#he's wearing something inspired by yves saint laurent

[sw4nfire]

my part in @opmetgalazine buggy being a drama queen backstage about his outfit

[infernal-feminae]

@the-delightful-temptation said: “Carmilla. I’ve been waiting for this.” The moth overlord waits on the door, a smile across his face. His body slightly leaning on the door frame. Even though his attire was very suggestive and provocative, Valentino was well groomed. A nice perfume that fills the nostrils of anyone near him. Sweet, but not strong. A perfume inspired on the french perfume Yves Saint Laurent. 

His lean body was highlighted by how tight his clothing was, but he wore it well. His fit body was well shown underneath his figurine. 

“Shall we go? We don’t want to be too late..” 

"I'm sure you were." Comes her sarcastic retort, looking down at him as she stood at the top of the staircase. She on the other hand, was wearing something more formal. A form-fitting black gown with white swan feathers adoring the top and bottom of her dress. She decided to wear her hair down for the occasion.

She descended the steps elegantly and scrutinized his outfit. Carmilla should have expected him to wear something provocative but she would admit it...suited him and he didn't smell too bad either.

Once she was standing in front of him, she rolled her eyes and brushed past him through the doorway. "Let's just get this over with." She muttered.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

This Saturday, at St James's Palace in London, the man most of us have known all our lives as Prince Charles will be officially proclaimed King following the death of his mother, Queen Elizabeth II.

The fact he will be the oldest man in history to accede to the throne has been much remarked upon; the fact he will also be the most stylish, less so.

Those of us who care about such things can play an easy game. What is your favourite King Charles III style moment?

Maybe it’s the time he wore a western suit (in a jazzy shade of millennial pink) with a check shirt, a bolo tie and a quartz-hued ten-gallon hat on an official tour of Canada in the late 1970s.

Or perhaps it’s the time he wore a short-sleeved baby-blue safari shirt with a pair of chinos and some riding boots to the polo.

Our personal favourite? The time he brandished his considerable wealth with no shortage of rakishness by pairing a yolk-yellow Hermès sweater (complete with cartoonish “Happy Hermès” logo) with a chambray shirt and a pair of skintight white jeans to, you guessed it, a polo match at the Guards Polo Club in Windsor.

What people tend to forget about Charles is that he was a bit of a style icon back in the day.

But it's something that will be brought back to our collective consciousness as the outpouring of grief and tributes from around the world slowly give way to looking at the future of the monarchy, which Charles now leads after the longest wait in royal history.

Take the forest-green and cherry-red shirt Charles wore to play in a charity polo match in the late Seventies.

Imbued with a prepped-up, Eton-boy-gone-bad vibe (not least because Charles chose to wear it quite so close-cut), it wouldn’t be difficult to imagine Frank Ocean – or even the fash pack’s favourite skater Blondey McCoy – wearing the same thing today and looking every bit the wavy young disruptor doing it.

Then there’s that full-on, Yves Saint Laurent-inspired taupe safari suit he wore on a state visit to Australia in 1985.

Both of those looks exemplify Charles’s acute understanding of the soft power demonstrated by an excellent cut.

The King so often opted – and still opts – for muted shades over showier ones and tends to pick garments that focus on function over form.

This attention to detail is something those studying the King have often remarked on.

The man who played him in the The Crown, Josh O'Connor, said:

“Whenever he gets out of a car, he checks his cufflink, checks his pocket and then waves. [It’s] the same movement every time.”

It’s this sense of consistency that defines Charles' unique personal flair.

“In every photo you see, he has great style. The shirt, tie and pocket square combinations are put together so well, with a great eye for detail,” says Steven Quin, retail director at Turnbull & Asser.

“He’s not afraid of colour and he clearly wears what he feels comfortable in and does not follow trends. HRH has always worn a double-breasted jacket.

I remember reading a quote from him where he stated that his style 'comes back into fashion every 25 years’. That still rings true. His elegance is timeless.”

The other important thing to note about Charles’ very specific mode of dressing is that he’s loyal to the brands he likes and, perhaps most importantly, he invests in quality.

He has his shirts made at the aforementioned Jermyn Street shirtmaker Turnbull & Asser.

He wears handmade shoes from Northampton shoemaker Crockett & Jones.

He gets his ceremonial gear from Ede & Ravenscroft.

He alternates having his suits made at Gieves & Hawkes and Anderson & Sheppard. It’s a roster of loyalty many British men will probably relate to.

“[King] Charles is a total inspiration. His taste is impeccable, almost always in double-breasted jackets, looking resplendent but totally at ease with a tie and pocket square,” says John Harrison, creative director at Gieves & Hawkes.

”He’s also done more than anyone in the public eye to promote the idea of bespoke garments and handmade shoes being investments, to last forever with proper care and the odd repair or patch-up. He makes us all want to dress like a better man.”

Ultimately, though, it’s the confidence King Charles displays with his wardrobe decisions – a certain ruffled indifference – that makes his style so covetable.

Though today he’s best known for wearing a double-breasted suit better than any man on earth (fact), once upon a time his collars were curled, his shirts were French tucked, his jumpers were oversized.

Such flourishes are beyond him now, and not just because he's a man of 73.

After Saturday's official proclamation will come much more pomp and ceremony to sit him on the throne: a second meeting of the Accession Council in which he must swear an oath to preserve the Church of Scotland (a tradition dating back to the early 18th century).

A fanfare of trumpets from the balcony above St James's Palace, gun salutes in Hyde Park and from naval ships at sea, and the national anthem sung with the words “God Save the King.”

All of these before the coronation itself, at which Charles will have the crown placed on his head before a global audience of millions.

He will dress according to tradition throughout, in suits of impeccable shape and cut.

But as he goes forward in the role he has waited a lifetime to play, something of the King's fastidious but playful character will come back into what he wears and how he wears it.

It will be part of his legacy, wherever that may lead us.

[infinitycutter]

Fashion's Poet of Black : YAMAMOTO

by Suzy Menkes, for the New York Times (2000)

For the first time in recent fashion memory, black — essential, existential black — is no longer the ultimate symbol of cool. Black has dominated designer dressing, just as it has clad the entire fashion profession, since the wave of Japanese style swept over fashion in the early 1980s.

But now color has burst into the autumn clothes. Bright hues and subtle patterns are challenging dark and monochrome — and nowhere more so than from the designers for whom black was once the only fashion creed.

Yohji Yamamoto has built a career on proving that black — aggressive, rebellious, somber, romantic or seductive — is beautiful. He, more than most designers, is the poet of black, the director of fashion's film noir. In fact, a celluloid version of his favorite men in black was shown Saturday at the Venice film festival, where Yamamoto designed the costumes (not to mention the loud jewelry) for "Brother," a new movie by Takeshi Kitano about the yakuza, Japanese gangsters.

What is the lure of black that Yamamoto has been addicted to it since he first graduated from fashion college in Tokyo in 1969?

"Why black?" says Yamamoto, sitting in his Paris studio, black beard and black hair above a dense black honeycomb sweater, mat-black pants and black sneakers flashed with scarlet.

"Black is modest and arrogant at the same time," he says. "Black is lazy and easy — but mysterious. It means that many things go together, yet it takes different aspects in many fabrics. You need black to have a silhouette. Black can swallow light, or make things look sharp. But above all black says this: 'I don't bother you — don't bother me!"'

All this is said with a merry smile that belies Yamamoto's reputation as a designer of clothes for earnest intellectuals. Recent collections have shown rather a whimsical sense of humor: the Inuit-inspired autumn line with its russet paisleys and furry hoods, and the 1998 "wedding" show, in which a bridal "striptease" took models from inflated Victorian crinolines to slim-line dresses and pants.

For men, the art-director image of black suit with truncated proportions, shown on brawny-to-scrawny guys, has also been replaced by a more macho, even rock-star look. (As recreation, Yamamoto plays guitar or harmonica with a group called Suicide City.)

Yamamoto cut his fashion teeth in his widowed mother's dressmaking business, but rebelled at the clients' arriving with magazine styles to copy.

"At the very beginning, I just wanted women in men's style," he says. "Typically Japanese women were wearing imported and very feminine things and I didn't like it. I jumped on the idea of designing coats for women. It meant something for me — the idea of a coat guarding a home, hiding the woman's body. Maybe I liked imagining what is inside."

When an avant-garde buyer gave Yamamoto his first corner in a store, he was faced with what he calls elliptically "very strong competition" and "the start of my Olympic games." He was referring to the designs of Rei Kawakubo, his long-term partner and fashion picador under her label Comme des Garcons. Together — yet with entirely separate aesthetics — they created dark shrouds, asymmetrically cut in fluid, indeterminate shapes, and sheltering sweaters that clothed the acolytes of the all-black cult.

Of course, Japanese designers did not introduce black to 20th-century fashion, as witness the Parisian elegance of Coco Chanel's little black dress or Yves Saint Laurent's tuxedo, and rebellious style from Beatniks through Marlon Brando. But there was an abstraction, a modernism and a lack of visual definition in the work of fashion's avant garde that seemed to be layered in meaning, in the spirit of Mark Rothko's "dark" paintings.

Yamamoto, born in 1943, describes a "lost" postwar generation, educated to look to America or Europe and ignore Japanese tradition. So when his experiments in pushing the boundaries of shape and proportion were hailed as "Japanese" style, he was baffled.

Yamamoto sees his original look emerging from punk. His first collection was presented in Tokyo in 1977 and in Paris in 1981 when the "Japanese" (including Issey Miyake and Kenzo Takada, who were five years his senior) seemed diametrically opposed to everything that French fashion stood for: its well-defined cut and silhouette, its familiar fabrics, its conception of female allure and coquetry. Even 15 years later, when Carolyn Bessette Kennedy favored Yamamoto's designs in the mid-1990s, her choice of flat-plane, dark clothes to frame her good looks still seemed revolutionary.

The French electronic musician Jean-Michel Jarre once defined Yamamoto's style like this: "His work is totally different from anything else. I like the quasi-religious approach he has to fashion. For me, a woman in Yohji is like a nymphomaniac nun. His clothes are at once sensual and very ritualistic."

That phrases captures the eroticism lurking under the skillful tailoring of a purist exterior. In his genuine affection for women, Yamamoto stands apart in a fashion world where male designers tend either to idolize or to dislike the female sex. He admits that "my life is thinking about women."

"First my mother — last my daughter," he says. "And in between are all the secret ones."

Mother, daughter and son (who has brought him a granddaughter) all work in the business: His mother is the revered directrice; his daughter was launched in March, after three years as pattern cutter, as designer of the ready-to-wear line called Y's bis Limi. The proud father claims, "She'll be strong — she'll be bigger than me."

Yamamoto's career reached its zenith with the 1998 "wedding" collection. It confirmed the new, romantic path he had taken as he shifted register from masculine to feminine. The catalyst was his study of haute couture. He pored over the neo-Edwardian gowns of the American designer Charles James at the Brooklyn Museum of Art in the summer of 1999, when he was in New York to pick up an American Fashion Award. In the jigsaw of pattern pieces he uncovered "another designer's process."

The museum has now asked him to curate a fashion exhibition from its archives. It will open in autumn 2001 and thus commemorate the anniversary of 20 years showing in Paris, although Yamamoto says he is thinking not of his past but of "tomorrow and the day after tomorrow." At 56, he thinks vaguely of retiring and of fulfilling his ambition to write. He worries that others might think, "Yohji, you have sung your song already."

A recent Yamamoto signature has been the swoop of a back, from the geisha-esque curve of the nape through the base of the spine to the neo-Victorian bustle.

"This is my fetish idea for a woman's body," he says. "I like the back curve line of women. I am always watching the silhouette in the streets. The rib cage and the hip is very important for me. The image represents the back of a woman. I'm always following her. Don't go! Don't leave me!"

Don't count on Yamamoto, or his women, turning their backs on black.

[terrorpenned]

some r/v au things kicking around in the brain (or in my art lmao)

V has a new wedding dress made that is heavily inspired by, though not an exact replica of, Josette’s dress, taking a mix of regency style and late 1960s/early 1970's (which are already in partnership in fashion). she borrows Naomi Collins' wedding veil, and Liz gives her a string of pearls that first belonged to Annabella Collins –– a symbol of the Collins prosperity born of the sea.

Wedding flowers: blue delphinium (dignity and grace, youth, new life, remembrance), calla lilies (magnificent beauty, rebirth or resurrection, the goddess Hera), lily of the valley (return to happiness: "The naiad-like lily of the vale. Whom youth makes so fair, and passion so pale" ) and blue jasmine (amiability, loyalty, integrity, trust, "On the blue flower which, Brahmins say. Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.")

" The jasmine, with which the queen of flowers, To charm her god, adorns his favourite bowers Which brides, by the plain hand of neatness drest, – Unenvied rival! – wear upon the breast; Sweet as the incense of the mom, and chaste As the pure zone which circles Dian's waist."

They're married out on the terrace but, predictably, rain interrupts them, and they have to rush inside to the drawing room to finish the ceremony. Roger cheats and carries her over the threshold before they're officially married.

They fly to France for their honeymoon, staying on the beaches of Biarritz in the Hôtel du Palais. They make several excursions to sightsee in the rest of the country, including a few days in Paris to see the Louvre and the Palais Garnier. V returns home with several paintings to add to Collinwood's collection, and Roger with several bottles of wine. Vicki also picks out an André Courrèges for Maggie, an Yves Saint Laurent for Carolyn and a Givenchy for Liz. for David, a lapel pin with a guillotine motif inspired by 1790s designs.

Rog's proposal is very Maxim-esque. It happens outside on the cliffs, not at breakfast itself, but right after. Since David is old enough to go to Real School, he no longer needs a tutor and governess, but Roger assures her she's still needed at Collinwood and she can stay on with him. ("Do you mean you want a secretary or something?" "No, I'm asking you to marry me, you little fool.")

They're generally supported (especially by Julia) when they announce the engagement, and Carolyn is delighted to have her as an official member of the family (though it takes some getting used to thinking of her as an aunt). Liz is highly skeptical and would try to talk Roger into calling it off; Vicki has to work hard to convince her that’s what she wants. the plus side is that he’d never do anything to hurt V because if he did Liz would flay him alive. not one single foot out of line.

Maggie would also be on Liz’s side, certain at first that the power disparity favors Roger and his happiness, but Vicki would eventually bring her around. Maggie, along with Willie and Joe, is probably one of the few who realizes or cares what it means for Vicki socially/economically to rise through the ranks and marry into the Collins money/power. most of them would view it as marrying Roger, but V’s fellow working class characters see it as marrying into the family, and Roger comes second.

The engagement lasts a while for legal reasons, though not for lack of Rog's trying to hurry their lawyers, since neither of their spouses can be served divorce papers (being yoinked back to the eighteenth century or being transformed into a vampire as your alternate identity don't count for much in court). they're able to get annulments on the basis of mental incapacity –– r.e. Rog's mental state when he married Cass, and the speed –– and fraud –– vis a vis Jeff's real identity. it's not pleasant, and involves lots of testifying about adultery in the courtyard, which leads to their first real fight.

Though he buys her a few things in France, his big wedding present is a car of her own to live in the Collins garage: a Triumph TR6 in Royal Blue with tan interior. Carolyn is allowed to drive it; Roger is not.

