#Tailored Cladding Colour Matching

[claddingsprayforimprovedaest]

The Power of Cladding Spray Consultation Services: Transforming Your Vision into Reality

When it comes to revitalizing the exterior of your property, cladding spraying stands out as a versatile and cost-effective solution. However, navigating the world of cladding spray options can be overwhelming without expert guidance. That's where Cladding Spray Consultation Services  come into play. These specialized services offer invaluable support and guidance, helping you navigate the complexities of cladding spraying and turn your vision into reality. Join us as we explore the transformative power of cladding spray consultation services and how they can elevate your property to new heights.

Understanding Cladding Spray Consultation Services: Your Partner in Transformation

A Collaborative Approach

Cladding spray consultation services operate on the principle of collaboration, working closely with clients to understand their goals, preferences, and budgetary considerations. Whether you're looking to refresh the appearance of an aging building or enhance the curb appeal of a new construction project, these services provide tailored solutions to meet your needs.

Expert Insight and Advice

With years of industry experience and expertise, cladding spray consultants offer invaluable insight and advice throughout the project lifecycle. From selecting the right materials and finishes to optimizing the application process for maximum efficiency and longevity, their expertise ensures that every aspect of the project is meticulously planned and executed.

The Benefits of Cladding Spray Consultation Services

1. Tailored Solutions

Cladding spray consultation services offer customized solutions tailored to your unique requirements. Whether you're seeking a specific aesthetic outcome, addressing maintenance concerns, or exploring budget-friendly options, consultants work with you to develop a plan that aligns with your vision and objectives.

2. Comprehensive Guidance

From the initial consultation to project completion, cladding spray consultants provide comprehensive guidance and support every step of the way. They handle all aspects of the project, from site assessment and material selection to application techniques and post-project maintenance, ensuring a seamless and stress-free experience for clients.

3. Maximizing ROI

By leveraging their expertise and industry connections, cladding spray consultants help clients maximize their return on investment (ROI). Whether it's through cost-effective material choices, efficient application methods, or long-term maintenance strategies, consultants ensure that clients achieve the best possible outcomes within their budgetary constraints.

The Consultation Process: What to Expect

1. Initial Assessment

The consultation process begins with an initial assessment, during which the consultant meets with the client to discuss their objectives, preferences, and constraints. This may include a site visit to evaluate the condition of the existing cladding and identify any specific challenges or opportunities.

2. Proposal Development

Based on the initial assessment, the consultant develops a detailed proposal outlining the scope of work, timeline, and budget for the project. This proposal serves as a roadmap for the project, providing clarity and transparency to the client throughout the process.

3. Material Selection

Once the proposal is approved, the consultant assists the client in selecting the appropriate materials and finishes for the cladding spray project. This may involve evaluating different coating options, color palettes, and textures to achieve the desired aesthetic and performance goals.

4. Project Execution

With the materials selected, the consultant oversees the execution of the project from start to finish. This includes coordinating with contractors, scheduling application work, and ensuring that all quality standards are met throughout the process.

Looking Ahead: The Future of Cladding Spray Consultation Services

1. Technological Advancements

As technology continues to advance, cladding spray consultation services will leverage digital tools and software to enhance project planning, visualization, and execution. This may include virtual reality simulations, augmented reality applications, and advanced data analytics to optimize project outcomes.

2. Sustainable Solutions

In response to growing environmental concerns, the future of cladding spray consultation services will prioritize sustainability and eco-friendliness. Consultants will increasingly focus on recommending environmentally responsible materials, coatings, and application techniques to minimize the ecological footprint of cladding spray projects.

3. Enhanced Client Engagement

Cladding spray consultation services will place greater emphasis on client engagement and collaboration, leveraging digital communication tools and online platforms to facilitate real-time communication and project updates. This will ensure that clients remain informed and involved throughout the duration of their cladding spray projects.

In conclusion, cladding spray consultation services play a vital role in guiding clients through the complexities of cladding spray projects and ensuring successful outcomes. By offering expert advice, tailored solutions, and comprehensive support, these services empower clients to achieve their aesthetic and functional goals while maximizing their return on investment. Whether you're embarking on a new construction project or revitalizing an existing property, cladding spray consultation services are your partner in transformation.

[acapelladitty]

A huge happy birthday to the very delightful and extremely sweet @enigmamuse 🎂💜 Have this snarky and somewhat silly little Riddler and Scarecrow snippet 🫡💋 xx

The circus had come to town.

Bright colours, jazzed-up musical numbers, and costumes which teetered just on the right side of tasteful filled the packed main hall of the Iceberg Lounge and Edward could almost imagine Oswald laughing as he stared down through his one-way glass at the sea of money which would soon be flowing into his deep pockets.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Gotham!"

Clad in a tailored costume which was so ostentatious that even Edward doubted he could pull it off, the ringmaster strode around the centre of the room with purpose, dragging every gaze as he did.

"Let's move on and get some of you lovely guests up here! I want hands up! Let's volunteer some of our friends for a little task! A little trick!"

Edward's hand was up like a shot, cutting through the air and standing proud amongst the sea of raised arms.

"Hand down before I take it."

The words were hissed and the genuine anger within them made Edward smirk as he turned to the side and faced his irate partner.

"The fool requested volunteers, Jonathan. I'm only taking part." Edward defended, pursing his lips to keep his laughter from escaping. "Maybe they will have a costume? You'd look marvellous in feathers."

A searing pain in his groin drew a frantic yelp from Edward's lips as his hand dropped to wrap around Crane's wrist to prevent his razor-thin fingers from digging any deeper into the sensitive length of his clothed cock.

"You, sir? A volunteer?"

Zeroing in on them like a bloodhound, the ringmaster smiled brightly in the direction of their whisky-stained table.

"No."

Edward's voice emerged in a slightly higher pitch than usual and he coughed the change away with a gentle rumble.

"Cretin! You had better be prepared to kiss it better later on." Edward scowled, the heft of his palm gently rubbing away the lingering pain in his groin as he grumbled his discontent. "Laying your filthy hands on me...I swear if there's a single mark..."

"You like my hands on you any other time."

Tapping his fingers in a jaunty tune against the table, Jonathan matched the scowl with one of his own and Edward hated how much better the expression sat on the deep-set lines of his face.

"Sometimes I think you revel in being difficult for the sake of it." Jonathan continued.

"Sometimes I think you revel in being a son of a bitch for the sake of it."

"We both know that's the truth."

"I worked at a travelling circus once, you know."

Tactful as ever, Edward divered the conversation down a fresh path as he swirled the body of his wine glass around to disturb the merlot within.

The whisky in Jonathan's own glass disappeared in one solid gulp. A noise of amusement playing in his chest.

"A travelling circus?" He exclaimed, voice far too jovial and interested to be genuine. "I was unaware there was still money in the freak show game."

"At night, I dream of killing you."

"Only at night?" Jonathan sank the last of his gin with his mouth set into a grim line. "Age has made you soft, Edward."

[anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek]

TEARING DOWN YOUR WALLS (MYCROFT HOLMES X OC!MORIARTY)

Alizon Moriarty, the elder sibling of the renowned consulting criminal, embodies a striking presence with matching hair colour and eyes reminiscent of their notorious counterpart. Yet, Alizon diverges distinctly, portraying a vibrant intellect intertwined with a refined sense of style. Despite their jovial demeanour, Alizon conceals a latent tendency toward psychopathy, a trait that surfaces only under specific triggers.

As the older sibling, Alizon occupies a position of authority within the government, surpassing even the esteemed Mycroft Holmes in rank. Identified as demi-gender, Alizon navigates their identity with grace and confidence, seamlessly balancing their professional obligations with personal complexities.

Mycroft Holmes, The epitome of governmental authority and intellectual prowess. With a demeanour that exudes cool, calculated control, Mycroft navigates the intricate web of political intrigue and criminal activity with unparalleled finesse. His towering intellect is matched only by his formidable presence, often depicted as a master manipulator behind the scenes.

Physically imposing yet possessing an understated elegance, Mycroft's sharp wit and encyclopaedic knowledge serve as formidable weapons in his arsenal. Clad in impeccably tailored suits that mirror his refined taste, he commands attention in any room he enters. Despite his enigmatic demeanour, Mycroft harbours a complex relationship with his younger brother, Sherlock Holmes, often oscillating between mentorship and exasperation in their interactions.

As these two formidable figures cross paths, the question arises: will the elder Moriarty and Holmes siblings become rivals akin to their notorious counterparts, or will they chart a course entirely different from their younger siblings' paths?

Read the story here

Masterlist of what I've written

[sharath3947]

Comprehensive Guide to ACP Acrylic Board Manufacturer in Bangalore

Introduction to ACP Acrylic Boards

In Bangalore, ACP acrylic boards have gained essential status in architectural and signage applications for their versatility and durability. These composite panels, combining aluminum and acrylic, offer a lightweight yet robust solution for diverse design needs. As the premier ACP Acrylic Board Manufacturer in Bangalore, we are committed to delivering high-quality materials that perfectly meet both aesthetic and functional requirements.

Why Choose ACP Acrylic Boards?

Durability and Weather Resistance

Our ACP acrylic boards are renowned for their exceptional durability and weather resistance. These boards are designed to withstand Bangalore's diverse climatic conditions and maintain their structural integrity and vibrant colours over years of outdoor exposure. Whether used in building facades or outdoor signage, our boards offer longevity without compromising visual appeal.

Customization Options

As a dedicated manufacturer of ACP acrylic boards in Bangalore, we offer extensive customization options to cater to unique project requirements. From different thicknesses to a wide range of colours and finishes, our boards can be tailored to match specific design concepts and branding needs. This flexibility ensures that each project receives a bespoke solution that enhances its visual impact and functionality.

Sustainability Features

At our manufacturing facility in Bangalore, sustainability lies at the heart of our operations as the premier ACP Acrylic Board Manufacturer in Bangalore. We prioritize eco-friendly practices throughout the production of our ACP acrylic boards, utilizing recyclable materials and optimizing resource efficiency. This approach not only minimizes environmental impact but also ensures our products meet stringent international quality standards.

Applications of ACP Acrylic Boards

Architectural Excellence

Architects in Bangalore prefer ACP acrylic boards for their ability to transform architectural designs. These boards are used in constructing modern facades, interior partitions, and exterior cladding due to their lightweight nature and ease of installation. Our boards' sleek finish and colour versatility enable architects to achieve sophisticated designs that stand out in urban landscapes.

Signage and Branding Solutions

In branding and signage, ACP acrylic boards from our ACP Acrylic Board Manufacturer in Bangalore provide unmatched visibility and durability. Businesses throughout Bangalore leverage our boards for outdoor signs, hoardings, and promotional displays, benefiting from their blend of aesthetics and resilience. The capability to print high-resolution graphics directly onto these boards guarantees sharp, vibrant signage that effectively conveys brand messages.

Interior Design Innovations

ACP acrylic boards present endless possibilities for interior designers to create contemporary interiors. These boards are ideal for feature walls, ceiling panels, and modular furniture due to their lightweight construction and ability to be moulded into various shapes. The UV-resistant properties of our boards ensure that interiors retain their original appearance without fading over time.

Quality Assurance and Manufacturing Process

Rigorous Quality Control

Our commitment to delivering superior ACP acrylic boards begins with stringent quality control measures. Each batch of boards undergoes comprehensive testing to verify dimensional accuracy, colour consistency, and structural integrity. By adhering to strict quality standards, we guarantee that every board meets or exceeds customer expectations for performance and longevity.

Advanced Manufacturing Technology

Our ACP Acrylic Board Manufacturer in Bangalore facility operates with precision and efficiency, boasting state-of-the-art machinery and technology. Our manufacturing process for ACP acrylic boards incorporates advanced techniques to guarantee consistent panel thickness, impeccable surface finishes, and exact edge profiling. This technological advantage enables us to uphold a competitive edge in the industry, consistently meeting the demands of our clients.

Customer-Centric Approach

Consultative Support

Understanding the diverse needs of our clients in Bangalore, we offer consultative support throughout the project lifecycle. Our team of experts provides technical guidance on selecting the right ACP acrylic boards based on project specifications and environmental considerations. This personalized approach fosters collaboration and ensures clients receive tailored solutions that align with their vision and budget.

Post-Sale Service

Our commitment as the leading ACP Acrylic Board Manufacturer in Bangalore extends beyond product delivery. We offer comprehensive post-sale support, including maintenance tips and troubleshooting assistance, ensuring clients maximize the lifespan and performance of their ACP acrylic boards. This proactive approach reinforces our reputation as a trusted partner in architectural and signage solutions.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

What are ACP acrylic boards?

ACP acrylic boards are composite panels made from aluminium and acrylic layers. They are widely used in architecture and signage due to their durability and aesthetic appeal.

What are the key benefits of using ACP acrylic boards?

ACP acrylic boards offer exceptional durability, weather resistance, customization options in colours and finishes, and sustainability features, making them ideal for outdoor and indoor applications.

Where are ACP acrylic boards commonly used?

They are commonly used in architectural projects for building facades, interior partitions, and exterior cladding. They are also popular in signage and branding applications for outdoor signs, hoardings, and promotional displays.

How are ACP acrylic boards manufactured?

ACP acrylic boards are manufactured using advanced technology that combines aluminium and acrylic layers under high pressure and temperature. This process ensures uniformity in panel thickness, colour consistency, and structural integrity.

What support and services do you offer with ACP acrylic boards?

We offer consultative support to help clients choose the right ACP acrylic boards based on their project requirements. Additionally, we provide post-sale services, including maintenance tips and troubleshooting assistance to ensure optimal performance and longevity of the boards.

Conclusion

As the premier ACP Acrylic Board Manufacturer in Bangalore, we strive to establish new standards in quality, innovation, and customer service. Our dedication to excellence permeates every facet of our operations, encompassing sustainable manufacturing practices and bespoke design solutions. Whether you're an architect, designer, or business owner, our ACP acrylic boards provide unparalleled versatility and reliability, transforming spaces and elevating brand visibility.

https://blog.highflyersigns.com/top-notch-acp-sign-board-manufacturer-in-bangalore-highflyer/

#acpwallcladdingmanufacturerinbangalore, #acpglowsignboardmanufacturerinbangalore, #acpacrylicboardmanufacturerinbangalore, #acpledsignboardmanufacturerinbangalore, #acpsignboardmanufacturerinbangalore, #acpletterboardmanufacturerinbangalore, 

[upvcsolutions]

Why Choose uPVC?

Unplasticised polyvinyl chloride, or uPVC, has revolutionised the construction industry with its outstanding durability, low maintenance requirements, and aesthetic versatility. Unlike traditional materials, uPVC offers superior resistance to weathering, UV rays, and corrosion, making it an ideal choice for roofing, cladding, and guttering. But what makes uPVC stand out?

Durability and Longevity

uPVC is designed to withstand the harshest weather conditions, from intense sunlight to heavy rainfall. Its robust nature ensures it won’t rot, warp, or degrade over time, offering a long-lasting solution for your home's exterior.

Low Maintenance

One of the most significant advantages of uPVC is its low maintenance requirements. Say goodbye to regular painting and repairs—uPVC stays looking fresh with minimal effort. A simple wash with water is usually enough to keep it in top condition.

Aesthetic Versatility

With a wide range of colours and finishes, uPVC can be tailored to match any architectural style. Whether aiming for a traditional look or a modern aesthetic, uPVC offers options that enhance your home's curb appeal.

[localpaintersau]

Opt for Best Painting Service in Melbourne to Achieve Visually Pleasing Appeal

Looking for best painting service in Melbourne? Reputed companies offer comprehensive tailored solutions for residential and commercial buildings. Further, skilled painters are capable of handling all scale projects without any hassle. Initially, they will conduct one on one with their clients to understand their requirements and provide customisation accordingly. Expert painters provide both interior and exterior painting services to enhance overall appeal of the property.

What are the Advantages of Hiring Reliable Commercial Painters?

The main objective of hiring trusted commercial painters in Melbourne is they are well versed with their job roles and can handle any kind of complications. Moreover, they conduct one on one with clients to understand their view point and vision for providing customisation accordingly. Initially, they conduct comprehensive assessment to analysis the space and provide concepts accordingly.

Basically, professional painters are well equipped with advance machines, spray tools and techniques to achieve desired appeal within minimum downtime. Moreover, they focus on achieving smooth finishes and texture that will increase aesthetic value of the commercial property. Renowned companies use high quality painting supplies that could withstand adverse weather conditions and dangerous external elements. These coating supplies would last for longer period without compromising on look.

Skilled painters are highly qualified and experienced enough to handle complication in commercial painting projects while maintaining overall appearance of the space. They also assist with glossy texture services to achieve visually pleasing appeal if instructed by clients.

Reasons to Choose Qualified Painters for Property Makeover:

Professionals conduct colour consultation so clients could suggest their preferred shades while considering existing ones.

They also provide painting services for wall cladding, fencing, and other outdoor surfaces to increase aesthetic value of the property.

The code of conduct provides repairs for minor damages and ensures to match the aesthetics with the existing building.

If anyone is planning to hire best painters, they should enquire with the best company offering budget friendly packages.

Source

[robotbuilding]

Why Wall Cladding Is the Perfect Home Upgrade?

Are you looking for a great way to upgrade your home? Wall cladding is the perfect solution! This is why connecting to Wall Cladding supplies Melbourne best way that provides a durable, attractive surface that can last for years without needing any extra maintenance or repairs. In this blog, we’ll break down why wall cladding is the perfect choice for updating your home.

What Is Wall Cladding?

Wall cladding is a material used to cover walls in both residential and commercial spaces. It is made from a variety of materials such as wood, vinyl, stone, aluminium, and more. The great thing about wall cladding is that it can be tailored to match any aesthetic preference you have—from rustic farmhouse vibes to contemporary chic. Moreover, Wall Cladding supplies Melbourne are often relatively inexpensive, making them an affordable option for those on a budget.

Common Uses of Wall Cladding Supplies

Wall Cladding supplies Melbourne can be used in many different ways in your home. If you’re looking to add some character to your space without breaking the bank, wall cladding can be used as an accent piece around doors and windows or even along the edges of walls. Additionally, it can be used to cover entire walls for a dramatic effect. The possibilities are practically endless!  

Aside from adding visual interest to your space, wall cladding can also help protect your walls from damage caused by water or other elements. This makes it ideal for outdoor spaces like patios and decks where moisture frequently comes into contact with surfaces. Furthermore, some types of wall cladding are fire-resistant and/or pest-resistant which adds an extra layer of protection for your home.  

How to Choose the Right Wall Cladding Supplies?

Choosing the right Wall Cladding supplies Melbourne for your construction project is critical. Wall cladding is an important part of your home’s insulation, and it also adds to the overall aesthetics of the building. Therefore, choosing the right material is essential. In this blog post, we will go through tips to help you make the right decision when selecting wall cladding supplies.

Research Your Options

It is important to do some research before making a purchase. Make sure that you are aware of all the available options on the market, and consider which type would work best for your project and budget. There are many different types of wall cladding supplies, such as metal, wood, stone, brick, vinyl siding etc., so take time to explore what’s available and decide which one would be best for you.

Check Quality and Durability

When you are choosing wall cladding supplies it is important to check their quality and durability. This will ensure that your investment lasts for a long time and that it can withstand external elements such as wind and rain. The materials should be able to stand up against harsh weather conditions without getting damaged or fading in colour over time. Make sure that you are buying from a reputable supplier who can guarantee high-quality products at an affordable price.

Consider Maintenance Requirements

Another factor to consider when purchasing wall cladding supplies is how much maintenance they require after installation. Different materials need different levels of upkeep – some may need regular cleaning while others may just require occasional touch-ups with paint or polish every few years. Make sure that you understand what kind of maintenance each material requires so that you can choose one that fits into your lifestyle and budget.

Conclusion:

When it comes to upgrading your home without breaking the bank, wall cladding supplies are an excellent choice! Not only do they look great but they also provide protection against water damage and pests while being relatively inexpensive compared to other options on the market. So if you’re looking for a way to give your space a makeover without spending too much money, consider investing in some quality wall cladding supplies today!

Source by –Why Wall Cladding Is the Perfect Home Upgrade?

[emwritesfootball]

Heels | Anyone You Like

A/N: Definitely not a comeback, so don’t get your hopes up (sorry!) - just had a thought about a footballer I can’t actually write about so I used my imagination a little. Also, thank you for over 1200 followers; I can't believe so many of you follow this barely-updating blog! Enjoy x

Pairing: Anyone you like x Fem!Reader

Warning: unprotected sex, teasing

Words: 683

- - -

You slip on your favourite pair of heels, twisting and turning in front of your full-length mirror to get a glimpse of the complete outfit. It was rare that you wore them, as wearing heels put you a few centimetres over your boyfriend. Luckily, he loved the height difference when it came to special occasions like tonight and you never felt like you had to compromise or shrink yourself in his presence.

The sound of his voice saying your name alerts you to his presence and you turn, a smile instantly forming on your face as you catch sight of him standing in the doorway. His suit is tailored specially for him and you know he’s spent just as much time in front of the mirror as you have to perfect his look - after all, the star player can’t attend the awards dinner not looking his best.

“Hey,” you whisper, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you drink him in. He’s doing the same to you, the colour of his eyes darkening with desire that you’re sure is mirrored in yours. “You look good.”

“So do you.” The nickname he has for you in his native language falls from his lips and your stomach dips at the word. “I see you’re wearing my favourite shoes.”

“Special occasion,” you hum, giving yourself one last look in the mirror. “I know how much you enjoy the end of the night.”

He steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You know that’s my favourite part of these things.”

***

Teasing him has always been your specialty, and tonight is no exception. Both of you are always touching each other in ways that look innocent enough to anyone on the outside looking in, but by the time the dinner is over,  you’re practically jumping out of your skin. 

It’s a ritual for you at this point: the moment the two of you are inside, he takes a seat on the sofa, spreading his legs as he watches you closely. You stand in front of him, slowly unzipping your dress.Your gaze is locked with his as the dress falls to the floor, leaving you standing in the matching lingerie set you’d put on just for this moment. 

You saunter over to him, standing in-between his legs. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, swallowing hard as his hands slide behind the backs of your knees and up your thighs. He squeezes your ass and you let out a moan, your eyes fluttering closed. You let his hands explore your body until you can’t take it anymore, resting a hand on his shoulder to brace yourself so you can straddle him. He lets out a grunt that you feel vibrate throughout your body, taking the opportunity to brush your pantie-clad pussy over the growing bulge outline on his fancy trousers. His grip around your hips tightens as he groans your name, tilting his head back to give you access to his neck. You take it, pressing kisses to the exposed area, making sure to mark him in the spot you like. His hands unclasp your bra and you pull back to slide the straps off and expose your tits to him. 

Your body responds to him like it always does, the feel of his mouth on your pert nipples going straight to your pussy. He groans your nickname again as he switches to the other nipple, the scrape of his scruff across your skin sending shivers down your spine. 

You’re still wearing the heels when he finally fucks you, his shirt unbuttoned and open, his pants unbuckled and around his ankles as you sink down on his cock repeatedly until you’ve reached your orgasm at the same time he does. You fix your panties that had been pushed to the side, the feel of his cum dripping out of you turning you on again. 

“Meet me in the bedroom,” you whisper in his ear, climbing off him and making your way to the bedroom to get ready for the next round.

[vanserraseris]

END - There’s the apology azris oneshot. It doesn’t really have a title, Flames and Shadows is basic but it’s all I’ve got. I think Eris and Az would be great enemies to reluctant friends to lovers idk. Also, Eris at this point has sort of just been dragged into the ic friend group but still remains an asshole. It is what it is. Hope you enjoy it!!!

YOU HAVE NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE but this was INCREDIBLE. 

Also i LOVE the idea of eris reluctantly being dragged into the ic

Anyway. Here it is in full:

Azriel had been working with Eris for months, he’d trusted the spoiled prince to get them safely out of harm’s way, to take them to a secure location. He’d been expecting Eris to winnow them to his personal home, but as they materialized in the unfamiliar space, Azriel realized it was the first time he was seeing the other male’s room. With a small growl, Eris let go of Azriel leathers, shoving past him but not touching his wings.

