort to use gender neutral terms when it comes to a romantic partner. I respect that she doesn’t want to come out as either heterosexual, homosexual, or anywhere in between or outside of the binary. That is her choice, I think there’s a vast difference between keeping things private and being in the closet. Either way it’s also NONE OF ANYONE’S BUSINESS.

But I think it’s undeniable that even though she would get a lot of support if she were queer, Wenclairs have made it so unbearable that she won’t reveal a partner or come out at all.

Wenclairs have made it unsafe and hostile for her to acknowledge her own sexuality publicly, much less a partner.

I think it’s too late for Wenclairs to back off, it looks like they already ruined the friendship or at best drove it underground if the total lack of social media content of them together is indicative of anything.

If they are still friends, then they don’t trust Wenclairs with knowing about it and don’t want to share it with them. It looks like Jenna doesn’t want to share any friendship publicly anymore.

Unless it’s to promo movies or a brand deal, she rarely posts pictures on social media anymore. It’s very rare she posts personal pictures of herself doing non-work outings. She’s keeping her personal life extremely close to her chest.

How exactly do Wenclairs expect a friendship to survive constant, sexual harassment? How can they hang out together when everything they do together is sexualized? Why would anyone think the actresses would encourage a storyline that would invite more?

How do they expect Jenna to support Wenclair to become canon if it means her future male coworkers will be harassed? If it means any romantic partner who isn’t Emma in the future will be harassed? If it means that if she were indeed involved with Emma, that there would probably be a bigger explosion of porn that is shoved in their face?

How do they expect Jenna or Emma to support Wenclair if their families are being harassed about it?

Wenclair has been a curse upon them, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

#jenna ortega #emma meyers #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 9 months ago

Text

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku [Tech x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: This is my submission for an event hosted by the wonderful @cloneficgiftexchange, written for @apocalyp-tech-a. I hope you enjoy my first Tech x Reader! 2nd Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader who works as an analyst/researcher for the GAR. Minor AU changes (no missing and/or dead Clones here (but Echo is still part of CF99)!). Prompt sentence/s will be orange to keep in line with the color scheme of the graphics. Tech has a “secret” crush on Reader that she knows about. Flirting is stored in the info-dumping/poetry. Star Wars and real-world swearing is as naughty as it gets. Some Mando’a. Brief references and allusions to injury and other canon-typical violence, and a small flashback where Reader’s senior colleagues are (implied to be) behaving like jerks to Tech, but nothing explicit. Use of stylistic and narrative italics. Fictional flowers.

Prompt: Can't we ever go to a nice place? | Oh, that's what that button does.

Word-count: 8,270

Another Primeday, another pile of notes in your locker.

That's how the weeks always started.

You worked closely with the Grand Army of the Republic as something of an analyst and unofficial bookkeeper, going on for two years now. Colleagues and work-friends would slip scraps of flimsiplast in the ventilation grooves of your locker as a way of non-electronic communication.

The old fashioned way, older department heads joked.

The flimsi stacks contained a mishmash of written comms. Inside jokes. Recipe trades. Reminders to get CT-6922’s helmet serviced for the video feed you needed for Jais in the Reverse-Engineering Department if they're ever going to find out how that new Separatist spider droid worked.

And a poem, written in spidery Aurebesh lettering from your “secret admirer”. Always the top of the pile that collected at the bottom of your locker.

You knew full well who it was after a while, piecing together all the clues he'd strung along for you. Game recognizes game, as they say. It took cracking a complicated cipher in order to-

Nah, who are you kidding?

You got impatient and asked Jais in R.E.D. to help you with scrubbing the security footage for the last person to stop by your locker one morning, finding a haiku waiting for you. A haiku regarding subject matter you had just been discussing with a colleague the other day who had a grueling day of carefully dissecting a Flame Beetle from Kashyyyk ahead of them, and you were slated to assist them.

The shimmering shell That conceals a beetle’s wing Is called elytra - I wish I was a beetle

Mild alarm that someone was messing with you turned to curiosity soon after; it had been Tech of Clone Force 99 who dropped the poem into your locker some weeks ago.

He'd been helping the analysts while he got his leg in working order, having broken both the tibia and fibula of his left leg in a skirmish. (That's about as much as you knew at the time.) Tech would be returning to fieldwork sooner than later; between check-ups and some physical therapy work, the genius and navigator of CF99 kept himself busy here, so he would still feel useful to the GAR while recovering.

Of all the analysts Tech assisted, you seemed to be his favorite given that you actually liked letting him help you, and didn't saddle him with a dull day of deskwork like some of the senior analysts who wanted him out of their hair.

You felt it was incredibly unfair to Tech, but there was nothing you could say to change their minds. You'd tried.

Instead of reading this week's new stack of flimsi notes from your weekend off at your locker, you decide you'll read them at your desk for a change. The smell of Tech’s typical caf blend is particularly inviting this morning. It’s been raining since last week, this morning the hardest yet. Thank the Maker you had a rain repeller in proper working order for the walk to the research center from the speeder cabs.

“Good morning, Tech.”

Sitting down, from around the other side of the desk, you can see he's in a walking boot now. An improvement from when you last saw him just two short days ago.

“Hey, that's a good sign! Think you'll be back with the rest of the Bad Batch soon?”

You take no offense when his eyes do not lift from the screen of his datapad. “Good morning. I suppose, yes…” He doesn't sound entirely enthusiastic like one might've expected, but you have enough of a grasp on his mannerisms by now to know that Tech is eager to return to his brothers in due time.

You've met the rest of his squad on a handful of occasions as they've come to check on him, making sure he's not missing all the action by keeping him up to speed on their exploits.

Smiling, you slide a cup of caf you believe to be Tech’s closer to him as you leaf through the notes from your locker.

“Don't let your caf get cold.”

The datapad drops away. “That is for you,” he explains, “if you desire to try it, that is. I recalled you expressing interest in the last blend of caf I brought in, saying that it smelled good last Taungsday.”

You blink, surprised he remembered those details. Well, not that surprised; you understood Tech had a remarkable memory that allowed him to recall obscure details. It’s saved you from a few headaches, like that same Taungsday when a visiting representative from Glee Anslem insisted upon having the innocuous bouquet of Nabooian Honeysuckles sent off for allergen testing. Whatever it was that provoked the Nautolan’s (thankfully minor) allergic reaction, it was not the flowers, though they were refused return.

Shame… the delicate white, orange and cream blossoms were such a thoughtful gift from Senator Amidala to the visiting representative and now they look so out of place on your desk, still in the elaborate ceramic vase they came in. You’re going to need to find a way to return it to Ms. Amidala once the flowers have shriveled and lost all their silky petals.

Thanking Tech for the thoughtfulness behind brewing you a cup of caf, you give it a careful taste and find the flavor far more robust than the instant mix the breakroom keeps on hand while you read the first of the notes. (Looked to be a heads-up that a commando had some grisly footage to be analyzed because Trandoshan pirates were involved and the credits were on Delta Squad being responsible.)

“Mmm… That’s nice. Thank you again, Tech.”

“You are welcome.” he replies, half-ducking his head back down into the datapad, though his eyes remain on you.

Framed by the yellow lenses of the black-strapped goggles he wears, there is an observative nature to those brown eyes. The phenotypic eye color for all Clones is brown, he explained to you once. Though yes, there were a few aberrations in physical traits among his brothers in the GAR, just not quite to the same scale as the experimental squadron that Echo from the 501st Legion (once thought to be dead) joined not long ago. Echo still keeps in contact with the 501st, Captain Rex and a brother named Fives the closest of all. You figure what he must have been reading off his tablet before he came in this morning were more messages from his brothers.