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

The Chiffon Trenches by André Leon Talley

This book was great, but it could have been excellent with more stories, history and pictures regarding the fashion world. Not to be rude, but sometimes André complained at bit much about being a black man in fashion (activism should have been another book subject). He had such an incredible life, he met such incredible and inspiring people and honestly, if he wasn't gay he wouldn't have been as successful as he was (even truer with this sentence, page 48, "All the principals were gay, something that was understood and never discussed. In this world, there were no victims, only highoctane egos.").

What a life. What an era. For example, page 34, 70, 77, 79, 89, 91, 92, 93, 94, 99, 113, 114, 127, 131, 132, 133, 134, 151, 152, 161, 162, 205, 207, 212, 228, 229, 249, 262,    

I wanted more history about fashion, more history about designer, why omitting so many important ones like McQueen (even being cruel about him at page 148, he was a genius (the most beautiful masterpiece come from darkness it is well known); page 123, John Galliano wasn't the unique visionary of this era), Pucci, Valentino, Thierry Mugler, Paco Rabanne, Lanvin, ...

Why hasn't he even written a bit in French? Strange after so many French studies and living in Paris... (example at page 268)

And he should have done a book with all his photo shooting publications. It would have been a must! Because honestly, too often does he mentioned outfits or interiors without any picture to show us (shame): page 58, 59, 126, 194, 195, 214, 236, 240, 241, 248, 254, 255,

Also, one question arises: To which point is it true? (Why lie about Karl and Baptiste at page 187)?

About Andy Warhol on page 21: "With Andy, anyone could be anyone and everyone was equal - a drag queen or an heiress. At the Factory, if you were interesting, you were "in". And while he could be seen out and about at night, Andy also went to church every morning to thank God for his life, his money, and his mother." & "When Andy was in a good mood, he created small, signed pieces of art for his staff. A silkscreen print from one of his series, or a small painting, like a candy heart in lace on Valentine's Day. It was a quite generous perk.

About Karl Lagerfeld : - Page 25: "Fashion's fun and you can't really take it too seriously. Frivolity must be an integral form." - Page 53: "When I was four, I asked my mother for a valet for my birthday. I wanted my clothes prepared so I could wear anything I wanted at any time of day. At ten, I was always in hats, high collars, and neckties. I never played with other children. I read books and did drawings night and day." - Page 77: "In 1982, Karl Lagerfeld announced he was taking over as creative director of CHANEL. Paris was abuzz with the news, a beehive of intrigue and envy. Vogue wrote at the time that it was the talk of Paris; Karl Lagerfeld who was not French, going to the top of the fashion hill at CHANEL was in fact momentous. Alicia Drake said in her book The Beautiful Fall that Karl's ascension "was a black day at the house of Saint Laurent, (I don't remember this sentence btw)." - Page 100: That's one way of the story. - Page 102: So surprising that everyone is criticizing Karl when he had enough of support them financially (he even gave a house to Princess Caroline de Monaco). - Page 108: Karl's relationship with death and mourning.   - Page 113: Who is Karl's dry-cleaning? The name. - Page 114: Karl's life. - Page 115: "And I suffered in exile for a season but learned a valuable lesson: Never trust anyone close to Kaiser Karl." - Page 153 & 156: Karl and his precious gifts. - Page 162: What a generous man. - Page 163: Incredible story with André, Anna et Karl. - Page 173: Karl's regime. - Page 178: "Karl Lagerfeld did not go to Yves Saint Laurent's funeral. He sent flowers to the church, a huge arrangement of white roses, with a handwritten note: "In memory of our better days, of our youth." - Page 187: lying about Karl and Baptiste. - Page 188: Karl being tired of people abusing him. - Page 191: The last interaction between Karl and André. - Page 234: About Karl's death, "Anna Wintour called me from London. "I thought he would live forever." (Me too). - Page 235: "In my Southern Baptist culture, people visit the graves of loved ones. One summer, I faxed Karl that I had been to the grave of my father, who is buried in Roxboro, North Carolina. Amanda Harlech told me later that Karl told her, "Apparently André's spending his time running around North Carolina, visiting graves of his relatives." (Hilarious). - Page 236: "Perhaps Karl thought contemplating death was a waste of time. Truly, there was no one with a more robust schedule in all of fashion than Karl Lagerfeld. He ran three of the biggest fashion brands in the world simultaneously for decades: CHANEL, Fendi and his eponymous Lagerfeld label. And still he took on various anonymous freelance work. While other designers were driven to drink and madness and sometimes suicide by the pressures of one fashion house, Karl made it all seem so easy." (How did he do it btw). --> The book has been published after Karl's death and no word about Virginie Viard (page 235).

About John Fairchild: - Page 31: "I am the boss, and don't you ever forget it." & "I don't give a damn about clothes, I care about the people who wear them." - Page 69: "Mr. Fairchild, this genius who could make or destroy a company or a person with his brilliant sense of wordsmithing."

About Paris on page 51: "Paris offered great characters and subtle intrigues, promiscuity, drugs, scandals - a whole different world from where I had grown up. In Paris, I was always seated on the front row at the couture and ready-to-wear catwalk shows."

About Anna Wintour: - Page 85: "Anna's position as creative director was vague enough to give her both total control of the magazine and zero control, depending on whom you asked." - Page 92: "Each of these women had a strong, independent personality. By naming all three fashion directors, Anna gave each equal billing on the masthead, and each could do her own thing. It was a brilliant move, politically. The equality of their roles also reflected the fact that at Anna Wintour's Vogue, there was no hierarchy. There was Anna Wintour, and there was everyone else." - Page 93-94: The Devil Wears Prada has been confirmed that it is untrue. - Page 95: Does Anna Wintour in a way got André to get closer to Karl at the beginning? - Page 98: She is amazing in the picture. - Page 145: Why he gave his story to W and not Anna, "I had to take it to Mr. Fairchild because I knew he would read it seriously and publish it respectfully." - Page 216: Her and André about the podcast for the Met. - Page 219: "I wonder, when she goes home alone at night, is she miserable? Does she feel alone? Perhaps she doesn't allow herself to feel these things, as she clearly is a person who does not dwell on the past." (Because she doesn't have time for it). - Page 222: "Like any ruthless individual, she maintains her sangfroid at all times. She is always dashing in and out, and I do believe she is immune to anyone other than the powerful and famous people who populate the pages of Vogue." (I don't think he must take it personally).

Incredible story about Gloria von Thurn und Taxis (page 89-90).

The true about Pierre Bergé is not even a surprise (page 97).

About John Galliano: - Page 123-124: His beginning. - Page 130: "Galliano understood me and I got him. I knew his wavelength, where his inspirations came about. I'd been accused of sleeping with all the designers, but the truth is that I embrace their dreams, step inside their dreams, and become part of their dreams. I bonded with Galliano on a human level. He is a genius, a visionary, a poet. A mad poet, like Rimbaud, or Verlaine, or Baudelaire."

About Diana Vreeland: - Second picture: "At a party, when you don't feel as if you have the room at your attention, just find a seat, or a corner. Sit quietly and calmly, occupy your personal space, and people will notice you. And if the world, or party, doesn't come to you, well then it's not meant to be." - Page 207: the mention of Madame Grès.

About Gabriel Chanel: - Page 158-159: "Simplicity is the keynote of all true elegance."

About Tom Ford: - Page 212: His entire black garden in London (love it).

About Lee Radziwill: - Page 230: "X-rays showed Lee had broken her hip. She was immediately operated on and had a hip replacement. When she saw the replacement X-rays, she said, "I have a beautiful Brancusi sculpture inside me."

About Naomi Campbell: - Page 240: She and her friends don't need vista - Page 243: "Being in her entourage is like being in a film; she's larger than life, like Elizabeth Taylor." - Page 245: "If Naomi were music, she would be Saint-Saën's "The Swan," from his suite The Carnival of the Animals, or she would be Scott Joplin's "Gladiolus Rag." She has majestic drama on a professional runway, and her personal life is itself reminiscent of "Triumphal March" from the second act of Verdi's Aida. If she were a poem, it would be "Correspondences" by Baudelaire." - Page 246: "Naomi threw me a look that, if it were a poison dart, would have been a fatal blow." (Le naturel revient au galop) - Page 247: Doesn't know what mean "Éclatante!", shameful.

About Carolina Herrera: - "I always selected the dress I knew no one else would think of buying."

I like his view on love at page 63, 109 ("Sex was not on my radar. Success was."), Incredible picture at page 76, 98, fifth picture, !

Now I understand why there is a Chuck Bass in Gossip Girl (is it related to the Bass family? Anne Bass, page 89

André didn't tell us how Jacques got Aids (page 106), his debauchery.

I don't agree with those sentences: - At page 129: "CHANEL was the great designer but Dior was the name people associated with Paris couture." - At page 225: "Jackie the celebrity had stolen Ari Onassis from Lee." (Not Lee, but from Maria Calas).

I have only heard about "Le Palace", not at all "Club 7".

What about his father, because André always talks about his mother, but almost never about his father (page 198).

I'm sad to discover that I have missed the Oscar de la Renta exhibition in Paris at the Mona Bismarck Center (page 202).

I don't understand why he cut the 2019 Met Gala with Marc Jacobs' wedding (page 240 & 255ss)?

The real moral of the story is at page 257, "The real elegance took a train out of town a long time ago" by Anne Bass. She is so right. And the end of the golden age at page 263, 264, 265 about Condé Nast.

The Epilogue wasn't necessary.

Be aware, the book is a slow read, and it's mostly focus about Karl and Anna (at least for him to criticize them)

Some good quotes: - p. 4: "When I would get upset, my uncle Lewis used to say to me, "Just keep on getting up. Get up every day and just keep going." - p. 5: "I dreamed of meeting Naomi Sims and Pat Cleveland, and living a life like the ones I saw in the pages of Vogue, where bad things never happened." (Story of my life) - p. 6: "While I knew she loved me, I don't think she liked me." - p. 19: "His manerisms, his dandyisms, his snobbism were toxic to my budget but auspicious for my aspirations." (Love it) - p. 52: "We all had a certain way of being and we came together as units, little cliques of ego, glamour, and power. I was fully a part of this machine." - p. 55: "Betty Catroux loved me and accepted me for who I was, not for what I did. That was rare in fashion circles." - p. 61: "We were all on top of the world at this wedding. We felt free and there weren't even any drugs - well, at least not with any of my close friends. Maybe there was too much fine champagne." (Nice one) - p. 67: "She had opened my eyes to a reality I so badly wanted to deny." - p. 92-93: "One was expected to behave a certain way when representing Vogue. I played it cool and I behaved in an aloof, distant, somewhat disdainful manner, the way people usually conduct themselves on the front row. It's rare that you see a major editor emote." - p. 105: "My mother loved clothes, though I am not sure that she ever fully loved me." (Terrible) - p. 144: "Fashion is not an industry that lives in the past, but rather carries its past along, like a shadow, wherever it goes." - p. 196: "She, like Mrs. Vreeland, just took to her bed and waited to leave the world, with her own sense of the world internalized." - p. 199: "I do not fear death, as it was always present in my Baptist upbringing: Prepare yourself for death. We all have to die one day." - p. 203: "A person's words and deeds can make an indelible impression upon the soul. You can make a person feel loved through the simplest things in life. It's not the extravagant gifts that count. It's the thought, the gesture behind it." - p. 218: "I understand; nothing lasts forever." - p. 227: "Whatever time each of us had with her should be remembered as nothing less than a privilege." - p. 268: "When I am overwhelmed with feelings of emptiness and deep sadness, when the day begins and ebbs into dark blues, I have life-enhancing stratagems to make the day a better one."

Bonsoir.

[france-n-fashion]

Louvre - Conclusions about Art and Fashion

Exploring fashion and feminism in Paris has been an incredible journey, filled with nuance surrounding history, creativity, and social consciousness. As I delved into the exhibitions of Christian Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, and Iris van Herpen, I found myself considering the world of fashion and haute couture from a completely new perspective.

Throughout our journey’s course, we learned about so many other designers and areas of fashion, and being at a women’s college, it was natural from me to consider the implications these all had for women.

Fashion is largely built around consumerism, building new trends and “It girls”, it always has something new to offer, and by extension, something new to buy. This burden falls predominantly on women, as Women’s fashion continues to take center stage. Christian Dior cemented this ideal when he created the “Dior girl” whose shoes, hat, jewelry, and dress were all Dior. This created a look for women based on ornamentalism. The Dior girl is something to look at, a way of being perceived in which one acts as an advertisement or model. And this sentiment carries now as fashion becomes something women are expected to preform, so that their performance can be consumed by others. In this way, fashion becomes a sort of hierarchy in which women are the consumers of fashion, and men are the consumers of women.

This poses a contrast to the fashion created by women themselves, which focuses often on the art of expressing themselves. This is most clear with the work or Iris van Herpen, who explores technology and science through fashion. In her work, it’s clear fashion and dressmaking is simply a medium she uses to convey larger ideas surrounding science and the natural world. Many of her dresses don’t even appear to be made to be worn, no woman is expected to preform them, instead they are works of art in themselves. Her fashion is not made to be mass produced or even worn for daily occasions. There is no “Van Herpen Girl” the same way there might be a “Dior Girl”. While that does mean her work is less accessible to the public, it also means an element of consumerism is removed, allowing her to be an artist over a business woman.

Yves Saint Laurent posses an interesting middle ground to these two, being a gay man who advocated largely for gender nonconformity, with his introduction of “le smoking”. His work was very much meant to be worn, placing his work into the realm of consumerism. However, his fashion was meant to be experienced and to give women an entrance into traditional masculine spaces without equating them to men. While the fashion is meant to be consumed, the men and women who wear it weren’t meant to be. His models were inspiration for his clothing rather than serving as advertisements themselves.

I have always loved Yes Saint Laurent, not the brand but the designer, as his work and its significance have always struck a cord with me. He was an artist, and fashion was his medium. He is said to have needed it, it was his way of coping. This is I think a common experience for artists, I find it in my own life. I need my work and my art, it keeps me sane. I cannot stop because to stop would be to die (in some metaphorical sense).

Paris was incredible, and outside just fashion, was filled with art. From the architecture of the Louvre to the paintings inside it to the colors in the Parisian women’s silk scarves, the city is overflowing with it. I’m glad I was able to witness it.

[rafeny]

Can I Tell You...about my Fall / Winter 2023 Collection.

Rafé New York Takes Us To A Dazzling Reimagining Of Studio 54

By Chelsea Sarabia for Vogue Philippines

Rafe Totengco on his Fall / Winter 2023 Campaign and the sweet homecoming of Filipino creatives that went on behind the scenes.

In setting out to design any collection, Rafe Totengco prefers to work off a feeling.

With his brand Rafé New York, the designer has carved out a niche in the clutches and evening bags sect of fashion. He attributes its global acclaim to one sentiment: anyone can carry a Rafé bag. Over an illustrious two-decade-long career, he notes a sizeable shift in the landscape that mirrors this attitude, with trends that transcend any one type of person—so long as it fits their tastes.