Eris barely lifted a finger, the stunning, stone fireplace to his right roaring to life along with the bronze sconces that lined the walls. All of Eris’s cottage was elegant, the furniture in it made of expensive carved mahogany that matched the gleaming hardwood floors and sideboards, everything organized, orderly, and tasteful. Eris’s bedroom was much the same.

Two comfortable-looking cushioned chairs were placed near the fireplace, a low table between them was covered in multiple neat piles of thick books. His bed was huge, pushed up against the opposite wall, big enough for multiple people to lie in it. The carved pattern on the dresser, mirror, and nightstands was intricate - beautiful. Not knowing what to do with himself, Azriel merely stood where Eris had left him - right in the middle of the bedroom.

Azriel took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, livid that they’d been caught by surprise but the anger not showing on his face. Some of Azriel’s shadows skittered around him, the rest trailed after Eris as he stumbled to the dresser, knocking into it with his knees so that it hit the wall with an ugly thud. Azriel watched as Eris leaned toward the mirror, wincing as Eris wiped at his mouth with the dark brown sleeve of his well-tailored jacket.

“What the fuck?” Blood nearly the same colour of Eris’s hair dripped from his nose, leaking down his face, staining the collar of the offwhite shirt that peaked out of Eris’s jacket. Eris tugged open the dresser’s top drawer, all his shirts neatly folded inside, taking one out and holding it up against his face. He turned to face Azriel, his newly cut hair in disarray as he gestured wildly in Azriel’s direction, “Some fucking spymaster.”

His voice was muffled by the shirt, but it did nothing to hide his angry tone, “I thought those shadows were useful.” 

Azriel clenched his jaw. For the most part, Eris had been treating Azriel’s shadows like he treated his hounds: with an unexpected softness. The shadows liked brushing up against Eris’s hands as he wrote, or curling up over his shoulders as he read. Azriel had apologized the first few times it had happened, but Eris had assured him that he didn’t mind.

He didn’t like the way Eris was talking about them now, though. “They are useful.” 

“They are not.” 

“They were distracted,” Azriel snapped, defending them. 

Eris moved the shirt away from his face, the bleeding seemed to have slowed. He snorted, the sound watery, “By what?” He turned back to the mirror.

Azriel was moments away from retorting “by you,” but he stopped himself. There must have been a reason his shadows monitored the Autumn Court Heir’s every move. Azriel assumed it was because they didn’t trust Eris Vanserra, and he didn’t want to offend one of the Night Court’s most important allies by telling him as much. 

“Give me that pitcher,” Eris demanded.

Azriel would have ignored him had he not felt slightly responsible for Eris’s current state. It wasn’t that Eris hadn’t been a decent enough fighter, but they both hadn’t been expecting an ambush, and as the more experienced one, Azriel should have kept an eye on him. Azriel handed Eris the pitcher that had been sitting on the nightstand, watching as water sloshed over the edges and onto the dresser as Eris shoved a clean part of the shirt into it before he brought the wet fabric to his face.

Eris leaned closer to the mirror, nearly knocking over the pitcher, and made a funny noise deep in his throat before he spoke. “Cauldron fucking boil me,” he bemoaned, one of his fingers gingerly touching the tip of his nose. “I think it’s crooked.” 

Azriel rolled his eyes. His nose looked fine, perfect, even. “It is not.” 

Azriel was debating whether or not to sit in one of the chairs when Eris turned an accusatory gaze in his direction, “I blame you for this complete and utter disaster.”

Azriel blamed himself too. That night was supposed to be nothing more than a routine lookout. If he’d known that Koschei was going to send others after them, he wouldn’t have taken Eris with him in the first place. Azriel would have thought about what it might have meant that he’d wanted to take Eris with him, but Azriel was too focused on the way his shadows seemed to be trying to warn Eris that he’d probably end up making his injuries a lot worse if he didn’t calm down.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Azriel suggested, his voice smooth. 

Eris paid him no mind, scrubbing a little too aggressively at the blood on his face. Most of it had come off, and his nose had finally stopped bleeding. “Don’t tell me what to do,” Eris muttered, wiping at some of the blood on his neck.

Azriel regretted that Eris had gotten hit in the face with the pommel of a sword, not really knowing why.

He’d spent years fantasizing about doing the very same thing, but spending so much time with Eris had Azriel - and he could barely believe it - liking him. “Vanserra, get on the bed,” Eris straightened, raising his brows, “Let me have a look.” 

“First Cassian, now you. I don’t like being ordered around by overgrown bats.” Despite the statement, Eris made his way to the bed, leaning up against the headboard, boot clad feet on the dark red covers.

Eris was still scowling as Azriel tipped his head back just a bit, cradling Eris’s jaw in one hand, taking in every feature of his face. He was beautiful in an undeniable sort of way, and now that he’d cut his hair, Azriel thought he looked even better. Eris’s strange friendship with Nesta had led to the change; he'd let her, Feyre, and Elain cut it for no apparent reason and still managed to look ridiculously stunning.

Azriel gently wiped at any remaining blood that stained the other male’s skin. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, Azriel could feel the sharp planes of Eris’s face and was reminded of the first time he’d ever seen the Autumn Court prince. He’d thought Eris was classically beautiful in a way that reminded Azriel of broken shards of stained glass. Lovely, yet dangerous.

Azriel put the ruined shirt on the bed, using the hand that wasn’t holding Eris’s chin to move some of the hair that had fallen over Eris’s brow. His nose wasn’t bleeding anymore, a small cut underneath his eye was already starting to heal, and the bruise on his jaw seemed to be fading. His nose definitely wasn’t crooked, but Azriel ran the tip of his scarred finger along the sloped bridge of it just to make sure.

Azriel hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to Eris. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he murmured. 

Azriel watched as Eris’s eyes fluttered. “I heard the crunch,” he breathed. 

Azriel didn’t know what came over him, in the moment he thought it might have been madness. Eris was one of his oldest enemies, he was cruel, and ruthless, and he deserved only the worst. That was what he’d believed for centuries.

He didn’t know what might have possessed him to press his lips to the mean line of Eris’s mouth, but he knew that it felt… right. Eris parted his lips in a shocked gasp, golden flames bright in his wide eyes. Azriel was completely out of his mind. He’d never, not once in his entire life, done something without thinking it through. The panic seized him quite suddenly, his wings flaring just a bit as he made to move back, to move away.

Azriel was more than just a little surprised when Eris lifted his hand, threading his slender fingers into the dark hair at the base of Azriel’s scalp, pulling him closer in another kiss. Azriel kissed Eris harder this time, grabbing the other male’s face in both hands, thumbs sliding against sharp cheekbones, lips moving with the force of weeks’ worth of wanting. Eris’s bottom lip was caught between Azriel’s teeth, his other hand coming up to fist in Azriel’s leathers.

Weeks upon weeks of working with Eris, talking to him, trusting him. A helpless sound escaped Eris’s lips when Azriel slowly moved his hands so that his thumbs traced the shape of the smooth, pale, column of Eris’s throat. Azriel had more than a million things to do, but as Azriel opened his mouth, Eris’s tongue pushing against his in a savage claiming, Azriel leaned into him, all those things forgotten.

Azriel wanted to move so that he was right between Eris’s thighs, to press the other male into the bed, to watch a prince of Autumn come undone. Their kisses were messy, urgent, desperate. Eris pulled him closer, and Azriel thought he could drown in the feel of him, the taste of him. The taste of crackling embers, of rich cognac, of Autumn mornings.

Azriel’s hands slid down to Eris’s chest, undoing the golden buttons of his jacket, pulling it wide. Eris tugged on the roots of Azriel’s hair in a way that nearly had him forgetting his own name. Azriel couldn’t deny that he was drawn to Eris like a moth was drawn to a flame, he just hoped he didn’t get burned. The tips of Azriel’s fingers found the laces of Eris’s bloodied, ruined shirt. He wanted the shirt to come off, he’d never wanted anything more.

Never in his wildest dreams did Azriel think he’d want - need - Eris Vanserra. A prince born into the most savage of courts, born of blood, and ash, and fire.

Azriel was playing with fire. 

Azriel didn’t like fire. 

With only half a thought, Azriel roughly shoved Eris away from him.

Eris had red embers dancing in the deep amber of his eyes, his cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly swollen. They were staring at each other, no one speaking for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds in the room their ragged breaths and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. 

Eris ran a hand through his hair, flashing Azriel the pale skin of his wrist as the sleeve lifted. “Well,” Eris started, “That was unexpected.” He huffed a breathless, awkward laugh.

Azriel guessed that it might have also been unwelcome. 

“That was…” Azriel paused. He didn’t know what to say. That was nice? That was entirely unplanned? That was something they should do again? He couldn’t read the expression on Eris’s face and his shadows weren’t being very helpful. “That was a mistake.”

Azriel knew he’d chipped away at Eris all these weeks. They’d gotten past Azriel’s one-word answers and Eris’s cruel remarks. They’d researched, and spied, and fought together. They talked to one another, trusted one another, but as soon as Azriel finished his sentence, he thought that perhaps he’d taken any progress they’d made and thrown it into roaring flames.

Watching Eris flip from open and vulnerable to cold and aloof, was like watching the last rays of sun disappear over the horizon - blink and you’d miss it. Eris nodded once, his eyes cold, lifting his chin just a bit. Eris’s voice as he spoke was smooth, arrogant, not a hint of the warmth Azriel had gotten used to. “Usually, males and females alike wait until the morning after to say something along those lines.”

Azriel stiffened, well aware that he’d managed to hurt Eris. He didn’t know what to say to make this whole thing better, but was saved from having to speak when the door to Eris’s bedroom slammed against the wall as it flew open. 

“I think I’ve found those—” Eris’s younger brother faltered, stopping suddenly, almost as if he’d hit some sort of ward.

Azriel nearly tripped over himself as he abruptly stood, him and Eris weren’t even that close to each other anymore but he felt like he desperately needed the space. Shadows frantically swirled around his feet, some skittering towards the Vanserra by the door. They hadn’t warned him for the second time that night of someone else’s presence, and Azriel was starting to think they were playing some sort of cruel joke on him.

Azriel had spoken to Rufus many times in their combined efforts to stop Koschei, and the young male almost always had something to say. Rendering him speechless wasn’t something that Azriel would have thought possible, but there he was, multiple ancient looking scrolls in his arms, his jaw slack as his russett eyes looked between the Autumn Court’s Heir and the Night Court’s Spymaster.

Azriel was certain that alarm was evident all over the features of his usually blank face, his shadows dancing around him as he waited for someone else to speak. - Rufus angled his head, amusement glittering in his all-too clever eyes. He looked very much like Lucien as he drawled, “Am I interrupting something?”

Eris’s sharp response nearly had Azriel flinching. “No.” 

Rufus smiled, elegant auburn brows raised as he adjusted the scrolls in his arms, “I have many questions.”

Eris’s smile in return was more of a bare of teeth, “And you will ask none of them.” 

“I’ll ask them later,” Rufus didn’t even look in Azriel’s direction as he threw himself onto one of the cushioned chairs by the fire. “I got those maps you asked for.” 

Azriel had forgotten that they’d asked Rufus to look for some older maps of the continent. Eris had been sure that they would be able to find some in the library of the Forest House, and Rufus had been the one who offered to look for them.

“Are you going to look over these with us, Shadowsinger, or are you going to stay by the foot of Eris’s bed the whole night?” 

Rufus spoke to Azriel, but Eris answered for him. “Azriel was just leaving.” 

Azriel turned his head sharply to face Eris. He was still leaning against the headboard of his bed, his hair messier than Azriel had ever seen it, his mouth set in a way that suggested he wasn’t very pleased.  

“Eris…” Azriel made to take a step towards him.

The Autumn prince just waved a hand dismissively, “Have a goodnight.” 

Azriel barely heard him, the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t help but feel as though leaving Eris’s cottage might be an even bigger mistake than the kiss. Azriel nodded once at Eris, deciding he’d winnow straight to the House of Wind as shadows swarmed him; he wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone right now. Eris’s flame bright eyes was the last thing Azriel saw as he was engulfed in darkness.

[sunflowerstache]

the one where you’re Harry’s tailor

@theasstour​ and I have been stewing in this idea for nearly a year and it’s finally come together.. we hope you enjoy x.

Word Count: 25.6k | Warning(s): explicit language, alcohol, sexual content

NORA’S MASTERLIST  |  SARAH’S MASTERLIST

There were few moments in life that would equate to being backstage at a fashion show, simply because it was impossible to string together the specific words needed to describe the feeling. Journalists tried, quickly scribbling down thoughts and plans for their future articles in small notepads, while the professionals around them danced about in unspoken, yet somehow synchronized, movements. How would they be able to accurately depict the feeling of fabrics rubbing together between your fingers, in the most comforting way? The almost deafening sound of sewing pins carelessly being dropped on the table, after fixing a foot sized hole in a pair of trousers moments before showtime. Or how, with the amount of people crammed into the room, mixed with the humid Roman air seeping through the open windows, had sweat continuously dripped from your forehead. Yet, there was still a constant shiver running up your spine with nerves. No matter how valiant of an attempt, unless they were watching their own tailored outfits walk down the runway, their written words would never be exactly right.

Even after four years working for Gucci, perfecting hundreds of articles of clothing, clothing that was held on such a high pedestal in the fashion industry, the nerves never settled. Not when Alessandro immediately hired you at the end of your University placement, or when you were asked to accompany him in the closing walk during last year’s Cruise Show. But all of those monumental achievements paled in comparison to the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you were crouched in front of your current canvas, Gucci’s newest runway model for the 2020 Cruise Fashion Show; Harry Styles.

He was making his runway debut wearing Look 51, something you’d taken notice was not too far away from his new wardrobe when you first opened his folder. The wide legged pants were crafted from fine dots patterned blue wool, a single red pin stripe running from the hip, all the way down to the ankle. They were finished with minor details, ones not many people would take notice to, but ones that made your heart race with excitement; hidden horn buttons, front slash pockets, viscose inner lining, and an interior silk belt, all of which were hidden by his coat. Green, red, and blue stripes defined the knee length coat, appearing to crease where the four pockets sat; two at his groin and two more just at the breasts, the left pocket holding Lyre ‘Pas de Rumeur’ crest patch. Barely visible under the wool coat, peaked out a blazer identically matching the pants, only the buttons and red piping could be seen, but you knew what would be hidden to onlookers; an orange lion embroidered onto the upper left breast pocket, the hand stitched word ‘Gucci’ sitting under it’s paws in black thread, and a baby blue silk inside - a fabric that no doubt felt great against Harry’s white tank top covered torso. The rest of his look consisted of minor accessories that brought the look together; a red barrie that had the signature double G’s embroidered in green thread, a pair of crocheted black fingerless gloves, and maroon quilted leather slide sandals, complete with the interlocking G horsebit. The subtle jewelry on his body was a stark contrast to his usual ring clad fingers, now only having a few delicate necklaces rest against his bare chest. He was a sight to be seen, someone who would surely grab attention as he made his way through the dark museum runway.

“Quit moving, or you’ll end up with a pin in your bum.” you mumbled, on your knees behind Harry and quickly fixing a tear in the rear left pants pocket before he was ushered out onto the runway.

The two of you were in the farthest corner of the back dressing room, away from most of the hustle and bustle of all other models, so that you could grab the emergency sewing kit, filled with all colors of thread, baby scissors, hundreds of pins, and even super glue, from your bag. Out of the corner of your eye, Alessandro could be seen weaving through the room, triple checking that each and every outfit was completed in the exact way he had envisioned. There wasn’t much time before all models were set to step foot on the Musei Capitolini floor, and the last minute nerves were finally setting in.

“Sorry, can’t help it. Never done this before, you know.” his voice was muffled by not only the chatter of the room, but also the constant picking of his lip.

“Still can’t believe you’re actually doing it, if I’m honest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you chuckled, giving the bum pocket a couple tugs to make sure it wouldn’t come undone again, before moving to stand directly in front of him. “You cut yourself the first time we met, ripped your trousers at the first shoot, and fell off a stone wall in the new campaign. You’re not exactly the most graceful lad at times.”

“In my defense, no one told me not to get on that wall.” Harry paused a moment, holding his hand out for you to place the pin cushion while you reorganized your bag,  “Can’t believe we only met a few years ago. Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Without any hesitation, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn’t really remember the exact date you first met Harry. All you remember is it had been February 2018 and raining - very hard at that - and when you entered the Gucci store on Bond Street in London, your umbrella had been torn to shreds because of the wind, and your hands felt like ice after having been attacked by the raging storm outside. Alessandro had been upstairs in one of the offices, three huge white boards before him with the different campaigns he was planning at the time. Humming along to Malafemmena by Roberto Murolo playing from the speakers on his desk, Alessandro traced a finger over the fabric hanging from the wall beside the boards. You knew those were the fabrics you were going to be using today, your boss having hung them forth so it would be easier for you to work.

“Morning.” You had said, taking your jacket off and placing it on the hanger. “Absolutely horrendous outside.”

“Hmm,” mused Alessandro, tilting his head to take the grey fabric in before he looked over at you making your way over. “Always like that in England.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the different colours, materials and patterns you were going to use for the new looks. “You’re not wrong.”

Alessandro giggled, looking over his shoulder for a single second.

“Either pouring rain or it’s drizzling.” You said, studying the different designs of each of the suits you would be making over the next few months. “Right annoying when you don’t even want to be here.”

He laughed again, turning around to look at the boards you assumed.

“I’m being serious.” You reached for the fabric your boss had been checking out when you arrived. “Who would choose to live in a country where it constantly rains?”

“Didn’t really have a choice most of my life,” came a voice from behind you and you instantly stopped dead in your tracks. “Can’t really control where we are born, can we?”

Slowly, you turned to see one of Alessandro’s dearest friends: Harry Styles. He was sitting in the brown leather sofa right behind you, a sofa you knew was there from having been in Alessandro’s London office multiple times before, but hadn’t thought to give a second look. You would assume Harry would have someone there with him, like some assistant or manager or… anyone, but Harry was sitting there all alone, looking over at you with this cheeky grin on his face that had your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t a shock for him to be here alone, you thought after a second, as Harry and Alessandro spent loads of time together usually so this was just another normal hang-out for them. You, on the other hand, had never met Harry Styles before. This was your first time being in his company. And so far – you had to be honest with yourself – you weren’t looking very good. Grumpy, soaked through, and with a dash of dishevelled everything, you no doubt looked like a person no one wanted anything to do with. Harry clearly found it very amusing how little you liked being in England. Also most definitely found it funny how startled you were at his sudden utterance. You watched as he got up from the sofa, walking over to you as Alessandro also came to sight again.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro said. “This is Harry.”

You zoned out entirely, the whole situation too surreal. Though you had been born and brought up in England, there was just something about the constant rain that made not only your mood drop, but your skin sticky and hands clammy. So when Harry reached a hand out to shake yours after Alessandro had told Harry your name and introduced you, red lights and a loud alarm started going off in your head. He would have to feel just how bad the effect of the bloody terrible English weather had on you. But not shaking his hand would be weird and impolite. His hand was between the two of you, open and ready for yours. It stood there for a few seconds. And you just looked at it. Quickly realising that not shaking his hand would probably be more awkward than doing so with a sweaty palm, you took his. A breathy giggle left Harry’s lips as your hands met. You let his go, looking over at Alessandro who was giving you a weird look while you heard the slap of Harry’s hand against his thigh in the background.

“Measurements.” Alessandro said, trying to move on from the awkward situation you had just caused. All the blood in your body rushed to the surface of your skin, instantly heating you up. You glanced to the ground, hoping Harry didn’t notice how flustered you just got. Walking to your bag, you took out your notebook and measurement tape. “Glorious, mio caro.”

Getting your pen, you walked over to the board for the Gucci Autumn/Winter Campaign. There were five different suits for this one, a couple of more for the next, and then three for the last one. From the way Alessandro had left some space at the bottom of the last board, it was clear he would be working even more with Harry in the future, they just did not know exactly what or when yet. Someone cleared their throat beside you and you whipped your head to your left to see Alessandro pointing to the different suits on the board.

“These today.” He said, pointing to the specific details he wanted and instructions on where they would be loose and not. “I need to go to a meeting, but you two will be fine on your own. You have a lot in common.”

You frowned, watching as Alessandro walked toward his desk, picking up a huge binder and resting it under his arm. “Have a lot in common?”

“Yes,” he grinned. “You do.”

“Like…?”

Alessandro only gestured with his hands for the two of you to get talking, and then he disappeared out the door, shutting it behind him. Dettagli - Detalhes by Ornella Vanoni played lowly as the quiet between the two of you filled the room and made it troublesome to breathe properly. A great stream of anxiety suddenly took over and you suddenly felt very awkward. Obvious from the way Alessandro had left in such a hurry and the way he had left with that grin, you knew there was underlying expectations to this encounter. There were multiple reasons why Alessandro had called you to come help him. You didn’t want to think about that, though, because that only made absolutely everything ten times more embarrassing.

“Lovely,” Harry looked over at you from staring at the door Alessandro had kicked closed, standing confidently in his green and white striped tee shirt over his loose light denim jeans. “Likes a dramatic entrance and exit, that one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking over to the board to look at the details once more. Harry only watched you, a bit unsure of what to do next. The rain fell against the windows, creating a lulling sound to go with the Italian music still swaying through the room. The white walls, tall ceiling, and Victorian look of the room only made it feel like you two were actually in Italy. His phone vibrated from the sofa with an incoming text, only giving it a quick look over his shoulder until you wandered over to your bag again. Whipping your glasses out, you hung them from the collar of your white tee shirt before walking back over to Harry.

Quickly, and maybe a bit too loudly, you cleared your throat. “Are you ticklish?”

Taken a bit off guard, Harry blinked twice. “Only armpits and backs of my knees.”

“Right.” You nodded your head, hooking your measurement tape around your neck. “Stand still, back straight.”

Harry listened to you, biting the side of his lip as you pressed your ring and index finger to your sternum in concentration. Eyes following you as you started walking around his figure, getting a good look at everything before you stood before him again.

“Clothes too loose?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, taking your tape back in your hands again. An instrumental version of ‘O Sole Mio by Jack Jezzro started playing just as the rain outside threw itself more forcefully against the windows, but you tried not to pay notice to anything but what was going on before you. You had no idea why you were nervous. Plenty of times before, you had worked with other celebrities; tailoring their suits, dresses and whatnots. For some reason, however, this felt different. Harry was so close to Alessandro, so the notion that the two of you would get along just as well filled you with anxiety, and a hint of awkwardness. Bringing your tape up you took a step closer to Harry as you lifted it above his head and around his neck. Before doing anything else, you put your glasses on, wanting to actually be able to see what the measurements were. Resting the tape on the tops of his shoulders, you put your finger between the tape and his neck to allow for some room for Harry to breathe in his suits. You felt him swallow against your finger. Her heart skipped a quick beat.

“So…” he said, dragging it out. “Where are you from?”

Instantly, your eyes whipped up in the direction of his, staring at you patiently. You glanced down at the measurements again, whispering them to yourself under your breath and doing so continuously till you wrote his numbers behind the ‘neck’ in your notebook.

“You can tell I’m from England?” you asked, knowing your parents had made it very apparent to you how much of your accent you had lost over the four years you had spent constantly traveling.

“Know a Brit when I hear one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking back to him. “Lift your arms, please.”

He did.

You sneaked the measurement tape from where it hung from his shoulders and wrapped it around the widest point of his chest. “Worcestershire, you?”

“Cheshire,” he answered. “Right outside Manchester.”

“Stand in a relaxed posture if you can,” you ordered. “You can let your arms fall to your sides.” Harry did as you told him to. “Now breathe in.” Breathed in, you noted the numbers in your head. “Breathe out.” You did the same again. Muttering them under your breath, you dragged the tape with you while writing everything down.

“And you?” Harry asked, clearly eager to get to know you better while you were this close to him. He didn’t want any awkward tension between the two of you as this almost felt like an intimate moment; you studying him so closely and touching his entire body on your first meeting. Though he was good at knowing when to be professional and when it was okay not to be - and though he knew this was work - he couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t. You were a good friend of Alessandro, just as he was, and so it felt more like two acquaintances hanging out than anything work related.