Setting aside notes as you read them, you’re careful to keep the scrap of poetry for last as always. Wonder what it’ll be today. A sonnet? Free-verse? Acrostic or maybe a limerick? Another haiku? Tech seemed to love leaving you haikus most of all.

Still finding his eyes upon you, you lay aside the last note about keeping an eye out for a missing label-maker and delicately clear your throat. “Yes, Tech?” You’re careful to offer him a friendly smile, a quiet measure of assurance that you’re not annoyed or disturbed by his watchfulness.

“Senator Amidala sent a letter of apology to the center regarding the honeysuckles and vase,” he begins, explaining the letter was forwarded to everyone who worked in the analysis department, “and since she feels terrible about the situation inadvertently caused for both her guest and the center, she suggested someone is welcome to keep both, if they wish.”

“Well that’s very kind of the senator.” you reply, giving the flowers on your desk a look of consideration, one that prompts a strange expression out of the genius you generously share your desk with.

You ask what the matter is with another swig of caf.

“I hope you don’t mind too terribly that I… accepted on your behalf.” Tech confesses, aware he’s more than likely crossed a line by doing so. You and Tech do not know each other all that well, but he’s strung together enough clues to have some idea of what you like. He’s noticed what you give the most attention to, and you had secretly been admiring the Nabooian bouquet for some time on Taungsday…

Cautiously, Tech adds, “You could always give them to a friend.”

Casting a third glance over the tri-colored flowers, Tech is assured that won’t be necessary, and he’d been correct in his assessment all along. “I don’t mind at all; thanks for saving me the trouble. I was secretly hoping to take these home, I’ve been obsessed with Naboo for a while now…” you admit, dropping your voice into a near-conspiratorial whisper.

There was an often sunny windowsill back home with plenty of space for the vase and flowers that would make for the perfect spot to show both off. Maybe it’d inspire you to finally take that trip to Naboo you always wanted. Naboo sounded like a nice place, nestled in the Chrommell system of the Outer Rim Territories.

Idyllic, picturesque, it was often described.

All this analyst-work had you in a position to see the glorious, the gory, and everything in-between in the adventures of the Grand Army day in and day out. Compiling reports near and far was beginning to instill a sense of longing for adventure in you; nothing grand was necessary, just something different. Something beyond the walls of the GAR research center here among the Core Worlds.

I’ll be satisfied with a taste of adventure. Just one bite. Just one, I promise.

The yellow-lensed goggles are adjusted. “What fascinates you so much about Naboo?” Tech asks, curiosity burning at him.

“Oh… I dunno,” you say with a shrug, smiling, “it’s hard to put it all into words.” And you wouldn’t exactly have the time, either, with your shift due to start soon. While you’ve still got the time, you should finish as much of the caf as you can before it grows cold, and finally get around to this new poem Tech’s left for you. Maybe he can already guess that you know these are from him, but a part of you finds it fun in some way to pretend you don’t.

Fixing an errant strand of hair back in place, you unfold the note and read. Another haiku, today, lamenting the dreary weather.

To simpler splendors Like summer's gentle breezes and honey most sweet - When will the rain stop?

You find it curious and strange - this possible complaint - given you know Clones come from the storm-cloaked world of Kamino. Surely this weather feels just like home for him; familiar, maybe even comforting. But maybe it’s not his complaint, it could have been your own off-handed remark from some time ago that he’s echoing back to you now.

Tech’s level of observation was truly incredible, sometimes. You already felt yourself missing his knowledgeable presence once he was healed up and returned to the Bad Batch. That wouldn’t happen until he was rid of the walking boot and cleared for active duty, which was mildly comforting to you, selfishly speaking. Logically you know this arrangement is temporary, and you will not always have your willing assistant.

A willing assistant who has given his attention to closing off communications with Wrecker, from the sound of things as CF99’s genius reads the messages under his breath. Tech is trying very hard to appear like he’s not taken notice that you’ve read his latest haiku.

You set the poetry aside along with the other locker notes, and pick up your clipboard full of the day’s tasks. “Take your time, Tech.” you promise, chuckling warmly as he flashes the famous pointer finger in your direction, requesting just an extra moment. “I know Wrecker misses having his big brother around.”

Tech says nothing in response to your teasing quip, only offering an appreciative if distracted smile before he’s ready to help you with your tasks for the day.

On Primedays, the first item of business on the list is often the most nerve-wracking of all your assignments, today no exception.

“Dammit, I grabbed the wrong screwdriver… Would you mind handing me the… the, uh…?” Tech takes the incorrect screwdriver from your fingers and replaces it with what you need while you struggle to think of the name for the correct type, much to your relief. “Oh, thank you Tech. Will you need this back when I’m done?”

Tech nods, a silent promise it was no trouble. “I will not. I’m finished with what I needed it for. Feel free to use it as long as you need.” He does not need to remind you to go slowly.

Your first research assignment of the morning involves dismantled bombs, and the additional Clone tucked in one corner of the room clad in the bright orange of ordnance specialists serves as an eye-catching distraction rather than a precautionary measure. Nicknamed Reddy, this Clone trooper is only doing his job, of course; he’s supposed to be here as part of the protocol. This facility has gone one thousand and twenty-seven days without an explosive incident, which is a comforting number, but there is no room for complacency. In the unlikely event a bomb somehow reactivates, Red Wire is here to snuff it out for good.

(Or tell everyone to evacuate and seek shelter if he somehow can’t.)

Helmet clipped to his utility belt, Reddy is reading the printed report, bobbing his head in time to some jaunty tune he’s got stuck in his head. “Disarmed and partially dismantled by… CT-9903. That’s your squadmate Wrecker, right?”

“Correct.” Tech replies tersely, hoping not to prove himself distracting to you. He’s only standing as close as he is to give or take tools as you need them.

Reddy nods his head in approval of the work scattered over the examination table. “He did a good job. Definitely has the gentle touch needed for bomb disposal.” Yes… Wrecker certainly had steadier nerves than yourself right now. You would prefer not to have shaking hands, no matter how incapable this bomb is… should be… of going off.

“Reddy…”

He catches the warning. “Sorry, ma’am.”

You just need to pull off a particular durasteel plate, and take detailed pictures of a unique section of wiring to enter it into the GAR database of known bomb constructs and find close or exact matches. Then Reddy has the pleasure of disposing of the remnants for you. Fewer distractions while you remove notoriously fiddly screws, the better.

So why are your hands still shaking now that you should be able to focus again?

“... dammit…” You’ve worked yourself up about the unsteady nature of your hands now. Stress will only worsen it, prolonging the tremble. Setting the screwdriver aside is the best course of action until you can find your nerve.

Rational thoughts, you remind yourself, everyone has had this happen to them at one time or another.

“May I?” Tech offers, voice softer than you ever remember it being before now.

He is careful in offering to help without immediately trying to take over your work. Tech recognizes you are capable in all the various aspects of your job, and he does not wish to undermine or blow off your expertise. He understands from experience how that can be frustrating, even disrespectful.

And Tech aims to be very respectful of you. He's been very careful in how he's hinted his interest in you thus far. (Maybe too careful.) The haikus in your locker had been because he heard you liked poetry, and he proactively accepted the honeysuckles Senator Amidala offered for the trouble because he thought you might like them. Sharing his favorite blend of caf was a decision more premeditated than the other two.