“With social media, we’ve become a very small world. Everyone sees everything instantaneously, and they also see what other people are wearing,” he says. “Ultimately, that’s also what I love about handbags: it’s a very democratic piece of fashion. You can be young, you can be old. It’s not size-specific, it’s not age-specific.” 

For his Fall/Winter 2023 collection, Totengco doesn’t design with a particular muse in mind but a mood; he paints a picture of a radiant hour in a bar in Bushwick, tapping into the sparkling glamour and the freeing sense of style of eras past. 

The designer expands, “I’m hoping that with one of these bags from the next season, [wearers] get a sense of confidence, independence, and strength, and a kind of boldness [that says] ‘I want to stand out from the crowd. I don’t want to be like everybody else. I’m going to walk in and turn heads. Yes, I’m going to own the space.’”

Inspired by Studio 54 and Helmut Newton’s photographs of the Yves Saint Laurent Le Smoking suit, Totengco wanted to shoot in a location that captured the vibrancy of New York City at night. It seemed nearly impossible to find within the city’s cluster of crowded streets and the time demanded of shooting a full-blown campaign; that was, until his team found the perfect spot: a Brooklyn bar with the makings of what could have been a stylish speakeasy from the 1920s. 

“The bar provided us with so many vignettes that I was super happy with because it kind of gave you the feeling that ‘She’s inside…somewhere,’” he muses. “You don’t necessarily see her friends, but it doesn’t matter. It’s almost like she’s there [just arriving]. There’s this anticipation of, like, ‘Something fun is about to happen.’ And you can just imagine the rest.” 

Styled in Marcel waves and ‘70s-reminiscent jumpsuits, Rafé’s femme fatale lounges over black leather booths, carrying an array of evening bags in malleable rhinestone mesh and sequins that spill over her fingertips.

“We have [them in] magenta, gold, and silver—you know, classic rhinestone colors, [and they’re] all individually done by hand in India,” he says of the collection. “They’re fun evening bags, party bags. When you see them, they evoke that sense of frivolity and ‘Ooh, look at this sparkly thing!’ I always believe a little sparkle never hurt anybody.”

For his campaign, Totengco worked with New York City-based Filipino creatives whom he shares he met through serendipitous encounters. In New York City, it seems, most Filipinos are distanced by only “two degrees of separation.”

He met photographer Selwyn Tungol after he had taken a picture of one of his bags during a Fashion Week years ago and the multi-disciplinary creative Lorenz Namalata at the recent opening of the Silverlens Galleries in Manhattan. Following what the designer calls a “trail of connectivity,” he finds that the bar Namalata scouted for him was Filipino co-owned, too. 

“It was just funny. We had a whole crew of other people who were assisting who all came from Manila, all based here now, and it just became this thing. All of a sudden, we were talking in Tagalog in Sleepwalk, a bar in Bushwick, and we were like, oh my God, wait, where are we? What are we doing?” he laughs. “It’s also, in a way, representative of New York now. It really is a melting pot, and I love that—that a new generation of creatives is coming up.”

For Totengco, a predominantly Filipino crew was a refreshing departure from where he first started in the industry. He says, “It was kind of this moment of solidarity where it was like, ‘Well, I didn’t have this before.’ Without even realizing it, it’s happening, and, really, it’s a nice feeling. You feel at home. You feel like you’re a part of something.”

[ofstormsandsaints]

Christa being known as the "White Rose" probably has made her have to dress up to fit the title, to fit people's expectations (read: purity kink) about her. I don't think she got a lot of say in a lot of things, like how she dressed, before and after she got married to Karlheinz😔. How does Christa dress as the "White Rose", and how would she personally dress herself if she got to explore her style?

it has been sleeping in my askbox for so long... even though I really liked how you formulated this ask. Thank you for your patience!

now, my interpretation of Christa's fashion sense gives her the freedom to explore her style. She knows what looks good on her even though she selects it in order to live up the White Rose title😔

Fashion headcanon - a Christa lookbook

It is impossible to picture Christa as something else than a spectral beauty. An otherworldly creature born like a snowdrop. The palest bloom sprouting out of the slowly warming earth at the beginning of spring. So delicate, so sensitive. Holding a silent power in her closed fists.

All her childhood, she had been the joy and pride of her family - not only did they give her a title, but they fashioned her heart and spirit in the belief of an untouchable persona. The White Rose, meant to be desired from afar.

Vampires do have this sinister obsession for purity... And Christa convinced herself that this ethereal aura was her main shield.

-Unreal loveliness.

-Dazzlingly pale. A ghost dressed in opalescent silk, blue veins and scarlet gaze, all complimented under the moonlight.

The collision between a Petrarchan beauty, a sad phantom from one of Maupassant's short stories and a woodland queen fairy.

-Edwardian lace. On her sleeves, around her neck and brushing the skin of her ankles

-Like Yui, Christa doesn't like to draw attention to her chest. @nutaella-kookie mentioned in this post how her best assets would be her hips and legs and I agree. But they're so fragile that Christa would always hide her silhouette in long flowing skirts - sometimes so long you can only guess the tip of her shoes, so when she moves it seems like she barely touches the ground. She was gifted with supernatural grace

-And cursed with immense fragility.

-She's so delicately built, most men and women feel like they could crush her when holding her shoulders and giving her body just a squeeze.

-Her oh-so-thin neck is exposed with a modest collar, maybe some off-shoulder covered with a pale, see-through veil that follows the length of her arms.

-Long split sleeves, an inspiration from antique togas or maybe some butterfly/petal sleeves. Something dainty and easy to cover with a mantilla or other veils.

-It doesn't seem like it at first but she layers a lot.

-It is truly a game of transparency and forms. The art of creating an harmonious noble silhouette without making it bulky. She hates massive skirts, petticoats and tight corsets.

-Being so thin and short, she could never dress with the same regal confidence as Cordelia or with Beatrix's dignified stature. Too-vibrant colours would devour her and she would look ridiculous in ballooning ball-gowns.

-Opts instead for pale dresses with an empire waistline and flared, flowing skirts most of the time.

-Think of 1990s Yves Saint Laurent and Christian Lacroix spring collection

-Prefers the glistening fineness of pearls over gaudy golden jewels.

-The elegant incrustation of moonstones, herkimer diamonds or celestites, the stabilising power of abalone shells, calcite and Tibetan quartz... The Lady of the Tower knows her stones.

-But throughout the years, she began to wear less jewellery. She grew to hate the feeling of heaviness on her hands when wearing rings so now, just like Beatrix, she only keeps her wedding ring.

-One ring and her nails are cut round and short.

-...to prevent her from scratching her maids' face when she's having a panic attack. She already hurt Subaru that way when he was little.

-The cousin of the Vampire King hides her aura of failed divinity with veils and shifty looks.

-Starry or plain. Softened hues of pale pink or blue that look almost white - it reminds you of the fainting colour of roses in her garden.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you’re harry’s assistant and harry needs to open his eyes.

a/n: ASSISANT!YN has finally arrived! this took me three weeks and a half to write, so please enjoy and kindly rb with feedback! i’ve had this concept in mind for SO long, and i’m proud of it! this is also inspired by my love for the barcelona pic, pictured on the left, that I think about on the daily along with some thoughts in a dressing room! also picture on the right at the final show is an aspect in the story as well!

also big thank you to my bestie @stylesloveclub for screaming and hyping this up for me while I rave about it, ily!

enjoy a long slowburn of 26.3k words of a friends to lovers fic that’s filled with angst and some smut! genuinely be ready for the angst hehe

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALKING ABOUT WANT YOU HERE! i’d love to know your thoughts and feedback!

pls rb to share! <3

16 December 2017

The smell of fresh flowers brought allergies to your senses as you shuffled and continuously rubbed your nose with a tissue. 

You were at the flower shop with two bouquets in your hands as you debated which bundle to get. You were given specific instructions to find a bouquet that’s full and big with the color white being the dominant color of the bouquet, and your options were a white orchid bunch, which weren’t your personal favorite, but it was one of the white bouquets, and your other option was a white lilac bouquet with a couple of white roses and baby’s breath around the large lilacs. 

“Do you need help choosing a bouquet?” The lady that was named Vicky asked. She had an expression of curiosity as she was probably wondering if you were going to buy anything since you’ve been standing in the corner for quite some time as you tried choosing which bouquet to get. 

“Oh, no. Thank you,” you replied back with a smile, and she nodded her head, walking away to help another customer, but you knew she was going to be back to ask you again in the next ten minutes if you don’t make your mind up right now. 

After another three minutes of deciding, you opted for the white lilac bouquet, and headed to the cashier. You gave the employee your number for rewards since you were at the flower shop quite a lot that you’ve managed to rack up some points in order to get a free bouquet. Once you paid and were on your way, your phone rang in your purse. Struggling to reach for it as you were holding the big bouquet and a few shopping bags, you moved to the side to set your paper bags down on the ground, and quickly grabbed your phone so it won’t go to voicemail. 

“Hey,” you answered cheerfully, knowing exactly who it was. 

“Hi there. Where are you?” The voice from the other end asked. 

“I just left the flower shop—should be there soon.” 

“Okay, perfect. Thank you for everything.” 

“Harry, you don’t need to thank me every single time,” you chuckled. “I’m your assistant. It’s my job.” 

“I know, I know. It’s just…I’m grateful for what you do,” he said thankfully. 

“I know, and I’m grateful for having this job and working for you. So, thank you also.” 

“Look who’s saying thank you now,” he joked, and you laughed. “But I’ll see you soon. Walk back safely, please,” he said, bidding you goodbye. 

“Always do. See you,” you hung up the phone, picking up the shopping bags, and walking towards Harry’s place. 

You’ve been Harry’s assistant for quite some time now; exactly two years. You started working for him when you were both twenty one, and he had just gone separate ways from the band. Harry was in the midst of writing his very first album and planning his first world tour as a solo artist in smaller theatre venues, and desperately needed an assistant to do some basic errands and remind him of his scheduling. Luckily as Glenne’s friend, you were in need of a job. You were fresh out of college as you had your bachelor’s in public relations, and being friends with someone who’s boyfriend is in the industry has its perks. 

Glenne had immediately recommended you once Jeff mentioned that Harry was looking for an assistant, and since Jeff had met you a handful of times, he told Glenne to call you in for an interview, but somewhat knowing that he was going to hire you already since Harry desperately needed one and you were a friend. 

When you walked into the interview, you were greeted by Jeff and Harry. That was your first time meeting Harry, and you were quite shocked that he was a real person. Of course you were a fan of him, and you were still surprised whenever Glenne talked about him, but when you saw him for the first time, you immediately thought that he was more gorgeous in reality. 

“So nice to meet you,” Harry said, shaking your ring filled hand. The coolness of his metal rings met your shaky hands, and sparks had immediately shocked your body. 

“Great to meet you too. I love your shirt,” you complimented. He was wearing a bright blue button down shirt with a cherry blossom print on it with a white t-shirt underneath along with some black skinny jeans and brown boots. 

“Thank you. Your trousers are very nice,” he said back, looking down at your pants. You were wearing burnt orange corduroy pants with a white semi turtleneck blouse with a pussybow tie on it, along with some black booties. “Actually, I love your whole outfit,” he added, and you chuckled, trying to hide your blush. 

Never in a million years would you have thought you would meet Harry, let alone Harry complimenting your entire outfit. You’re really living the dream. 

The interview went extremely well and only lasted about thirty minutes. The first ten minutes were some generic interview questions because they still had to keep it professional, but the last twenty minutes consisted of asking about your interests and simply getting to know you because you would spend most of your time with Harry. 

At the end of the interview, it was quite obvious Jeff and Harry knew they wanted to hire you. They loved your personality and how you made jokes, especially how you laughed at Harry’s jokes, which he thought was a very important aspect of being his assistant. 

Jeff exited the room, telling you he would be right back, but really he went into his office to grab some paperwork for you to sign. That left you and Harry in the conference room alone as you made conversation with him about university. You also told him that you were a fan of his, which you thought was a mistake to tell him because you’re sure he doesn’t want a crazy fan to be his assistant and practically have access to his personal life, but he said gratefully said thank you, and asking if you had a favorite song off new released album. Your favorites off his album were ‘Only Angel’ and ‘From the Dining Table.’ 

“Good picks,” he teased. 

“I would hope they’re good picks. It is your album,” you teased back, making him laugh, and he thought that it was a great choice making you his assistant. 

Once Jeff was back, he opened a folder, taking out various paperwork before Harry broke the news and told you that he’d love for you to be his assistant. You hadn’t expected to be hired on the spot, or be hired in general, but there you were, reading over the contracts and signing your name at the bottom of the last page along with the date. Jeff and Harry both shook your hands, telling you that they were excited for you to be along with the ride, and you told them that you were excited as well. 

You had thanked Glenne a million times for getting you an interview, and till this day, you always made sure to thank her because one mention of your name had gotten you an opportunity and a well paying job that you actually really loved. 

Harry also made the job bearable; not truly treating you as only an assistant, but rather a friend who helps a lot. Throughout the years of knowing each other, you and Harry had grown quite close. With always being around him, it was like hanging out with him, and you were thankful for that because you were sure no other job would feel like this. Harry also doesn’t give you difficult tasks either. He just has you go on coffee runs or run to the store to grab him something, but the most work you’ve had to do for him was to call several people on his guest list for a party he was hosting last year or write out his whole schedule for the entirety of the year. But nothing strenuous that would leave you frustrated with him. 

He would also make sure everything that he assigns you to do is okay for you to do, and you really appreciated that, but you would do anything for that man. 

You stood in front of Harry’s door, setting your bags down onto the floor before you reached into your purse to grab your keys where a spare key to Harry’s place hung on the metal ring. Before your hand could even find them, the door swung open revealing Harry smiling at you, looking impeccably sharp in his suit, which caused your heart to flutter. 

“Ah, thought I heard you. Here, let me help you,” he grabbed the shopping bags from the ground and the flowers from your hands, leaving you empty handed as you followed behind him into his home. “Thank you for getting these. I’ve just been so busy lately,” he thanked once again as he did on the phone. 

“Yeah, I know. Afterall, I am your assistant,” you teased, and he laughed as he studied the bouquet. 

“This is a lovely bouquet. Good pick,” he said, and your mind immediately goes back to when he said that to you for the first time at your interview. He said it quite often as you ultimately always make the decisions when he asks you to go out and grab something for him. 

“I thought so too. Also,” you opened one of the shopping bags, taking out the garment bag before unzipping the entire thing, “I got the exact dress you asked for, and get this: it was the last one in her size. Lucky man, you are, Harry Styles,” you handed him the Yves Saint Laurent black dress so he could get a better look at it, and he held it up, smiling. 

“It’s perfect. Thank you so much, angel,” he said, and you slightly blushed from the pet name that you would never get used to. 

Harry started calling you ‘angel’ when you were two months into working for him. With all the work you do for him, the pet name had slipped out, but it stuck once he kept calling you that. You loved it--a lot, and you hoped that one day, he wouldn’t forget to call you that because you would miss the simple name coming out of his mouth very much. Plus, it was fitting because your favorite song of his is ‘Only Angel.’

“Are you excited for tonight?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I am. It’s been a while since I’ve properly taken her out on a date, so I’m stoked for it. Pretty sure she is too.” Harry had a busy schedule. With being involved in interviews and promo for his upcoming tour, he was a busy man, which you knew of course. But it had affected his personal life greatly. 