“Evesham.” You answered, enclosing the tape around Harry’s waist this time. You leaned into him, nose almost touching his chest. You breathed in through your nose, and as discreetly as possible, breathed out through your mouth. Why were you acting up? What was it with Harry Styles that suddenly made it hard for you to function? This never happened. Bending your index finger, you started feeling around for Harry’s belly button to make sure you were on the right spot.

“Never really been to Worcestershire, if I’m- Oh!” Harry looked down at you as you poked his belly button a little too hard.

“Sorry, just needed to know I was directly on your waist.” You leaned down, asking him to breathe in and out again.

Harry watched you write the numbers down. “How long have you been doing this?”

“What?” you asked, putting one end of the tape at the mid side of his neck, following it all the way down to where you knew Alessandro wanted the shirt to end. Which was a little too close to his crotch. “You mean working for Gucci or tailoring people?” You felt the spot where his abdomen ended and his leg began. No, no, no, don’t go there, be professional, you thought to yourself.

“Both.”

You hunched down, getting the right measurements, writing them down, and then going to stand at his back. “Since I was twenty. Alessandro thought I had some talent, took me under his wing, and I’ve been working for Gucci since, tailoring people.” Placing your finger near his armpit, and tracing a line upward, Harry jerked.

“Absolutely not.” He glanced at you now that you were face to face, protecting his armpit while he continued on, “Want me to elbow you in the throat?”

“Preferably not.”

“Then don’t tickle my armpit.” He was so serious it took everything in you not to laugh.

“Well,” you couldn’t help your smile now. “I kind of have to know where your armpit is to do your shoulders.”

Conflict ran across Harry’s face, as if he was debating everything that could go wrong if he let you do it. Slowly, he turned back around, shoulders incredibly tense this time.

“Try to relax.”

“I know I’m about to have a finger jammed up my armpit, I’m unable to.”

The urge to laugh was so immense, but you bit your lips together and quickly ran your finger from his armpit and directly up his shoulder. Harry only winced a little, sighing under his breath as you took the measurements and then went to write them down.

“Sorry,” Harry said as you turned back around to him. “Didn’t mean to turn into a dickhead, but I just hate when people touch my armpits.”

You smiled. “It’s fine. I��m the same with my neck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Ever had someone tailor you?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Nope. I’ll do that myself unless I need someone to do my back.”

“Let me know next time you need help and I’ll do your back.” Harry said. “Maybe wiggle my fingers along your neck or summat to that effect.”

You laughed. “You have free time on your hands now? Aren’t you a busy bloke?”

“Count me in after July.”

“Oh?”

“World tour is over; I get to relax.” He informed, watching as you did his arm. “Going to Italy to relax with some mates and family.”

“How nice.” You said, doing his wrist. “I’m going to Italy as well. Always spend March ‘till August in Florence, then September ‘till February in London.”

“Really?” Harry almost looked a little impressed by your lifestyle, as if his own wasn’t just as adventurous. “Travel a lot?”

You couldn’t help a tiny smile, knowing that no matter how many countries you’d travelled to, Harry had probably done double the amount. But regardless of how well-travelled he himself was, in the low yet curious tone of his voice, you could hear the sincerity of his question. “Mostly between Italy and England, but I do tag along on some of Alessandro’s visits to the States, France, and some other countries.”

“Wicked.” Harry smiled as he noticed the corners of your mouth tip a little upward. “What’s been your favourite so far?”

The eye contact was intense. He didn’t look away, focusing entirely and altogether on you. There was a friendliness to his glance that had you relaxing, which was odd considering how anxious you had been earlier. You were sure that, by this point, Harry had completely forgotten the entire reason why he was here or why it was raining outside. And, to be fair, so had you. This felt like catching up with a friend, the easy chatter you had with one of your mates after months apart.

“I feel like I’m somewhat biased, but Italy. I love my little flat in Florence and that city too much for my own good.” You said, finding the way Harry’s head moved slightly with his huff, endearing. “You expected that?”

“What's not to love about Italy?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “I’m going there this summer, remember? Taking my whole family and meeting some mates.”

“Where abouts are you going?”

“Modena.” He put his hands in his jean pockets, nodding his head as he spoke. “Not really anywhere close to a big city or anything, but I just want to rest once I’m there to be fair. I’m teaching myself Italian at the moment, Alessandro is teaching me some as well.”

“Really?” Your smile grew bigger.

Harry’s smile mirrored yours. “Yeah.”

“Would you understand if I spoke some to you?” The four years you had lived in Italy had made you fluent in their first language. It had been a challenge at first, but you now understood the frustrated Florentine drivers shouting out from their open driver side windows, the old couple owning the bakery near you who loved to mumble, and even the slang some of the interns at Gucci used when they talked to one another. Harry seemed to be able to tell that you mastered this language he had just barely started to learn, but he nodded nevertheless.

“Right then.” He said. “Hit me.”

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself, getting the measurement tape from the table behind you, completely having forgotten about the fact that you were here for work.

“Is that Italian for ‘oh no’?” Harry teased, making you both laugh, but you quickly shut up as you saw what was next on the list. Hip and seat. Clearing your throat, you turned back to Harry, biting your lip as you hunched down before him. You could tell that he too was a bit taken aback by the completely new position you two found yourself in. He quickly looked away.

“Is it okay if you…” your eyes met. “If you lift your shirt slightly and lower your jeans a tad? I need to measure directly onto your body.”

“Alright,” Harry took a grip of his jeans, shimmying them along with his boxers a bit down his hip. “Yeah.” Taking his shirt up next, the bare skin of his abdomen was there right in front of you.

“Modena,” you started, leaning in as you brought the measurement tape around him. Harry felt your breath brush against his abdominal hair. “Non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

“What?” he said, eyes glued to the wall right in front of him, hands gripping his shirt hard in concentration. “Didn’t catch that.”

You memorised his number, then said a quick, “You can pull your jeans up and shirt down now.”

Harry did so, watching you stroll back to note his hip. He noticed he was panting slightly, like he had run up a set of stairs. Closing his mouth, he shook his head and willed himself to act normal, to be respectful. It was a little hard, however, when he had been single for so long and a pretty lass stood right in front of his crotch. As you came back and stood in front of him the exact same way as the time before, Harry settled his eyes on the white boards again. This time around, you brought the book with you, wanting the crotch and leg area to be done with as quickly as possible.

“Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.” You said again, measuring around the widest point of his seat.

He didn’t respond.

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

You giggled, writing down the measurements before inhaling hugely. Inseam next. “Did you catch what I was saying?”

“No, I-“ He stopped himself as your hand came up to the inside of his upper thigh, not having seen it coming. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay.” You said quickly, doing his inseam, knuckles softly gracing that spot between his thighs.

“I, uhh, I didn’t understand what you were saying.” He admitted quickly, hands on his hips and gaze faraway.

You wrote down the inseam, and got up, taking the book with you. His eyes instantly fell on you as you stood face to face again; him biting his lips together and your eyes big. Turning around, you placed the book down on the table again, running your finger over all the measurements so far.

“Could you come here, please?” You asked, hearing Harry walk towards you, hands on his back and ready for the next steps. You had been a bit scared to command him earlier, but now that you had talked and been between his legs, you felt it almost got a little easier to be around him. As if the awkwardness had gone away. Now you didn’t have to go far to write his measurements because the table and book and pen were right beside you. You walked over to the white board, mentally jotting down how and where Alessandro wanted the shirt to end and how it was supposed to sit on Harry. Meanwhile, Harry craned his neck to watch you. Still wearing your glasses, he watched your lips move as you mumbled to yourself, the dark blue of the rainstorm from the window beside you, made what Harry looked like seem like a painting. The calmness of you against the raging madness outside. He glanced back at the book, then at the soft fabric hanging beside him, mind wandering to the different places these campaigns would take him. He read over his measurements, about to turn the pages to see some of his other lengths and widths, when he felt a sharp pain in his finger.

He hissed.

You glanced over at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Harry was fast to answer, putting his index finger in his mouth to get some of the blood off his finger.

Walking back over to him, you didn’t pay much attention to how he was quick to put his hand behind his back again where it had been earlier. “Modena isn’t too far from Florence.”

Harry’s brows met above his nose, feeling a little lost at first, but as he slowly started putting two and two together, his grimace evaporated. “Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

You nodded your head twice, giving him a little smile. “Esattamente.”

“Exactly.” Harry translated.

You raised your hand, offering Harry a high five which he happily answered. What he forgot in that second however, was his minor accident just a minute earlier. Right before your hands met, you noticed his finger, and your eyes went immediately to his.

“What happened to your bleeding finger, mate?”

“Oh-” Harry looked at it, looking unsure for a second before he huffed. “Oh that,” he huffed. “That’s nothing.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re a tailor.”

“What…” You shook your head. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“Thought we were stating the obvious.” He shrugged. “Just a papercut. I’ll survive.”

“Of course you’ll survive, just wondered how you were able to start bleeding out of nowhere.”

Harry chuckled. “Not to worry, I’ll be able to use my hand as normal in no time.”

“Knob.” You mumbled automatically, immediately regretting it. That was not at all professional. And you were in a very professional setting. You were at work. You couldn’t call your client a knob right to his face. Oh my god oh my god oh my god, you thought to yourself trying to row yourself back to safe territory. You scrunched your nose up as you inhaled sharply. “Can’t even remember the last time I got a papercut, to be frank.”

“Speaking frankly now, are you?” He joked. You looked up at him again, and a second after your eyes met, you both started laughing. You put your hand to your heart, shaking your head at how silly the two of you were when you were under strict orders from Alessandro to get Harry’s measurements. But the fact that he hadn’t taken you calling him a knob seriously, the fact that he was able to joke about it and take the piss, it made it impossible for you not to laugh with him.

Your eyes met, both teary eyed from laughter.

“What’s knob in Italian, anyway?” Harry asked, making you laugh even harder.

And that launched the two of you into easy conversation. Almost a little too easy for the two of you to just have met. The fact that you were in a work environment didn’t seem to face you at all, which was incredibly refreshing for both. The seriousness of the meetings you had to endure most of the time so unnecessarily boring and dry that this was like a breath of fresh air. Alessandro had been right when he said you had loads in common, which you figured out in between you taking his measurements. There didn’t seem to be a topic untouched at the end of Harry’s session, and though he was done with his measurements and such, he stuck around. You two stood by the table you stood at earlier, you still holding onto the tape like once you stopped, Harry would immediately leave. Neither of you noticed how the door opened slightly. Didn’t notice Alessandro looking through the crack and at the two of you, having heard voices from behind the door when he came back from his meeting. He smiled to himself, seeing Harry laugh at something you said before he closed the door again, leaving you two to it.

You became fast friends. Though you could go a week without texting, or a day without thinking about one another, you still knew that when you next met up, you would pick up where you left off. You had formed an easy friendship like that, one which you both appreciated and knew you could come back to without problem. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you would befriend someone as high profile as Harry Styles when working as a tailor. You hadn’t really thought you would befriend any celebrity when working as a tailor, actually. But here you were, friends with Harry Styles, and not at all thinking of him as someone who made hit singles or who was the new face of Gucci. Someone who made a living off of singing and who had a huge bloody fanbase supporting him. That part of his life felt surreal, but yours and Harry’s friendship was so genuine, so effortless, that you didn’t really care about the other aspects of his life as long as he was a good person.

The second time you met was at the chip shop, The Camp, in St Albans, Hertfordshire, where the photoshoot and commercial would take place. It was cloudy, the skies a dull grey that threatened with rain, but you knew would just fly right by without interrupting the film crew. The wind was annoying however, bitter at the touch, but you knew Harry was a warm blooded person and would have no problems exposing his chest and hands to it. You strolled up to the Camp School parking lot that was littered with cars and a huge white truck where you knew Harry would be, getting ready. Alessandro had other business to attend to and most of the people on set worked for Gucci, but you were there to see that the suits you had made were okay and that they properly fit. For the first fitting some weeks ago, you had been busy with another client, so Alessandro had done that himself. But he still wanted someone on sight in case something happened, because no way in hell were anyone but him or you allowed to repair a pair of torn trousers or a ruined shirt.

You knocked on the door of the truck, heard a “Come in”, and stepped inside. Harry was sitting in a makeup chair, a woman doing his hair and make-up, readying him for his first ever Gucci shoot. He opened his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror before him. Your smiles were identical when you realised who you were looking at.

“Knob.” You said, standing by the wall behind Harry.

“Wanker.” He answered, grinning at you. “You alright?”

It was something the two of you had fallen into the habit of calling one another ever since the ‘knob’ incident of your first meeting. No one really understood why, especially not the people around you. Alessandro, who thought he had been the mastermind behind a match made in heaven, was surprised to see just how good friends the two of you were. Seeing you two hit it off in his office at first, he had immediately thought he had done it, found each his friends a potential partner, but after months of nothing romantic happening, he had given up. It was clear the two of you just looked at each other as friends and nothing more. Very good friends at that.

“Yeah,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing out beyond the door you had just walked through. “Looks like it’s about to rain.”

Harry chuckled. “Worried about that, are you?” He thanked the make-up artist before he got up, gesturing for you to walk out first.

“Yes.” You answered, stepping out of the van. “You’ll look like a maniac if you get wet in that.”

“A maniac?!” Harry sounded appalled. “You might have to elaborate on why.”

“Wet hair, wearing a suit with no shirt, striking orange necklace, and holding a chicken?”

“No, that’s art, babe.”

You laughed. The two of you started strolling towards the chip shop.

“If anything, I’ll look irresistible wearing this and being soaked.” Harry said, saying a quick ‘hi’ to someone walking by. “You won’t be able to resist me.”

You huffed. “If I saw someone walking down the street looking like that, being soaked through, I’d have my pepper spray ready and already dialling 999.”

“Admit it, you’d not be able to keep your hands off me.”

“Why are you so obsessed with me thinking you’re fit?” You laughed. A short silence followed. Your knuckles brushed against one another. Something warm lit up your chest for a single second. Harry just looked at you for a moment, as if seriously contemplating the question. But before you got the chance to look to your left and at your mate, to make sure he was fine, someone interrupted.

“Harry,” one of Glen Luchford’s assistants walked toward the two of you. “We’re ready for you.”

The photographer stood beside the art director – Christopher Simmonds - further down the street, just outside the chip shop, talking amongst themselves about something. A slight breeze blew past you, Harry’s cologne graced you for two lovely seconds as you watched the man himself follow the main photographer’s assistant. You were a couple of steps behind them, standing by yourself and watching the whole commercial unfold. Harry was handed the chicken, who flapped its wings upon being in Harry’s grasp. The look on Harry’s face had you laughing, and Harry immediately looked over at you, giving you a stern look. However, you were laughing, so it was hard for him not to crack a smile as well. Your phone vibrated in your pocket some minutes later, and you walked a distance away as not to be in the way.

“Lallo, hiya.” You greeted, scrunching your nose up as you felt the first droplet of rain hit it.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro greeted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “How’s the photoshoot?”

“Not really done much yet, but everything’s fine so far.”

He sighed again. “I am glad to hear. Did the suit fit nice like it’s supposed to?”

You glanced at Harry over your shoulder, standing on the pavement further down, ready to film. He ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the white sky with big eyes. It was almost as if you could see the peaceful green of his irises. His neck was stretched as he bowed his head back, closing his eyes and letting a few raindrops fall into his face. He looked almost dreamy; peaceful for a few moments as he collected himself. Someone shouted something and Harry blinked his eyes open, looking at the director. Suddenly, his eyes went to you, but they flickered away just as quickly. You looked away.

“It fits.”

“Nothing bad’s happened?”

You kicked at a stone on the ground. “What does that mean?”

“Harry ruining the suit.”

You huffed out a small laugh through your nose. “Do you have that little faith in him?”

“He gets clumsy when he’s nervous.”

You frowned. “Harry isn’t nervous.”

“Are you sure?” Alessandro asked, you could tell he was narrowing his eyes and putting his hand on his hip. He was challenging you. “Really sure?”

“Look,” you started walking towards the make-up van, aware that you most likely had to go get the make-up artist and hairdresser out if it was going to start raining. “Everything’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about. If you were worried this was going to be a fail, why didn’t you prioritise this event?”

“Fine, fine. It’s not you I’m worried about, no? It’s that…” Alessandro paused for some seconds. “It’s Harry’s first Gucci shoot and I’m not there. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then I’m there to fix it. Why I’m here, remember?” You spotted the van. “I’m your eyes, ears, and hands today.”

Alessandro laughed. “Il mio amore, what would I do without you?”

“Do not know. I really don’t.”

He laughed again and you two hung up just as you knocked on the door to the make-up van. Informing them that it was drizzling out and that they might have to come do a touch-up if it got worse, you walked in as they got everything they needed. A selection of suits hung on a rack on one end of the van, some twins in case something were to happen, and others were lone ones. Regardless, you always found Alessandro’s ability to make clothes into a form of art so inspiring. It was what made you want to work with him in the first place. An abundance of colours and fabrics, of softness and roughness, of modern and rustic. The things he thought to make you’d never in your wildest dreams think of, which made doing anything for him so fascinating. Always something new, always something spellbinding.

You followed the crew out and in the direction of the shoot. It wasn’t drizzling as much anymore, but this was still England, something that meant it would happen anytime soon. The artists were chatting amongst themselves as you made your way over, you read over an email on your phone. Suddenly though, the heels that had walked right beside you stopped. You glanced up from your phone, over your shoulder at the three ladies you had gotten to help you. They stared straight ahead, and when you averted your eyes, letting them land on what they were seeing, you almost dropped your phone.

The hen Harry had been holding was flapping about, two crew members chasing it while a third one ran over to help. Someone was shouting “Stop recording” and someone else “Get the fucking chicken”. But the worst part of it all – at least for you – was Harry getting up from the asphalt. There was a furrow to his brows as he checked his suits for scratches, stopping when he saw the rip at his knee. Your brain immediately flashed back to what Alessandro had just told you.

Harry’s eyes shot up, hastily scanning the crowd around him, and you quickly realised he was looking for you. Stepping forward, you saw him relax some when his eyes landed on you. He jogged over, groaning through his teeth.

“I-“

“-Get to the bloody van, I need to take a look at the rest of your suit.”

“But there’s only the knee.” Harry said as you two started walking.

“I’m not taking your word for it.”

This seemed to become a theme for Harry’s shoots. His anxiety would get the better of him, though he did get more confident with each one that went by. It wasn’t something he was amazing at at first, but something that grew on him overtime. Just like the seasons changed from winter to spring to summer, Harry slowly got his feet off the slippery ice he seemed to have been on that first shoot in England.

However, a few months later, you were back in Italy, doing another shoot with Gucci. Harry was wearing one of the suits you had tailored for him; a checked one, a blue shirt, a silk bandana around his neck and another one in his hair. Since the last shoot, the two of you had talked over the phone, texted, and sent each other funny memes on Instagram. You hadn’t met up a whole lot, maybe the odd café trip or two with some friends, but nothing beyond that. So, meeting him in Italy, your second home, was incredibly special to you.

You were on the outside of Rome, Villa Lente, and you had spent most of your morning yawning and getting looks from Alessandro when you did so. Harry yawned with you when he caught you doing so, the two of you giggling at how ridiculous you were being. With raised eyebrows, Alessandro watched the two of you, giving you a slight flick to the arm when you distracted Harry.

But it was when Harry was perched on the stone wall, dragging some hair out of his face as he placed himself steadily on it, that was then it happened. The sun hit him just right, making the ruffle of his curls look like a golden halo around his head; green irises switching to the colour of autumn leaves where the light hit them. He looked ethereal. And in the middle of all of this, Harry reached for the lamb he was supposed to be perching on his shoulders. No one thought Harry would actually fall off the wall. No one thought he was that clumsy. But as he was hurtling towards the ground having lost his footing completely, the realisation that he was indeed that clumsy hit you just as Harry hit the stone staircase beneath the wall.

Alessandro exclaimed a few crude words in Italian, running to Harry’s aid. You stood there blinking, getting yourself back from the slight daydream you’d just had about the poor man that laid on the ground with a dozen people around him. One second he had looked like something straight out of a dream; like an angel that had come down to earth. He had looked too good and you simply had not been able to look away from him. You knew Harry was good looking, you weren’t blind, but something about the sun hitting him like that, when he smiled down at you watching him, how carefully he styled his hair when he at up on that stone wall. It did something to you.

But all of that disappeared right away when Harry hit the ground, exclaiming a grunt of pain. Alessandro was by his side in seconds, speaking so fast you had trouble understanding him. Harry held onto his knee, yet again having ripped the suit and once again bleeding, only this time it was his hand. Why was it always his knee and why did he always end up bleeding? It was only so clumsy a person could get, wasn’t it? And yet, Harry Styles seemed to be proving you very wrong. No one was as easily affected by their anxiety as him.

People crowded him, ready to be of help and to get him standing. It wasn’t like he had broken any bones, because he was able to get up onto his feet without trouble, but the fall had definitely hurt regardless. Your eyes locked as Harry’s arm came to rest around Alessandro’s shoulders, the designer helped him over to the van. Once again, Harry had to change trousers.

“How?” you simply asked, unsure what best way to even address the whole situation.

“Don’t,” Harry shook his head, not in the mood to have you take the mick out of him for this. “Hurts like a fucking cunt.”

Alessandro pinched Harry’s side, making him yelp and put more pressure on his knee than he wanted to, ultimately getting him to gasp. Harry glanced at the designer, an annoyed furrow forming between his brows.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You were being rude.”

“Pinching a wounded man is rude.” Harry removed his arm from around Alessandro, limping towards the van. “I’m getting changed.”

You glanced at Alessandro, both of you knowing that no matter what, Harry would be in a bad mood for a bit now. That always happened when something didn’t go according to plan; he’d get grumpy and need some time alone. One of the assistants was about to follow him, clearly having gotten some orders from the photographer, Glen Luchford, or art director, Christopher Simmonds. You put your hand out warning them from following the already irritated and hurting star of the photoshoot. He just needed 10 minutes to cool off, and then you’d be off after him to make sure he was alright.

Once 10 minutes had passed, you knocked on the door of the make-up van, hearing a grumble of sorts before stepping inside. Harry was standing unzipping his trousers and shimmying them down his hip. It reminded you a bit of the tailoring you had done at the beginning of the year, how he had pushed both his trousers and boxers down so you could get his measurements right. He glanced over his shoulder at you before he sat down, now only his boxers covering the top part of his thighs and crotch.

“Don’t stand there looking for too long,” he said, bending over to get the trousers completely off. “I might end up turning you on.”

You stepped inside, closing the door and walking over to the first-aid kit. You felt Harry’s eyes on you as he sat back, placing the ripped trousers on the chair beside him. Getting some cotton, you put a mild soap on it and poured it under water before walking back over to Harry. You sat down in a chair, getting closer to him, and taking his hand. As you turned it over to look at the scratch on his palm, you could tell that it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it to be, but it still looked like it’d hurt. Carefully, you dabbed the wound, making sure to clean it up. Harry hissed through his teeth, watching as the cotton came out dirty. It hadn’t been the cleanest ground he’d landed on and you didn’t want him to get an infection.

Getting up, you got another piece of cotton and did the same, dragging the chair even closer to Harry now. Taking his hand this time around, your knuckles brushed his thigh, the dark downy hair you hadn’t noticed till now. How his boxers rested tightly around his thighs, and how far up they were, revealing more than you were intended to see. Your cheeks felt hot and you focused on his hand, lifting it from his leg so you didn’t have to feel his warm, bare thigh against your knuckles. There wasn’t really a trace of any dirt on it now, but you wanted to be sure you’d gotten everything before you let him outside again.