You step to the side, accepting the offer.

“Thank you, Tech...” you say, gesturing to the tools in an unspoken measure of please, by all means. Tech takes position where you previously stood, and begins to work on the dismantled explosive. Long, dexterous fingers make the process of loosening and extracting the remaining screws look deceptively easy.

“You’ll want your datapad soon,” Tech suggests helpfully, soon down to just two more corner screws to remove.

“Oh, yes…!”

Scooping the tablet off of the examination table, you habitually skip your fingers across the reactive transparisteel and pull up the camera function, priming everything to capture the colorful chaos of wiring and circuitry inside once Tech has removed the panel. Once it is lifted out of the way, Tech side-steps to allow you in front of the bomb once more so that you can capture records for the GAR database.

However, the camera will not focus.

“Strange…” You tap the center of the screen, hoping perhaps the datapad will behave like your modern comlink and auto-focus, but it does not give you the result you hoped for. You chuckle somewhat bashfully. “Sorry, it’s… been a while since I’ve used this old datapad for taking pictures.”

“Press the red, center button on the top row twice.”

Taking the advice of the bespectacled Clone beside you, the image on the screen comes into crisp focus, not a detail lost. “Oh, that’s what that button does.” This tablet is an older generation, but the facility keeps it because it's sturdy and reliable. No sense in replacing perfectly good technology so long as it continues to work.

“Been using these tablets for ages and I never knew that. How'd you know that?” Reddy asks from the corner, safely voicing his curiosity now that the hard part is behind you. “Just real tech-savvy, I take it. That how you get your name?”

Tech smiles knowingly. “Learning the ins and outs of each machine I use is crucial to my effectiveness in service of the Republic. Much in the same way you're here to assist the researchers, analysts and reverse engineers in bomb identification, in some cases.” The second question goes unanswered, you notice, but Reddy seems to let it go.

“Hah, can't argue with that comparison!” he says agreeably, his smile sunny. You’ve always liked that about this particular member of the bomb squad; Red Wire has an optimistic disposition and general attitude despite the nerve-rattling nature of his job. He’s not terribly jaded or gruff like some of the other Clones on rotation at this facility.

Once you've collected all your necessary pictures, you are promised that he'll take it from here. “Good work as ever ma'am. I'll clean up while you get started on the search.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the help as always from both you and Tech.” you say, patting him on the shoulder before you follow after Tech, who’s already making his way back to your desk, neck craned over his datapad. Stepping past the blast doors to catch up to Tech, you breathe a sigh of relief while Red Wire begins the disposal process, the hardest task of the morning behind you.

“Glad that’s over,” you say, finally feeling your quickened pulse slowing at last, “Thank you for the help once again, Tech.” You’re certain he heard the first thank you, but extra gratitude never killed anyone.

Tech’s deliberate stride slows to match with yours. “It was no trouble. I thought you might want the help.” A polite smile breaks the veneer of the usual expression of thoughtfulness and concentration you’ve become accustomed to in the time Tech’s been here.

You’re very familiar with how he appears when he’s concentrated: the furrowed brow, his shoulders rolled forward, the subconscious setting and unsetting of his jaw as he mulls over a million thoughts. Wowing your colleagues with how he could extrapolate info from separate, complex datasets within multiple windows on the screen of his datapad without error.

The way his brown eyes, deep and dark, looked like honey when framed behind his goggles…

Sitting down at your desk where you fire up the database you’ll be working with, already you see the slight furrow of his brow as Tech takes his seat on the other side, trading messages with his squadmates while he elevates his leg to alleviate the pressure of the walking boot. Tech misses being out there in the field more and more with every passing day.

“Tell ‘em I said hi.” you request with a soft chuckle before allowing him to concentrate on keeping himself in the loop. You just have to hope his handsome face painted in deep concentration doesn’t prove too distracting for you as you cross-reference your wire samples. The squad leader of the Bad Batch, Sergeant Hunter, had teased Tech once a few weeks ago, when he dropped by with Echo, on the depths of Tech’s concentration. That’s when you’d truly taken notice of it for the first time.

Tech, utterly embroiled in some “little” project he’d created for himself here at the research center, was staying long after your scheduled hours, repeatedly promising that you really don’t have to stay here.

You turn another page in your holomag. “I’ll be fine staying here a little longer. I want to make sure none of the senior analysts bother you. Again.” It was a slow Zhellday afternoon you had no other plans for, and a couple of people a little further up the chain of command really had a bug up their ass about Tech’s presence here today in particular, continually complaining about an incident with his crutches.

Someone hadn’t been looking where they were going and bumped into the mobility aids propped against a wall, knocking them over this morning. Unfortunately, there had been a tray of glass instruments set aside nearby that did not survive the crutches’ sudden descent. The senior analysts, most of them much older than you, wanted him thrown out of the facility and have the agreement with the GAR that Tech would be here until his broken leg healed nullified.

“He’s got a broken leg! Is he supposed to just hobble around the lab without his crutches? It was an accident, but I’m starting to suspect you’re looking for excuses to get rid of him because you’re feeling threatened by his intellect!”

Clone Force 99’s second-in-command hums shortly in delayed response, a frown marring his otherwise concentrated expression. Tech adjusts his goggles as he pours over some reference. The man with partial skull iconography inked across his similarly tanned face next to Tech carefully nudges him with his elbow.

“Tech, this is when you’re supposed to tell the nice lady thank you.” Hunter warns him, teasingly of course. He’s gotten back from a long deployment, and rather than going to the nearest mess hall with Wrecker and Crosshair, he’s come to check up on Tech, finding that he’s still at the GAR research center. He’s too tired to give any kind of reprimand just for the sake of appearances.

“Especially after this morning… Don’t make me do the nat-born thing, vod.”

Tech sort of scoffs, the threat of referring to him by his CT number, like a misbehaving natural-born child hearing the use of their middle name, by his brother having little effect.

“No thanks necessary, honestly.” You turn the page to your holomag, skimming the article to see if it’s worth an in-depth read, then meet Hunter’s eye. “It was honestly a bit cathartic to have a go at those jerks.” Decrying them as jerks to the squad leader of the Bad Batch was putting it real mildly given your true thoughts of them right about now.

Echo gives you a knowing nod. The sergeant smirks, and this is what gets Tech to break his silence.

“Don’t, Hunter.”

“Glad you made a friend, Tech.” Hunter says it with complete sincerity, so far as you can tell. Leaning back in the borrowed lab chair, Hunter kicks his feet up for a moment on a corner of the desk to adjust some parts of his armor. “Wrecker might get jealous.”

“I think we all would.” Echo says with a kind chuckle.

“Plenty of me to go around,” you promised the three of them, “I love making friends with the GAR.”

A few hours later, now four items deep into your checklist for the day with the wire cross-referencing behind you, you lean back in your chair and stretch your arms above your head, feeling something pop with great satisfaction. “Mmm! That felt good. Hey, Tech?” He nods to show he hears you, at which point you continue. “I’m thinking of running home real quick during lunch to take the honeysuckles home so I’m not wrestling with those on top of everything else I’ll have to take with me tonight. You gonna be okay on your own for a bit?”

“I will be fine.” he assures you, sliding the clipboard from “your” side of the desk over to his. “I may need the password to your desk-mounted computer terminal, however.”