“Well, I’m happy if you are. I hope she loves the dress,” you said painfully. 

“She will. She’s been talking about it for a while now. I just hope she didn’t go buying it without telling me because that would be really awkward once I tell her to go change into this,” he chuckled softly, and you joined him, agreeing. Harry quickly checked the time on his phone as it read 6:30 p.m, and he carefully placed the dress back into the garment bag and zipped it up. He grabbed the bouquet of flowers and his wallet on the counter. “I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don’t leave now. Lock up for me if you decide not to stay, yeah?” You nodded, walking him to the door as if it were your house. “Oh!” He turned back around because he had forgotten something, and you were holding up his keys already, and he chuckled. “Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver. Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he leaned in to give you a brief kiss to your cheek, which he has done often, and you waved at him. 

“Have fun tonight! Call me if you need anything,” you called out from his front door and he waved the flowers as a sign of goodbye before getting into his car. You watched him reverse out of his driveway and drive off to his girlfriend’s house. 

With a sigh, you closed the door, looking around at what needs to be done. Harry’s place was relatively clean. He just had some things laying around on random surfaces, and you think that was probably because he was in a hurry, so he just placed them on the nearest surface. If Harry were here, he would probably tell you that cleaning up his own mess was so unnecessary and that he doesn’t expect you to, but you know that he’s grateful you’re doing it anyways. 

You were silent as you tidied up his house, putting things back in his closet, and washing the bowl of yogurt and fruit he eats in the morning. It was an unnerving silence, and you just wanted to make any kind of noise just to fill the quietness that was slowly eating you away. You grabbed one of his shirts off the ground that slipped off the hanger, and you brought it up to your nose. His scent filling your senses as you closed your eyes, taking his smell in. You inhaled enough to practically take away his entire scent that was left on his shirt to fill the satisfaction in your body as you pretended he was close. 

As you did that, you uncontrollably sobbed into the material, letting out a heartbroken cry as you covered your face with his shirt. You slowly sank down to the floor, completely sitting down on the cold tiles. The sudden outbreak of your cries weren’t new; they had made their appearance when he left for dates or after he was done talking about someone he liked. When you would go out to the store and grab things he wants gifted. When he would call you angel while he was with the devil who was keeping you two apart. 

Once you calmed down a bit, you thought about how hugging his shirt was the closest you would get to him as you wished you were the lucky person he would be greeting them with his presence and a pretty batch of flowers, but he doesn’t even know your favorite flower.

It was the next day, and you woke up in the comfort of your own bed. 

You had taken an Uber home around ten p.m the night prior as you figured Harry was still on his date and perhaps wouldn’t be coming home till later. So, after watching a movie on his couch and having dinner, you turned off all of the lights and locked up as you headed to your place for what you hope is a relaxing night. 

A weird feeling had taken over you as you got ready for bed and it felt strange. You knew you weren’t yourself, and you hated that. The outburst of your crying was long forgotten as you climbed into bed and slept the day away. 

Once you had woken up from your deep slumber, your charged phone was ringing with your text tone. Groaning, you stretched your body from the tenseness from your sleep before you reached for your phone, unplugging the charger. You rubbed your eyes and blinked a bit as the brightness of your phone was straining to your vision. When your sight had cleared up, you were greeted with various messages from Jeff, asking if you had heard from Harry or if you’ve seen him. Going to Harry’s message, you hadn’t received anything, so you texted Jeff back and told him that he hadn’t contacted you and the last time you saw him was last night. Jeff immediately texted back, asking you if you could kindly go to his place and check if he was there, and you instantly said yes, a bit worried as Jeff seemed to be worried as well. 

You got out of bed for the day, not wanting to leave, but knowing you had responsibilities, you got ready for the day, doing your normal hygienic routine.

 It was Sunday, and usually on Sundays, you didn’t have much work to do since it was Harry’s day off as well. That is, if it’s not on tour, he gets a nice little day to himself. So, you chose a comfy outfit—one where you wouldn’t sweat so much as you walked to Harry’s house in the summer heat. You opted for a big t-shirt and pairing it with black biker shorts, and some sneakers. With one last look in the mirror, you were out the door and headed to Harry’s house. 

The day was beautiful as the sun was out and the sky was blue. Rarely any clouds to overcast the sun, and there was a slight breeze in the air, making the walk more bearable so you wouldn’t sweat all that much. 

Once you got to Harry’s house, fortunately, it wasn’t that far of a walk from where you live, you unlocked the door and walked in. 

“Harry?” You called out, looking around the living area. His shoes that he normally wears out are by the couch, so he should be somewhere. He might still be asleep, you think. You walk up the stairs to his room, knocking lightly before entering. And what you saw was something you wanted to erase from your memory forever. “Oh, fuck! Sorry!” You immediately slammed the door as you stood still outside of his room, in disbelief of what you just saw. 

You had just witnessed Brooke giving Harry head. They were both obviously naked, and her actions were on full display too because the bed faced the door and Brooke was on the side of Harry rather than in front of him as she had his dick down her throat, and of course, Harry had his head back, simply enjoying it because what guy wouldn’t. 

You heard shuffling through the door, and that took you out of your spaced out mind; quickly walked down the stairs and to the kitchen, grabbing yourself a glass of water, feeling yourself get flustered from how bare Harry was in front of you. 

“God, does she ever learn how to fucking knock?” You heard Brooke faintly say as they both walked down the stairs, most likely thinking you didn’t hear, but you definitely did as her voice echoed throughout the whole fucking house. “Hey, girl,” she smiled once they both made it to the kitchen, and it was the fakest smile you’ve ever seen. No wonder she’s a good actress, you think. 

“Hi,” you said back, sipping your glass of water as you avoided eye contact with Harry. 

“Hi. What are you doing here? Do I have to be somewhere today?” He greeted, but immediately asked questions as if you were invading his privacy and day off. You looked at him very briefly, but remained your sight on his marble counter. 

“Uh, no. Jeff told me to come here and check on you; said that he hadn’t heard from you, so he was worried,” you explained, glancing up and Harry nodded. 

“Oh, okay. The last time I talked to him was before I left, but I hadn’t checked my phone since. Was it anything urgent?” You shook your head, realizing Jeff never really explained why he needed Harry, but you brushed it off. 

“He bought me this lovely bouquet of flowers and a pretty dress for dinner!” Yeah, I know. I was the one who got them, you thought. “Then he took me out on a boat ride, and we came back here-”

“Spare me the details? I already know all of this. I am his assistant afterall,” you said in a not so friendly tone, interrupting her and not wanting to know the details of what happens in his bedroom that entails Brooke. Usually, you weren’t so harsh to anyone, but you had a reason to be a bit stern with Brooke because she bites back. Unfortunately for her, you bite back even harder. 

Harry and Brooke have been dating for what seems like forever, but it’s really only been about six months. You tried being nice to her--you really tried, giving her your patience, but every time you see her, she would act cold towards you. Of course not in front of Harry because he thinks she’s an absolute saint, but she was the complete opposite of that. She was the devil and you were the angel. But of course, Harry doesn’t see that. 

Brooke gives you a harsh look, rolling her eyes a bit as Harry grabbed a glass of water for both of them. She turns to him, giving him a big smile before reaching up to kiss his lips, knowing exactly what she was doing in front of you. She then took a sip of her water, hugging Harry before she said, “I gotta go. Have a meeting at ten. I’ll call you?” Harry nodded, walking her to the front door, giving her one last kiss before she was off and Harry shut the door. You scoffed to yourself as you watched them, rolling your eyes in a way to attempt to hide your pain. 

Harry walked back to the kitchen, leaning on the counter, matching your stance. 

“I’m sorry you had to walk in on us-”

“Harry, it’s fine. I should’ve waited before I knocked,” you tried to get rid of the thought of seeing Brooke’s mouth on Harry. That was the first time you’ve walked in on him like that--fully bare on the bed while in action. Brooke was probably his first serious girlfriend in years, but he’s had some one night stands here and there, which he called you in the morning to pick him up. It wasn’t your preferred task to do because of the pain you would always feel when you would see him walk out of the house he just slept in, but then again, he is your boss. 

It was a bit quiet between you two, and Harry thinks that it’s because you practically saw his dick on full display. Partially it was for that reason, but it was also the way Brooke would treat you almost every time she sees you. Harry thinks back to when Brooke was in the house, and he could practically feel the anger from you when she was there. 

“You know, you could be a little nicer to her,” he stated, recalling what you said to Brooke and how you said it. 

“Well, she could be nicer to me in general,” you raised your brows, waiting for what he has to say about that. 

“She is nice to you. She always talks about wanting to invite you places, but she comes back sad because you’re always so quick to turn her down.”

“Brooke has never invited me anywhere. In fact, she’s never said a word to me unless you were there,” Except for that time a couple of months ago when you two had a little chat that ended up with you in tears at the end of the night. You laughed as you were in disbelief that she would actually lie to Harry that she actually wanted to be friends with you. 

“What? No. She’s always talking about wanting to get to know you more, but you just shut her down,” Harry’s brows furrowed, and you laughed even more. “W-What’s so funny?”

“Harry, you would know if she would have talked to me because I would’ve told you, but your girlfriend has never mentioned anything other than…” you trailed off as you stopped laughing, not wanting to overstep or overshare some of things that Brooke has really said to you. 

“Other than what?” He noticed that you cut yourself off. 

“Maybe ask her if you wanna know. I gotta get going,” you said, brushing it off as if it didn’t matter to you as you avoided his suspicious eyes while you headed for the door. “Make sure to call Jeff too. Oh, uh,” you turned around to find him following you to the front door, “Did you need me to do anything for you while I’m here?” You asked, still knowing that he was your boss. 

“Oh, hmm, no. Don’t think so. Enjoy your day,” he said, and you got off of his doorstep.

“Bye, H-,” you were interrupted by the sound of his door closing. You raised your brows in confusion as Harry never really interrupted you, especially not like that. He would usually wait for you to get in your car and pull out of the driveway, but he didn’t even wait for you whatsoever. 

You tried not to make it a big deal because you figured he was frustrated and probably a bit pissed that you weren’t so nice to Brooke, but how could you cover up her lie like that especially if she was so mean to you? You grew some thick skin when you first started working for Harry, and that meant that you learned how to stand up for yourself no matter who is talking to you, not even Harry’s girlfriend. 

You groaned; on the topic of Harry’s girlfriend: how could he possibly think she’s a nice person? She put up such an act in front of him, and whenever he’s not around, that act is the complete opposite. 

When will he realize what’s right in front of him? That’s been right in front of him for years now. You were tired of meeting his new love interests and picking him up from other people’s houses when he could be at yours without worrying about going anywhere or leaving because the morning would be spent cuddling and making breakfast together. Oh, how you envied the people he got to hold onto tight and freely kiss as you wished for those lips to land on you as he called you angel. 

The thought was driving you insane because you wouldn’t dare tell him whatsoever. Afterall, he was your boss and it would be awkward if he didn’t feel the same way. But you think he would never see you in that way, so you keep your mouth shut and hold your heart close as you just go with the flow despite the pain you feel. 

20 December 2017

Harry was laying on his back breathless as Brooke collapsed right next to him, deeply sighing as she tried catching her breath. 

“How does it get better every single time?” She giggled as she was in a post orgasmic state. She shifted so she was laying into Harry’s side, cuddling him as he wrapped his arm around her. He smiled, kissing the top of her head. Brooke’s hand roamed his chest as it was her way of showing that she would like to go for another round. 

She started kissing his chest and his neck, and Harry wasn’t opposed to the idea, but the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table had killed the mood. 

“Don’t answer it, please. Want you again,” she sat up slightly and buried her head more into his neck as she kissed and sucked his skin. He was so close to listening to her, trying to block out the sound of his phone, but as it kept vibrating, he realized he couldn’t ignore it. 

“M’sorry,” he sat up causing Brooke to pull away as she groaned, laying on her side of the bed. Harry picked up his phone and Brooke had a little peek at who was texting him. He had changed your contact name from your name to your nickname ever since he started calling you ‘angel,’ and it’s been the same ever since. He loved it; it added a little flare and he would always smile when he sees your contact name pop up on his phone. 

“Does she always have to make an appearance at the worst times? Or in general?” She asked, but the last part was definitely muttered under her breath as Harry was too focused on reading your texts. Harry had sent out a text  a few hours after you left on Sunday, saying that he was sorry for being rude and practically slamming the door on you. You had texted back saying that it was okay, and that you were sorry for being rude to him too. There were no rude remarks towards him, but your tone had said otherwise, and you knew that you could’ve handled that conversation better. 

My Angel: Hi, H. I was wondering if you wanted to do some suit fittings before you leave to go back home or after? Let me know so I can tell Lambert and Harris. 

“Sorry. She’s just wondering if I’m available to do some suit fittings for the upcoming tour,” he said to Brooke before texting you back. 

H: Preferably after the holidays. We’ll do it right at the beginning of January. 

“Isn’t she your assistant? Why doesn’t she just schedule it already?” She asked cluelessly. 

It wasn’t like Brooke was stupid. No, she was smart. But there were some things that didn't click for her, which makes Harry and anyone have to explain things twice. She would usually have her assistant do everything for her without confirmation, and Brooke would just go with it.

“Well, I still have to approve of it, love. Can’t just book me without me knowing,” he chuckled slightly. 

My Angel: Okay, perfect. I scheduled the fitting for January 4th. That’s okay right? I know you’ll be back before New Years, so I just wanna make sure. 

He always loved how you were so cautious about everything. Sure, he wanted you to let loose sometimes and not take everything so seriously, but you two were a perfect team because you need to keep him in check sometimes, but you did let loose and have fun off the clock. 

H: Yeah, should be good. Thank you, angel. xx

My Angel: That’s what I’m here for! You don’t have anything scheduled for tomorrow before you leave. Do you wanna get some coffee before your flight? Say at 8?

He smiled down at your text. Brooke noticed, which made her furrow her eyebrows in confusion, so she started rubbing his back and his stomach as she tried getting a look at his text messages. Once she saw a bit of it, she climbed on Harry’s lap. 

“Do you want to get lunch tomorrow before you leave? I’m gonna miss you,” she pouted slightly, and Harry had only glanced up at her very briefly before looking back down at his phone as he was in the middle of responding to your question. 

H: Sure! That’d be great. The usual spot?

My Angel: Yes, the usual :) see you then, H! 

He grinned before locking his phone and placing it back on the bedside table. He looked up at Brooke who was impatiently waiting for him to give her attention as she had her arms crossed. 

“Well?” 

“Oh, sorry I’m actually getting coffee with Y/N,” he frowned slightly, somewhat feeling bad rejecting her offer. 

“You don’t wanna see me before you leave?” She asked in an annoyed tone, getting off his lap to sit beside him on the bed. 

“W-What?” He said in disbelief. “You’ve been sleeping over since Saturday. That’s why we planned for you to stay here until I leave right?” He stated obviously. They clearly talked about her sleeping over after their date on Saturday until he leaves to go back home for the holidays. So, he’s wondering if she’s missed something or she’s just acting like this to get a rise out of him. 