You were very aware Harry could rinse his own wound himself. He didn’t need people to do everything for him, he liked doing most things himself, in fact. And though both of you were sat there knowing you didn’t have to, neither stopped it. Slowly, Harry’s eyes came to rest at your face. They stayed there, just watching you tend to him so carefully. When people go out of their way to help you, to make sure you’re okay, those are the kind of people to hold onto for life. The kind of people who will buy you sweets when you need it on a bad day, who will force themselves to be in a cheery mood to better yours, who will kiss your eyelids when you go back to sleep after a nightmare. The kind of people who will rinse your wound when you get hurt when you’re perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

You didn’t know why you looked up, didn’t know what made you do it. Maybe it was your subconscious that knew if you did, you’d find something you’d been searching for your whole life. Maybe something inside you knew that glancing up, you’d see something you hadn’t before. Your eyes met Harry’s, and though you had stared into them on numerous occasions before, something shifted in that moment. With his hand in your hand, his bare knee resting against yours, eyes glancing intently into yours; it was like something bigger than yourselves took over. You felt it on your heart first, like a warm tingling that spread out to every single one of your limbs and cells. It felt like you were drunk; head hazy and feelings heightened. Everything about Harry before you was greater, brighter; more.

“You need to finish the shoot.” You said, knowing that Alessandro would undoubtedly not appreciate the two of you taking this long.

Harry didn’t answer. He just stared at you, like he was seeing something spectacular for the first time and he couldn’t look away. The look in his eyes softened as he gulped, his Adam’s apple moving with a lump in his throat he clearly had trouble swallowing. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes rest to your lips. Following the shape of them, savouring the colour of them. Neither of you realised you were moving in. It wasn’t till the sight of Harry started to blur and the room seem to fill with electricity that you realised just how close you were. You stopped, pulling a bit away till you saw him clearly, but a slight wrinkle to his brows told you he hadn’t appreciated that. Just as you were about to lean in again, to an unknown fate between the two of you, there was a loud knock on the door and a second later it flew open. You pushed away from him, barely even touching his hand as you finished rinsing the wound. Harry blinked, clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder at Alessandro who stood there glancing back at him.

“Well?” Alessandro asked, gesturing behind him at the shoot that had been momentarily stopped.

“Yeah,” Harry said, eyes meeting yours before he dragged his hand out of your grip. “Just a sec.”

Harry got up, walking over to the wardrobe to get changed. Instantly, you threw the cotton away and walked outside with Alessandro, ready to forget the whole moment and never think of it again. But it was easier said than done. The rest of that shoot, that day, that week, it was all you could think about.

Unfortunately, after that shoot, you and Harry hadn’t been able to see one another  It was finally that time of year when you had a bit of time off to relax, and this time it happened to fall in the middle of July. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do nothing more than wander the streets of your home, see some old friends, and fully enjoy the beauties that an Italian summer had to offer. But no matter how happy you were for the time off, it was bittersweet because although Harry had just finished his world tour and now had an abundance of free time on his hands, he was fully booked until you’d see him for your next shoot.

You didn’t fault him for how he spent his time off, he did just get home after a long year long world tour, and that did warrant some time alone. But you did have to admit that you missed seeing him. Somewhere in your mind, you recall him saying he was spending some time in Italy up north with his family, but the dates were jumbled and you didn’t want to disturb his peace. Instead, you settled for knowing you’d see him again in a few short months.

You had set out for the day in order to find some new houseplants, seeing as the young girl who kept yours tended to while you were away - Lilliana - always seemed to let them wilt. It was the most perfect day to stroll down to the market and see some of the florists you’d missed while you were away, what with the sun shining it’s brightest and only the tiniest breeze ghosting by your cheeks. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. This was your time to bask in the sunlight before heading back to dreary London for some time.

Sandals clapping against the cobblestone walkway echoed through the quiet street, the sound of faint music playing from a nearby open window was carried by the breeze, filling in any silence that would be there otherwise. This was the life you had dreamt about as a child, the kind of life that you only got to read about in books or watch in films, yet here you were. It was yet another reason you had to be thankful to Alessandro for.

“Mi scusi, signora.”

You often walked down the small side street with your eyes closed briefly, not only knowing it like the back of your hands, but also basking in the warmth of the sun, so it wasn’t anything new to have someone speak up to let you know they were near. But something about that voice was familiar. Like when you walk into your home for the first time in a while and you can smell you. Like you can’t exactly put a finger on it, but you know it’s familiar, so you investigate. Which you did, and it caused you to gasp.

“Harry?”

“In the flesh.” his smile could rival the brightness of the sun that was shining between in the tall buildings as he walked up the slight incline of the street towards you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and through I’d stop by. See my favorite tailor.” Once he finally reached you, your arms were instantly wrapped around one another, squeezing like you hadn’t just been together weeks ago.

“Wha - how are yo-?”

“Don’t tell me you’re speechless. You? Of all people?” he laughed, pulling away after giving a few rubs to your back.

“I know you didn’t come all the way to Montaione to take the piss, Harry.” you took this time to really look at him after your surprise meet up. He looked remarkable, something that quite annoyed you considering he was dressed so casually. Then again, the man could pull off close to anything. He was wearing a pair of grey trousers; a single pleat running from his waist to ankles down the middle of the leg, a plain white t shirt that perfectly accentuated his dark tattoos, and a royal blue bandana that hung loosely from around his neck. The pair of sunglasses he had worn when walking up to you were now being hung from the bandana so that he could get a better look at you, and if you had to look at his sparkling green eyes for any second longer, you were sure you would combust.

“Despite how easy it is to get under your skin, I, surprisingly, didn’t come here to do anything other than see you for a few hours.”

“A few hours? You traveled down from Modena just to hangout for a few hours?”

“Knew I was in Modena then? Keeping tabs on me while we’re apart, are you?”

Your hand jut out and shoved him hard enough to make him lose a bit of balance while you two started walking down the street, just enough so that he had to take a few steps to the side to stabilize himself.

“Thought you weren’t here to take the piss, knob.”

He laughed, nodding his head and sliding his sunglasses back onto his face. “Alright alright. Truce. But to answer your question, yes I did. That a bad thing?”

“Uh, no it’s not. Just a bit surprising is all. That’s a bit of a journey just for lunch.”

“And I’d make it countless more times for you.”

Over the last two years, you grew to know Harry and when he was being serious or having a laugh, so you could instantly hear the sincerity behind his words. Despite the goofy grin playing at his lips, you knew that he was being truthful, and the thought made butterflies awaken in your belly.

“It’s good to see you, Harry.” the nod you gave was more towards yourself, but when you glanced up at Harry, you saw that he was already watching you, smiling as he took in your relaxed aura.

“You too, doll.”

“How’d you find me, anyway?” just as you did each time you met up, the two of you fell into easy conversation as you made your way towards the village square. Harry was one of those people that you could go months without talking to, yet somehow, the second you met back up again, you were able to pick up right where you left off.

“Alessandro may or may not have given it to me.” his voice was timid, like he didn’t fully want to admit he had asked your boss where you lived.

“Of course he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s obsessed with you, you know?”

“He’s not.”

“Mhm. Says you’re his shining star. ‘M sure the man would create a whole collection surrounding you if you give him enough time.”

“Says the woman who he looks at like his next of kin.”

“Don’t make this into a pissing contest, Harry. You know he adores you.”

“Just him?”

It felt like spending time with a lifelong mate when with Harry, but when he said shit like that, when he made your tummy flutter with his mix of words and longing gazes, it made it hard for you to see him as just a friend.

“Didn’t you say that you only had a bit before having to get back?” you changed the subject quickly, not wanting to answer his question.

“Not get back, ‘m not headed back to Modena.” he shook his head when you sent him a soft, questioning ‘no?’ “Nope. Flying down to Sicily for a few days for Google Camp.”

“Google Camp?” your eyebrows shot up in question when he told you, “A sumit for the rich and famous to talk about climate change while flying in on private jets and yachts. How very unlike you mister Styles.”

“Oi, lay off. Got invited, didn’t I? Wasn’t going to turn it down. Besides,” he shrugged, “‘M flying commercial and carpooling. Being as eco friendly as possible.”

“Course, of course.”

“I have four hours until my flight, so just shut up and come get lunch with me.”

The room had gone totally dim during your trip down memory lane, indicating that it was time for everyone to begin getting in their places so that the show could begin. But even in the low lighting, it wasn’t hard to miss the look of fear and doubt flash through Harry’s eyes. The look was something that appeared before every shoot or campaign you had been present for, only lasting seconds, yet always intriguing to you. The man before you was a superstar, someone who pranced around on stage in front of tens of thousands of people every night, without a care in the world. Yet, as soon as your exquisitely tailored clothes touched his body, his shoulders would tense, and he looked like a scared child. You’d never understood why.

“You’re nervous.” It came out as more of a breathy statement than a question.

“‘M terrified.”

You heard those words regularly from your models, especially the new ones, but hearing it fall from between his lips made your stomach tighten. Harry was such a natural at all of this; the superstardom. It was easy to tell that he felt right at home while on stage, how perfectly natural his body reacted whenever the camera was on for a red carpet, how easy going he was when it came to hair and makeup and outlandish outfits. All of it came so easy to him and it blew you away every time you got to witness it. And while he was so good at adjusting quickly to new environments, his team and fans constantly cheering him on with every new endeavor, he was still just a normal twenty five year old guy. He still FaceTimed his mum to get her opinion on new looks, still went out and enjoyed his free time with mates, and still got anxious when trying something new. He never seemed to want to disappoint you or Alessandro when he was wearing the clothes you’d made for him specifically. That was what got to him, you thought, the prospect of ruining spectacular clothes you’d made from scratch. The moments in time you’d just thought back on was indicator enough.

“It’s gonna be great. We saw you during the runthrough yesterday.” you smiled, reminding him how well he had done during the practice show.

“But that’s different. This time it means somethin-” he was cut off by Alessandro yelling it was time for all models to officially line up for showtime. “What if I go too fast and I step on Mae’s shoe, fuck up her walk? Or too slow and clog up the entire runway? Or the hat fal-”

“Hey!” To stop his incessant worrying, your hands grabbed either side of his face, making him stop for a second and look directly at you. He blinked once. “Stop it. You’re going to do amazing. Alessandro wouldn’t have put you in this show if he didn’t have complete confidence in you. And you should know by now I wouldn’t have wasted my oh so precious time making any of this fit you perfectly if I didn’t believe in you.”

Harry’s breathing began calming down, going from almost hysterical to a gentle, rhythmic, intake, indicating that he was coming out of his panic bubble. His eyes never left your own, quite different from all the times they had openly roamed your figure.

“You can do this.” You whispered, nodding slightly and sending him a loving smile as your hands dropped back down to your sides,

Alessandro’s voice yelled over everyone, demanding everyone be in their place immediately, but Harry made no move to leave your side. He continued staring at you, taking a few deep breaths every few seconds and nodding to himself, seeming to give himself a pep talk in his head. The lights went out in the museum, leaving the audience in complete darkness, and you knew the intense sound of an alarm would soon be echoing through the building to start the show.

But none of that held your attention.

In what could have only been a second, Harry’s lips were pressed against yours. It was so quick that you didn’t have time to register what had happened before he was turning to run and join the other models, but it left you stunned. Like being in the warmth of your home during a snowy day and suddenly opening the door, letting the freezing wind hit you in the face.

And as much as the kiss had taken you off guard, it felt so very right that small second it happened. He hadn’t even given it a second thought, leaning in to kiss you like the two of you had been an item for years and it was part of your normal everyday routine. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the thought alone made your fingertips ache to be on his skin again. Shaking yourself out the haze that had formed around you mind, your focus and priorities flipped like a switch as soon as the siren began playing, looking around the room to make sure everyone and everything was where it needed to be.  

Just as the precession of models began exiting the dressing room, and The Shadows Die Twice by Br1002 ranging throughout the museum, you made your way up to stand beside Alessandro. There was never a time you saw him truly stressed; not when you first started working with him and you accidentally ruined an entire bundle of fabric, not when he was in charge of creating dozens of different looks for the Met Gala, and not even now, watching as his newest collection strutted down the runway, making its worldwide debut. He was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.

“There she goes.” You admired, resting your head on your boss’ shoulder and watching all 217 of the looks he created and you helped bring to life, be released into the world.

The sense of pride that rushed through your veins each and every time you got to see the pieces you put your heart and soul into, was similar to what you could only imagine it was like for a parent to watch their child flourish. You could remember all the moments during the months leading up to the show that you wanted to quit, when you would get so frustrated with Alessandro and his brilliantly creative mind every time he brought you a new look idea, how badly you wanted to scream after pricking your fingers so much they started to bruise. You remembered all of those times when holding such an important job at Gucci felt like something you just weren’t ready for at the age of twenty four. But every hardship was worth it the moment your work came to a culmination. This moment of absolute pride and excitement.

“How are you feeling?”

Alessandro wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you so close to his body that it was most comfortable for you to wrap one arm around his back and one around his waist, your hands joining together at his hip. “I feel so much love.”

That was the only way to describe what the two of you were feeling as the show progressed through the museum. Even though the room was dark, tall lighting setups hung in every direction, and hundreds of guests were posted up in chairs, the beauty of the location still shined through. Black and white marble covered the floor throughout the entire building, the diamond pattern flowing easily from room to room, and sculptures of ancient men lined each side of the hallway, seemingly growing from the walls because of the similar colors. About halfway down the hallway, models made a left turn and entered the large area known as Palazzo Nuovo. The “New Palace” was constructed over 400 years ago and was an identical replica of the Palazzo dei Conservatori that Michaelangelo created. You had been to the location many times before since spending 6 months at a time in Italy, but you had never seen it as a place to hold a show. Not until Alessandro had brought you one day and explained his vision as you roamed the hallways.

The quick pass of a red beret on one of the monitors, set up for the backstage team to watch the show, caught your attention. He stayed on camera for a bit, and you wished you could watch his fans meltdown over it in real time because he looked exquisite. Despite the darkness of the room, Harry was glowing. The way the strobe lights would hit his face every few steps and accentuate his already angelic features made your stomach clench. You had spent countless hours up close and personal with Harry, while there was very little fabric covering his body; very intimate and unforgettable moments. Many a-second-too-long looks, smiles when the other wasn’t watching, and an intense almost kiss. And an actual kiss. A tiny kiss. A kiss you still felt on your lips. But now, you were getting hot and bothered thinking about his lips while he strutted down the runway in one of the most conservative outfits of the line.

There was something about the lapel rolls of the jacket flapping open slightly with each step, beautifully showcasing his sparrow tattoos and delicate pendant necklace under the dim lights, that excited you. But it was the faintest smile that graced his lips the second before he left frame that made your heart swell.

The overall look he was sporting was extremely similar to that of his first Men’s Tailoring campaign, with the long robe like jacket and exposed chest, but the glint of both happiness and confidence in his eyes reminded you of the moment you put him into the pink and red ensemble of his latest campaign. Something that still made something inside your tummy flutter and the corners of your mouth tip upward.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Harry said. “I will die. 100%.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, holding the pink blazer up and letting him put both his arms through it. “It’s just pigs.”

“That will have my head if I get too close.”

“This is a Gucci shoot, you’re not on I’m a Celeb.”

Harry huffed, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting the blazer over his shoulders properly. “Watch me go on I’m a Celeb and die when I get attacked by an exotic animal or summat.”

“A pig won’t be the death of you and it’s not an exotic animal, now shut up and sit down.” You wagged the red bandana at him. “I need to put this on you before we can get this started.”

“Alright then.” Harry shoved his wrists out for you. “Go on.”

You tried to give him a disappointed look, but you simply were not able to. Laughing, you shoved Harry into his seat, standing between his legs as you tied the bandana around his head. This time around, the shoot was mostly indoors, so there weren’t many ways Harry could fuck this one up. Alessandro was busying himself and so were other crew members, walking about you two and shouting orders at someone else, but neither of you noticed anyone but the person before you. Since the lunch in Florence, you had been incredibly busy, so you hadn’t really had much time to meet up. Harry, who was currently travelling and making his second album, hadn’t been available much either, but you were both over the moon that you got to spend this time together. You really missed each other the time you were away.

Since last time, Alessandro had gone out of his way to make rings for those he held dearest. Gold Gucci rings with each person’s initials, one for each letter, big and bold. It had taken you off guard, as you hadn’t thought yourself to be as important to Alessandro as he was to you, but he had insisted and showed you his own. He told you “Dear friends match” and that did it for you, you simply had to wear his rings without question. And since then, you had been wearing them every single day. You felt part of his little family. So when Harry showed up to your third shoot together, wearing matching rings to yours, you felt your heart skip a beat and Alessandro’s knowing eyes on both of you. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew how you both felt for one another, and he thought, by giving you these rings, you might realise how special you were to him and then see how special you were to one another as well.

“You’ll just have to forget about your fear of geese and be a professional.”

“I don’t have a bloody fear of geese.”

You shrugged your shoulders, tying the bandana properly.

“I don’t!”

“Alright, mate.”

Harry paused for a second. “Don’t ‘mate’ me.”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore the comment and how it made literally every inch of your body heat up. Taking a step back you studied him, giving him a thumbs up before you walked over to the other suits you had to check up on for the shoot. Harry watched you for a few seconds before he got up from the chair, going to check himself out in the mirror again. Your phone suddenly vibrated against the desk right in front of the mirror, and Harry’s eyes instantly fell to it. A furrow appeared between his brows.

“Who’s Jack?”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry read the text you just got. “Hey!”

“Who is he?” he asked again, looking over at you as you came rushing over. You took the phone, pressing it to your chest as if it was going to make Harry forget what he’d just read. He tried to add a playful undertone to his voice, a slight smile across his lips.

“None of your business.”

Harry looked away from you, nodding as he busied himself with trying to get some kind of lint off his coat. “You’re right.”

You put the phone back in your jean pocket and walked over to the suits again, hunching down to check the seam on the hem on the trousers. You felt your phone vibrate with another notification or vibrate as a reminder that she’d gotten a text two minutes prior. Getting up and about to reach back to check what Jack had wanted, she felt a breath against her neck.

“You’re seeing him then?”

You jumped, holding your hand to your chest as you turned around to face him. “None of your business!”

“Oh, come on!”

You shoved him out of the way, way too much to do to be distracted by Harry’s nosiness. Strolling over to the desk, you started looking through your calendar when Harry showed up beside you again. Leaning on his elbow on the desk, he looked up at you, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible considering how curious he actually was.

“Is he fit at least?”

“He’s not annoying.” You said, covering his face with your hand. You felt him smile into your palm. “Ever tried that?”

“Tried being annoying?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

You shoved him away, making him lose his balance some and lean both his elbows on the desk. He watched as you walked back to the suits, looking at which ones Alessandro said were to be used by Harry and which ones were to be used by someone else at another time. Just as Harry was about to ask another question about Jack – who was just a mate from back home you hadn’t ever talked to him about because he’d never come up in conversation -, there was a knock at the wardrobe door. Alessandro stood there, a raise to his eyebrows and a small smile on his lips that was almost hidden by his dark, thick, long beard. He’d stood there watching you two for a little while, you thought to yourself.

“Is Harry ready for the shoot?”

“Yes,” you glanced at Harry and pointed at Alessandro. “Go.”

Harry sighed but got up, walking over to Alessandro who was smiling, encouraging Harry to do the same. As he passed him, a small beam was on Harry’s lips, but as he walked through the door, you couldn’t tell if he was still smiling or if he just did it to Alessandro wouldn’t make him. The creative director looked over at you, crossing his arms but not losing his smile.

“What?”

Alessandro shrugged.

“No, what?”

“You could’ve at least told him who Jack was.” Alessandro chuckled.

You rolled your eyes.

“But I get that you want to watch him suffer. It’s funny seeing someone you like be jealous.”

“Harry isn’t jealous.” You said, closing the calendar and placing it neatly back on the desk. “He’s just nosy.”

Alessandro didn’t say anything in response, instead he just walked on over to the shoot, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You weren’t really sure why you hadn’t just told Harry who Jack was. It wasn’t like anything was going on between you and Jack, you were simply mates and he wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. You had absolutely nothing to hide. Especially nothing to the point of keeping your phone close to your chest so he wouldn’t reread the message you’d just gotten, holding no significance whatsoever.

Maybe Alessandro was right. Maybe you did want to see if he was jealous or not. But he didn’t seem jealous to you, just his nosy self. Sighing, you followed Alessandro, ready to be of service if something should go wrong. They hadn’t even started shooting when you walked into the room, they were still walking around, placing the different statues and other props around the place to get it to look exactly like the producer wanted it to. You stood watching for a bit, knowing that your phone was still in your back pocket, untouched since Harry had seen the innocent text from Jack.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, saw a shadow mingle with yours, and you recognised the messy hair and the bandana you’d wrapped around his head earlier. Smiling, you continued to stare ahead, waiting a minute before Harry felt brave enough to answer.

“Did you answer Jack then?” You felt the breath of his words against your hair.

“He just wanted to know how I was, Harry.”

“I know.”

You bit your lip, not looking back at him.

“Guess he just wanted to talk. To feel close to you in a way.”

You huffed, standing your ground and not looking back at him like you knew he wanted you to. “And the point of this is…?”

“Being close to someone you love can calm you down.” Harry said, voice low so only the two of you could hear him. You felt a shiver run up your spine. “Like shelter in a storm; entering a small house and staying for tea before braving the terrible weather again, a little stronger this time with some motivation from those you… hold closest to your heart.”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your throat, feeling both Harry’s breath and eyes on you. It took everything in you not to look at him, to see his soft expression after uttering those equally soft words. “I’m not in love with Jack, Harry.”

Harry was quiet for a second before he said, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “Okay.”

You smiled yourself, wanting to say something in response but not knowing what would be appropriate. You weren’t even sure why you were feeling this much or why Harry being elated you weren’t seeing someone made you this happy. He stood right behind you, just as close, not wavering, till he had to go do the shoot. Walking backwards, he made sure to catch your eye, give you a small smile, before going to do his job. You hated how your cheeks felt hot, that every single time Harry’s dimples appeared you heard something inside your head scream and the every single one of your cells react to him. Glancing over at Alessandro, you caught the creative director watching you with a grin on his face. As soon as your eyes met, though, he turned away, forcing his smile away and pretending like he hadn’t seen a thing. You rolled your eyes, focusing all your attention on Harry, who didn’t let his anxiety get the better of him this time around.

“He’s doing very well.” Alessandro commented, his left hand resting on his chin in a pondering manner.

“He is.”

“Because you replaced his nerves before the show.” From under his hand, you could see a small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

“I - what?” Lifting away from his side, you stared at Alessandro’s face. And your wide eyes must have made you look like a deer in the headlights because he started chuckling.

You were positive that no one had seen your moment with Harry, considering how dark the little corner you were stood in was. Backstage at a fashion show was crazy enough, there’s no way anyone had been paying attention to the tailor in the back of the room. But the knowing look in your boss’s eyes told you otherwise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest.

“Eyes all over my head, il mio amore. I see everything.”

Alessandro had been like this from the moment he introduced you and Harry, almost two years ago at this point. Always motioning from across the room for you to stand just a bit closer to Harry, informing you whenever Harry was remotely near the office, and always leaving the two of you alone each time he was scheduled for a fitting. It was like he was making it his life’s mission to get his two prodigies together.

“Don’t laugh at me. This is your fault, you know?”

Feigning offence and his hand moved from his chin to his chest, Alessandro turned away from the monitor to finally look directly at you, “Mine? Why do you say that?”

“‘You have a lot in common.’ or how about, ‘look at my two loves together!’ or my personal favorite, ‘The two of you together, assolutamente da togliere il fiato!’”your impersonation of him had gotten extremely good over the last few years, bringing a soft smile to his lips. “Any of those ringing any bells?”

“Only encouraging what you both know to be true, cara.”

“You’re absurd.”

At this point, the first model had made his way back to the dressing room, immediately going to line up for the final walk through. It was scheduled to be a quick show, only about thirteen minutes from first walk to last, but you never imagined it would go by this fast. As the models began to line back up, both you and Alessandro separated, going to either side of the line to join the other tailor in making sure each outfit was still in its pristine condition. You you had a few loose threats to snip here, and a broken necklace to dispose of there, but overall, everyone was still looking perfect.

Especially Harry.

His head was craned, watching you as you made your way down the line behind him, and as soon as you stepped in front of him to quickly examine his apparel, he whispered your name.

“Haven’t tripped yet.” he smirked, adjusting the red glasses on his nose.