“It’s ‘naboofields’. All one word, no capitals, special characters or letters.”

You root around your desk for one of the seemingly innumerable sticky-flim pads you possess, scribbling down the password - just in case - as neatly as you can before removing the top flimsi-note and hand it over to him. Honeyed eyes blink once in mild surprise after he inspects your handwriting.

“Not very secure, I know.” you laugh bashfully, straightening a few sheafs of flimsiplast before gathering up the stack of locker notes to tuck them in your pocket. Busywork to avoid any kind of lecturing look. But when you meet his eyes for the moment before wondering how best to pick up the ceramic vase full of beautiful tri-colored honeysuckle, you find no disappointment. Only more curiosity.

“Have you ever been to Naboo?” Tech asks. He’s noticed this particular topic has been cropping up a lot between the idle doodles on flimsi scraps of the bulbous Shaak grazing through lush emerald fields and little reminders you’ve written to yourself scattered across your desk lately. Ticket prices. Best time of year to go. Popular festivals. Fashion. You were weaving a curious pattern.

Tech doesn’t do this very often, but he hazards a guess. Could you perhaps be… homesick?

“Were you born there?”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t born there, and I’ve never visited before. Naboo’s just some… silly dream of mine lately.”

“Why do you say ‘silly’?” The question is earnest and sincere, and Tech sits forward off the backrest of the lab chair, posture straightening out. “Has someone said something unkind about your desire to see Naboo?” He couldn’t imagine why someone would disparage this; many galactic citizens express some level of desire to visit this planet in the Chrommell sector at least once in their lifespan.

He’s assured there’s no one being unkind to you when you wave him off, sliding the vase across your desk carefully. “No one other than me, I guess. I dunno when I’d ever have a chance to go visit between the work I do for the GAR, plus being in the middle of the Clone Wars for stars’ sake…” You’re considering if it would be worth telling him about your developing case of wanderlust, your craving for a taste of adventure. (Just a taste… just a taste!)

What Tech was supposed to do with that revelation, you weren’t sure. Did you want his help planning this whimsical trip? Or did you just need to confide in him with this harmless little secret?

“Would it be impolite to presume you don’t have many vacation days accrued in order to enjoy a short holiday?” Tech assumes you’re well aware of labor laws the GAR has to comply with for civilian staffing, like yourself, but he has no means of knowing how much PTO you have stored up without rooting into the system.

“Karabast, I- I hadn’t even thought of…” Your thoughts trail off as you look out one of the rain-spattered panes of transparisteel and determine you need to stop by your locker to gather your weather wear and rain repeller. When was the last time you had some extended leave from work that wasn’t a sick day, anyways? “I have some PTO I’m owed, but I try to be smart and save it for emergencies… I, uh, think I have more than two week’s worth.” Truthfully it’s been some time you looked at the amount of PTO you’ve accrued. It very well could be less than you remember, or more than you imagine.

Tech makes a quiet murmur of agreement that saving the time off for emergencies is rather smart, shrugging after a stretch of clearly contemplative silence. “I was merely curious.” The statement makes it tempting to tease him in return, say something like aren’t you always? but he has something more to say before you work up the nerve, gesturing to the clipboard. “May I watch the helmet footage for you while you take the Nabooian Honeysuckles home?”

“I was warned it was grisly.” you caution him out of kindness, thinking back to one of the locker notes. “So, as long as you don’t mind or won’t be bothered, I suppose you can look at the footage for me… Credits are on it being sent from Delta Squad.”

Scrutinizing the datadisc, Tech finds RC-1207 etched into it. Commando Sev, he tells you, went missing on Kashyyyk for a month early in the war… (Thank the Maker, his pod brothers had been fortunate in finding him.) Sev has never spoken of the experience.

“This should prove to be fascinating, in some regard.” Tech speculates, slotting the disc into an external inspection device to set everything up to complete this in your absence. Goggles are adjusted every so slightly, changing the way they are seated on his face. “I’ll leave the notes for you on your desk by the time you return.” he promises.

You make sure you’ve gathered the last of your things, saying that you better get going now that everything’s agreed upon. Carefully cradling the vase in the crook of your arm, you arrange the bouquet slightly with your free hand to avoid bruising any of the velveteen petals as you carry it.

Turning on your heel, you head for your locker to collect your rain repeller. “Appreciate it, Tech, thank you. I’ll catch you later.”

“Watch out for the deeper puddles, don’t slip.” Tech calls after you.

He’s overheard many of your colleagues using this phrase the last couple of days to warn one another; the longer the rain’s gone on, the deeper the areas of rain retention have become since the water table is oversaturated. There has been no break in the weather, but the end is in sight.

‘When will the rain stop?’ Soon. Maybe even tomorrow.

Habitually, you call back that you’ll be careful and another farewell, flashing him a sunny smile as you head out the door for the speeder cabs, the honeysuckles in one hand, repeller in the other. You don’t expect to be gone long.

Taking the vase full of honeysuckle home is your highest priority, right along with making sure the flimsiplast scraps in your pocket remain dry. Flimsi, while conveniently reusable, was hair-thin, had a slight transparency to it, and dissolved in water. (Why some disposable gowns for med centers were made out of the acrylic material when it was kriffing semi-transparent you had yet to figure out.) If you were careful of the shifting winds before you got to a speeder cab, Tech’s poems would stay safe and dry in your pockets, joining the others in a box of precious keepsakes at home.

Maybe you could put them all in a scrapbook one day, able to read and admire them all at leisure, or whenever you miss having new haikus show up in your locker once Tech’s broken leg is fully healed and he rejoins his brothers. Tech’s been careful not to voice how much he’s come to miss his brothers - else he risks sounding ungrateful for the research center agreeing to let him assist there after much back and forth - but you know he’s getting somewhat impatient.

“If I had known a second BX droid was around the boulder, I wouldn’t have tried to kick the first over the precipice…”

“That’s how you broke your leg?”

“Had it broken for me when the commando droid grabbed me, more accurately. Better me than Echo…”

He’d return to his brothers in time with the whole of hyperspace at his fingertips. Hunter would get his second-in-command back. The Havoc Marauder will have both of her pilots and it won’t be Echo spending time alone in the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair will once again have their brother to parse through factitious scenarios and the complicated mathematics necessary to pull it off relating to their enhancements to help one another in staving off hyperspace hypnosis.

And you’d go back to dreading Primedays and dreaming of clover covered plains on Naboo between every string of data you analyze for the GAR once Tech left. You’d miss the extra pair of capable hands and his talented, dare you say exceptional, mind. You’d miss the presence of yellow-lensed goggles and the steady, red light of the cylindrical camera attached to them that sometimes followed you around the analyst lab, that were as much a part of Tech’s face as the rest of his features.

You’d miss him and the harmless little crush Jais teases you over since helping you find out who your secret admirer was.

“Swing by your locker lately?”

“You have better eyesight than a Mynock but all the subtlety of a Reek, Jais. Yes I saw he left me another haiku.”

“What do they say?”

So much by using so little.

Tech has just seventeen syllables to work with, but boy does he make them work.

They will last far longer than any tender blossom, tucked carefully on the windowsill and lovingly arranged to fill in the gaps in the bouquet during transport. Home only for a short time, you settle for tucking the new haikus and other notes on the low table in the living room to sort through later tonight while eating dinner.