“You think four days is enough? You’re gonna be gone for two weeks until I have to see you again, and you would rather spend your time-” 

“Four days is a really long time! And I’m seeing you for New Years. I don’t understand where this is coming from,” Harry got off the bed and pulled on his boxers. 

“I’m just saying…she’s already your assistant. Why do you have to spend so much time with her?” Brooke asked as she got under the covers as she watched Harry pull on his sweatpants. 

“She’s also my best friend. Where is all of this coming from? Are you jealous or what?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, and Harry furrowed his brows. 

“Please. Like I could ever be jealous of her. All I’m saying is that I just want to spend all the time I can get before you leave, or I can go with you back home…” she suggested, and Harry perked up. 

“What? You want to come with me?” She nodded eagerly as she smiled. 

“Yeah, why not? We can spend the holidays together, and it’ll be fun. What do you say?” She crawled over to the edge of the bed where Harry was standing, and she sat on her knees as she looked up. 

They’ve been dating for six months, and Harry hadn’t introduced her to his family. It wasn’t like he didn’t like her or he was embarrassed that he’s dating her, but that was a really big commitment that needed a lot of thought put into it. Meeting the family is just a big step for him, and although his family has met his previous partners, that was when they were still friends and not together. But with Brooke, it all happened so fast that his family had never met her when they were friends or hooking up. They obviously know he’s dating someone, but to bring them home? Especially on Christmas? He wasn’t ready for that. 

“Maybe some other time. I’ll talk to them to see if they want to come over here for my birthday or something,” he rejected her suggestion. Home was just something so vulnerable to him that he wouldn’t just bring anyone. 

Brooke sighed deeply, “Okay, I’ll hold you to that,” she said, impatient that she hasn’t met his family yet, but he’s met hers. “How about I come with you tomorrow morning to get coffee?” She looked at him as she pleaded with her eyes. 

He knew that you wanted to spend time with him before the holidays and he wanted to as well. But Brooke obviously wanted to see you as much as possible now that he’s denied her suggestion of coming home with him, but she had been sleeping over for the past four days, which Harry thinks is enough time. 

“I’m sorry, but no,” he said as it came out more like a question as he didn’t want to seem rude by saying no to her. Throughout the months of dating Brooke, he learned that she hates when people say no. Obviously, it’s fine when he says no to sex, but he could tell that it really frustrates her. “I haven’t seen her in a few days because I’ve been with you the whole time, so I think it’ll be good to catch up with her before I leave,” he smiled lightly, trying to make light of the room. 

“Sure. Have fun,” she said sarcastically before heading to the restroom. 

Harry sighed, grabbing his duffel bag from the closet before he started packing. He was simply just excited to see you tomorrow and his family over the holidays. 

21 December 2017

You waved over at Harry once you saw him standing at the entrance of the coffee shop. Harry walked over to you with a beaming grin as he looked incredibly handsome. He wore black circular sunglasses that sat on his nose, a blue hawaiian shirt with a gray t-shirt underneath as a brown coat was thrown over his body. He wore his famous black skinny jeans and his famous brown Yves Saint Laurent boots that you know he has a whole collection of. His hair looked amazing as he recently cut it a week ago, and it’s starting to grow out a bit as the ends of his hair started to curl. 

As he was close enough, you snapped yourself out of your trance of checking him out before you stood up, giving each other a hug and a cheek to cheek kiss. 

“How are you, angel?” He asked, taking his coat off before taking a seat, and setting his coat down on the chair next to him. 

“I’m good. I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and ordered for us. Should be out soon.” You had gotten Harry an iced black coffee, and despite the weather, he was always up for an iced beverage, especially when it came to his coffee; and you had ordered him a coffee cake--the coffee house’s specialty. 

“Of course not. Thank you. So, you’re going back home right?” He asked, placing his arms on the table. Right as he asked, the drinks and food had arrived and you waited for the barista to leave before you answered. 

“I might,” you said, taking a sip from the coffee mug. 

“What do you mean you might? Told me that you were going,” he furrowed his brows in confusion because you two had just had this conversation the other week, and you were excited to go back home. 

Home was in Oregon for you, and you moved out when you were eighteen to go to school in New York. It had always been your dream of moving to the big city, and although you loved Oregon, New York had made space for you to have a home as well. 

“I mean, I was. But you know how I’m saving to buy a house right? Well, flights are expensive, especially when it’s around this time,” you explained. 

“I can always-” 

“No, no. Before you go saying that you’re going to buy me a ticket, don’t even waste your breath because I’m not taking it,” you shook your head, and Harry chuckled. 

“C’mon, please? I know how excited you were to go back home. Don’t want you to be alone during the holidays,” he pouted as he cut into his coffee cake. 

“I told mom the situation, so they might come here for a change, but not definite yet--was just a suggestion. But honestly, I don’t think they will because it might be too late and all that, y’know how they are,” you chuckled, knowing how late your family will be if things happen last minute. “Don’t worry though. Glenne asked if I could take care of Penny, and I said yes if I’m not going home,” you said, smiling at the thought of the shih tzu that Glenne and Jeff own. 

“I mean, you can always come home with me,” he put it out there, and your eyes perked up. 

“W-What? No. I can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s not like I would be buying you a plane ticket either. We’ll be using the jet,” he smiled lightly as if there were no meaning behind his words. 

“God, you just don’t know how rich you are--saying shit about your own fucking jet,” you teased, and he laughed loudly. 

“But really. Think about it. Mum would love to see you again and I know Gems has so much to catch you up on,” he said, taking a sip from his straw. 

You had met Anne and Gemma several times as they often visited sometimes or you would fly home with Harry and hang out with them while he’s working. They were a lovely family, if not, your second family, you would say. They were the kindest people you’ve ever met, and you’re so grateful that Harry was raised by great people surrounding him. 

“Really, H. Thank you, but I’m going to pass that up. I’ll probably just suck it up and buy a plane ticket,” you scoffed slightly at your indecisiveness. 

“Alright. Well, if you change your mind, which you have practically a day to figure it out, let me know and I’ll see what I could do with the jet going back here,” he said with a smile, wanting you to have choices rather than being stuck at home all alone during the holidays. 

“Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it.” 

The rest of the hours spent at the coffee spot was filled with conversation and laughter. Luckily, Brooke wasn’t one of the topics during your time together, and you were glad for it. Harry was also happy you didn’t mention Brooke either because he just wanted his mind to rest during his vacation, and not to say that he doesn’t like her, but it can be a bit stressful to communicate things with sometimes. 

“Oh, you have to head to the airport already,” you said, looking at your phone and realizing that he has about two hours to head to the airport. “Do you have everything packed?” You asked as you two stood up from your seats and put your coats on. Harry put on his sunglasses, hopefully a way to avoid the curious eye of the public. Luckily when you two were having coffee, no one approached him, but there were some looks made towards you two, but none of them walked up to the table. 

“Yeah, you have my shirts right?” 

“Yup. They’re in my car.” Once you two made it outside, you were parked on the curb and Harry’s car was about three cars behind you. You took Harry’s shirts out from the backseat that were folded very nicely and ironed. You had borrowed a couple of shirts from him when you would sleepover and had forgotten to give them back to him, but Harry said it was fine for you to keep until he needed them. “Alright, here you go. Don’t need anything else before you leave right?” 

“Actually, if you’re not busy doing anything, do you want to drop me off at the airport? I can call ahead of time and tell them that my driver isn’t going to take me, so we have access to the back,” he said with hopeful eyes. 

“Oh okay, sure,” you smiled softly. 

“Great,” he gave you a big smile before looking down at his phone, and you assumed he was texting Kyle, his driver, that he didn’t need to pick him up anymore. “Okay, I’ll see you at my place? I just have to get my shit.” 

“Okay, race you there! Wait, no, just kidding. Really, drive safe,” you chuckled, and Harry laughed. 

You met Harry at his house which was only about ten minutes from the coffee shop. His car was already in the driveway when you had pulled up, and you just decided to wait outside by your car for him, popping open the trunk. A few minutes later, Harry came out with his duffel bag, locking the door behind him. 

He put his stuff in the trunk before hopping into the passenger seat of your car, and you were off to the airport. 

Traffic was a bit heavy, but you made it just in time for Harry to check in and get settled without having to worry if he was late or not. You had pulled into an underground garage of the airport, and got out of the car as Harry got his stuff out from the trunk. 

“Guess I’ll see you on New Years?” You stood in front of Harry behind your car. He nodded before taking you into your arms. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you then. Let me know if you’re going back home or if you decide to join us,” he said into your ear as he hugged you tightly around your waist. Your arms were looped around his shoulders, giving him a warm squeeze. 

“I will. Have a safe flight, and text me when you land,” you said back into his ear. 

“Always do.” 

Both of you pulled away, but his touch had still lingered on your arm; raking his hand slowly down your arm as he walked away, and you had wished you weren’t wearing a coat with many layers underneath just so you could feel his hand on your bare skin. 

“Don’t miss me too much,” you teased. Harry turned around and smirked; the one that made your stomach do flips. 

“You know I will. Gonna miss me too?” He asked in return. 

“Always do, H. Always do,” you blew a kiss at him, and he caught it, placing his hand on his heart before walking through the doors. 

You sighed as you got into your car before pulling out of the garage and driving back home. 

It may seem a little peculiar on how you two ask towards one another despite him having a girlfriend, but it’s always been like that between you two. It all started when you were at a party right beside Harry, and a few friends of his went up to you two and asked when you two were going to get together. At that time, your heart stopped because you had just figured out that you had feelings for him. But Harry responded with “until she lets me,” and it was meant to tease you, but it had left you in confusion. 

Since then, you two would tease each other and somewhat act like you were together, but it had died down a tad bit ever since he’s gotten a girlfriend. And although Harry is a natural charmer, you two were best friends, so there was a tad bit platonic flirting between you two. 

But you wished that he would see past the best friend line and assistant line. 

31 December 2017 

The cold air from the room had made goosebumps rise onto your skin, although it seemed warm in the room from the crowd that was gathering rather quickly while the music started becoming louder, and chatter and laughs filled the room. 

You were talking with Glenne and observing the people around you at the same time; everyone was wearing their best attire for the new year, and you were as well. You were wearing a red silk dress that hugged you just right as the material in the back dropped to your mid back, showing almost the entirety of your back. You wore nude four inch heels, feeling like the height of your shoe was enough so you weren’t completely struggling to walk throughout the night. And your makeup was sparkling with gold colored eyeshadow and a red lip. You looked hot, and you knew it. 

One of Jeff’s friends had booked a hotel room on the top floor, literally right next to the ball drop, so everyone can just look out the window rather than going outside in the freezing weather. 

It was nice to dress up after being cozied up throughout Christmas. You had decided to go back home after all, buying your plane ticket right when you got home from dropping Harry off at the airport. It was a bit pricey because of the fact that you were buying the ticket a day before the scheduled time the flight is supposed to take off, and considering that it was the holiday season as well. But you had gotten a Christmas bonus unexpectedly, and everything worked out. 

You enjoyed your time with your family and getting to spend a week with them before you had to leave for New York again for New Years. 

You also hadn’t expected to receive a gift from Harry on Christmas morning when your mom was passing gifts out. With a confused expression, you took the big box from your mom’s hands that was wrapped in red and white festive wrapping paper with a bow on it. Once you opened it, you had softly gasped when you saw the items inside; it was all of your favorite things, including some extra items Harry had picked out for himself. He had gotten you a much bigger planner, for the next year, that will help for work, and you smiled, knowing that he had remembered you talking about how much you wanted the planner so badly. The box also contained some of your favorite snacks, little Knick knacks that reminded him of you, and a velvet rectangle box that held a small diamond pendant attached to a thin gold chain. 

It was absolutely stunning, and Harry must’ve spent a lot on it, but he didn’t mind. He thought it was going to look so beautiful on you, and it made you feel special that you were wearing something so meaningful from someone that means so much to you. 

The gold chain sat perfectly on your collarbones, and you hadn’t taken it off ever since you received it; only when you showered, but you put it right back on after. 

The volume of the room had increased, and you turned your head towards the door and found Harry walking in with a bright smile on his face, and of course, Brooke right alongside him with her arm looped with his. 

They looked absolutely stunning together as they walked inside the building as they greeted everyone with big smiles. They radiated perfection and luxury as everyone’s eyes were on them as if they were a piece of art hung up high in the gallery--worthy enough to be looked at. But your eyes were placed on one person in the room, and you so wished you were right beside him instead of her. 

The couple had made their way through the crowd when Harry spotted Jeff in the corner. With Harry leading the two of them with their hands interlocked together, they greeted Jeff and Glenne before Harry let go of Brooke’s hand to give you a hug. 

“Hey, angel,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he slightly picked you up off the ground. His hands met the exposed skin of your back and he felt goosebumps rise onto your skin as his cool metal rings touched your skin. 

“Hi, H. How are you?” You asked against his ear and he set you down on your feet before pulling away. 

“Good, good. Missed you.” 

You blushed, “Miss you too. Also, thank you again for your present, it was so thoughtful and lovely.” 

“I’m so happy you liked it. Thank you for yours as well. I love it a lot,” he beamed as he looked down at you. You had given Harry three presents. The first one being a black soft leather journal with his initials engraved in the middle and spine of the journal in gold. The second gift was a manicure set because he recently started to paint his nails, so you wanted him to have all the tools and colors he needed. The third gift was a photo album of his success (you also threw in a couple of you and him). You told him that he can look at it anytime he wants, but it’s just a reminder of how proud you are of him and how far he’s gone; and you would be adding more in the future. It had made him tear up a bit as he found the gifts to be so sweet and sentimental of you. 

“Hi, Brooke,” you greeted with a small smile, and you saw her face beam as she hugged you, but you knew that it was definitely a fake one to put up an act in front of her boyfriend. 

“How are you, girl?! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She yelled over the loud music. 

“Good, thanks. How are you?” 

“Great! Did you see what Harry got me for Christmas?” She waved her arm out to show you the diamond bracelet that sat on her wrist. It was very beautiful, you had to admit. It was very Brooke, and you were glad Harry didn’t ask you for any help with trying to find her a Christmas present. 

“I’m gonna get another drink,” you excused yourself, not really wanting to be around her much longer as she smirked and tried to flaunt her gift in your face. But you didn’t let it get to you because you truly loved the gifts Harry had gotten you, and it made it extra special because he put so much thought into it. 

You made your way to the bar, downing the remains of your drink before asking the cute bartender for another one. 

“Having fun?” He asked with a smile as he set your drink down onto a black square napkin. 

“Sure, let’s just say that,” you chuckled sarcastically before throwing your head back to take the entire cup of alcohol down your throat. 

“Thanks,” you set the glass down before walking away. 

You wanted to go back to where Glenne was standing, but you had bumped into some friends that you had met through Jeff on your way, so you had to catch up with them and tell them everything that’s going on with you after they told you their whole life story. 

The hours to the new year went by pretty quickly. You ended up hanging out with a few friends and going outside with them to have a smoke. The alcohol and weed had eased you, and you actually had a really fun time with them. The idea of Brooke clinging onto Harry had left your mind and you loosened up, smiling and dancing along with drinking. 