“I know, I was watching.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. We were talking about you. Turn around.” grabbing hold of his shoulder, you pulled forward, “Making him proud, you know.”

His shoulders relaxed under your palms, like hearing the news of making one of his idols happy set him free and he could now have the utmost fun with the final walk through.

“Alright. Good luck.”

But before you could get to the next model, his hand caught your arm. In any other situation, you’d be annoyed that you were being stopped from completing your job, but the look on Harry’s face made all worries about any other model fade from your mind.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you proud?”

The question took you off guard. Was really that concerned with what you thought of his performance? He was one of the most renowned superstars in the world, who danced his heart out on stage and did what made him happy no matter what others thought. But your opinion was the one who made his hands clam up? And had you ever made him feel like you weren’t proud? You always thought your quick jabs to one another were all in good fun, but maybe you had gone too far and made him doubt himself.

“Always proud of everything you do.”

It was the honest answer. Getting to watch him excel in every aspect of life he threw himself into, make decisions that helped so many people, putting his friends and family first, and making sure he was happy above all else, was inspiring to say the least. There was never a day that went by where you didn’t feel immense pride for even just getting the chance to know Harry. And in that moment, you promised yourself that you would make it more apparent to him from then on.

A large smile spread across his face, and even in the poor lighting, you could see the apples of his cheeks turn a rosey pink. He looked undeniably cute and following your heart as well as Alessandro’s previous encouragements, you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Come find me after the show. Gotta talk.”

The happiness faded from both his face and his eyes, and you instantly regretted the way you phrased your sentence. “Nothing bad, I promise! Just come find me, yeah?”

You had moved on to the next model, giving her a smile and a quick “Hello Mae” and began checking her dress as Harry was still processing your request. His hands were fidgeting with the fingerless gloves and he was undoubtedly about to break skin with how hard he was biting his lip. You felt like a proper idiot for making him nervous again after he was so happy.

“Calm down, would you? You’re starting to stress me out.” you laughed, giving Mae the okay and moving onto the next model. Sending him a wink, you nodded your head, making him well aware of how unserious this conversation was going to be.

A faster paced rendition of The Shadows Die Twice started playing, just as you finished checking over your designated models, indicating that it was time for the final walk through to begin. After these final few minutes, all the garments you had worked tirelessly on for months, would be totally completed. And usually, you would be filled with ease and comfort knowing you would have some time off before your next project. But this time was different.

This time, Alessandro had consulted you on many of the pieces making their way down the runway, showing just how much he valued and trusted your opinion. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be where you are today, but because of the man standing next to you, believing in your talent and putting your passion to use, you were living out a dream that you never knew you had.

“Thank you.” You whispered

“For what?”

“For believing in me enough to hire me four years ago. For not letting me give up when I was confused. For always encouraging me. Just - thank you.”

“Never have to thank me for those things, tesoro. The potential and passion inside you needs to be explored! I’m honored I get to be the one to help you embrace them!” Alessandro pulled you into a tight hug, the two of you swaying as you watched the models capture the attention of each guest one last time.

Lifting to stand on your tiptoes you whispered in Alessandro’s ear, but even though your statement was barely loud enough to be heard over the booming music, apparently it was just loud enough for your boss to hear, because his head snapped back and he grabbed you by the shoulders, holding you at arms length.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Together?”

“Mhm.” It was hard not to continue your giggles at his bewildered expression.

“How come?”

You shrugged, “I guess I just have a bloody persuasive boss.”

Once again, models began entering the dressing room, but this time, instead of staying in strict model mode, they were letting loose. Smiles were spread all over their faces, rushing to give each other hugs and words of encouragement. It was a beautiful sight to watch, the release of pressure the show brought to the models and the absolute joy they were now basking in.

“Il tuo tempo per brillare, rockstar.” your time to shine, rockstar. giving his shoulder a pat, you watched as he sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to walk the runway and accept the congratulatory applause about to be thrown his way once the last model had arrived backstage.

It was during this part, for some reason, that you always saw a bit of his nerves pop out. Maybe it was because of all the wandering eyes and unknown opinions, but walking out to thank the guests for attending seemed to be the only thing that ever made Alessandro nervous. And you would never admit it to him, but you enjoyed seeing him a bit on edge, reminded you that he wasn’t just some fashion robot, but a man who just wanted to be accepted for his unique and creative mind.

Your position in the back room made it easy to be a part of both atmosphere’s; the juxtaposition between the loud, bustling back room and angelic, calming sound of Bach - St. John Passion BWV 245: Herr echoing off of the marble walls was like a metaphor for your life these last few months. How at times, everything around you was so busy and fast paced that it was sometimes hard to get a handle on what was happening. But then moments like this happened and none of failures or pricked fingers mattered. Because watching your boss, the man you admired with all your heart and were lucky to call a friend, walk down his own runway, accepting love he deserved, on pieces you had helped create, was the most heavenly feeling you could imagine.

You watched as he made his way through the museum quickly, stopping every so often to bow his head in gratitude and send kisses to everyone in the audience.

“I see why you like this so much.”

Harry stood next to you, hands buried deep in his pants pockets, the long overcoat pushed back behind his arms, just enough that you got a good view of the sparrow tattoos and the very tip of the bird cage on his rib peaking out from under the white tank top. He didn’t look at you, instead, his eyes were trained on the monitor, watching the man who gave you each the chance to flourish in a world you never expected.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“Fucking exihlerating walking down that runway.” he admitted, the sentance coming out in a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe how much fun he had. “Can’t imagine what it’s like for the people that created it all.”

“Yeah, quite hard coming down from a high like this, so he usually takes a week or so off before jumping back into things.” you chuckled, thinking back to when you’d received an influx of text messages the last time Alessandro had gone off the grid, depicting how much he loved bees and would be incorporating them into the new collection after staying on a bee farm for a few days.

“Alessandro did a phenomenal job.” he paused, finally taking his eyes away from the screen and turning his entire body so that he was now facing you. “But so did you.”

If he hadn’t been staring directly at you, he would have missed the roll of your eyes. Of course, you were thankful to be a part of something so extraordinary, but this was all Alessandro. It was all his vision and even though you were asked to help finalize a few looks, this masterpiece was all thanks to him, and you wouldn’t take credit for any of it.

But before you could explain all of that to Harry, he said your name softly, moving a tad closer so your elbow was just barely touching his stomach. “‘M serious. These may have been his finalized pieces, but you quite literally put it all together. There would be no final product without your work.”

“Harry -”

“Don’t ‘Harry’ me, wanker, you’re bloody amazing at what you do. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone walking around this room is example enough.”

Receiving compliments from Harry wasn’t anything new to you. For as long as you’d known him, he was always looking for the good in people and making sure they knew about it. If you had to guess, that was probably one of the his main qualities that initially drew fans in, because all anyone wanted in life was to feel good; appreciated. And that’s exactly what he had been doing for you since the day he walked through your office doors. It was the little things that made your stomach turn to mush; holding your pin cushion when he knew it would make a session easier for you, bringing you a smoothie when you’d told him you didn’t have time to eat before a shoot, sending you funny memes in the middle of the night, or even just seeing his dimpled smile appear when he finally got to see his immaculately executed wardrobe. No matter what the circumstance was, simply being around Harry made you feel happy, calm, and you didn’t want that feeling to ever go away.

“Just look around an-”

“Do you want to go on a date?” when you’d asked him earlier to find you after the show so you could chat, you didn’t exactly expect the conversation to start out so blunt, but he just looked so cute and sincere telling you in his own way how proud of you he was.

“Wh-“

“There’s, um, there’s this really great restaurant not too far from here. Most delicious pasta you’ll ever eat, not to mention the cutest old couple on the planet runs it and they’ll def-“

“I haven’t eaten since this morning, so if you’re going to keep talking, I’ll just go eat this amazing pasta by myself.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right, that was a dumb que-“ it wasn’t his words that made you stop mid sentence, but more the soft smile that spread across his face, his dimple popping out slightly beneath his growing facial hair. There was no hesitation in his acceptance to your dinner date, contrary to what you were expecting, and it made the tips of your ears warm up. “Oh! Um, perfect. Yeah, great. Okay.”

Never had you been so flustered by the man standing before you. This wouldn’t be the first time you grab a bite to eat with him, and definitely wouldn’t be the first time the two of you spent time alone, but the way he was looking at you, like none of what he just did mattered, was definitely a first.

“Okay, um, just get dressed and I’ll meet you outside?”

“‘M serious, hurry up. Might starve to death while you’re busy chatting.” Harry joked, slowly walking away while still facing you, his finger coming out to point right at you, “Then you’ll have to explain to everyone how your desperate need to talk to everyone you come in contact with, was the reason behind the death of the Harry Styles.”

“Oi, fuck off. Says the man who made sure to learn something about every single person setting up the show today. Go get dressed before I slap the Harry Styles.”

The slight shake of his head kept your attention as he weaved his way through the bustling room, back towards the vanity he had claimed as his own. You’d watched the scene in front of you play out many times before; models spread out throughout the room, some having changed immediately into their own comfortable clothes, some tossing their heads back in eased laughter, and some every sitting back with their feet up, enjoying a basket of chips. No matter how each of them decided to unwind after such a monumental show, it never got old. Because just as they did, you had your own post show ritual.

You didn’t divulge in unhealthy foods or put on your most comfortable pair of socks; you organized your kit one last time. From the moment Alessandro sits you down with his new vision until the last model walks off the runway, you know to keep millions of pins, thread of all colors, buttons of every shape and size, and even some super glue on you at all times. They would undoubtedly get used throughout the months of alterations and mishaps, if not by you, then by a member of your team. So, taking a moment to sit and go through everything once the night was officially over was a sort of release for you. A way for you to touch and feel just how much hard work had gone into your work. How the container holding your pins was considerably lighter, the spool of black thread had nearly vanished, and the pile of band aids in the lower pocket was down to three. All signs that you put your heart and soul into this collection.

There was never any guarantee when Alessandro would find inspiration next and when his next project would begin, meaning you never knew when the next time you’d be opening your kit was. But this time, that wasn’t the case. He had planned at least three more shoots before the years end, so you were only allotted a few weeks of laid back free time this time around.

“Packing up so soon?”

“You know how I like to close out a show.” You chuckled, not turning to look at your boss, but seeing his hand reach out and fingertips graze over the very top of your bag.

“How many this time?”

“28 buttons, nearly the entire tin of pins, 64 band aids, and two mini bottles of wine.”

“You should be proud, il mio amore, that’s two less bottles than last time! It’s about progress!”

“Two less because someone yelled at me less this time around.” Finally getting back to your feet, you turned to face him and noticed that he had thrown his hair up to get it away from his sweaty forehead. “No need to drink if you aren’t crying in the fabric closet.”

“Lo faccio solo con amore, Tesoro, lo sai.” I only do it with love honey, you know. His smile was contagious as he took your hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Look at how far you’ve come. Such beautiful art comes from these hands.”

“Do you know what you’ll do until the fragrance shoot?”

“I will be taking Vanni to see my brother. A nice peaceful place to become one again. Where will you go?”

“My flat in Florence has been calling my name for weeks, Lallo.” He smiled fondly at the nickname. “Will probably do some redecorating while I’m there.”

“And some dates, no?”

“I really don’t know why I bother telling you anything. Like my father, you are.”

“Well I am the reason for this, am I not? Seems only right that I know all the details.”

“Details of what?”

“How I’m redecorating my flat in Florence.” Your response was quick, and you sent Alessandro a stern side glare so that he knew not to bring up anything of what you were just speaking of.

“Yes, I told her that I expect pictures.”

“Oh, add me to that list as well then! I’d love to see how you decorate. ‘M always looking for new inspiration.”

“Um, yeah sure. You ready?” if Harry could sense how awkward you felt when he joined you and Alessandro, he made no move to indicate it. Especially now, smiling at your agreement.

“Yup. Ready to enjoy some of Earth’s finest pasta.”

“Oh!” Alessandro brightened at Harry’s words, his back straightened, and eyes widened. “Are you taking him to Chiaro Di Luna?” you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Magnifico! A wonderful place you will love!”

“Well he won’t love it if we keep standing here so…”

“Have fun my prodigies!”

Both you and Harry laughed quietly as you finally walked away from the man of the hour. You may have known him in different ways, but each of you got the chance to see a side of Alessandro most people didn’t – parental type figure who wanted nothing but love and prosperity for you both.

“He’s like that with you all the time as well?”

“Hmm?”

You took a glance at him when pressing the button for the lift, just to be met with his warm eyes already looking at you. He looked handsome after the show – not that he wasn’t always handsome, but something about seeing him work so hard and then look so comfortable made your chest tingle. He was wearing a pair of dark yellow corduroy pants – the flare at the ankles not nearly as large as some of the flares he owns, but wide nonetheless – paired with a red and blue striped shirt, a tiny Mickey Mouse head embroidered into the upper left breast and a black bomber jacket.  He looked relaxed and everything that spending time in Italy embodied.

“Does he turn into dad mode on you as well?”

Harry laughed, “He means well.”

It was no surprise that Harry had brought along a plethora of fans, all eagerly awaiting his presence back outside after the show, so there was no way the two of you could casually stroll out of the front doors to get to your late dinner date. Instead, you were walking through the basement hallway so that you could make your speedy escape through the lower side exit, directly across from Cafe Capitolino.

“You think you’d do another?”

“You think I’d be asked to do another?”

Your hand found it’s way up to his forehead as the two of you strolled through Piazelle Caffarelli - the quaintest little park directly across from the museum. In the bright moonlight, the beds of flowers and statues almost appeared to glow, directing your path through the garden.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to see if you have a fever.”

“Huh?”

“You must be sick because I’m not seeing your ego anywhere.”

“Oh piss off.” he laughed, lifting his own arm so that he could slap yours - playfully - away from his face. “‘M serious.”

“So am I. You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. I’ve seen you doing your music thing Harry. You’re good and you know it. Where’s that attitude here?”

He was quiet as the two of you finally made it out of the garden and crossed the main street, focusing on stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and tugging it closer to his torso. His hair had grown quite a lot since the first time you’d met him years ago, and the curls, wild from being kept under a cap for hours, were blowing in the small breeze.

“‘Dunno. I was nervous when I did the film as well. Guess doing something new like this makes me question if I’m given the chance to do it because I’m genuinely good at it, or just because they want my name on it.”

That was a surprise to you. From the moment you met him, you could feel the confidence he emitted. In fact, it rubbed off on most who were working with him. He made the people around him feel confident in themselves and what they were doing, and always encouraged when someone was feeling down.

“You’re very much wanted on this team for what you bring to it, not your name. I’m sorry if you were made to feel anything less.”

“No!” he quickly rebutted, gaining the attention of the few people wandering the street late at night. But he paid no mind to them, only focused on looking at you to make sure you heard what he was saying cearly. “You haven’t, at all. None of you have. Just don’t want to be known as the guy who gets jobs because he was in a band.”

“Can promise you that Lallo wouldn’t have asked you to be a part of so many shoots and such an important show if he didn’t completely and wholeheartedly believe you were perfect for it.”

You watched him nod and mutter a quiet I guess, the moon peeking over the Gran Caffe Roma and highlighting his eyelashes and very tip of his nose so perfectly that he began to look like a statue.

“Lallo?”

“Yeah.” a quick chuckle left your mouth, a hand coming up to rub your cheek while you thought of your response. “After I finished my first collection for him, it was a small one so he could see if I was right for the position, he took me out for drinks to celebrate me getting the job. Long story short, we both had a few too many and I started calling him Lallo and it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.” his hand was wiggling about, trying to escape the confines of the jacket pocket, and when it finally did, it brushed against your own. You both looked down at the close proximity of your hands and you felt the air immediately get thicker. He must have felt the same because when you briefly look up at him over your lashes, he was staring straight ahead; very apparently trying not to make any sudden moves.

But the millisecond the warmth of skin left yours, you wanted it back. Maybe it was the tiny kiss you shared backstage just hours ago, or the built up tension between the two of you that had started during his second campaign shoot, whatever it was, you were done dancing around the obvious. Without giving it a second thought or looking anywhere but straight ahead, you lifted your pointer finger ever so slightly. Just enough so that it gently rubbed against his. You wanted to give him the option of pursuing anything further, so just as quickly as the contact began, it ended; your fingers settling by your side yet again.

However, the breeze working it’s way between your hands didn’t last long, because almost immediately after your little move, you felt his fingers slowly creep around your hand. He didn’t move fast, almost as if he was letting the calm Italian breeze join your hands together. And slower than you would have liked, your entire hand was enclosed by his, feather touches to make sure the other was comfortable with where things had gone.

You wanted to make sure Harry knew just how okay you were with his hand keeping yours warm, so you continued talking as if nothing had happened. “‘M the only one who gets to call him that though, so don’t go parading around saying it.”

“Loud and clear. Your secret's safe with me.” he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening when a strong gust of wind blew through the small alleyway you were walking down and you shivered, “Cold?”

“No, I’m alright.” you lied, the air outside always making you significantly colder after leaving the sauna that was a fashion show back room.

Instead of letting go of the idea of you being cold, Harry lightly tugged on your joined hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket, which then forced you to move closer to his side. Italy in May wasn’t a time you would consider cold; the sun shone nearly every day, warming your cheeks, and there was no need for anything more than a light jumper, but the warmth radiating from Harry’s side made it feel as if you were strolling around on an August day. But you welcomed it, despite the race of your heart.

“Looking forward to having some time off?”

“Absolutely. I really do need to redecorate my place. ‘M sure Lilliana hasn’t been taking care of the plants as often as I’d like so I’ll have to make a stop and pick up some new ones.”  you were mostly speaking to yourself, so you elaborated when he didn’t respond. “Lilliana is a girl who lives across the street. She’s sixteen, and has been watching my place ever since I started with Gucci. Doesn’t want to get paid or anything, only wants me to get her a meeting with Alessandro when she turns eighteen. Told her I’d see what I can do, but he’s already seen some of her designs. She’s very talented.”

“You’re really wonderful, you know.”

The compliment made the tips of your ears warm, and you were worried that the palms of your hands would start to clam up if you thought about the way you could feel him looking at you, so you quickly changed the subject, your hand clumsily sliding out of his pocket to point at the tiny restaurant in front of you.

“Here we are!”

Nestled at the very end of the alley, was your destination. Only two tables were set up outside, the tiny patio was past picturesque; it was straight out of a movie. A metal fence was surrounding the seating area on two sides - the third wall was created by the muted terracotta building and the fourth was left open for easy access. Wrapped around the very tops of the fence were some fairy lights, not enough to cover the entire thing, but enough to give a bit of lighting on the otherwise dark road, and creating a pathway to the front door, sat a nice variety of potted plants. And with the green doors to the shop left open, the smell of freshly baked bread immediately hit you and Harry in the face.

“This is amazing.” his voice was full of wonder and you appreciated the fact that even he, someone who had been around the world and back many times, never took for granted the small beauties of the world.

“Just wait until you try the food.” you smiled, bringing your hand up to your mouth in a mock chef’s kiss. “Deliziosa!”

The boisterous laugh that fell from between his lips was enough to catch the attention of whoever was working inside. It didn’t take long for them to walk down the front steps, seeing as the inside of the establishment was also small. But the second his face lit up from the wall mounted lights, you smiled.

“Lorenzo! Così bello vederti di nuovo!” Lorenzo! It’s so good to see you again!

“Mio dolce! Mi sei mancato!” My sweet! I’ve missed you! His arms opened wide as he walked down the single step, instantaneously enveloping you in a hug. He smelled of pasta sauce and pizza dough, the evidence of his hard work sprinkled across his withered cheek.

“Mi dispiace! Sai quanto può essere intenso il lavoro! Soprattutto con un capo come il mio!” I’m sorry! You know how intense work can be! Especially with a boss like mine!

You watched Lorenzo’s face light up when he pulled away from you and heard your boss’ name. The two had met ages ago and he was the one who had introduced the two of you. “Ah! Alessandro! Confido che stia bene! E chi hai portato con te questa volta, cara?” Ah! Alessandro! I trust he is doing well! And who have you brought with you this time, dear?

Feeling bad for leaving Harry out of the brief conversation, you angled your body so that you were now facing him, moving your hand between the two men in front of you. “Lorenzo, this is Harry. Harry, Lorenzo.”

True to his nature, Harry immediately stuck his hand out and offered a ‘you alright?’ to the older gentleman, but Lorenzo was having none of that. Completely ignoring the waiting hand, and having to stand a bit on his toes in order to wrap his arms around the younger man’s upper back, he pulled Harry in for a tight hug.

“Any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Benvenuto!”

“Hai un… posto bellissimo qui!” Lorenzo’s smile grew as the two separated and Harry slowly racked his mind for the right words. “Was that right?”

“It was! Thank you, we do love it here!”

“Speaking of..” you cut in, “I know it’s late but do you think we could steal a plate or two?”

“For you, mio caro, anything.” he lifted his calloused hand to gently pat your cheek. “Why don’t the two of you sit down and I will bring you a few dishes. I’ve got some fettuccine alla carbonara if you’d like. I’m sure I can find something else if-”

“That sounds wonderful, Lorenzo, thank you.”

You watched as his frail figure made its way back into the shop, taking an extra second to carefully climb the single step. It was the perfect night to sit outside and enjoy one of your favorite meals, but even more perfect to turn around and see Harry holding a chair out, waiting for you to join him at the table.

“Thank you.” you hoped the smirk you were trying to hide wasn’t visible in the dimly lit back alley and he couldn’t tell how much the small gesture made your heart race.

“So tell me,” he sighed once he finally sat down next to you, his forearms leaning against the small wooden table so that he could look directly at you. “You really like the food here or do you just keep coming back because he adores you?”

“I take offense that you think I’d use my charming personality just to get a free plate of pasta.” the stare shared between you both was one of comedy - his eyebrow raised in question and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I use it for two.”

“I knew it.”

“It really is the best, swear it! Tried to get him to teach me the recipe once but he won’t budge. Says he won’t allow it to leave the family.”

“He always here this late? Seems to be a bit… old… to be here at quarter eleven.” he never broke eye contact while speaking to you, but his fingers began to roam around, slowly inching towards your own empty hands. There was no move to do anything more than brush his fingers against yours, but you longed for him to envelop your smaller ones in his.

“For as long as I’ve known him. Always comes in to prep for the people who come in at five the next morning.”

“Good bloke.” he nodded, craning his neck a bit so he could look around him, “You know, I’ve always wanted to have my own restaurant.”

A deep belly laugh spilled from your lips upon hearing his words, your body’s finally making contact when you lifted your hand and placed it on his forearm to ground yourself.

“What’s so funny about that?” his voice held a certain aura of feigned offence, but you knew not to take it too seriously by the bright smile covering his face. It was a different kind of smile than you were used to seeing him give, but you welcomed it and never wanted to see it end. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle a tad more than normal, mouth open a bit wider, and entire body lean forward.

“Harry, I’ve known you nearly three years. Never once have I heard you mention wanting to have your own restaurant. I’ve been told a lawyer, a florist, even a physiotherapist, but a chef? Can you even cook?”

“Now I'm offended! I’ll have you know that I used to cook for the band all the time!”

“Beans on toast doesn't count as cooking, Harry.”

“Leave off.” somewhere during your mock argument and Harry laughing at you, his hand had fully found its way to yours, wrapping around it carefully as not to disturb the perfect peace the two of you had going. “You’ll just have to come over so I can prove to you just how good I am.”

Obviously he didn’t mean it in any other way than a friend inviting another friend over for a nice meal, but the way his tongue jut out before speaking, leaving his lips shining and nearly begging for attention, made the sentence mean a lot more to you than he led on.

“Well, I’ll hold you to that, mate.”

“Don’t mate me while I’m holding your hand, mate.” you swear it was like Harry was trying to push every single last button you had. Not only was he smirking while giving your hand a squeeze, but with each word, he seemed to be gradually leaning closer to you.

Almost as if he was waiting for the most perfectly inopportune moment, Lorenzo made his presence known with the clink of two wine glasses that echoed through the small alley. The sound made you and Harry separate as quickly as possible and look towards the older man.