Come to think of it, maybe you should invite Tech over for dinner sometime, while he’s still here. (While there’s still time to leave things behind in order to remember him by.) He’s been staying in temporary accommodations in the unofficial research district since the nearest GAR barracks are an hour away, and the district isn’t too far from your place. You’re not sure what the protocol on this is (or if there’s any), and he’s more than welcome to turn you down, but-

This harmless crush has gone beyond only going one way.

You’re going to miss Tech when he leaves, not just because it means you'll lose an eager assistant who shares what he learns while you work. You've grown to like him in ways you haven't devoted proper time to exploring why with the nature of your work, but you like Tech too. And you don’t want just a vase full of honeysuckle that will one day wither and a smattering of haikus to remember him by.

You want something more. Something meaningful before he goes back to making mayhem for the Separatists.

And maybe it can start today, if you're clever enough.

It's time to stop daydreaming.

When you return to the research center, you first put your rain repeller away in your locker and collect the few notes that appeared while you were out. No new poems, only warnings that one of the senior analysts had a bug up their ass the size of a mynock (scratch that, a bantha) again over something minor, and it's best to stay out of their way until they cooled off.

“Hey, Tech, I'm back.” You announce your return from the lockers to avoid potentially startling him, finding him fiddling with a part of his vambrace. “Got some cryptic notes in my locker. Feel like I missed some excitement while I was away.”

“Yes… You certainly did.” One of the analysts lost their temper with the ‘newfangled’ caf-pot in the break room, Tech explains. Nothing newfangled about it in truth, it just wasn't working because it had been unplugged for cleaning and someone just forgot to leave a note.

“Speaking of notes,” he says as an aside, procuring a printed message from Lieutenant Waxer of Ghost Company in the 212th, “This came in just before you arrived while I was at the copier.”

Giving the lieutenant’s request a once-over, you find a general greeting after the Grand Army of the Republic’s letterhead, asking if someone would mind helping him locate the origin of a particular word in the language of the Twi’leks. Printed requests are deemed non-urgent, but it’s simple enough that you don’t mind adding his query to the bottom of your daily checklist, on which you find only the helmet footage crossed off.

“Thought you’d have gotten more done than this.” you say, chuckling as you take a seat at your desk.

Tech adjusts his goggles and meets your eye. “Felt it would be impolite to take your work from you when we had an agreement for just the footage.” He returns to fiddling around with his vambrace and his datapad, perhaps trying to sync something up.

His concern of taking further work from you without asking is very kind, and rather touching. You feel warmth in your face disproportionate to the heating system warming the labs on this rainy day. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t have minded too much, but thank you. What’d you do instead until I got back?” You figure it didn’t take all too long to study the commando’s footage, finding the notes Tech’s took for you pinned underneath the datadisc the feed was stored on. Lifting the high-tech paperweight, you give the notes a glance.

It’s the same thin lettering as the haikus.

Tech tuts in thought while snapping a part of his vambrace back where it belongs. “General research. Nothing important.” He does not immediately elaborate on what he had researched, thinking you may want to take a moment to mentally prep yourself for returning to work and start on the next task at hand.

They were not concerns he (often) had to keep in mind with Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair because he knew them so well compared to other people, compared to you. They spent the most time together and could give him a playful ribbing for overstepping boundaries, or starting detailed explanations when it wasn’t the best time. No one cares! was often said in-the-moment, and apologized for in ways that did not involve the words I’m sorry - and that was normal with his brothers.

So when you break into a big, friendly smile and draw out the word “Liiiike…?” while you continue to settle in, Tech knows it’s okay to elaborate. That you seem interested in what he has to say.

“It was the origin of halliksets. I became distracted when I learned they were quite popular on Naboo, and spent some time looking into that instead.” As he expected, you perk up with the mention of Naboo, interest piqued. “They’re made with seven strings, and the ore commonly used to make them comes from Kreeling, a mining planet also within the Chrommell sector.” The ore seems to be used to decorate the rounded body of the instrument, from what he had been reading. Ornamentation rather than function.

“Huh,” you say politely with a smile to match, “I had no idea. That’s really neat.”

You thank him for sharing before agreeing that perhaps you should get started on some of your work when he warns you that he can hear someone from another department coming, and it may be wise to appear busy.

For the next fifteen or so minutes, you and Tech are careful to appear focused on tasks from the clipboard. Something about figuring out why a standard caustic compound utilized by the GAR didn’t work. Tech casts a subtle glance over his shoulder while you muse over the specs, wondering just like you why someone from another department is taking their sweet time to leaf through all the disposable pipettes in the storage cabinet of all things. Trying to eavesdrop? Just really particular about their lab supplies? Who karking knows.

While looking into the humidity record on Felucia the day of the recorded equipment failure, you take a moment to open the system you submit your time-off requests to and look at the amount of paid time off accrued. Two and a half weeks. That’s not bad.

“Good to know….”

“What is it?” Tech asks.

“Oh, just poking into weather records,” you hum, hiding the portal, “Seems the caustic compound failed because of higher than average humidity that day. It was under six months old, so I don’t think it was a product age failure.” From the flashpoint of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, much of the equipment utilized barely sits on a shelf any longer than six standard months after its production and purchase for the Grand Army.

Clones were clever. Well trained. They knew how to account for things like planetary climate, weather conditions and equipment age out in the field, but you’ll always have the occasional fluke. Things beyond your control, beyond what you trained for. (Some things you could never train for.) But the Grand Army of the Republic could be trusted to give it their all, no matter the occasion, no matter the challenge.

You trusted men like Red Wire with your life here in the labs when you had to work with disarmed bombs, never doubting his ordnance training for a second. The same goes for the man sitting on the other side of your desk from you now, the injured leg in the walking boot propped up in a spare chair. You trust Tech too.

When the personnel from another department finally leaves, they’re grumbling something venomously about the missing label-maker under their breath, the word “di’kut!” loudest of all.

You recognize the Mando’a. Pronunciation DEE-koot. Multiple meanings. Idiot. Useless. Waste of space. (More accurately a waste of their time… Pretty sure someone already said the label-maker wasn’t in there.) You wonder where they know the word from.

Speaking for yourself, you’ve picked up a smidgen of the language from working as a researcher and analyst, and you’ve added a few more words to your repertoire from Tech’s uninterrupted correspondence with the Bad Batch that he’s allowed you to see some of.

And speaking of them… Now that you and Tech are alone, this might be a good time to try putting your plan in motion knowing how much PTO you have to work with now. You want to go to Naboo, and you want to see if there’s any way you can convince Tech to go with you. Maybe even meet you there with the rest of Clone Force 99. Make bumping into them look like a coincidence.

“Hey Tech, when you return to your brothers, any plans or ideas on where you’ll go first?”

A pad of sticky flimsi-notes is pulled from one of the many drawers of your desk, and you root around for a working pen while you wait on an answer. Calling upon courage from the very heart of the cosmos, you hope you can pull this off.

Tech answers the break in relative silence with a quirk of his eyebrow. “None that I’m aware of, but I suspect we’ll be going wherever we are needed.” There is a long contemplative pause, eyes flicking to his trusty tablet more than once as a few new messages from Wrecker come in.

“Is there some reason you’re asking?” He pushes the datapad aside now, giving you more of his attention, which is appreciated.

Shoulders bounce. “What if I said I was just curious?” You don’t expect him to buy that, he’s too clever. But you need a moment of quiet contemplation on his part to count out the syllables without messing up. Once you’re certain you have five, then seven syllables, you flash him an easygoing smile. “Being curious isn’t a crime, is it?”