There were five minutes left until midnight, and everyone was gathered next to the window that overlooked Times Square. The volume in the room was loud as everyone screamed and laughed—excited for the new year. 

You were standing next to Harry, and of course Brooke on the other side of him. Glenne and Jeff were on the left of Brooke, and both of the couples had their arms around each other as the only thing you were holding was a glass of tequila as you didn’t have anyone to celebrate the new year with. 

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!” Everyone chanted, and you chuckled, laughing at your loneliness when there were so many people around you. Your eyes watered up, crossing your arms as you looked at the shining lights through the window.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” The sounds of cheers and party horns erupted in the room as people took each other against their lips. 

You slightly glanced right next to you and saw Harry and Brooke kissing lovingly as she smiled into the kiss, along with Jeff and Glenne. 

You turned away, looking out at the window as you raised your glass. “Cheers,” you whispered to yourself before throwing your head back and consuming your tequila shot. 

Everyone was so consumed in one another that nobody noticed the tears streaming down your face as the loneliness you had felt physically and mentally took over. 

4 January 2018 

Harry was standing on the elevated box in front of a mirror. He was wearing a sparkly pink suit with gold lining on the seams, along with a gold shirt with a pussybow. Harry Lambert was behind up, straightening out the jacket. 

You had sat on the couch of the large private dressing room as you observed. Harry looked at you through the mirror, giving you no emotion. You smiled, but he didn’t smile back; only looking away and taking his attention on the suit. You furrowed your brow, confused as to why he was looking at you like that and so coldly. 

You stood up, walking over to him. “It looks great, H.” 

“Thanks,” he said quickly. 

“Think you can dance in it?” You teased as you smirked, trying to add some sort of lightness to see if his cold looks were accidental. 

“Pretty sure,” his tone was very short, and your smirk fell. 

“Wait right here. Just need to get something really quick for the pants,” Harry Lambert said before walking out of the dressing room. 

There was a moment of silence, and Harry pulled on the suit jacket so it sits nicely on him. By this point, he would’ve asked for your opinion and for some reassurance because sometimes he needs those extra words that tell him it doesn’t look too much or weird on him. But you got silence. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked warily. 

“Yeah.” 

“You sure?” You still weren’t convinced enough. 

“Yes, now can you please stop asking me? Fuck,” He rolled his eyes, voice slightly raised. 

“What is your problem?” Your brows furrowed. 

“What my problem is, is that you won’t leave me the fuck alone nor would you stop talking. I’m just trying to do some fittings, but you wouldn’t stop talking,” he huffed. He didn’t even turn around, just kept looking at himself in the mirror. 

You scoffed, grabbing your bag from off the couch. “Don’t fucking ask me to come with you if you didn’t want me here.” You headed for the exit before turning around at the last second. “And next time, look me in the eye and tell me that shit,” you said before you completely exit the building and head towards your apartment. 

You’ve never been so annoyed before, and that says a lot because you deal with a lot of people from the industry and Brooke. You didn’t know what came over him because he’s never talked to you like that nor has he raised his voice at you. With utter confusion, you sat on your couch, taking off your shoes for the day since you didn’t have any other work to do for the day, and you thought going with him to his fitting was a waste of time if he was going to act all pissy on you. 

Only moments later, you heard a knock on your door, and you immediately knew it was Harry probably coming by to tell you that he was sorry and he didn’t mean to say those words. But words are words and despite not meaning to say them, they still came out meaning that he was thinking it. But since this was Harry, the kindest human you’ve ever met, you opened the door because he’s your best friend and you deserve an apology. 

Huffing, you opened the door to find Harry standing on your doorstep with his head down and a slight frown to his face. Without saying anything, you moved to the side, opening the door wider for him to walk through, which he does. You walk over to the couch and take a seat; Harry sitting on the other side. The fact that you weren’t saying anything was killing him, but he doesn’t blame you. You crossed your arms as you waited for him to say something, and he inhaled deeply before he spoke. 

“I’m sorry for what I said back there. I shouldn’t have taken all my anger out on you because you don’t deserve that whatsoever. You were just trying to make sure I was okay, and I really appreciate that,” he resented himself for acting that way towards you. His eyes were red and he looked quite sad, and you want to know what made him originally feel this way. 

“Why were you so mad to begin with?” You asked curiously, and he sighed as you brushed away his apology. 

“Brooke and I have been fighting--ever since New Years. She claimed that I was always hanging out with you and that I left her at the party to be with you, but that’s not true right? I feel like I barely saw you during the party,” his brows furrowed in confusion. He was right; you barely even hung out with him during New Years because you were some other friends, and the only time you really spoke to him was when he arrived and after the countdown, but that was it. 

“Why is she so…” you trailed off, not wanting to sound so offensive towards his girlfriend. 

“You can say it.” 

“Possessive? Obsessive? Threatened by me? I mean I get that you’re her boyfriend, but I haven’t done anything to trigger that, have I?” You tilted your head as if you were thinking. You were never the one to steal someone’s boyfriend because that wasn’t any of your business; no matter how much you liked that person. But your attitude towards Harry was very much best friend-like. You miss him on days when you don’t see him, you give him big hugs when you reunite, you give each other friendly kisses on the cheek in a way to say ‘thanks,’ but it was never meant to steal him away from her. 

“No, you haven’t. I don’t know… I feel like she’s always had this problem with you because you’re my best friend, but also assistant--the closest person to me. I always tell her that she has nothing to worry about, but she doesn’t trust me for some reason.” 

“I’m sorry, H,” you said, placing your hand on his knee in a way to comfort him. He placed his hand right over yours in a way to say ‘thank you for understanding.’ 

“I should be the one apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong. I really am sorry for how coldly I acted towards you,” he softly smiled, and you gave him one back. 

“It’s okay. Was it unnecessary? Yes. But it was one time,” you forgave him. 

“You’re the best. But I should get going to finish up the fittings,” he said, standing up from the couch. You stood up, walking him to the door. “I’ll see you?” You nodded, giving him a big hug. He embraced you with both arms as he squeezed tightly before he walked out the door. You figured there was no point in going with him since he only has a couple of suits to try on, so you stayed back. 

About thirty minutes later, your phone vibrated. Seeing Harry’s contact name, you smiled to yourself. 

H: Attachment: 2 images 

How do these look?

You chuckled. He had sent you mirror pictures, holding up a peace sign as he was in a sparkly blue suit. 

My Angel: You look like Cinderella lmao

I love it!

Harry smiled. He was about to text you some silly joke about being Prince Charming while you’re the princess, but he heard a voice at the door, making him stop what he was doing. 

“Hey, babe!” Harry looked up and saw Brooke walk in. His eyes widened as he turned around, and she gave him a kiss. 

“W-What are you doing here?” He asked, confused. 

“Jeff said you’d be here, so I decided to surprise you!” She said cheerfully, holding his hands. 

“O-Oh, I’m very surprised,” he chuckled nervously. He didn’t really know why he was nervous, but possibly the fact that if he hadn’t snapped at you, then you would still be in the room, which would have raised questions and yet another argument with Brooke. 

“I figured after you’re finished, we could get an early dinner and you could come back to my place?” She suggested. “Think we need to talk about some things.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I have about two more suits, so you can wait outside-”

“Silly! No, I’ll wait here,” she took a seat on the couch you were just sitting on thirty minutes ago. He nodded without saying anything before he proceeded on to his next suit. 

You looked down at your phone on Harry’s message thread, waiting for his reply. You saw the text bubbles pop up and you smiled, waiting for him to say some corny joke, but they went away. You waited for a moment, so they could pop back up, but they didn’t. So, you shrugged, locking your phone, and wondering if he got caught up in something, so he couldn’t reply. 

1 February 2018

It was Harry’s birthday and the crowd was rolling in. 

He decided he wanted to spend his birthday in Los Angeles since most of his friends are there anyways. Plus, it’s a small get together before the tour starts next month and then he would be all over the place. He wanted a semi small party at his house, nothing too crazy, he just wanted everyone he cares about at the party. Anne and Gemma flew in the day before to join in on the fun, and you were excited to see them because you missed them like crazy. 

“Angel! This party is great! Thank you for keeping it so nice and small,” Harry said, giving you a hug. He also handed you your favorite drink, which is a whiskey on the rocks. 

“I’m happy you like it, birthday boy,” you smiled as you watched everyone gather into his Malibu house. There were about thirty people in total that were on the guest list, only adding people Harry was close to.

“Ah, there’s mum and Gem. Let’s say hi,” he told you, and you excitedly smiled, walking towards the door. 

“Mum!” Harry called out, and Anne’s eyes lightened up. 

“Oh, my baby! Happy birthday, my love,” she kissed his cheeks as he hugged her. 

“Hi, Gems,” he greeted his sister, also giving her a hug. 

“Happy birthday baby brother. One more year and you’ll be a quarter of a century,” she joked, and Harry chuckled. 

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m so happy you guys are-” 

“Y/N? Is that you? Oh my god, come here you!” Anne interrupted Harry once she saw you. Her eyes widened and she was smiling like crazy as you walked towards her, giving her a lovely hug. “Oh, darling. It’s been a while since I saw you!” 

“Yeah, it really has been. You both still look so amazing,” you said, giving Gemma a hug. 

“Please, you’re too sweet to us. How have you been? Don’t want to quit just yet because of this one?” Anne joked, nudging Harry as he playfully rolled his eyes. 

“Heyyy,” his brows furrowed, and Anne pinched his cheek. 

“I’ve been good. And not yet. Give me about five months and we’ll get back to this conversation,” you joked back, looking at Harry to see him frowning. You looped your arm around his waist, giving him a hug, and he stopped frowning; his face turning into a small smirk. 

“Let’s definitely catch up later. I’m going to say hi to Jeff and Glenne. Be right back,” Anne said before walking through the crowd, Gemma following her. 

You and Harry were alone again as you two sipped on your drinks. Some people said hi to them, but not making conversation for too long as they wanted to get another drink or food. 

“Is Brooke here? Haven’t seen her,” you asked curiously. Harry’s face dropped, and you looked at him confusingly. 

“Oh, fuck,” he pinched the top of his nose as he looked down, shaking his head. 

“What?” 

“I totally forgot she was coming,” he said, and you fought the urge to laugh. 

“How did you forget your own girlfriend?” 

“I don’t know--I was just so focused on the tour and this party that it slipped my mind that she was coming,” he sighed. 

“Oh okay. What’s so bad about her being here?” You wondered. 

“That means she’s gonna meet mum and Gem.” Your mouth formed an ‘o’ as if realization struck you, and Harry nodded his head as if he was saying ‘yeah, that’s why.’ 

“Better prepare for that because I could already hear her laugh,” you placed your hand on his shoulder, patting it. Harry took a deep breath and downed the rest of his drink before he walked over to the entrance. You chuckled as he did so as you found it amusing that he had to do that to deal with her. 

After you heard her squeal, which meant that Harry had gone up to her already. You started walking towards the entrance door, and you saw them hugging; she then started jumping and kissing him, whispering into his ear and biting her lip as he gave her a smirk. 

As you watched from the sidelines, your heart started to ache. You wished that it was you instead of her. You wished you could whisper all things sweet and dirty into his ear as he looked at you with a smirk before biting his lip. You wanted him to give you the same smile he gave her, although you were starting to see less and less of that smile. You wanted what she had. 

But you would never get that. 

“Hey, you,” Gemma sneaked you from behind you, causing you to slightly jump. “Sorry,” she chuckled. 

“It’s okay. What’s up?” You smiled, trying to hide the pain in your eyes. 

“You’re not going to tell him, huh?” 

“Tell who what?” You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be oblivious. Gemma gave you a knowing look as she raised her eyebrows. 

“You know what. Not gonna tell him at all?” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders as you turned your head back to them. They were posing for some pictures with their arms around each other’s waists. They took a couple: smiling ones, funny ones, and even a kissing one. You turned your head back to Gemma once they started to kiss for a picture, and she softly smiled at you. 

“There’s no point. He’s with Brooke, and it’s not like he’s ever going to like me or get with me,” you sadly explained. Gemma looked at you as if you were totally wrong. “If he’s happy with Brooke, then why would I ruin that for him because of my selfish reasons?” 

“It’s not selfish for wanting to tell someone you love-”

“I don’t love him,” you immediately interrupted. 

“Y/N…c’mon,” she raised her eyebrows, knowing you’re completely wrong. 

“Okay…” you sighed in defeat, and she chuckled, continuing what she was saying. 

“You’ve known him for what, two years? That man makes sure you’re a priority. He makes sure you’re happy. If you could hear the stories he tells us and how he talks about you, you would think otherwise,” she stated before taking a sip of her drink. 

You stay quiet for a moment and think. Was there any way that Harry could have possibly liked you? There’s no way. You hadn’t noticed anything different about his behavior in the past two years you’ve known and worked for him. So, there was no way he could’ve liked you. And you know you’re only telling yourself that now, so you don’t lose your shit at his birthday party. 

“W-What does he say about me?” 

“Maybe you’ll know some time in the future if you tell him,” she challenged, and you rolled your eyes, causing Gemma to laugh. 

After Harry and Brooke managed to get away from the entrance, you and Gemma saw them walking towards you both. 

“Y/N, hi!” She greeted you with a not so surprising high pitched tone; only because Harry is right next to her. She also gave you a hug, which you only put in half the effort like always. Harry smiled at both of you, and she let go. 

“Gems, where’s mum?” He asked his sister. 

“Think she might be in the back,” she replied, looking at Brooke for a brief moment before looking back at Harry. 

“This is Brooke,” he introduced his girlfriend. 

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Brooke said with a big smile on her face, giving Gemma a hug. Polite as Gemma is, she hugged back. 

“You too,” Gemma simply said. 

“Should we go to the back and find mum? Brooke wants to meet her,” Harry asked, and Gemma nodded before walking towards the backyard. 

You stayed back, realizing that you weren’t needed and you didn’t have any business following them for Brooke to meet Anne. So, you walked over to the kitchen to grab a plate of cheese and crackers. Since the kitchen was right next to the large doors that led to the backyard, you looked up and saw Brooke jumping up and down slightly as she greeted Anne with a hug. You saw Anne smiling, hugging her back before they pulled away and started talking. Harry looked at them so fondly as they spoke. 

“Hey,” a voice next to you had startled you, making you slightly jump, taking your attention away from what’s happening in the backyard. Luckily, not dropping any of your food. 

“Hi,” you said back to the man you don’t know. 

“I’m Alex. One of Jeff’s friends. I don’t believe we’ve met yet,” he shook your hand, smiling. 

“I don’t think we have. I’m Y/N,” you nicely said back. 

“So, how do you know Harry?” He asked, grabbing a grape. 

“I’m his assistant, and best friend.” 

“Oh, shit! Special person I’m talking to, right here,” he smirked. Alex was cute and very attractive, but it wasn’t the same kind of smirk that you’ve been in love with for two years. 

“Hardly,” you scoffed before giving him a small smile as a way to tell him you’re somewhat joking. 

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. By any chance, you want to go somewhere to sit and talk?” He proposed hopefully. It wasn’t a bad idea whatsoever. You needed to make new friends and possibly make some new connections. You also didn’t want to depend on Harry all the time when you wanted to talk to someone because he’s busy, and his girlfriend doesn’t like you. So, you nodded. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He smiled, leading you to a more quiet area of the house, which was the sitting area. 