“Two dishes of my world famous fettuccine paired with the best bottle of wine you could ask for!”

“But we didn’t ask for wine, Lorenzo.”

“It’s alright because you are new here, but when I give you a bottle of wine, you take it.”

“He says it makes for a better experience.” you shrug, taking the glasses and bottle from the tray so that he would have an easier time setting down your plates.

“Non puoi goderti i frutti del tuo lavoro senza un po ‘di divertimento!”

“Yeah yeah, as you say. Now take this before I stay here all night and give it to Mateo, because you know he’ll take it.” you tried handing him a few folded up fifties, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t accept, but insead, backed away from your outstretched hand.

“Mio caro, no. I do not want that from you. I just enjoy seeing your beautiful face every now and again.”

“Lorenzo, you know I won’t stop. Please”

“You are too much, ragazza dolce. Please come tell me if you need anything more.”

“What did he say to you just then? I caught fruit and fun but that’s where it stops.” Harry asked as soon as the older man was out of ear shot. He was trying hard to look at you, but the steaming plate of food before you both was enough to pull anyone’s attention away, so you didn’t fault him for being mesmerized.

“Come on, hot shot, have your Italian lessons taught you nothing?”

“Wow you’re really riding me tonight, huh?” if only. “I’m busy alright. Got a lot going on up here.” he used his pointer and middle finger to tap against his temple, “Gets hard to remember things sometimes.”

“You know I’m just taking the piss.” unable to wait any longer, you began to twist your fork in the pasta while giving him an explanation. “Said you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labor without having a little fun.”

“He’s got a point you know.”

“If you try and tell me that I need to be prouder of my work, I will dump all of that food on the ground before you even have the chance to try it.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not if it’s as good as you say it is.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious, love.” Harry had called you many pet names since your first meeting, but love had never been one of them. It sounded so comforting falling his lips, like it was the only word you wanted to hear for the rest of time, and it made your insides instantly warm - and it wasn’t from the wine. “You’re outrageously talented. Everyone on the planet can see it except for you.”

“I’m proud of what I do, Harry. Just don’t feel like it’s right to take any bit of credit for something I only helped put together.” sure, you helped transform the clothing from pieces of mixed matched fabrics into the collections that hit the runways, but they weren’t your ideas or designs, so you felt only fair to give credit where it was rightfully due.

“Alright. Fine then. If you won’t take credit for your work, I’ll do it for you.” he cleared his throat after finishing off his glass of wine, back straightening and his chest puffing out after filling with air. “Hello!” he shouted, followed by introducing your name, “I am the lead tailor for Gucci and I just completed my fourth Cruise Collection!”

“Shh!! Harry!” you really did try to keep it together while tugging on his arm, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped as he kept shouting praising about you to the empty Roman streets.

“I’m one of the best in the world and everyone is absolutely dying to work with me!”

“Harry!” you laughed again, this time, cupping your hand over his lips that he couldn’t say anymore. “I get it, my god.”

“Do you? Because I can do it again. Hello -”

“I do, thank you.” your smile was genuine, truly appreciating the fact that he always had such nice things to say about you and your work. “But please just shut up and eat, yeah?”

Finally the two of you were silent, smiling to yourselves so that you could enjoy your awaiting food. Until you weren’t.

A loud moan from next to you quickly made your head snap up in desperate need to see where it had come from. There was no one else it could have come from, but to hear the sound fall from Harry’s mouth wasn’t something you were prepared for. Nor was the sight of carbonara sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck you were right.” he moaned again, this time much smaller, “This is the greatest pasta on the planet.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now that there are very few times that’d I’m not right.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the man indoors, who when you looked up over Harry’s shoulder, you saw standing in the window smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Of course he was on the same page as Alessandro and would be trying to put both you and Harry in the mood for a romantic night. But to hear the chords of ‘So This Is Love’ play through whatever speaker he had in his kitchen, really did surprise you.

“Lorenzo!” you yelled, not caring about waking whatever kind of neighbors he had

“What?”

“Really?”

“I just turned on my music, mio caro! Please enjoy your meal.”

Snickering from next to you made you roll your eyes,  “Don’t laugh at him, you’re only egging him on, Harry.”

“‘M not, I’m not!” you sent him a pointed look, taking the last gulp of wine from your glass and pouring yet another. “Alright, maybe just a little. But only because I think ya look cute when you’re flustered, is all.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you’re a right bellend.”

“Only to a select few!” the sound of his light laugh was drowned out by the creaking of his chair as he pushed it backwards. In a second, he was at his feet, ignoring your question of ‘what are you doing?’ to stand in front of you. “Signora.” his mouth may not have made any movements to smile, but you could see his eyes holding one back.

He mocked bowed, resting one arm behind his back as the other hand engulfed one of your sitting on top of the table. The pads of his fingers caressed the inside of your hand as he gently picked it up, slowly slotting your two hands together. It felt like an out of body experience, like you were watching the scene happen as an onlooker, instead of being a part of it. Because the second he picked his head up from the bow, his eyes met yours. Hundreds of unidentified thoughts raced through your mind and your breathing stopped when he picked up your hand completely, the distance between it and his lips growing short and shorter every second. With one quick, quiet, exhale falling from your lips, he placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, keeping his eyes set on yours.

It could have been every innocent moment the two of you had spent together over the last two and a half years, or watching him perform his heart out just hours ago in garments that you literally built, or maybe even the way his eyes sparkled in the Italian moonlight, but staring at him as he stood back up straight, his hand still holding yours, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones.

“Care to dance?”

It wasn’t the spark that radiated through your hands or the wind pulling at your blouse, but the look of endearment in Harry’s eyes that made you stand from your chair, accepting his offer. His free arm wound around your waist while yours rested on his shoulders, your body now flush against his. It wasn’t the perfect setting for be slow dancing; the twinkling lights were barely bright enough for you to see where you were stepping, the cobblestone beneath your trainers made the arches of your feet hurt, and the open space was very limited between the table and building, but the soft instrumental of ‘Bella notte’ playing from inside the shop and the wine flowing through your veins, made it something out of a dream.

The sun shone in through the window and straight into your eyes, making you blink awake with a small wrinkle between your brows. First thing you noticed was that you were sleeping in the cream blouse you had worn the night before, your trousers off and hopefully, you thought to yourself, so was most of your make-up as well. Second thing you noticed was the hand on your hip and the other under your head, the breathing against your skin and the forehead against your neck. Third… was something else entirely…

Memories from the night before came back in bits and pieces, bringing a small smile to your face. How you and Harry had both drunkenly stumbled down the hallway at like one, how you had struggled to get the key to your room in the lock, and how Harry had playfully pushed you out of the way to help you with it. How he helped you indoors, and how you’d asked him to stay. There hadn’t been a sexual intent behind the words, just an infatuated drunk speaking truthfully to another. You remember asking Harry to not look as you took your trousers off, and that you thought it’d be a good idea to take your bra off but sleep in your silk blouse. Harry on the other hand, kept all his clothes on, laying down beside you in bed and told you goodnight before you’d even managed to get yourself properly under the sheets. He must’ve been exhausted. It’d been a long day after all.

You woke up in the spooning position; his arm resting across your hip, breathing onto your skin, forehead against your neck, holding you close. Even before Harry woke up and noticed what was going on, you tried to understand why you felt like something wasn’t as it usually was. You felt Harry’s sharp intake of breath behind you and then him moving his head away from you, lifting the hand that had been placed on your hip, running it over his face. It wasn’t till you were about to turn around to face him that you both realised what was resting between you. You both stopped abruptly, silence filling the room around you.

“Bollocks.” Harry hissed between his teeth, glancing down at where his morning wood pressed against his yellow trousers and your ass and thigh. “So sorry.” He didn’t really know how to move as to not make it worse. Walking away from bed would mean you’d have to see the bulge in his trousers, but staying there would be absolute fucking torture.

You tried your hardest not to giggle, feeling a flush wave through your body.

“I-I… I don’t know what to do now. Sorry.” Harry said, feeling so embarrassed he was unsure what the next right thing to do would be.

Thinking back on everything that had happened, on everything that had transpired between the two of you, you suddenly felt a surge of dominance run through you. The countless times you’d waited for Harry to kiss you, the times he could’ve reached for your hand in the silence of the moment, the hundreds of hours you’d spent smiling at each other. The numerous missed opportunities. All the ‘what if’s. You hated them all, but they’d led you to this moment. It had all came down to this. Here, now. You two, in bed, Harry grunting in frustration into the pillow and you smiling to yourself, not at all sorry for him waking up hard against you. In fact, you didn’t mind it at all. After everything last night, this felt right. After absolutely everything you two had been through, it didn’t feel weird.

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry there with his eyes shut tightly.

“What’re you doing?”

His cheeks were red, obviously incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “Willing my woodie away, what does it bloody look like?”

You couldn’t help your laughter, shaking into Harry who smiled at the sound of your exclamations of joy. Slowly, you moved your arse against him, feeling his erection between your bumcheeks. Harry stilled, watching you with wide eyes as you did it again. Reaching behind you, you took a grip of Harry’s hand that had been on your hip earlier, placing it back there so he could feel you swaying against him. You felt an inhale of breath against you, then Harry’s fingers instantly grip onto you. He watched you as you continued to roll your hips against him, loving the hot feeling it sent to the spot between your legs. You hummed, biting your lip as you glanced down at Harry’s hand on your bare skin, letting him see just how much you liked this.

Instantly, he moved closer to you, wrapping the arm he’d been resting under your neck around you, taking a grip of your shoulder. The other one he slowly slid further down, moving closer and closer to the space between your legs that ached for him. You closed your eyes as he hovered above you, laying his palm flat against your cunt, the breathy and barely audible moan that left your lips driving him insane. Laying some pressure on you, you inhaled sharply, both your hands gripping the arm wrapped around your neck. The heat that had started in the very bottom of your stomach intensified, and got even hotter when he ran his fingers seductively over you. Feather-like touches, soft kisses to your cheek and neck, absolutely nothing mattered but the fire that was being ignited in your core.

Harry pushed your knickers aside, running his ring and middle finger between your folds. While doing so, he pushed your hips to rock against him, causing a friction between the two of you unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. You gasped, opening your eyes and looking at Harry who was watching you more intently than you’d ever seen before. He looked so hot like that, demanding you to please him while he was pleasing you. Wanting to make you feel just as good as you’d made him feel.

You reached down, wiggling your hips as you dragged your knickers down your legs. You threw them somewhere far away before turning back to Harry. This time, you sat up and onto his lap, looking down on him while you rested your hands at the zipper of his yellow trousers. He let out a small breath, heart hammering against his chest as he watched you sit on him like that; look at him like that. He’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to find himself in this position, and yet, here he was. You reached for his zipper, undoing it as Harry did both the buttons. You sat up on your knees helping Harry as he tried to get out of his trousers, but it seemed harder than either of you thought.

“Just get them off.” You said, reaching behind you to push them further down.

“Not so easy when you’re on top of me like that.” Harry answered, sitting up to drag them off. Your faces were suddenly very close.

“Alright, I’ll get off-“

“-No,” he answered abruptly. “Please don’t.”

You stopped, letting Harry take his trousers off and throw them to the ground, not breaking eye contact with you once. You felt him against you, felt how hot he was for you like you were for him; how badly he wanted you. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he glanced back up into your eyes again, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words for it. You had taken control so far, so you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say or do something. And it was as if he knew your thoughts exactly. He took a grip of the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

The second your lips met, you closed your eyes, melting into the kiss and melting into Harry. You hadn’t really shared a proper kiss till now, only having had that small peck and him kissing your hand. But this was a real kiss. You tasted him, felt him. Surrounding you and everything you knew in those sublime seconds your lips were pressed against one another. Heavenly, carefully, gingerly, Harry slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you welcomed him completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. He pulled you to him, devouring one another unapologetically. Now that you were kissing, dragging out the delicious moment, you weren’t holding back anymore. The kisses were hungry, desperate, wet. Nothing had ever tasted better than Harry, nothing had ever felt better than him either. You wondered why you’d waited so long to kiss one another, what had taken so long. Because now you couldn’t think of not doing just that.

You wanted to kiss him till the end of time. Wanted to feel as his hands roamed your body, how his tongue swirled around yours, how his lips got more and more swollen as you continued on making out. Forever, and maybe even longer than that if you were allowed; you wanted to kiss Harry forever. It felt so good, so right. Like tasting every good thing that had ever happened to you all at once, combined into one thing. Harry.

Moaning your name, you felt him grip your bum, squeezing it hard as he dragged you over him. He wanted some friction as bad as you; wanted you. It felt so good knowing Harry was as desperate as you, that he felt the same way and wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he did. You had no idea where your infatuation had begun, had no idea how you had fallen in love with Harry. You just were and that was how it was supposed to be. It had always supposed to be the two of you. Whenever something feels right, you get a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, like it’s your soul telling you that you’ve reached your final destination; you’ve gotten where you’re supposed to be. And you felt that very feeling right now, in Harry’s arms, kissing him, feeling him hard against you.

You pushed him back down on the bed, bending over him to continue kissing. He instantly gripped your arse again, begging you to rock against him so he could get some small friction. You refused however, and instead buried your hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, Harry thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to force you to do anything as he didn’t want this moment to be over. If you wanted to drag this out, then he would not stop you. He was making out with you, you were almost naked on top of him, he got to touch you all over. He wasn’t going to take this for granted.

There didn’t seem to be an end to your kisses, they seemed to be going on and on and on. Not that either of you were complaining, but at one point it was hard to remember how the rest of the morning had gone before you’d started snogging. You suddenly realised just how naked you were, that only your cream blouse was covering your torso, that the rest of you were on display for Harry. But he was way too busy kissing you to pay notice to anything else.

You tugged at the end of his tee shirt and he quickly took it off, letting it fall off the side of the bed before turning his attention back on you again. You ran your hand down his front, wanting to feel his skin under yours unashamedly. Every time you’d touched him before had been under a work setting, but this one was quite different. The hands touching him now were those of a lover, not his tailor. They were the hands of a desperate woman who wanted nothing more than to be with Harry in any way one human could be with another.

Resting your hands at the top of Harry’s boxers, Harry frantically followed your lead, being there to help you get them off. He was ready to do exactly as you told him to, knowing that he was and always would be at your complete and total disposal. As his boxers came off, his cock sprang loose, and you couldn’t help but look down at it. Harry watched you as you took him in, finding you checking him out like this incredibly hot. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through him, so captivated and altogether in love with you that he was sure in that moment and every moment that followed, he would lay down the rest of his life and himself to you wholly.

You took a grip of his cock, looking into his eyes after positioning him right at your hole. He didn’t take his eyes off you, knowing that what was just about to happen would change everything for you and your friendship. Not that all of last night and the rest of this morning hadn’t done that already, but sex complicates things. It’s hard not to form an emotional attachment to those you choose to have sex with, and it’s even harder to forget said person you have sex with if you’re in love with them. But regardless of that, both of you wanted to do this. You wanted to shag; wanted one another.

You guided him into you, holding onto him till he was all the way in. Your lips parted and Harry let out a low moan, your warm walls around him almost being too much to take. Positioning your knees well on either side of his waist, you sat up on his lap again, and started moving your hips over him. Harry gripped your thighs, squeezing them tight and looking up at you with his mouth agape. Your blouse hung loosely off you, unbuttoned to the point of one of your tits showing. It fell off one of your shoulders as you rocked over Harry, revealing even more of you to Harry in the bright morning light.

He moved one of his hands upward, running it up your arm, over your collarbone, to your neck. His thumb ran over your jawline, wanting to feel all of your soft skin under his fingertips. You looked down at him, a moan leaving your lips as your eyes met his. Already the familiar burn of a climax started building up in your core, reminding you of how long it had truly been since you’d found yourself in this position prior to this. Not that it even mattered, because right now you were having sex with Harry and he felt so fucking good inside you and underneath you, you would never get tired of this feeling.

You slid your hands down his front, dragging your nails along this skin till you reached his abdomen, where you let them rest. Harry’s eyes fell to your hands, relishing in the feeling of you touching him everywhere, of you being everywhere. Nothing mattered but you and the magic you were creating between the two of you. The soft skin of the inside of your thighs resting against his hips and ribs, his tattooed arms caressing your entire body. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

He moaned your name, hand sliding down your chest, rubbing his thumb over your exposed nipple. The burn in your core was really starting to build up now, and you knew it would burst any second. Harry sat up, wrapping an arm around your middle. You gasped a little in surprise, but your heart instantly started beating faster at him being so close to you. His grip was tight, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening, it sent a wave of butterflies straight to your tummy. All of them flew directly to your core as Harry started moving his hips more with yours.

“Look so good on me like that, you do.” He whispered against your lips, his voice still having that morning rasp to it that sent a shiver up your spine.

You wrapped an arm around his neck, resting the other one on his shoulder as you continued to rock your hips against him. His eyes were hooded, but there was something in them that was so soft it took your breath away. When you know someone inside and out, you notice every single little change in their behaviour. This wasn’t tiny, though, because there was a type of vulnerability in Harry’s eyes that you hadn’t seen there before. He was laying himself completely bare, both physically and emotionally, wanting to connect and attach himself to you on every level a human possibly could.

Being this close, your movements got shorter and quicker. Bending his knees, Harry brought you flush to his torso, your hips and his moving rhythmically, hard against one another. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. You wanted to melt into him and have you two sitting like this for eternity. Wanted to stare into his eyes, feel his warm breath on your skin, have his arm around your waist and the other hand on her cheek. Having him inside you like this, feeling him grip you hard, whimper against your lips, moan your name, you felt incredibly powerful and so, so good. There was something so magical about this moment, about you two joined like this. Something words lacked the ability to articulate and something your hearts didn’t quite understand yet but wanted to. He reached his hand down to your bum, squeezing you hard.

“Harry.” You moaned, feeling your hips and knees begin to ache from sitting like this. Not that you cared much, because the wild look in Harry’s eyes was enough of a reason for her to endure it a hundred times more.

“Yeah?” he mumbled against you. “You like that?”

Biting your lip, you glanced into his eyes, letting your look speak for itself. Harry moaned, letting his hand fall to the bed and the other to your thigh, pressing you harder around him. You were both close, clinging harder onto one another. The heat in the pit of your stomach grew bigger and bigger, threatening to burst with every grind, every moan, every touch. He thrusts harder into you, entranced as he watched you gasp and moan loudly.

“Fuck me.” You said, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as you want me to, baby.” He kissed your jawline, nails digging into your thigh. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You gasped, feeling the heat get more intense. Harry felt your movements get more frantic and he moved his hips quicker, meeting yours and creating a friction so heavenly it caused you to lose all control.

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, looking into Harry’s eyes as everything started to blur.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling your legs start to shake around him. You came hard. Harry watching you intently, holding back his own release to watch every last second of yours; to make sure you were done before he allowed his own climax. You gasped for breath and moaned ad repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it felt like it was the only word you were able to pronounce.

Harry came right after her, a furrow appearing between his brows and lips parted. His hands tightened around her, holding onto her for dear life as he came in her. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. It was so hot, he sounded so sexy. You watched him till he came down, feeling his cum sliding down the inside of your thigh as he slipped out of you. You breathed together for a few moments before looking at one another, suddenly laughing a little at what you’d just done. He rested his forehead against your chest, feeling you breathe with him.

“That was a thing that just happened.” You said, making Harry laugh.

“That just happened.”

“We just did that.”

You both laughed, holding onto one another still, not willing to let go. For the time being, you two were the only thing that mattered, nothing outside your room existed. But then you laid your eyes on the clock by the nightstand and jumped off Harry. He watched you, wide eyed and confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m supposed to be at Alessandro’s hotel room in five minutes to go over yesterday, and some other stuff.” You said while you ran to the bathroom, needing to get washed up and dressed as quickly as possible.

Harry got out of bed, quickly putting his boxers and tee shirt on. “When’re you done?”

“Dunno.”

“Meet me for breakfast.” Harry said as you ran back out, new pair of knickers on and rummaging through your wardrobe. “I’ll text you the location.”

“Harry, I-“

“-Please.”

You looked over at him as you put your trousers on, smiling at his pleading words. “Text me.”

He smiled back before looking around the room. “Where are my trousers?”

“I’ll find them later, just piss off because I need to leave.” You ran towards the door with your laptop in hand and Harry – looking quite mortified – followed. He pulled his room key out as you were closing the door, about to run down the corridor for Alessandro’s room when you felt a hand around your wrist. Harry pulled you back toward him, pressing his lips against yours. You both smiled into the kiss, feeling absolutely elated and still not sure how to process what had just happened.

“Hurry.” Harry mumbled against your lips before kissing you again. “I’ll be waiting with that morning after pill.”

“Good.”

Harry smiled. “Now, be off.”

You giggled, giving him one last peck before running down towards Alessandro.

Everything that happened between you and Harry over the last 30 months had culminated to this point; you rushing out of the room after sharing an unexpected, intimate morning together. Looking back on it, you knew that each longing look you gave him had a hidden meaning behind it. You wanted this. Maybe not right away, but the more you got to know Harry, the more you wanted to be more than just his tailor. There had always been more between the two fo you, you just had not figured it out till now.

The way he watched you with admiration while you worked, gave you praises when you were feeling down - quite literally shouting them from the streets - and spoke to you in a way that had your mind in the clouds, it all slowly built over time.

It built until you couldn’t handle it any longer and needed to show Harry just how deeply you were falling for him.

Knocking on Alessandro’s door you quickly tired to fix your hair, aware that you looked like a right mess. Because of your morning antics and inability to keep track of time, you hadn’t given your appearance a single thought. Once Alessandro opened the door, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there panting and looking distressed, instant regret hit you for not at least brushing through your hair. Alessandro would know something had happened, having known you for so long, he’d see right through you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Alessandro smiled knowingly, nodding his head as he let you in. You just raised your eyebrows, but Alessandro didn’t make another comment. You’d told him enough.

“I stopped by Harry’s room last night, wanted to congratulate him on the show and how well he did, but he wasn’t in. Any idea where he was?”

“Nope. None. Maybe he was having a wee.”

Alessandro nodded again, walking over to sit down by the table in his suite along with his event manager, head stylist, and fabric coordinator. Tons of sketches of new outfits and plans for upcoming events laid out on the table, ready to be discussed. You sat down with them, ready to take notes. You had already been a little late, so you didn’t want to do anything else wrong today. Full on concentrating, you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop for almost 30 minutes, and when you did, it was to check your phone. You’d gotten two text messages, both from Harry.

Harry Don’t forget my yellow trousers. They’re my favourite pair. x

Harry Had an amazing time this morning, by the way. Can’t wait to see you later. x

You couldn’t help the smile that spread out over your face at the messages, and you didn’t realise just how wide your smile was till Alessandro cleared his throat beside you. You looked up, turning your phone around and looking right back at your laptop as if nothing had happened.

“What’s got you smiling?” Alessandro questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You answered, trying to refocus on the document before you.

Alessandro looked down at your phone, smiled, and went on with the meeting. There would be no hiding what happened between you and Harry. Somehow, someway, the man sitting before you would hear how his ‘two prodigies’ had finally gotten together, and when that day happened, you’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he constantly reminded you that without him, the two of you would have likely never met so it was his doing that you had a best friend in Harry.

So what was he to say when he found out you and Harry were now more than friends?

[le-dernier-soupir]

65 style tips (11-21)

11.     Elegant life is a chimera. - Precisely for this reason one should not even look for it, but just have it happen. An accident along the way, an obstacle to this vulgar society. A contradictio in terminis, life and elegance. Lunacy, a sort of heresy, an aporia. But it is the only path we want to tread!

12.     A man calling himself elegant, isn’t such. Modesty in an age of haughtiness. Modesty, kindness, lightheartedness. Never talk about yourself regardless of circumstances. Erase the “I” from all utterings. What defines us is how we are perceived. In the end, nobody can ever truly know anything.