“On some planets it is. Some rather… ridgid, often self-isolated cultures across the galaxy view curiosity as a sign of an idle mind and fear it will inspire mischief. Free thinking. Rebellion.”

The question had been rhetorical, and you don’t mind that he answered, but you find the fact quite sad. You also don’t want to begin to imagine how that sort of “crime” is punished. Curiosity is a natural part of life to all, to criminalize it is… frankly ridiculous.

“Well good thing we’re not in one of those isolated cultures.” you say, now thinking how you’ll finish penning this poem. Should you add your reasoning for why you wrote this at the bottom? (Would you even have room?) Maybe you should just tell him after he’s read your poem instead.

“Agreed.” Another message comes in from Echo this time, but Tech ignores it, continuing to hold eye contact with you; almost like he’s performing an inspection. “So I hope it does not feel like an accusation when I say I don’t believe you are ‘just curious’.”

“I did have an idea…” you admit, fiddling with the pen in your hand for the moment, “Since I heard Clone Force 99 isn’t keen on following every little order…” This is when you choose to slide the haiku you were working on over to “his” side of the desk, waiting in nervous silence as brown eyes scrutinize every Aurebesh letter laid bare before them.

Can't we ever go to a nice place, verdant fields of spring eternal? - Feel like breaking a few rules?

Tech’s eyes lift from the flimsiplast note, looking surprised. He didn’t take you for the sort of person who’d encourage breaking certain GAR protocols, let alone… Your name falls from his lips, asking what this is about in the same tender tone.

“I thought about what you asked regarding how much time off I have, and I found out I have two and a half weeks…” You explain, fiddling with the pen some more to occupy your nervous hands while he continues to monitor you. “I thought… Maybe once your leg heals up, and you’re cleared to return to active duty, you could find an excuse to spend some time on Naboo. Get to know each other better, perhaps?” He clearly has some kind of feelings for you that are in the earlier stages of reciprocation, and if you’re away from the lab, and he finds the time or the excuse to nip down to the Chrommell sector and meet up with you on Naboo, then neither one of you have to worry about behaving quite so professionally.

Looking down at the haiku once again, Tech takes in your explanation, your invitation, and offers a mild chuckle at long last.

“You know what my brothers will say if I tell them about this?”

You swallow nervously. “W-what?”

“That it almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date.”

You do what you can to keep your jaw from dropping, but there’s little to be done about the fiery feeling building in the apple of your cheeks that suggests there may be color blooming there. If you’re blushing, Tech certainly does a splendid job of politely pretending he sees no such thing while he gives your poem another look.

You do the same in kind when additional color builds in his own face and crawls up his neck from under the top of the body suit. “I take it you figured out who was secretly leaving you the haikus.” His smile is timid, but not quite as nervous as your own.

“I did. A while ago, actually.” you confess, confirming his suspicions. “I had help checking the cameras to see where the first one came from. I didn’t see a reason to say anything, or stop you.” You add that you’ve kept every single one, too, to some surprise of the computer and weapons specialist sitting across from you.

He sits forward now, carefully easing the walking boot to the floor. “You really want to spend time with me on Naboo?” Your earnest nod surprises him further. You do. Out of millions of Clones in the galaxy, you’re asking Tech (and his brothers by proxy) to join you in visiting the idyllic planet.

You carefully carve out a little portion of your PTO and submit the request as the very first step in the planning process, and while you await approval you and Tech will continue to work together as normal. You still have to behave professionally in the meantime.

Well, as professionally as possible when Tech decides he can now confess he has a backlog of haikus for you, enough so you could have one waiting for you in your locker every day until he’s cleared to return to fieldwork in a few weeks, in theory.

“Poetry every Primeday, honeysuckles today, and now you’re offering daily haikus? Maybe I will be asking you out on a date if you continue to spoil me like that.” you warn him, chuckling. Of course now you get the feeling Tech will make sure the weeks leading up to your time-off would consist of honeysuckle and haiku to ensure that you would.

And those were going to become some of your best weeks working as a researcher and analyst for the GAR, whether you got that time off or not, because it would be spent making precious memories with Tech.

That was what mattered most.

First time I've ever participated in one of these events, and I don't think I did too badly, considering I completely restarted this at one point! (Apologies for how long this ended up being, too, haha.) I hope you liked it, Tech-a! 🩷

Fic taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit

[Masterlist] [TBB Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: Open]

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bloodsuckerproxy · 9 months ago

Text

Introducing...The Jacksons!

The family for my STNAF OC Lenny (find more about him here)

I knew when I made Lenny I wanted him to have a very different upbringing to Friend. I knew he was going to come from low-income and he's personally based off the type of people I grew up around and as. We also don't see this family type often enough and I wanted to show that :3

As always, STNAF belongs to @stnaf-vn and please check the game out!!!!

About the Family

Lil Frankie

5'9"

Protective, Cold, Selfless, Tomboy

Frankie was thought to be a boy during Ruby's pregnancy and so they were going to name her after Frank. Turns out she was a girl and they stuck with the name, opting for Frankie instead

She comes off as rude and cold, but she actually is just no nonsense and wants to keep her family/friends safe

Currently a bodyguard and does boxing on the side

Very salty she is shorter than Lenny

Daddy's girl

Frank

6'1"

Caring, Clumsy, Artistic, Sweet

Frank is like literally the embodiment of Goofy. He does his best but always seems to get hurt or break something. He means well though!!

Was a young dad (17) but did his best for his kids, including going back to school so he could get a better job once Lil Frankie was a couple years old

Currently a mechanic. Likes to make trash sculptures on the side

Very DIY. Taught Lenny everything about fixing things and making something out of nothing

Loves Ruby dearly. Will always find a way to gift her something. Knows her fave lipstick shades

Rebecca "Ruby"

5'9"

Assertive, Chatty, Caring, Motherly

Ruby was also 17 when her and Frank had Lil Frankie. She finished high school and worked through cosmotology school after the pregnancy

Currently a hair stylist and nail tech

Practiced doing hair and nails on Lenny since he liked spending time with her

She adores how sweet (and slightly stupid) Frank is and that's why they ended up falling in love. They are high school sweethearts fr <3

Will always welcome people into her home even if she can't offer anything more than a roof over their head or an ear to listen. Very selfless

Comes off as very gossipy but she will die with your secrets if you ask her to

Lenny

6'2"

Carefree, Open Minded, Optimistic, Punk

Takes after his dad in personality but is a total momma's boy

Ruby: Ruby taught him about fashion, makeup, nails, etc. and often practiced on him since he liked being pampered. He loves his mom a lot and her open minded nature made him the man he is today

Frank: Frank and Lenny don't need to say much to be together. They are very similar people and even though Frank's silly stories never seem to make sense, Lenny always listens. They love to make trash sculptures together or go dumpster diving

Lil Frankie: Frankie always had to look out for Lenny since he was a bit of a naive kid, but also when he got more into fashion. She would protect him despite the fact he could defend himself from bullies. He loves his big sister and he loves to annoy her (she pretends to hate it but she loves him back lol)

Anyways I wanna draw more STNAF once I have time fr fr :3

#stnaf #see thru need a friend #see thru need a friend oc #oc #original character #fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #punk #midwestern #family

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uyuforu · 10 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/uyuforu/742760539006156801/hiii-i-wanted-to-know-which-part-of-my-natal

hello not my ask but could you do an example with jk chart? its ok if not i dont want to bother

hope you have good day

Jungkook's Style Evolution

Jungkook's style has been something very interesting to watch over the years. A Fashion style and the way dress always have an importance, at it reflects our personality, our tastes, our self, our mood but also our evolution as a being. And as we all know, JK's Fashion indeed changed over the years too. I thought it would be very interesting to take a look, and someone in the ask box asked me to do so. I wanted then to do a full analysis based on Natal Chart and Solar Returns. You can also check it and apply it to yourself! Please note that I couldn't put more than 30 images in this post, which was inconvenient in a way since I couldn't show more. I tried to take pictures that were a good representation of what JK wore every time. I also chose airport outfits since it is the most popular way to see about JK's fashion style and own fashion choices, other outfits were often chosen by stylists.