Meanwhile as you were chatting with Alex, Harry watched Brooke interact with Anne with a smile, but he still felt a weird feeling in his chest, like he’s happy about it, but he’s still wary. He brushed that feeling off, looking around and wondering where you were--if you’re having a great time. He turned his head towards the kitchen, and saw you talking to Alex. Smiles were placed on both your faces, and Harry frowned. He knew Alex was charming him up because that’s what he does. Alex technically wasn’t a bad guy, and Harry’s known him for a few years. He was nice, attractive, and can charm the shit out of someone just like Harry. But the sight and thought of seeing him actually charm you did not sit well with him. It really didn’t sit well once he saw you following him out of the kitchen. 

Harry took deep breaths, trying not to let the thought of you possibly enjoying hanging out with Alex as he carried on with his birthday night. 

6 February 2018

A deep sigh was let out once you sat in your seat on the plane. 

It was cold in Los Angeles and you knew the flight back to New York was going to be a bumpy one considering the weather in both cities, so you dressed comfortably, wearing grey sweatpants, a black sweatshirt, and some white sneakers. Your headphones had been plugged into your ears ever since you were cleared at TSA. 

As you got comfortable in your seat, Harry sat next to you, sighing. You obviously didn’t hear it because your headphones were in, but you definitely heard it the second time when he did it louder. You didn’t do anything, just browse on your phone until he dramatically sighed again, even louder this time. 

“What?” You said, taking your headphones out. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” He immediately asked, and your brows furrowed. 

“Ignoring you? Why would you think that?” 

“Well, for starters, you haven’t really spoken to me since my birthday. What’s up with that?” 

“Well, I didn’t really have to, did I?” There was no reason for your somewhat sarcastic tone and it’s not like you weren’t mad at him or anything, but you were exhausted from flying back and forth, plus doing your job. It’s not like you were ungrateful, but sometimes, you just needed a break, and that included, not talking to anyone. 

“You could’ve just answered my texts saying you were okay and that you weren’t going to be on your phone,” he scoffed, and you knew he was right. You were about to say you were sorry until he muttered something else. “Too busy with Alex, I see.” 

“What?” You asked in disbelief, knowing he said what you heard, but wanted to clarify. 

“You were, right?”

“What does this have to do with Alex?” You were starting to grow frustrated. 

“I mean, I saw you two at my party, and you two left together and stuff. So, you were probably busy for the entire week,” he said casually, scrolling through his phone as if you weren’t fuming right next to him. 

“It was one night-”

“Are you saying you had sex with him?” He turned his head towards you with raised eyebrows. He had this look on his face that told you he knew everything, but he just wanted to hear you say it. So, you did. 

“Yeah. So what if I fucked him? Is there something wrong with that? Didn’t get a little birthday sex? Don’t worry, I had some for you!” You tried containing your yells, but it came out like a loud whisper. Luckily there weren’t that many people on the plane; only the people who flew first class. 

It was true. When Alex had suggested talking, you found out that he was a very nice and funny guy. The night was getting late, and you said you were going to head home (which was a hotel), so he offered to drive you since you took an Uber, and that led to you inviting him up to your room and him gladly saying yes. It all happened so quick. You had immediately kissed him once you closed the door, and that led to him taking both of your clothes off before he fucked you. It was average sex, but you had fun considering that it’s been a while since you’ve had someone fuck you. That morning he left, telling you to text him, but you hadn’t and you don’t know if you will.

Harry stayed quiet, looking back down at his phone, and you shook your head, sitting correctly, and looking out the window, knowing that this was going to be a long flight. 

Just as you knew, the ride was bumpy, raising your fear and anxiety as you held onto yourself for dear life. You turned your music up, put your hands into your sweater, and crossed your arms in a way to calm you down and feel like someone is holding onto you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the songs until you felt a hand on your arm. You opened your hands, and saw Harry with his eyes closed, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. He had always held your hand when you two would fly together and there was turbulence. It was something he did that made you feel safe and comfortable during the flight. 

You smiled softly, taking his hand in with your as you shifted closer to his seat despite the middle console in between you two. For the rest of the flight, you weren’t as scared. 

Once you two landed, Harry’s driver was immediately outside in the designated area, and you two were taken back to your place before there was any cause of commotion at the airport. Harry helped you with your bags, walking to your front door. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for everything on the plane,” he said as you looked for your keys in your purse. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too--for not replying to you and for snapping at you on the plane as well,” you said back. “Can I just ask why you were so...angry I was with Alex?” You wondered. 

“I…uh,” he stumbled over his words, trying to find the right thing to say without it coming out like he was a jealous prick. “Just...Alex is known for charming the shit out of you, so he could sleep with you, but seeing as you already slept with him…” 

“Harry, isn’t it my job to decide who I can and can’t sleep with? I get that you want to look out for me, but just let me decide that, alright?” You said softly, and he nodded. 

“Think I was jealous,” he blurted out, and he immediately closed his mouth and widened his eyes once he said that because he really didn’t mean to. 

“W-Why?” You looked at him concerningly, and Harry took a deep breath because now he had make up an answer because god knows what the truth is. 

He took a step forward, looking at you so intently. You felt like he was staring you down, but you didn’t look away as you were so lost in his eyes that it physically made it difficult to even glance the other way.

Next thing you knew, he was inches away from you, glancing down to your lips and back up to your eyes. You held your breath as you looked up at him, looking extra close at the pinkness of his lips. Your chests were pressed so close against one another that you were sure he could feel your heart pounding through his. It was so loud that it rang through your ears—so loud you couldn’t hear anything else except for the constant chanting in your head screaming ’Harry, Harry, Harry.’ It was Harry that you wanted to kiss so badly. It was Harry who’s lips you could touch in an instant if you were to just lift your feet. It was Harry. It always has been. 

But you couldn’t.

Brooke.

You immediately stepped away from him as your eyes looked down, finally away from Harry. “I’m sorry-”

“No, I’m sorry-”

“Because Brooke, and-”

“Yeah…” 

You nodded, not sure what to do next, but seeing as you were still outside of your door, you finally got your keys out, and unlocked it. 

“Well, I’ll see you.” 

“Yeah, I’ll text you,” he said as he started walking backwards away from your apartment. 

You nodded. “Yup. Bye.” He waved, turning around and walking down the hall. 

Walking into your space and bringing your luggage in, you sighed as you closed the door. It was completely silent as your mind was racing and your heart was beating. 

What the fuck just happened and what the fuck was that?

3 March 2018

The first show of Harry’s tour was kicking off, and you were excited for him. He was slightly nervous and jittery, but that was expected. 

The ‘moment’ you two had when you came back from Los Angeles after your birthday was past you two. Although, you still think about it way too often, Harry seemed like he didn’t want to talk about it, so you respected that and didn’t bring it up. Besides, what was there to talk about anyways?

The first show started in Basel, Switzerland and you were very stoked. You’ve never been to any of the countries he’s going to play in besides London and some cities in the states, so it was going to be an adventure for you. For his very first tour that included small venues, you rarely went to any of the shows, so to say you were excited was an understatement. 

You were with Harry Lambert, looking at the first show suit in the stylist room. It was a Gucci black sparkly suit with gems on the lapel. You hadn’t seen this particular suit on him yet because you weren’t at the fitting the day he tried it on, but you absolutely loved it. It gave everyone just a hint of what the rest of the suits for the tour will look like. 

“Har—oh,” Brooke had entered the room, assumingly looking for Harry, but was disappointed when she saw you. “Have you seen Harry?” 

“Uh, I haven’t. He might be out on the stage,” you said honestly, and she nodded, turning around. But before she could exit the room, you called her, “Hey, Brooke.” She turned around, rolling her eyes. “I just kind of want to mend things between us. I feel like there has always been some sort of tension ever since we met, and seeing that you’ve been around for long and might be around for even longer, we should be civil towards one another.” 

“Well, obviously there has been. You’re trying to steal my boyfriend,” she said straightforwardly, and you raised your eyebrows, looking at Lambert. He was looking at Brooke with a not so friendly look, knowing that you would never do that despite knowing that you were in love with him. “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. You will never get Harry. He’s in love with me, not you. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. You will never be enough for him because you’re just his assistant. That’s all you are to him. Don’t think you’re more than that, okay?” She said with a smile, and you bit your lip, not wanting to argue with her. 

There was something about her words that really got to you, and you think that’s because she’s actually dating Harry and has managed to weave her way into his heart.

“I’d hate to continuingly have to tell you this, but I think the first time was enough, right? Now you’ve made me tell you twice,” she continued as she scoffed. “Anyways, I need to go find my boyfriend,” she turned around but suddenly stumbled back as she was met with Harry. “Oh, Harry. I was just looking-”

“Don’t even speak right now,” his eyes were dark and he was angry. 

It wasn’t like you to see Harry so often considering that he sometimes deals with rude fans and pushy paps, but he was mad. 

“I-”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Trying to degrade my best friend and assistant?” 

“Har-”

“We need to talk,” he told her, leaving the room. She turned around to look at you with sad eyes, but you simply couldn’t help her, not like you would anyways. She followed him, and the room was left with a weird tension that needed to be cut with a knife.

“Well, wasn’t that interesting,” Lambert said. 

After about thirty minutes, Harry walked back into the room. He stayed complete silent and started undressing to get into his suit since there was thirty minutes left until he had to go on. You and Lambert looked at each other, not knowing if you two should say anything, but decided to keep your mouths shut and let him get ready. 

Once he was dressed, he thanked Lambert and walked out of the room; once again with the same tension being in the air. You walked out as well as you debated whether or not to talk to him, but you saw him and the band gathering together, so you figured you could just talk to him after. 

The show had finally started, and the band was going out on stage. The crowd was roaring like crazy as the anticipation of seeing Harry was finally coming to an end. Once the band was fully equipped, Harry started to climb up the stairs. Around the stage it was dark as the beginning of ‘Only Angel’ started to play. You turned on your flashlight on your phone, and called out for him.

“Harry!” He turned around, holding the railings of the stairs, and his expression was normal; no smile or anything.  “Goodluck out there!” Once you had said that, the corners of his lips turned up as his mouth turned into a soft smirk. 

“Thanks, angel,” he said before pointing up as a way to say ‘listen to the song.’ “This is for you,” he quickly told you, running up the stairs and to the stage before the big circular screen rose up. 

You watched the rest of the show from the side of the stage, not too far away from the front of the pit. He was spectacular on stage; he truly belonged there. He charmed the crowd, made them laugh, scream, cry, and dance their hearts out for an hour and a half, and you were truly amazed. The atmosphere of the venue was insane, loving every second of it. 

Once he finished with ‘Kiwi,’ he said his goodnights to Switzerland before running off the stage and meeting the band, talking about how crazy and fun the first show was. He told everyone that it’s only going to get better from here, and everyone nodded and high fived excitedly. 

After a few minutes, Harry walked to his dressing room to cool off, and you followed behind him. It may seem as clingy, but you were concerned for your best friend. A lot went down with Brooke in just a few minutes, and you wanted to know if he was okay, despite not showing any signs of sadness or anger on stage. 

You knocked on his dressing room door and opened it before you heard ‘come in.’ Harry looked up, and saw you peek your head through the door, and he gestured you to come in all the way, which you did. 

“That was an amazing show, H,” you complimented. 

“You watched?” He asked surprisingly. 

“Yeah, didn’t miss a moment. I was on the side of the stage.” 

“Oh, well. Thank you,” he said. 

There was a moment of silence as you tried to form your words on how to go about talking to him about what had happened before the show. 

“I-I just wanted to ask if you were okay?” You started. He took a seat on his couch as you stayed standing up in front of him. “I’m sorry for what happened before the-”

“Why are you saying sorry?” He asked, looking up at you as if he was genuinely asking. 

“I...I don’t know what happened with Brooke, but if something did happen then I’m sorry,” you nervously. The only reason why you were so nervous was because you hoped that he didn’t get mad at you for whatever happened with her. 

“You didn’t do anything, angel. You did nothing wrong at all,” he sighed, and you stayed quiet as there was definitely more of what he wanted to say. “But I did break up with her.” Your brows raised at that, and you fought the urge to jump and cheer. 

“Y-You did?” 

“Yeah. I kind of wanted to a few weeks ago, but I never got the chance to. But before the show, she gave me another perfectly good reason why we shouldn’t be together, so I ended it.” There wasn’t a hint of sadness on his face as he told you. 

“What were the other reasons?” You hadn’t known that he wanted to break up with her before the events that happened today. You would expect him to talk to you about it, but you weren’t hurt by it. 

“I…” he cut himself off, and you waited patiently to see if he was going to say something. After a few more seconds, you saw him debate with himself to see if he actually wanted to tell you, and you wondered if he trusted in that sense; to talk to you and tell you things that were on his mind, but you didn’t want to get into it with him. 

“Are you okay?” You asked instead, truly wanting to make sure. 

“I should be asking you that.” 

“No-”

“Angel, c’mon. Behind closed doors, I didn’t know half the shit she was saying to you. I told her to fess up everything she’s done to you, and she did. Let me tell you, I was not happy at all that you had to deal with that without me knowing. And that fact that she lied to me about asking you to hang out and pretending to be nice to you--no wonder why you didn’t want to hang out with her.” 

The first time you had hung out with her was when you had to pick up some lunch and dry clean for Harry. They had only been dating for two months, so you thought it was best to get to know her since you were Harry’s best friend. You asked if Brooke wanted to go, and she hesitantly said sure, but when Harry thought that was a great idea, she perked up to it and said yes. When you two were in line for lunch she had asked you the basics of your job before rudely interrupting you and telling you that she knew that you were in love with him. Before you could even deny, she wasn’t having it and told you that you weren’t good enough for him and that you were only hired because you were Glenne’s friend. You were quite devastated after that and you faced Harry everyday with a smile on your face, but with the lingering thought of her words in the back of your mind. 

“Yeah, she wasn’t my particular number one person to hang out with,” you said sadly, and Harry sighed, standing up. He walked closer to you, and it felt like that time when you got home from the airport, and placed his hands on your shoulders. 

“Her talking shit about you was the last straw. Can’t have anyone talk to you like that, ever,” he said while looking into your eyes as if he was trying to convince you. 

“I am really sorry that you had to go through a break up though--especially on your first night of tour. Plus, it was your first serious relationship you’ve had in a while,” you felt bad because no one should go through the pain of a breakup. 

“It’s alright. Wasn’t in love with her like she said--didn’t even say those words to her. And it was her idea of wanting to meet my family. I was still wary about it, but that was one of the subjects for most of our arguments,” he sighed. “But I’m gonna be much happier without her. Felt like I was always stressed out around her,” he chuckled, causing you to as well. “But if anyone that I know talks to you like that ever again, please don’t hide that from me. I hate knowing that you were taking all of that shit, especially for months.” You nodded your head and he gave you a smile. 

He pulled you in for a hug and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. You two stayed like that for a moment as you both felt like it’s been a while since you two has had one of these hugs. All thoughts and worries flew out of your head--not thinking about when the next time you’ll have one of these types of hugs again, and you felt safe in his arms. 