13.     Wealth is elegance's foe. - Do you know any rich, elegant man? Quite rare. Unfortunately, for the past 30 years wealth and taste have not gone along any longer. There used to be mecenates, patrons, collectors. We have inherited magnificent villas, works of art, parks, collections of book. Nowadays, with some luck, there will be some used sports car, some diamond-clad watch, some kitsch resort with gilded faucets. Who are les nouveaux riches? Arabs, Americans, Russians, Asians. And Westerners squander everything on food, sex, and driving around on luxury cars. There is not one place where the shops aren't dominated by objects thought for that type of customer – an international one, yes, but tasteless and without sensitivity. Not even London, nowadays - which is nothing but a supermarket for Arabs.

14.     Being well dressed is one thing. Being elegant is another. Allure, poise, posture, cadence, language, eyes...Some things cannot be learnt. They can be improved. But either you inherit them from birth, or you cope with their absence.

15.     A well-dressed Man does whatever he wants, an elegant Man does what he can. Genius is something more and something less than talent, at the same time. A limit that highlights the rest. Orson Welles, Ingmar Bergman, Georges Simenon, Leonard Cohen, Lucien Freud, Pier Mondrian… Genius has nothing to do with skill, with boasting about one’s own ability. In day and age, everyone wants to show what they are – but never what they are NOT. Acrobats of nothingness, equilibrists of obviousness. Those I have mentioned showed us what they were not. In their want of something was their greatness. The way an elegant Man is always imperfect, and a well-dressed man indulges in irreprehensible details

16.     Dress according to your taste. As long as you have any. Do not imitate, I beg you, do not copy anyone! There are already too many photocopies around. Most of all, do not let tailors advise you! Tailors (should) master the technique. Not taste.

17.     Regarding clothing, the superfluous is the ultimate evil. When you are done getting dressed, admire yourself in the mirror, and you will notice something excessive, something too flashy that needs to be remedied. Elegance is like any of Simenon’s novels: direct, dry, moving.

18.     Any exhibitionism is bad taste. - You can see some individuals with their newly-made and ironed clothes, pretending to speak on the phone or showing off expensive watches, excessive bracelets, chains and scarves everywhere, with various brands on them. Man is not a mannequin. Man is not a woman. Showing is fine, but without exhibiting and boasting about purchasing power. Some of the most elegant men I know are often to be seen at flea markets. Always keep in in mind that elegance means choosing, not buying. And that the best the market has to offer is not what is right for the elegant man.

19.     An elegant Man is such in summer, too. In fact, summer is the ultimate trial of one’s elegance. It is in this sweaty season that the substance of all Men is shown, and poorly-dressed ones are exposed in all their randomness. Coloured shoes, flashy tones, indecent new fashions, brandmarks all over. If you want to make sure of someone’s sense of elegance, wait for July and see.

20.  Each context requires its own style. - The beauty of men's wear lies precisely in the possibility of choosing the most appropriate pieces for each context. Let us remember that even if we must never conform to the global barbarisation, it is just as inelegant to stand out too much from the context. A man of taste is always going to choose the right outfit to highlight his personality and not his clothes. Truthfulness, simplicity, and intelligence. An elegant man must be able to match any requirement with the same skill, just as a musician can perform scores which are very different from each other, or as an actor can perform both comedies and tragedies.

21.  Each age has its own attire.

A teenager in a pinstripe suit is just as ridiculous as a 70-year-old in a sweatshirt.

In summer it is not uncommon to see the following: a guy in his 60s, followed by one in his 40s, followed by kids in some city centre. All dressed the same! Their behaviour is likewise the same.

[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Sixteen

words; 2729

prophecy masterlist

tag list; @hewwo-from-the-other-side

"What are you doing?"

The book crashes heavily onto the stone floor, your arms darting out in a panicked effort to catch it.  Hopelessly, you watch as it clatters loudly, though as it hits the ground, it falls shut, not allowing the intruder to see the contents of the page.

"Iris? What are you doing down here?"

You peek upwards, and you see the confused figure of San standing before you, bewildered.

But you can't answer him, all too consumed by the fizzling feeling darting through your body. The burning from before simmering to a halt like a cauldron taken away from roaring flames. Your breathing becomes erratic and heavy, a weight pressing down on your chest rendering you in tears.

"Oh gods," San mumbles and rushes to your figure, mimicing your own position of sitting on your knees. "Oh gods, oh gods."

You kneel, trembling and yet somehow completely motionless opposite San.

"Iris?" he calls to you gently. "Can I touch you?"

You don't register the movement, but you assume you must've nodded, as San slowly reaches out and places both of his palms on your cheeks, lifting your head up and forcing your streaming eyes to look into the concerned, inky wells of his own.

"Breathe slowly, okay? Slowly... There you go." San slows his own breathing down, allowing you to match the rhythm and soothe the manic pace your lungs were working at.

A few minutes pass, and your breathing returns to it's original pace. San is still sat across from you, his hands in his lap as he waits for you to explain what on earth just happened.

"I'm so tired of feeling useless..." you frown, and pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly to your body.  "It's my fault everybody is involved in this mess, and they only let me help when they need it.

"I thought maybe... maybe if I learnt something useful and showed them that I am capable then they would be forced to listen to me." Sniffling, you wipe the tears from your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

"I know how you feel." San sighs, and you study his frown. His cold, defensive demeanour from the last few weeks melting away and being replaced with a sadder, vulnerable version of him.

"I know that I'm the court jester," he continues. "But I'm more than just jokes and silly costumes. I can do much more than that, and... and I wish people would let me prove that to them."

"It isn't fair." You whine.

"Life isn't fair." San agrees.

"You won't... tell anyone about this, will you?" You ask timidly after a few moments silence.

"Were you doing anything bad?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Just studying." You weren't technically lying. Just concealing the truth.

"Alright," San nods. "I won't say anything. But I better not catch you doing it again."

He stands up and brushes the dirt from his knees, then extends a rough palm out towards you. Gratefully, you take it, quickly bundling up Yunho's book and clutching it to your chest to conceal it from San's view.

"I hope you're prepared for the ball tomorrow," San says suddenly. "If your dancing is as shocking as it was the other day then there's zero hope for you."

"I'll be fine. Wooyoung'll teach me how to dance."

San rolls his eyes and shrugs, telling you that he'll see you around and that you should go to bed before somebody else catches you. You watch him leave, peering at his raven black hair bouncing as he walks until he was finally out of view.

It's not until you hear the distance clunk of the door closing that you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. You grip slackens on the book and your arm muscles sigh in relief. Letting go of the book, you study your right hand curiously, turning it over to examine your palm and fingers, trying to remember the fizzing feeling in your blood.

The tingling had stopped now, only the tiniest remnant of power was left in your body, slowly dissipating until it disappeared entirely. Never in your life had you expected to feel something like that, something so exciting and yet so dangerous. Staring down at your outstretched hand, you imagined red hot trails of angry, bubbling lava, slowly seeping into the crevices between your fingers and wrapping down your wrist, crawling down the expanse of your forearm.

It felt... good.

But nobody else can know, you remind yourself. If Yunho found out you stole his book, he'd kill you. If Yeosang found out you were learning magic, he'd kill you. You didn't want to think about what Wooyoung would do.

You figured that anybody detecting magic from the castle wouldn't be a problem, concluding that there's no way you'll be able to produce any substantial power that could be detected. Yeosang had told you that anybody could do magic, but only certain people could wield the chaos enough to do any damage. There was no way you would be able to do that. Besides, you were teaching yourself, so there's definitely no chance of anyone being able to rat you out.

You tuck the book under your arm, and start the quiet creeping back to your room.

Nobody will catch you. You won't let them.

-----

"I really don't- Ow! I really don't see why I have to wear this ghastly thing." You grunt in pain as the poor woman behind you tugs harshly at your outfit.

She's got a foot on your lower back and she yanks at the strings of the corset that is built into your - admittedly, very beautiful - dress. It is an incredibly elegant, sky blue silk gown that grazes the wooden floor beneath you. Complete with flowing sleeves that end past your fingertips, made of a crystal blue, sheer material that makes you feel like a princess of a fairy kingdom in a land very, very far from Ateez.

The sheer fabric also lays atop the baby blue silk of the skirt, with small, rose pink butterflies sewn into them at various points. The bodice is tightly laced both at the front and the back, luckily the neckline doesn't sweep too low, only showing your collarbones.

"Because, His Majesty says you have to." The woman, named Callonetta, tells you. "Besides, you look wonderful in this dress."

She's right too. You do look amazing in the gown, but you frown at yourself as you catch your own gaze in the mirror ahead of you. Inspecting your right arm, clad in ocean blue sleeve, and admiring how serene your blood feels compared to the way it was angrily boiling not even a whole day ago. Your gaze falls onto one of the light pink butterflies stitched to the bodice, the way it's wings have been poised make it look like its about to take flight, rip its tiny little legs free of its string prison and soar out the open window.

But of course, it can't. Because it isn't real, it's fake body pinned down to the bodice and you imagine it wriggling and writhing in pain as the seamstress pushes her needle into its frail wings. Such pain caused only to look beautiful. Totally restricted, unable to live life the way it was intended to be; free, happy, uncontrolled.

Another sharp jerk of the bodice strings from behind snaps your attention back to the mirror, allowing you to survey yourself properly.

Your hair, braided tightly and pinned back to form a crown around the base of your skull, with small curls pulled out to frame the sides of your face. Tied together with a sparkling silver circlet, the sides hidden under the expanse of hair, the metal twisting together to form a intricate design that presses against your forehead. In the center, encased in silver, is a single, circular sapphire that glitters in the candlelight everytime you move. Small, yet detailed silver leaves surround the gorgeous gem, and you even notice tiny, metal roses trailing up the sides of the circlet and disappearing underneath your hair.

You wonder if the late Queen had a tiara or crown as impressively beautiful as your circlet.

"The circlet belonged to Her Majesty," Callonetta informs you suddenly, as if she could read your thoughts. "This was the one she wore when she and the King announced the birth of King Hongjoong."

You could imagine how graceful Hongjoong's mother had looked. Radiant from the miracle of childbirth, tired yet still regal and proud of her newborn son. Sapphire circlet glistening in the rainbow coloured light of the main hall.

"What about this dress?" You whisper.

Somehow, you couldn't picture the Queen wearing a gown such as this. Sure, it was stunning, but for a Queen, much too simple. And yet you couldn't ignore the definitive lack of women in the castle, Callonetta and the cook being the only two you had met thus far.

"Heavens no," Callonetta scoffs, throwing her messy, ginger plait over her shoulder as she refocuses her attention on tying your bodice, "This dress was made for you specifcally. His Majesty has a personal tailor, he will refuse to wear anything made by anyone else."

Your face flushes at that, an embarrasing, startling shade of pink that puts the butterflies on your dress to shame.

"The tailor is renowned for his work," she continues, "All his garments have his printed emblem inside the back of the neckline, a small, roaring bear. Nobody knows why he chose a bear of all things, but it certainly is striking."

Your mind is cast back to the bear at the inn you and Yeosang stayed at on the journey to Wooyoung's. It all seemed so long ago now.

“Did you hear that?” you whisper to Yeosang.

“It’s just a bear.” He mumbles in response, making you jump slightly because you thought he was still asleep.

"A bear?” you hiss.

“I know,” he says sarcastically. “Un-bear-lieveable.”

You retrieve one of your pillows and launch it at his figure, smirking triumphantly when he grunts in surprise.

“That was a terrible joke.” you complain and bury yourself back into your improvised bed.

“Whatever,” Yeosang yawns. “just go to sleep, we’ll be meeting the astrologer tomorrow so you need to rest.”

Finally deciding to listen to the mage, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly in hopes you’ll fall asleep quickly. Luckily, you do just that, sleeping peacefully and dreaming about the bear in the forest outside. He’s wounded, bleeding heavily from a nasty gash on his neck and panting in pain. You reach out to help him, but of course it’s just a dream; he’ll be okay. You hope.

You think about that bear more often that you'd like to admit, imagining his large, brown eyes, watery with pain and the wounded yelping haunted your dreams.

A final, squeezing tug of the laces and Callonetta sighs in relief. She tells you that you're ready for the ball, and that you should wait in the dressing room until somebody comes to get you. Before you can ask who, or when, she hurries out of the door and you hear her shuffling quickly down the stone hallway.

Once again, you stare miserably at yourself in the mirror, wishing that you could attend the ball in your typical white shirt and plain black breeches.

Maybe Wooyoung is right though, perhaps the ball will bring some enjoyment into your life, away from all the secrets and worrying and death.

You suspect that nobody will be coming to get you for quite some time, so you perch yourself at the window seat opposite the mirror. Reaching under the cushions, you retrieve Yunho's book, which you expertly hid before Callonetta arrived.

Flicking through the pages, you spot the spell you learnt yesterday and your heart freezes between your ribs. Holding your breath, you decide to ignore that one, and flip the pages eagerly. Eventually, you come across a double page spread that piques your interest. You can't decipher  Yunho's messy drawing of the hand movements this time (perhaps for the best), but you can make out his scrawled handwriting of 'circular' just below it.

"Aevon bleidd." you whisper aloud, the language feeling foreign on your tongue.

After repeating the phrase multiple times, you realise you must have nailed the pronounciation as there's a dull pounding in your skull, and your fingertips are turning a concerning shade of blue. From your nails all the way down to the tip of your elbow, you feel a travelling freezing feeling flowing through your veins like a great and powerful river. Your veins pulsate a vivid blue, much like the way Yeosang's thundered with lightening the first time you met him.

“I’m a mage,” he had told you suddenly over porridge one morning. He clenched his large palms into equally large fists and laid his forearm upon the table, facing upwards towards the canopy of jade leaves above your heads. “You see those blue lines? They’re called veins, and our blood runs through these.”

You nodded silently, unsure of what his point was.

“In mine, flows blood as well as chaos,” he explained. “Almost anybody can do basic magic, provided you’re taught by the right people.”

Using his other hand, he ran a gentle finger down the stripe of his prominent veins, and the cerulean bumps bubbled and boiled into a startling shade of sunlight. You squinted in awe; you swore you could see a lightning storm rattling around inside of his arm.

“But only those born into chaos possess the abilities to truly wield it.” Yeosang snapped his fingers, and the bolts of lightning in his veins returned to the cool, sea blue they were before.

Snapping the book shut abruptly, you clutch your forearm to your chest and squeeze your eyes tightly shut. This is wrong, you think. Everything about this is wrong. Is magic supposed to feel this way? Make your insides wriggle and writhe and struggle in a desperate attempt to become your outsides? Yeosang had said only certain people had the ability to properly wield chaos into magic, did this mean that you were one of those people?

Ordinary peoples veins didn't stream like rivers.

Ordinary peoples blood didn't burn like fire.

Stuffing the book back between the cushions, you stare out of the window at the castle gardens below. Despite spending the majority of your time amoungst the flowers, it is only from up in the window you notice the penstemons - beardtongues, representative of bravery - arranged to spell 'HJ'.

It was surreal, your life, when you truly sat down to think about it. How barely a handful of months ago you were just a poor, lowly thief stealing bread to make it through the day, and now here you were, sitting in a dressing room within the castle of the most powerful kingdom on the planet, wearing a dress and jewels so expensive you felt dizzy at the thought.

Surrounded by elves, mages, kings, bards, magic and with all of those came danger.

A light tapping on the door, then the creaking of the door slowly opening catches your attention, and you look over to see a very proud looking kingsguard.

"I must say little thief," Seonghwa glides towards you with a small smile on his perfect face, watching you attentively through his narrow eye, the other eye obstructed by his hair. "You do scrub up incredibly well."

Hopping off the window seat, you offer Seonghwa a grin of your own. His hair, as always, is not a single bit out of place, shiny black and hanging over his left eye. Uniform pristine and blacker than the night sky, with various medals and badges pinned to each breast.

"I could say the same about you, sire." You mockingly sweep down into a curtsey, and Seonghwa scoffs.

"Enough joking around," he says seriously. "Are you ready to go? His Majesty is just finishing his preparations, you must take your seat at the head table before he arrives."

Your blood runs cold, sudden panic sprinting through your body, and you're not sure whether this feeling is worse than the spells or not.

You nod, ignoring the anxieties, trusting Wooyoung's words and making a silent pact with yourself to have a good time.

"Excellent." Seonghwa holds his arm out to you, and with a final smirk leads you towards the door.

"Your elven prince awaits, m'lady."

hi! sorry this took so long to get out, things have been very busy lately! thank u for reading and i hope u enjoyed! once again, the language for the spell is taken from the witcher 3′s elder speech!

[propsandmayhems]

Can you use the prompt “Can I kiss you?” with your favorite ship?

omg literally thank you sm anon because this was so much fun to write!! i got this ask and immediately started writing!!! i did blackdale which is not my fav ship ever but i just was so inspired so i hope u like 

i also posted on ao3 since it ended up being so long 

“Can I kiss you?”

Lucie Herondale x Jesse Blackthorn 

Lucie Herondale should be happy. 

For the first time in over a year, everything was going well. They had defeated Belial and Tatiana. Her brother and her parabatai were happily married. Matthew had quit drinking and was beginning to heal. She and Grace had successfully returned Jesse back to life and convinced the Clave it was done by Belial, not by their own involvement in black magic. She still had her family, her friends, her Marks, and was learning more about her powers with the help of her Uncle Jem. 

Yet there was still something missing. 

Upon his return to life, the Clave - in an uncharacteristic act of generosity - had given Chiswick House to Jesse. For the past three months, he had holed himself up in the great stone pile, working to attempt to return the grand house to its former glory. 

The first month after she and Grace brought Jesse back, Bridget had begrudgingly driven Lucie out to Chiswick House every day. She would bring all sorts of offerings - new books; freshly baked jam tarts; perfectly sharpened daggers and even a brand new sword, the blade stamped with a ring of thorns that matched the pattern on his locket, which she had ordered in from Idris. Jesse would always meet her at the front door, attempt to refuse the gift, finally accept and then bid her goodbye. That first month, he never once invited her in. 

But Lucie Herondale was nothing if not persistent. 

The second month, he continued his work on Chiswick House. One day, the carriage came to an abrupt stop in front of a newly installed wrought-iron gate. “Well, this is new,” Lucie heard Bridget drawl from the driver’s seat. Hopping down from the carriage, Lucie took in the new gate, black metal soaring up into the gray London sky. On the very top of the gate, curving bars formed the words ‘Blackthorn Hall.’

“I’ll walk up from here, Bridget,” Lucie called over, while quickly scribbling an open rune on the metal. Slipping through the gate, she made her way up the stone drive, her boots lightly crunching the rock under her foot. 

Looking around, Lucie could tell that Jesse had already made wonderful progress with the house. The front lawn was manicured and free of the overgrown weeds that had overtaken the hedges along the drive. Despite it being a dreary day, the white stone facade of the house even seemed to shine brighter. 

Lucie had made it to the door and before she could take the knocker in her hand, it swung open. Jesse stood on the threshold, black hair tumbling in front of his eyes. He was in shirtsleeves, as he nearly always was when Lucie visited. Lucie couldn't bring herself to be scandalized, since she had grown so used to seeing him in shirtsleeves in his ghostly form. He wore no tie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, showing the entire curve of his throat and his un-Marked skin. “I was in the study and I saw you walking up the drive…” he began, and then wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “Where’s your carriage?”

“At the front gate. Bridget and I stopped to admire the new gate you installed. ‘Blackthorn Hall?’” She asked, to which a blush rose up on his cheeks. It still startled her to see him with colour on his face. 

With a small smile, he nodded, “yes. Do you like it?” 

“I do,” she grinned and then held up the basket she had carried up. “I brought you scones.”

“Oh,” he said, flatly. Lucie’s smile fell, and he hurriedly added, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a scone.” 

“You’ve never had a scone?” She exclaimed. “How can you even consider yourself an Englishman?” 

He laughed - a beautiful, sonorous laugh - and then looked at her for a moment. “Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally asked. 

“I would love that,” she smiled. Jesse stepped aside to let her and the scones into the house, closing the door behind her. 

Jesse led her through the foyer and up the staircase, then down a hall and into a drawing room. Although the wallpaper and decor in the room were dated, the wood of the furniture was polished to a shine, and the dust that had previously coated the walls had been cleaned away. A fire was roaring in the hearth, battling away the dampness of the cool, November day. Above the mantle, the sword she had brought Jesse was balanced on two pegs. 

“Oh,” she breathed when her eyes caught the blade. Noticing what she was looking at, a flush traveled up his exposed neck and settled on his cheeks. “I am so glad that you like it.”

“I-” he began and abruptly stopped, his face morphing into an expression she was unable to identify. “Maybe you should go,” he said suddenly. Lucie’s face scrunched up in confusion as he stepped back from her. “If anyone found out you were here, just the two of us… you would be ruined.”

Lucie huffed. “Not like there are hordes of men knocking down the doors of the Institute asking for my hand in marriage anyways, Jesse.” 

Watching his shoes intently, he took another step backward. “Please, Lucie, just go.” 

“Fine,” she replied sharply, dropping the basket of scones on the conversation table on her way out. 

After that, Lucie did not return to Blackthorn Hall. She hadn’t heard from Jesse in nearly two months. Now, Lucie watched from across the ballroom as her parents greeted the families arriving for the annual Christmas ball. Faces seemed to blur by her - the Wentworths, the Townsends, the Pouncebys. 

Then Jesse Blackthorn walked through the ballroom doors. Lucie was convinced her heart truly stopped beating. He was dressed immaculately; all his clothes were obviously new and flawlessly tailored. His dancing oxfords were unscuffed and the black of his tailcoat was balanced by the crisp white of his waistcoat. He was a perfect picture in black and white, the only color in the entire image being the green of his eyes - which were fixed on Lucie.

When their eyes met, Lucie’s heart restarted at triple-time. All but ignoring her parents’ greetings, he moved across the room to Lucie with purpose. Too fast and not soon enough, he was standing close enough for her to reach out and touch him. But the memory of the way he had told her to leave flickered in the back of her mind. “What are you doing here?” She asked, crossing her arms across the red bodice of her gown. 

“Well, the entire Enclave is invited to the Christmas ball, and I am a member of the Enclave.” He pointed out, to which Lucie rolled her eyes. He took a small step closer to her and continued, “is there a place we can talk, privately?”

Lucie looked around. Many were watching them, as Jesse wasn’t exactly covert in making his way over to her. A small voice in her brain was screaming no, you will be absolutely ruined! You will never be married as is, you are only making it harder for yourself! But her heart was thumping out the sound of Jesse’s name. She nodded, “yes. Follow me.” 

With a relieved smile, Jesse followed her down the same hall that led to the games room and into one of the lesser-used withdrawing rooms. A fire had not yet been started in the room and the air was frigid, causing goosebumps to rise up on Lucie’s arms. After closing the door, Jesse turned to face her. In the witchlight that illuminated the room, the green of his eyes was the same colour as the canopy of trees in Brocelind Forest. “I’m sorry,” he started, moving closer to her. “I am truly sorry for the way I acted these past few months, and especially the last time you came to visit me. May I be frank with you, Miss Herondale?” 

Lucie swallowed and nodded, unable to form words. 

He took another small step closer to her. “You have permeated every inch of my mind. I see the colour of your eyes in the sky and the curl of your hair in the branches of trees. I hear your voice narrating the books I read. When I try a new food, I find myself wondering if you like it. When I manage to sleep, I dream of you. That first month… every day you came to my door and it was all I could do to not gather you in my arms, to feel your warmth. You risked everything for me - you could’ve had your marks stripped! I am not worth what you could’ve lost.” 

She stared up to him, blue eyes wide. “I knew exactly what could’ve happened to me and I chose to take the risk. Because I care about you. I care for you in a way I have never cared for anyone else.” Gathering her red skirts, she moved towards him. “I, of course, would have done the same thing for my family or my parabatai; but I feel for you in a different kind of way. I can’t explain it, but some part of me just longed to have you beside me - to be able to reach out and touch you.” Tentatively, Lucie extended her arm across what little space was left between them. Laying her hand gently over his shirt-clad chest, she felt his newfound warmth for the first time. She remembered how cold he had been when he had been a ghost. But now, the heat from his skin radiated from under his shirt, warming the chill from her skin in the frosty room. “Is this okay?” She asked, and he nodded slowly. 