Techniques used: Natal Chart + Solar Returns

Placements used: Sun, Rising, Rising's ruler, 1H, MC, Venus, Venus's Ruler, Mars, Stellium for Natal Chart. Rising, Venus, Venus' Ruler, MC sometimes, Mars sometimes for Solar Returns.

Book a private reading: menus ; Q&A ; rules

⋅˚₊ Jungkook's Natal Chart Indicators ₊˚ ⋅

₊˚⊹ Jungkook's Sun is Virgo, and it makes him prefer casual clothing. He also prefers sporty style, clothing you can wear outside and inside, and clothing that are comfortable to move in. Simple, nothing too extravagant. The clothing he often wear are so more comfortable and casual than actually looking luxurious. He often wear jeans too. Colors are also basic ones.

₊˚⊹ Jungkook's Rising sign is Capricorn. JK will look masculine, dominant and a little scary or just distant usually. It makes him so chose clothing that will make him appear older, or he will want to dress a certain way that makes him appear as an actual adult. It makes sense since JK always has been often babied his whole life, he chose a style that is dark, and chose to appear a way to makes sense with his Rising. He wants to tell people through his fashion sense and appearance that he is a grown up, a man, and mostly an adult. He doesn't want people to keep treating him like a baby or a child. He wants people to respect him when they see him. The ruler of the Rising sign is Saturn which is in Aries 3H. Aries here makes sense with his style, his tattoos and mostly that JK wants to have a lot of muscles and wants to look attractive physically, he often takes care of his body shape. The 3H is a Gemini house, rulling the arms and hands, and this is where JK has tattoos. Despite his actual look and desire to appear older, JK will still have that youthful look of his, but his fashion style will so be chosen for him to be treated like a man and not a boy.

₊˚⊹ JK's Venus sign is in Libra, and being its own ruler, JK has indeed a good fashion sense. He cares a lot about how he looks and how the clothings he chooses to wear suit him. He is part of the people who can't go out in clothing they don't like. It doesn't have to be the runway kind of fashion whenever he goes out, but he needs to wear what he likes. Even if his outfits seem most of the time casual and comfortable, it is in fact his style and his fashion sense, and he actually likes this style. It looks like he doesn't care while in fact he does. JK also has a lot of different accessories he wears daily. His Venus is in 9H, he has an appearance that doesn't fit the Korean standards, despite that many other Koreans have tattoos and piercings, it is not considered something well seen in the country. More because JK is an idol. He made a revolutionary move by having so much tattoos, showing them freely. Even with his style.

₊˚⊹ JK's Mars sign is in Scorpio, making a lot of sense with the way he dresses. He looks very good in black and dark clothing. He likes the pull off the "Bad Boy" style and it is actually a good idea since it goes well with his Mars sign. He is very attractive and sexier in this outfits, not because of the style itself, but because it goes well with the placement. Dressing according to its Venus style is important but Mars is also very important since it will make you look good and attractive in the eyes of others. JK before used to dress in a much more casual and comfy style like his Sun sign. It suited him well but ever since he started to dress along his Mars sign, you can see his self confidence is higher. Piercings, showing much more his body shape, dark & black clothing, excellent choices. He owns the mysterious and hot guy style. His Tattoos, despite being his personal choices, actually also goes well with his style.

₊˚⊹ JK's MC is Libra, which represents his reputation. JK has the reputation to have a good fashion sense, he explored different styles, yet he knows how to dress well. He is considered as one of the best members of BTS to dress for airport style for example. He also has a good way to dress usually, and always seems to appear very good looking wherever he goes. Whatever he pulls off will suit him.

₊˚⊹ JK has a 1H & 8H stellium, which makes sense since he always stated that his body and appearance mattered much to him. He is often seen working out, and taking care of his appearance. He wants to look good, he also likes to be praised for how he looks, fashion wise but also just also about his body shape. The 8H stellium is clearly a big indicators about how people see him. JK's Neptune 1H first indicate people see him in a way that is not 100% true, they desire him for how he looks, but not actually him as a person. Having a 8H stellium makes JK appear very desirable for most people. He looks hot, sexy, mysterious, just someone people are obsessed with.

⋅˚₊ Jungkook's Natal Chart Indicators ₊˚ ⋅

જ⁀➴ SRC 2015-2016

₊˚⊹ This year, JK was Gemini Rising. This made him dressed in many different colors, and style. He wasn't afraid to mix colors, and mostly was dressing in a more colorful and joyful way. It was also a year of self discovery fashion wise, as JK sometimes wore black, and sometimes colorful outfits. With the 20° (Scorpio), we can see how JK was very shy about his appearance, his body language in most pictures that year made it obvious he was shy. He may also dressed in a way that made him look normal, basic, not extra to make him stand out. Despite also being young that year (He was 2017 years old), his Gemini rising also makes him dresses in a "childlike" fashion style, meaning he dresses as people his age, or with clothing that made him appear younger.

₊˚⊹ Fashion this year was indeed very colorful for men, it was also a year with simple clothing: a jacket, a skinny jean, a simple t-shirt. And backpacks seemed to be also pretty popular, something JK was often wearing that year. Cargo pants were also an iconic fashion trend that year, and JK didn't miss it. This style was similar to the Skater Boy, often wearing beanies too, pretty popular for men and boys around that year.

₊˚⊹ This year's Venus was Leo 3H, again a Gemini placement. With Leo Venus, Fashion could have been really important for him this year, he may have cared a lot. Being in the 3H, it must have been a way to express himself, maybe expressed his mood of the day.

₊˚⊹ Venus' Ruler is the Sun, being in 4H. He may have wanted to dress very much like Korean's Fashion this year, following trends and not wanting to stand out in his own style much. The Scorpio degree on the Sun also make sense, JK didn't seem to be very confident in his appearance, he so didn't want people to notice him much in his fashion style. What he wore was very simple.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2016-2017

₊˚⊹ For this year, JK was Virgo Rising, his fashion style was clear, neat, he was always very well dressed, every accessories making a perfect sense. He started dressing with neutral colors such as Black, dark colors, white, beige, and also often wore Jeans. Very casual fashion style. The 5° on his rising sign makes him have a good fashion style, it's not only casual, you can see that JK has a big interest in Fashion this year. The way he dresses felt like it actually mattered to him. It also makes him in touch with trends and the fashion world, as the way JK dresses was very similar to the trends of that time, despite JK wearing a more "casual" look.

₊˚⊹ JK's 1H Stellium also explains how he got a glow up this year, his appearance really mattered this year to him. Moreover, the Sun is in there, making it really obvious how important it was. His Fashion style was part of his identity.

₊˚⊹ Venus was in Libra 2H this year, with also the ruler being in its home. It was very obvious JK was really into fashion this year, dressing very well. That year, JK wore a lot of skinny jeans, showing his tights and hips very much. He wore casual yet luxurious outfits, which is very logical to me since the venus is in a Taurus House but also with a Taurus degree.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2017-2018

₊˚⊹ The way I just laugh out loud when I saw his SRC this year. It is just so obvious. This is the year JK started to dress in black mostly, Black and White were his only go to Fashion Style. Even jeans were black. This can be easily explained with his Scorpio Rising this year. JK also often wore a leather Jacker, which is such a Scorpio thing to me. It gives me bad boy style tbh. I don't wanna sound cliché tho. With the Cancer degree on the rising, JK indeed followed fashion Trends from Korea this year, Black was seen often and was a popular color (if I can say color).

₊˚⊹ Venus is once again in Leo this year, in 9H. Fashion style could have been also inspired from foreign lands, where indeed leather jackets was a trend. Having more dark colors on their outfits was something that we could often see. Fashion was also very important this year. JK was indeed popular for his bad boy look he wore. The Libra degree on the Venus made him always have a proper look, always looking very well out and harmonious. Being in 9H makes sense since his Fashion look were often popular when he was at the airport.

₊˚⊹ The Ruler is the Sun in 10H, and the MC being in Leo makes a lot of sense to me. Around those years, JK's fashion sense became very popular and his fashion style was part of his good reputation. He was popular for his fashion sense, the way he wore, but also how his fashion made him appear. People were going crazy and often called JK "hot", "sexy", etc. Coming back to the Scorpio Rising, this can also be explained as to why. That made him indeed appear as sexy, hot, and mysterious. People were obsessed with his look. The MC being in an Aquarius degree makes a lot of sense, JK was very popular for his fashion and his appearance online from this year.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2018-2019

₊˚⊹ This year, JK was Aquarius rising. It was very interesting since to me having Aquarius rising makes us look very unique, avant-garde and maybe even following our own fashion style without caring much about trends. JK this year continued to wore black often. Most of his outfits were that colors. He was often wearing clothings the he liked, not caring much about fashion itself compared the the previous years. He was more into comfortable clothing this year than fashion itself.

₊˚⊹ Fashion this year was actually pretty colorful on the runways. Despite the clothing were also comfortable for men, fashion was still around skinny jeans, simple t-shirts, etc. So JK actually dressed different from most of the fashion trends this year. He was still into fashion, but maybe detached himself from the fashion trends and started to go on a self-journey. He was finally finding his own style.

₊˚⊹ Venus this year was in Libra 8H. The darker color, even just black makes sense since it is in the 8H. JK was seen more often hiding his face, letting his bangs being long, often wearing hats and caps that were almost hiding his face. Fashion was still part of him, and he dressed well according to his body type and his tastes. Moreover, MC this year was in Scorpio, which makes a lot go sense.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2019-2020

₊˚⊹ This year was a brand new beginning for JK as he started to get Tattoos, the first ones on his hands. Funny thing since this year, JK was Gemini rising. And Gemini rules also over the hands but also the arms, and JK also had some more tattoos later in 2020, on the arms.

₊˚⊹ This year, JK was so Gemini Rising with a 9°. Despite Black was still being his go to color, he was wearing clothings with different style. He was also known for his iconic hairstyle this year (the curly hair), that people created the Dora meme with. He was wearing a sporty casual style, with big clothing that made him look tiny. He could wear very casual and good outfits and the next time wear a very casual and sporty outfit. It seemed like he cared and other times he was just wanting to wear more comfortable clothing.

₊˚⊹ Venus this year is in Virgo 4H, his style was very casual, and very everyday style. It was a style which was comfortable and you could wear everyday. The Ruler is in the same sign and house, which adds to the fact JK really wanted it to be comfy and without any extra. He was also wearing a lot of oversized clothing this year again, which add more comfort.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2020-2021

₊˚⊹ For 2020, JK was Leo Rising with Aries degree. JK wasn't wearing much on his heads this year, often wanting to show up with different hairstyles. His Fashion was more "fashionable" than comfortable this year. He often expressed his own style and give more importance to his clothing style. Patterns appeared much more than last year. While JK was always wearing simple clothing before, he showed more patterns from this SRC.

₊˚⊹ The Venus was in Cancer 11H, JK was still wearing comfortable clothings. He was still on finding his own style as the way he was dressing wasn't that seen on the runway. He was using trends in the way he wanted to wear them. For example, the plaid pattern was seen often on runways this year, and JK also wear those, but in a more casual manner, in a more comfortable manner.

₊˚⊹ Since his Venus's ruler is the Moon, it is in Aquarius 6H, comfortable clothing, and preferring to wear his own style. I think it's over these years JK really imposed his own style. He knew he was into comfortable and casual clothing, but I feel like it's around the beginning of 2020's that his fashion style really became his.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2021-2022

₊˚⊹ This year is really iconic to me, it is the years JK's QG's photoshoot went out and it was viral. An icon. His Rising this year was Scorpio 8°, full Scorpio. If you want to know more about the photoshoot, I advise you to take a look because it's the best representation of this rising. This year JK looked mysterious, often once again wearing black and not much patterns. He sometimes wore some but not much. He was mostly in plain black and mostly showing much more his abs and body shapes with his clothing. He was full on the piercings and tattoos. It was truly the bad boy style this year, it also reminds me of the Hongdae Men lol.

₊˚⊹ His Venus was Libra 12H, and I remember that JK's shoes collection was wild this year, people were often posting and discussing about his shoes. Since Pisces/ 12H rules over the feet, it makes a lot of sense. Coming back, indeed JK's sense of fashion was wild, and he was often seen posing for photoshoots. His Leo MC makes a lot of sense.

₊˚⊹ His rising's rulers were Mars (11H) and Pluto (3H), JK's fashion was very popular online this year too, he was still in his own style and not caring much about most of trends, he was wearing what he wanted, and I almost want to say he was the creator of trends. He was versatile, going to comfy to luxurious style. He could pull everything off!

જ⁀➴ SRC 2022-2023

Didn't include 2023-2024 since JK is currently in Military.

₊˚⊹ This year JK was Capricorn Rising. His style was def more dominant. The way he appeared was always was very masculine too, showing much more his skin, abs, and body. Even in photoshoots, he wasn't just trying to show his fashion sense, it was also about the vibe he wanted to give to people. During this SRC, Seven went out and I suggest you to look at the photoshoot of the album... :) Saturn being the Rising's ruler, is in the 1H, making it obvious JK wanted to show a strong appearance, proving to people he is not a child anymore.

₊˚⊹ The Venus was in Leo 7H, JK was wearing a good fashion style still. It was still his iconic look but he looked very attractive because of his good style. JK's fashion this year was less sporty and comfy, it was more about the actual fashion. He was wearing jeans and casual attire yet it was similar to the SRC 2016-2017. His clothing and fashion were really well put together and accessories were often seen on him. Not only his piercings, but necklaces and beanies too.

₊˚⊹ Venus ruler is the Sun which is in 8H,JK had a mysterious, sexy and hot aura once again this year. He was showing more his body and even while working he chose a style that looked like that. He also started to do a photoshoot for Calvin Klein this year, which was iconic to me. It was the first time people were actually seeing JK's abs. The photoshoot shows JK's persona, as a dark bad boy (he loves that style). It actually suits the MC, his reputation was someone hot, sexy and mostly a man that was really desired.

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