“Lucie…” He began, searching her blue eyes with his own green pair. “I just fear I will never be what you deserve. I am not a man with any sort of honor. I live in a house tainted by years of demonic activity. I cannot even bear marks like a real Shadowhunter.” 

“It is not up to you to decide what I deserve,” she said. She meant to sound menacing, but her voice came out as barely above a whisper. Unblinking, Jesse reached up and caressed her cheek. 

The heat from his hand on her cheekbone sent sparks of fire all the way down to her toes. Lucie let her eyes flutter close and leaned further into his touch. He was warm, so so warm, almost burning hot. She quickly forgot the lack of fire in the room. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, thumb drifting over her lips.

“Yes,” she breathed, and in an instant, she was gathered up in his arms. The hand that had been resting on her cheek moved to cup her neck, sending jolts of lightning down her spine. Jesse partially bent down and partially pulled her up to him, connecting their lips. Lucie’s mind whirred with the softness of Jesse’s lips on hers, his hand on her neck, his other hand grasping at the silk bodice of her dress. I can finally write the perfect kissing scene! She thought with joy, then realized, wait… am I supposed to be doing something? 

Slowly, she lifted her arms up around Jesse’s neck, coming to rest at the edge of the collar of his tailcoat. Wisps of his black hair brushed against her fingers. She turned her head slightly, allowing herself better access to move her lips gently against Jesse’s without clacking their teeth together. 

Raising herself further on her tip-toes, she brought herself closer to Jesse. His hand at her waist encircled her tighter, bringing her body flush against his. Every one of her nerves was alight with the feeling of him surrounding her. His scent, his warmth, his taste. Lucie had never even considered that you would taste the person you were kissing! She had never liked the flavor of mint tea before, but she loved the way it tasted on Jesse’s lips. 

Unexpectedly, Jesse removed his lips from hers. Dipping his head down, he laid kisses along her exposed collarbone. “You are my shining light,” she felt him murmur against her skin, his breath hot and his body alive. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. She thought if she tried hard enough, maybe she could just melt into his touch and completely lose herself in the warmth of his embrace. 

A quick rap at the door of the withdrawing room caused them to spring apart from each other. “Lulu?” her father’s voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you in here?” 

 She looked to Jesse in panic and then quickly remembered that Jesse was very much visible to everyone now. However, if Will walked in and saw the state they were in, Jesse was very likely to return to his previous ghostly mode of being. “Yes, I’m here! I just came in to… fix my shoe.” 

“Cariad…” He sighed, and she could picture her father pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you come back here with Jesse Blackthorn.” 

“Jesse Blackthorn? I led him to the games room, you could see if he is there if you need him.” 

The door handle jiggled. “Open this door or I will.” 

Lucie looked to Jesse with a sheepish smile. He had an unreadable look on his face as he reached out to gently stroke her cheek before turning and moving towards the door. Lucie watched him brace himself as he pulled the door open, expecting to face the pure fury of William Herondale. 

Instead, her father was grinning from ear to ear, with Tessa by his side. “See, Tess, I told you! She was not visiting Chiswick House every day just to ‘lend the support of the London Institute.’”

“Papa!” Lucie threw her hands up. Jesse looked as if he was about to faint. 

Tessa rolled her eyes and waived off her husband. “Yes, yes. I always thought it would be Matthew, but you were right, as always.” 

Lucie gaped at her parents. “Were you two betting on who I would marry?”

  “Yes,” Will shrugged nonchalantly. Tessa nodded in agreement

Taking her husband by the arm, Tessa began to drag Will back towards the main ballroom. “Come along then, dear. I left Gabriel in charge of greeting the guests.” 

Will looked at his wife, completely dismayed, and then the two dashed down the hall and back towards the ballroom. 

Jesse turned to her, still frightfully pale. “Marry?”

Her mouth went dry. “I… I didn’t mean - I don’t expect -” she stammered, fidgeting under his green gaze. 

 Slowly, a smile spread across his face. “It would be my absolute honor.”

[lunadiane]

A Happier Afternoon

Summary: Felix has a companion over for tea.

A brief exploration of our canon gremlin.

Read on Ao3

Felix sank into the plush armchair as he leaned his entire weight into it, a porcelain cup of tea in one hand and matching gold-rimmed saucer in the other. Before him, a teapot and accompanying cake stand stood before him on the blue-covered table.

The pastry assortment consisted of petit fours, eclairs, macarons and French-style sandwiches, instead of the usual scones, cakes and English sandwiches he was used to. They were currently in Paris, after all, and although the hands of the grandfather clock read fifteen to five thanks to French schooling hours, it didn’t mean he had to go without his afternoon tea. Now that he had returned to the comfort of his and his mother’s residence, he could also drop the French and converse easier in English.

Felix sipped the steaming hot tea and made a face.

“No milk or sugar? That’s unusual.” His teatime company remarked with amusement. “You never take your tea without them.”

The tea scalded his tongue and he frowned at the bitterness. “I wanted to take my tea your way just this once, to see why you like it. Can’t say I see the appeal.”

The man seated in the armchair across him laughed. “That’s because you didn’t take your time, my boy. Take a breath of the tea before you sip it, make sure you actually sip it, not just take a mouthful – and roll it around your mouth. Bathe your tongue in it and breathe. The scent is half the experience.”

Felix nodded. He carefully inhaled the scent of black tea – which smelled wonderfully of roses, as was its namesake, took another sip and did as he was instructed to, quietly savouring the dark liquid.

He swallowed after a few moments. “There’s hints of…something sweet. Vanilla?” Felix wondered. “And a rose aftertaste.”

The man smiled. “Bain de Rose. Nothing beats a good Earl Grey, though.”

“Of course.” Felix agreed, taking a third sip. “However…in Rome, drink as the Romans drink.”

Felix set his cup back on the table, saucer beneath it, and leaned forward to pluck a brown-coloured macaron, all of the biscuits chocolate except for two mint ones. “And pick your favourites of their local cuisine.” The man continued, his brown eyes crinkling in mirth as he chuckled.

“Mother doesn’t fancy macarons that much anyway.” Felix defended as his companion exclaimed in mock outrage.

“Just because we’re away from our cooks doesn’t mean you can eat anything you want!”

“Really? I thought that was the opposite.” Felix teased, grabbing another macaron and popping it into his mouth.

“I see your mother is spoiling you as usual.”

“No, not really.” Felix smirked. “But she’s been so busy lately, there’s simply no time for her to think about trivial matters. I just decided to step in regarding the menu.” He shrugged helplessly, holding his palms up.

“Rascal.”

A comfortable few seconds of silence passed. Felix drank his tea before reaching for the sugar bowl, metal clinking as he dropped two cubes in with tongs and stirred using the accompanying teaspoon. “What?” He replied to the man’s reproachful look. “I can’t taste anything after eating macarons. The French are impeccable with their sweets.”

“You’re lucky your mother isn’t back yet.”

A second cup, saucer and spoon sat next to the teapot, empty and untouched.

“Speaking of, how is she?”

“She’s fine.” Felix quickly said, drinking his tea. Now it actually tasted sweet, which was to say, good. “She’s got another project, the rings, so of course she’s happier. It takes her mind off…you know.” A lump formed in his throat, which Felix hurriedly swallowed with another gulp of tea.

Kind brown eyes softened as he curled his fingers together on the table, leaning in. “That’s good to hear. I think the change in scenery is really doing her good. She has the French film scene to explore.”

“Exactly what I thought.” Felix nodded.

“What has she discovered?” He asked.

“Mostly shooting locations.” Felix answered. “French architecture’s distinct from London, and she likes to take day trips into other provinces.” He picked up his phone lying on the table and swiped it, opening an image of a quaint cottage in the afternoon sunlight decorated with bright flowerbushes. “From Roussillon. It looks exactly like the ones you find in the English countryside,” He scoffed, “so I don’t know what she was raving about.”

“Don’t let her catch you saying that.” The man smiled.

“It’s about the atmosphere, love!” Felix mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “The French sun is simply better, no dreary English clouds and rain! Why can’t she just wait for summer? It’s not like England doesn’t have blue skies.”  

His companion chuckled. “You know your mother is biased toward her home country.”

“Too biased. Meanwhile,” Felix went on, “I think I’ve found a future costume designer.”

“Really?” The man’s eyes twinkled. “Is that where you’ve gotten your ensemble from?”

Unlike the mourning grey and black he’d worn all of the past year, he was now wearing grey – and predominantly white. A white top hat was perched on his head, a pair of grey vulpine ears protruding from it. He stood and proudly spread out his arms, rotating his wrists theatrically to display his grey-gloved hands and the crisp white fabric of his pants and jacket sleeves. Beneath the jacket was a bright orange vest, gold chain hanging from the pocket, and a grey undershirt. A grey domino mask covered his eyes.

“Worthy of Savile Row, isn’t it?” The boy preened.

“A fox magician?” The man murmured, impressed, eyes tracing the tailored garments. “A bit heavy on the symbolism, don’t you think?”

“I think the symbolism’s perfect. Magic tricks are lies the audience willingly believes, after all.” Felix said. “Besides, what else is best suited to pull rabbits from their hiding places?”

“Was this made by your new costumer talent?”

Felix’s lips curled into a smirk. “It wasn’t, but I would love to see her take on it. She is-”

Outside, the door pushed open. “Felix, I’m home!” came a feminine voice, together with the echoing click-clack of heels.

His green eyes widened. Abruptly, Felix pushed his armchair back with an ugly screech. The man darted out of his own seat to stride closer, moving with his arms outstretched.

Felix flung his arms around him.

“Father.”

At his touch, his father, dark-haired, brown-eyed, clad in his signature white shirt and blue vest, vanished into nothing.

The rustling of paper and plastic sounded from outside. She was obviously setting her purchases down on the counter. For a few moments, Felix stared into the empty space.

“Trixx, hide.” His transformation immediately melted off, leaving him again in grey and black. The fox kwami sprung from the necklace hidden beneath his shirt and zipped into his pocket. The efficacy of the deactivation phrase was one of the reasons he liked this miraculous.

Amelie appeared in the doorway, and he turned to meet her. “Welcome back, Mother.”

There was a healthy flush to her skin and her golden hair slightly mussed from exertion. “I see you’ve started without me.” She said lightly. The smile on her face was playful, but genuine joy and relief exuded from it. For a year, Felix had refused to do anything alone if his mother could be with him. He would wait at school until she came to pick him up, distracted by a book, so that they could go home and take tea together.

She stepped forward to rest her hands on his shoulders, caressing his blond hair. “A year…it’s been a year since he passed.” Amelie murmured, eyes shining. “I suppose we’ve both moving on, aren’t we?”

His chest felt tight.

“Of course, Mother.”

[cycat4077]

Changes: Chapter 9 (the finale)

It’s finished. Finally! Hopefully it’s a satisfying enough ending :) I’m going to make one last post with all the chapter links together and then you’ll finally be done seeing posts on this fic lol

Title: Changes Ship: Sonny x Reader (OC female character)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch.6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | AO3 | Chapter List |

Chapter 9: Changes - A life without Sonny feels incomplete. But he can’t possibly feel the same way about you…can he?

Time passes you by slowly. The leaves change colour, the days get shorter and the air gradually turns colder. The tears you cry eventually subside, but sadness still lies just beneath the surface. Your daily back-and-forth to college seems so monotonous. There’s no doubt that you love your job and you are able to slip into your teacher-persona for classes twice a week, yet outside of those hours, you can’t quite seem to shake the feeling that you’re incomplete.

Occasionally, while walking campus or the New York City streets, you may cross paths with some tall man clad in a well tailored suit. Your stomach flips and, for the briefest moment, hope swells inside of you. But each time, you realise that it’s just another stranger.

Oftentimes you find yourself staring at his number on your phone. Though you promised each other that you’d keep in touch, you have never been brave enough to press “send”. Every overthought draft of Hey, how are you? or Hi, how have you been? has been deleted; your mind fabricating some excuse as to why your communication would be unwarranted.

Your self doubt is only compounded by the silence on his end as well. Sonny Carisi is a busy man. His life is consumed by his work; a detective by day and law student by night. Even so, you’ve imagined all the different ways in which you could be there for him: from being an ear when things get rough, to leaping into his arms for a warm embrace whenever he finds success. Fantasies aside, you have convinced yourself that he would have no place in his life for you.

Therefore, time after time, you click off the screen and blink away the tears that threaten to fall over what will never be.

Life continues to drag by and your heart remains heavy. You go to bed at night feeling low, only to wake up the next morning and start all over again. No amount of journal entries can siphon the heartache out of you. It’s hard to continue living this way. So, one evening you do the only thing you can do. With shaky fingers, you grab your phone and dial. You inhale sharply. It rings once, twice and then the line picks up. “Mom?” you whimper.

You pour your heart out over the phone, confessing to her everything about the summer you spent with the Italian detective. You reveal how you’ve fallen for his personality, his compassion, his drive and even the way he saunters around a room. The emotion spills out of you as you confide in your mother. She’s always been your voice of reason and she still is now. The advice she gives you is what you already know deep down inside, but is nevertheless exactly what you need to hear: Tell him how you feel. You have nothing to lose.

You hunch over in bed after hanging up, and stare at Sonny’s number on your screen. You resolve to take a leap of faith. You need to tell him what’s in your heart. You settle it in your mind once and for all before you have the chance to talk yourself out of it. Yet, you’re nervous as hell. How do I do this? you wonder. You can’t hide your fear or emotions behind a text or a call. You need to see him. That way, there will be no ambiguity. You will be able to know whether he feels the same or not. You’ll be able to read it in his gorgeous blue eyes or by the subtle changes in his expression. If he doesn’t feel anything for you, you can at least move on. Regardless of the outcome, the uncertainty needs to end; it needs to stop tearing you up inside.

The next morning you dress carefully, fretting and spending too much time deciding what to wear. You have a class in the afternoon so you need to come across as a professional, but at the same time, you don’t want to approach Sonny looking like you’re about to make a business deal. You want to look good for him – pretty, even. It’s a foolish notion. You’re not a superficial person and you believe that Sonny isn’t either. Besides, he’s already seen you with your hair sticking out in all directions. Still, you choose yourself a nice blouse that matches your eyes and dress pants that hug your curves in just the right way.

The journey back to the 16th precinct is automatic. Your feet remember where to go even though your mind is somewhere else. You step into the elevator and select the button for SVU. Your pulse rises with each floor the elevator climbs. The air feels thick, like you can’t quite breathe. Finally, the lift dings and the doors slide open. It’s hard to take that first step forward. This is it, you think. You’re going to profess your love in front of the entire unit. Should I be doing this? Is this ridiculous? Your heart pounds in your ears as you slowly round the corner into the squad room. It’s now or never.

You’re met with the familiar sounds of ringing phones and idle chatter. Nervously, you scan for Sonny. Your eyes dart frantically around the room. Instead, all they land on is Sgt. Benson; Sonny nowhere in sight. You can feel your face begin to flush as you approach her. Benson says your name affectionately, surprise painted across her features.

“Hi, Sergeant,” you say uneasily, “Have you, uh…Is Son– Detective Carisi here?” You stammer and clasp your hands together in front of you to stop them from shaking.

“Oh,” she responds, “he said he needed the afternoon off today. He already left.” Your heart falls. Benson then takes another long look over you, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you choke out. “I, uh – it’s nothing. I gotta go,” you manage, turning to leave. “Nice seeing you again, Sergeant,” you add quickly, then scurry for the safety of the elevator.

To say you are disappointed is an incredible understatement. You desperately push the “close door” button after the elevator lets you in. You feel ashamed. Foolish. You talked yourself into this for nothing. Was it infatuation? The thrill of someone paying attention to you for once? Did you allow yourself to fall in love with someone who didn’t love you back? Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. If it was, he would have been there. Maybe this was fate’s cruel way of telling you to move on.

As you stand outside the police department, a shaky breath escapes your lungs. The cold assaults your hands and you shove them deep inside the pockets of your woolen peacoat. You try to keep the tears at bay as you start down the tall steps. You have to keep going. Afterall, there’s a class to teach and no time for feeling sorry for yourself.

The college lecture hall holds about 100 students, your class filling just over half. There’s a gentle slope to the room that leads from the door to the podium with tabled seats spreading out perpendicular from the aisles. You have the lights dimmed as you give a lecture on the circulatory system within the heart. Every now and again, you pause to write keywords on the blackboard, allowing students to focus on their importance. It is one of those very moments when your back is turned, that you hear the click of the door at the back of the room. Immediately, it ticks you off. There’s only a half-hour left to the session and some kid decides to come in late? Talk about irresponsible!

You’re about to deliver a covert passive aggressive remark, but as you turn around, you’re instead rendered speechless. Your tongue sticks in your mouth and your heart seems to stop beating. There is no mistaking who has joined your lecture. He quietly takes a seat in the very last row, distinctly at least a head taller than the other students around him. Those expressive eyebrows you had missed so much, raise when his eye catches yours. You look down briefly, smiling to yourself before continuing the lecture.

He observes you intently as you walk your students through the lecture material. All summer you had watched him excel in his domain. Now, he could finally see you shine in yours.

The next half hour flies by and you conclude, dismissing the class. Students pack up and shuffle out. One pupil however, remains seated until the very last student leaves. He then gets up and makes his way to the front of the room. You can now fully discern his attire as he comes closer into view: A camel coat with a crisp white shirt underneath. No vest. No tie. Just a few buttons left undone near the collar. It’s a different look than you were used to but one that’s positively handsome.

“Yourra really great teacher,” he calls to you, long strides drawing him nearer. 

“Thanks,” you say, beaming. “But…what are you doing here?”

“Well,” he begins, now standing in front of you. A sideways smile is etched across his lips. “I took the afternoon off wantin’ to sit in on a lecture. I had heard about this really great course ‘n wanted to see if it would be the one for me.”

Your knees become weak. “And?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

“I really enjoyed it and never wanna miss out on it again,” he smiles, eyes crinkling with affection. Your heart flutters in your chest, beating a mile a minute. “Oh, and I don’t like admitting that I was textin’ in class, but a message from Sarge came through sayin’ you were down at the precinct lookin’ for me?”

You swallow hard. “Yeah,” you say vulnerably, “I was looking for you, too.” You pause, gathering your courage. “I really miss you, Sonny.”

His smile grows. “I really miss you too,” he reveals without hesitation.

Despite his statement, you feel compelled to explain yourself. “I know we didn’t start out on the best terms at the beginning of the summer, but I…really grew to like you.” The feelings you harbour finally come tumbling out. “I enjoy being in your company so, so much and I don’t…I don’t want to lose out on that.”

You stare up into Sonny’s swirling blue eyes. They’re so kind and gentle. Those eyebrows you once found to be so disgruntled, are softened just for you. The voice you had thought boisterous, is low and calm. Even the swagger you initially considered pompous is simply confident and charming. But one of the best surprises has come from just getting to know him. Sonny is one of the most sincere and considerate people you have ever met. The way he looks at you with genuine affection and respect causes your stomach to feel like it’s filled with a thousand butterflies.

How do you tell him all this, though? How do you say I love you? But as you stand there in front of him and his smiling eyes, you understand that he already knows.

“I don’t wanna lose you either,” he speaks softly. There are tears forming in your eyes because you finally know that he feels the same way. Sonny’s gaze begins to flicker down towards your lips. “May I?” he whispers, but you’re already responding with a gentle nod.

Sonny carefully cups your face in his hands and brings his head down to place a tender kiss upon your lips. You close your eyes and lift your hands, finding purchase on his chest.

You are completely transfixed by his soft lips on yours. A warm tingle spreads from your toes to your heart, seemingly lifting you up with it. You lean further into Sonny’s kiss before you eventually part. His fingers run tenderly along your arms, taking your hands in his.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wantin’ to do that, doll,” he smiles, accent deepening.

“Same here,” you grin. Your eyes linger on one another for a moment longer, before you turn to gather your belongings.

Sonny collects your coat and helps you into it. “Wanna grab some dinner?” he suggests.

“I’d love that,” you answer, smiling again.

Then Sonny offers you an outstretched hand. You happily accept, his fingers interlacing with yours as you make your way out of the lecture hall.

No, you didn’t expect that this is where you’d end up in your life – that a little summer job could open your eyes to so much and to so many wonderful people. You never knew that you would end up going through so many changes. Most importantly however, you never could have foreseen that your little summer job would lead you to fall in love with someone who had fallen in love with you too.

(Apr. 22: Now continued as part of a series. Part 2 here)

Notes:  This is the first multi-chapter fic that I’ve sought through to completion. And while I have put off other, probably more important tasks to do so, it still feels like a significant accomplishment. It’s not an elaborate or polished fic by any means, but that’s the beauty of fanfiction: readers are generally already aware of the world and characters, allowing authors to focus more on feelings rather than needing to fully describe every little detail.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this and I’m extremely thankful if you made it to the end. You don’t know how much I appreciate seeing the notes on here. It makes me smile knowing you took time out of your day to read my stuff. Thank you! <3

[myhouseidea]

OKHA created statement pieces for new luxury safari lodge, Cheetah Plains, which is set in the Sabi Sand Game Reserve. They worked in close collaboration with ARRCC (the architects and interior designers) and architect, Stefan Antoni of SAOTA. Photography by Photo: Adam Letch.

.

Stefan reveals that “No matter how good architecture is, it can only succeed when the interior upholds that level of sophistication.” He feels that OKHA is able to “design furniture that upholds and mirrors the beauty of architecture”. The project consists of three independent bush houses, named Mapogo, Mvula and Karula, each made up of several individual structures which include a central lounge, and dining room with bar area, a family media and entertainment room, a covered terrace, an open boma courtyard and separate freestanding bedroom suites. ARRCC Director Jon Case who was the lead designer for the project says that he chose to work with OKHA because of their “distinct ability to connect to a deeper narrative. They are rooted in Africa but always have their eye on an international aesthetic that is unique, and they are connected to artists and craftsmen which help to give the furniture a handcrafted feel which was so important to the overall language of Cheetah Plains.” Jon’s favourite pieces from the project are the Laguna coffee table and other bespoke coffee tables which he says, “added weight and solidity to the rooms because they are connected so well to the architectural theme.” Working on the project over the course of 10 months, OKHA creative director Adam Court says; “We wanted to design pieces that felt like an internal landscape, using materials that have inherent value and beauty which evolve and improve over time in the same way that this process happens organically in the external landscape. We wanted to create works of stature, substance and mass with a direct physical connection to the environment of Cheetah Plains.” Through this process, OKHA experimented with various metals and finishes exploring oxidised, patinated and etched processes on mild steel, brass and copper to create a lustre and depth that resonated with the project brief. Marble and stone were chosen according to grain and colour, and Court explains, “We went for deep rich earth tones, sienna, rust, ochre, copper, that resonated with the African bushveld.” Fortuitously, the client was able to harvest timber from trees that had fallen naturally in the veld which were put to good use for the monumental five metre long dining tables which anchor the open plan dining area. Court explains “The table legs had to be as robust and statuesque as the tabletop, matching it in scale” To achieve this, OKHA designed a custom table leg that would physically support the one ton tops and be an elegant and appropriate design that was part of the interior narrative. Each table uses a different wood type with a unique shape, which informed the design and position of the legs. The brass clad table bases are beautifully sculpted scalloped forms that stand at opposing angles allowing the best possible seating positions and spreading the massive weight equally. The shape of the table legs was also replicated in the brass “butterfly” inlays which are recessed into the tabletop. The table is paired with custom Tofu dining chairs, upholstered with a bronze coloured leather seat and back to complement the dining table’s solid brass decals. More bespoke elements include OKHA’s Nancy barstools in a custom metallic coloured leather, tailored brass footrest and unique wood stain, Nicci armchairs, Barnett dining chairs in a sunflower yellow velvet, Bijou marble side tables in antique brass with Nero Marquina marble tabletop, candleholders made from Iroko wood, circular copper framed mirrors with matching servers and custom life-size totems that create a completely novel atmosphere of a modern and ancient time combined. This ability to design for the environment and the architecture is a valuable contribution from OKHA.

The biggest safari story in Southern Africa OKHA created statement pieces for new luxury safari lodge, Cheetah Plains, which is set in the Sabi Sand Game Reserve.