And you cherished it. 

30 March 2018

Tour was going by rather quickly as the first ten shows were already done with. 

You were able to see some beautiful sightings of the countries with Lambert and some of the band, and throughout that time, you had wished Harry was with you all, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t be out in public so casually. 

Everything you’ve seen was so beautiful and your jaw dropped everytime you would look at a tall and high building, or the skyline of the entire city. You were quite amazed. 

Now, everyone was in Barcelona, and it was by far one of your favorite cities that you’ve visited. You loved the atmosphere and the ambiance that walking through the streets of Spain had placed a beaming grin onto your face. You were only staying for a couple of days before everyone had to pack up and head to Madrid, but you made sure to snap a mental and physical photo to remember your time in Spain. 

But rather than spending your day on the streets, roaming around the beautiful city, you were currently looking for Harry because Lambert was also looking for him, and of course, you decided to help find him. You pretty much checked every room backstage besides the bathroom, and you didn’t really think to check the restroom, but he might be in there, so you made your way towards it. 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in,” you said once you entered the restroom. 

The sight before you had made you sweat. A series of butterflies made its appearance in your stomach, making your hands shake. The slightest bit of air from swinging the door open had made chills rise onto your skin, but you knew that it was because of the beautiful man in front of you. 

You had walked in on Helene taking pictures of Harry, possibly so he could post them on Instagram. But he was candidly looking into the mirror as he sprayed on his Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille cologne; the one that you had picked up for him multiple times, and the one that you think smells amazing, specifically on him. He strutted around like it was made for him, and it was honestly your favorite scent. His suit was a custom Palomo black and white checkered sequined suit that just looked fucking good on him. 

“No worries, sweetheart. Just about finished. He’s all yours,” she winked at you before heading out of the bathroom. 

“What’s up, angel?” 

“Just wanted to tell you that Lambert is looking for you. Said he needed to fix up a stitch really quick before you go on stage,” you said, not meeting his eyes. 

“Is that all?” He asked, sensing your nerves, and he knew that it was possibly from walking in on him, doing a mini photoshoot because he knew he looked good. 

You gulped, “Y-Yeah.”

“You don’t sound too sure,” he challenged, walking closer to you, but not too close as there was a bit of space between you two. 

“Uh-”

“Tell me,” he shifted even closer, making you nervous. You didn’t know where the sudden outbreak of him being somewhat flirtatious as he demanded you to tell him came from, but the sound of his raspy and deep voice, and the way he was looking was making you act up as you were about to confess your feelings towards him. 

You figured it was time as you felt like he sensed that kind of vibe from you, plus Brooke mentioning that you were in love with him, which you think you’re pretty sure he heard, but you’re wondering why he hasn’t 

“I-I want to tell you something, and this may potentially ruin things between us, but-”

“There you are!” The sound of someone else’s voice in the room and the banging of the room had interrupted you, and you and Harry stepped back from one another. “Everything okay here?” Lambert asked, looking at both of you and practically feeling the tension. Once you two nodded, not looking at each other, he looked at you both suspiciously before continuing. “Anyways, come with me. I need to fix something,” Lambert walked out of the restroom as Harry followed him, not giving you another look. 

You turned around to look in the mirror, sighing to yourself as you shook your head. 

Well, guess that’s not happening right now, you thought. 

Watching Harry up on stage was something you would never get used to. You made sure to never miss a show as you watched from the side, and since he knows where you stand during the show, he always makes sure to go to that side of the stage and wave to you. But seeing him on stage was different every night. His performances and conversations with the crowd were always different and that’s what made them and him so entertaining. 

Once the show was over, he made his way off the stage and to the dressing room. He talked a bit with the band, as they always did right when the show ends, to talk about their favorite moments and which songs they needed to work on for rehearsals. After that, Harry walked to his dressing room and you would follow every single time. 

“Another great show, H. Never get tired of watching you,” you said once you entered the dressing room.

“Thanks, angel. Always feel like I’m on a high when I’m trying to cool down, like I just have so much energy to perform another hour,” he chuckled, wiping some sweat off his forehead. 

“That must be exhilarating--being up there every night for your fans,” you walked towards him to stand in front of him as he leaned on the table of the vanity. 

“Yeah, it really is,” he smiled. He pulled your arm towards him and wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you a hug. You were surprised by the sudden affection, but Harry was an affectionate type of guy, and really, you didn’t mind being close to him. Plus, he seemed extra needy since he recently just broke up with someone. “Thank you for being here.”

“Of course, Harry. Always going to be here for you,” you said against his ear as your arms were around his shoulders. 

“And I’m always going to be here for you,” he said back. 

For a moment, it was just this--hugging him as he cooled down in your arms, and you liked it...a lot. But when you pulled back, you didn’t pull back completely and it made you face to face with him, literally inches away from each other. You two looked at each other in the eye, glancing your eyes to his lips and back up to his eyes. The only thing you thought was: I really want to fucking kiss him right now. 

And it seemed like he did as well because he crashed his lips with yours, molding them together as your arms were wrapped around one another. It was everything you expected as you dreamed of his lips on yours quite often, and you absolutely loved it. He felt like a drug, like all of your pain and worries went away once his lips touched yours, and you were addicted. You wanted so much more. 

Your tongue makes its way in his mouth, meeting his, and he swirled it with his before lightly sucking on it. Your teeth found a way to bite his bottom lip and he let out a groan. He pulled back for a bit, looking at you before kissing you again. 

“God, been wanting you for so long,” he groaned, and you felt butterflies in your stomach, trying not to take his words literally as to keeping your hopes down. But little did you know that his words were serious. “Can I touch you?” He whispered in between kisses. 

You nodded, whispering out, “Please.” Harry’s stomach did flips once you gave him consent, and his hands trailed down your body. Luckily, you were wearing a simple dress with straps, so it was easier. He bunched up your dress up to your hips, and you held it up with your arm before touching you over your panties, feeling a wet spot over the fabric. 

“Practically drenched. It’s for me, right?” He muttered, wrapping his free arm around your waist so you were closer. 

“Yes. Always going to be for you,” you moaned as his hand continuously rubbed you and he smirked. Your words had completely slipped out, but it was the truth. 

“Can I take them off?” He asked, and you nodded your head before he slid your drench underwear down your legs and you kicked them off to the side somewhere in his dressing room. You molded your lips with his again and grabbed a fistful of his curly hair, causing him to kiss you even harder. 

Harry then started roaming his hands around your thighs, going to ass and squeezing the flesh, and you moan against his mouth. His hand moves up and to your stomach before trailing down to your hot core. He took his fingers and swiped up your slit, making you groan from the feeling of his hands. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered before touching your clit and rubbing it. He buried his face in your neck to kiss, suck, and nibble on your skin, and that feeling made you throw your head back as his hands rubbed you and mouth kissed you. The feeling was indescribable, but it was Harry. 

You felt his fingers slip inside of you, starting off with one finger before pumping in and out of you. He then added another finger as he curled them in an inward motion and brushed his fingertips against the soft upper area of your pussy. 

“Shit, that feels so good. So, so good, H,” you groaned out. Harry took the straps of your dress off your shoulders, and kissed your chest where the gold chain he had gifted you rested. He pulled on the front of your dress to expose your tits, and his mouth immediately wrapped around your hard nipples, sucking them and pulling on them before releasing them with a pop. Your grip on Harry’s hair tightened as you felt like you were going to rip out his hair from the way you’re feeling. “Add another,” you whimpered out. 

“Another finger?” He looked at you with wide eyes, but all he saw was your eyes closed and head being thrown back; and you nodded. He added his pinky finger in with his ring and middle finger, trying his best to curl them up into you, but the snugness of your hole was challenging him. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Practically squeezing my fingers,” he said, kissing your neck. 

His words and fingers had gotten you to the edge, and you were minutes away from releasing around him. He saw you bite your lip and take deep breaths, and he knew you were close. 

“C’mon, angel baby. Let go for me, yeah? Know you’re close,” he thrusted his fingers deep into you, and that was when you hit your peak. With loud moans, you jolted around his fingers, riding your high out as Harry continuously pressed kisses to your chest and neck. He took his hand, sticking one of his fingers in your mouth, and you swirled your tongue around his finger that was covered in your orgasm, and moaned. He took the other two fingers, and placed them in his own mouth, tasting yourself on his fingers. “Taste so good,” he smirked, kissing your forehead, and you leaned your head on his shoulders to take a breather.

Once you calmed down, you turned your head to kiss his neck, sucking on his skin to calm your breathing down, and Harry hissed. His hands ran through your hair and all the way down to your back, soothing you. After a minute or two, you lifted your head up, meeting his eye before you kissed him, deeply. You two made out for a while you unbuttoned his black shirt, and you pulled away from his lips to kiss down his torso until you were on your knees. Harry was hard as rock in his pants and desperately needed some release that he could possibly come any minute with how you’re kissing him. 

His entire suit was still on and he went to take his jacket off, but you stopped him. 

“Keep it on,” you looked up at him as you told him so before proceeding to kiss down his stomach. He put his arms down, and gripped and sat on the edge of the desk. You got to the hem of his pants and looked up at him, giving him a sight to die for. “Can I take these off?” 

He looked down at you, smirking before nodding his head. “Please, take it all off,” he gave your cheek a stroke with his thumb, and you smiled looking back down to his pants to unbutton it, pulling down his trousers to his ankles, you saw his bulge, and smirked before you kissed over his underwear. Harry took a deep breath in as you palmed him before grabbing the hem of his briefs and pulling it down, his dick springing up as Harry’s shoulder relaxed from the lack of restraint. 

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you said, grabbing his dick. You knew very well that he was well endowed because of the many times you’ve seen him get hard on stage, and also from that moment when you walked in on him in Brooke’s mouth had confirmed it, but seeing it up close was unreal. You licked your hand and grabbed his cock before looking up at him. “What do you want me to do, Harry?” Your voice asked seductively. He was completely under your spell as his breaths were staggered while you stroked him. 

“Anything you want,” he breathed out. You smirked at the state he was in at the moment, and you loved every second of it. 

You put your mouth around his tip, sucking it lightly, and that caused Harry’s breath to hitch in his throat. You took more of him in your mouth as you relaxed your jaw. He was bigger than the guys you’ve fucked and you really hoped you were doing a good job for him because you wanted him to feel good. You hollowed your cheeks in and sucked hard, slicking your tongue on the underside of his cock. 

“Feels so good, angel baby,” he moaned, throwing his head back. He was already embarrassingly close, but he wanted to feel you more, so he tangled his fingers in your hair, getting a gentle but steady grip, and started guiding your head up and down his cock. You let him take control for the time being because honestly, you loved hearing the sounds of his moans start to progress. “That’s it,” he muttered under his breath once he felt the back of your throat. 

You placed your hands on his thighs, gripping his skin harshly so that your nails dug into it, and he hissed, but the pain felt so good to him. After a few more pushes to your head, you pushed on his thighs so he could release you, and when you did that he knew that he was done being in control. You grabbed his cock that was slick from your mouth, and you loved your head down so you could take his balls in your mouth. More of the beautiful sounds coming from his mouth came out more loudly as you sucked until he finally said the words. 

“Gonna cum, angel. Gonna fuckin’ cum,” he moaned. You saw his knuckles practically turn white as he gripped the desk hard. You loved your head back up to place the tip in your mouth as you fondled with his balls before he spurts his come in your mouth. “Such a fuckin’ good girl,” he said as you swallowed. 

You kissed back up his stomach and to his neck before meeting his lips again. He tasted himself on your tongue, and you were a good mix with him. You two pulled back from one another, looking at each other before you both started giggling—post orgasm haze. 

“Jeez, such an angel, but that mouth of yours is sinful.”

5 June 2018 

The rest of the Europe, Australia, and Asia leg went by, and you were back in the states for the first show of the US leg. 

Ever since the dressing room escapade, you and Harry had been acting differently towards each other. There weren’t anymore sexual acts, but there was a lot more affection. Sadly, not any kisses to the lips, but kisses to the cheek and forehead were made, and they were welcomed and given. He would always put an arm around your shoulder when you two were walking, and there was the occasional cuddle in his hotel room before or after the show. It was definitely different, but you enjoyed it. 

What you didn’t enjoy was the fact that you hadn’t told him you liked him. You were sure he had an idea, but you wanted to say it out loud to get it off your chest. You also didn’t know if he felt that way towards you whatsoever, and that thought scared you. Just because of what happened in the dressing room didn’t necessarily mean he had feelings for you. The thought of him just leading you on and messing with you feelings made your heart sink when you think about it, and you really hoped it wouldn't get to that point. 

Tonight was the Dallas show, and Harry wore an Alexander McQueen embroidered pink floral suit. As always, he looked amazing. But your favorite was the Barcelona suit, and you might be a bit biased on that given the events that happened in that particular suit. You chuckled to yourself as you followed Jeff and Glenne to your seats. 

You decided to watch the show with them in the reserved seats in the lower level of the arena, and it was a change from the side of the stage, but you could really see more from the seats. Once you got to your seats, Harry had already finished up with ‘Only Angel’ and was moving on to ‘Woman,’ but a familiar man had caught your eye. 

“Alex?” You called out through the music. 

“Y/N! It’s so great seeing you!” He said, giving you a hug. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Jeff and Harry invited me! Haven’t seen Harry perform since last year, so they reserved me a seat,” his face was close to your ear, so you could understand him better through the loudness of the crowd and the bass of the music. 

“Ah, well I’m glad you’re here! It’s been a while,” you said completely innocently, and he nodded, smiling before turning his head to watch Harry on stage. In all honesty, the thought of Alex slipped your mind because your head was constantly thinking about Harry as it always does. 

For the rest of the show, he was amazing. The crowd was wild as always, and he absolutely looked so cute in his suit. Your favorite part was when someone threw a rainbow sequined cowboy hot on stage, and he picked it up to wear it. It was a look, to be honest. 

Before the band said their goodbyes to the crowd, the four of you headed backstage, so there wasn’t any delay with everyone trying to leave at the same time. As you were walking, you were walking next to Alex as Jeff and Glenne walked in front of you two. 

“Hey, I was thinking. Maybe we should get dinner tonight? Y’know, to catch up? I know some places that are still open,” he suggested, and you liked the idea. 

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good,” you said, smiling back. 

The four of you met with the band as they laughed and talked about the show. You met Harry, giving him a hug as you told him that he did amazing out there. He hugged you back tightly, telling you thank you. 

“C’mon,” he said, taking your hand as he wanted to go to his dressing room as you always did after his shows. 

“Oh, uh, actually,” you pulled your hand back, causing him to stop walking. “I’m going out to dinner with Alex…” you said nervously, and he raised his eyebrows, looking down the hall and noticing Alex talking to Adam. 

“Oh okay, yeah. Go ahead,” he let go of your hand, completely dropping it from his as his face dropped. In that moment, you wished you didn’t say yes to Alex and went with Harry to his dressing room. This would be the first time you were going to miss out on dressing room chats as he calmed down from his energetic state from being on stage. It would be the first time you weren’t going back to the hotel with him while holding his hand in the car and up to your rooms. 

“Hey,” Alex caught up to you, not feeling the tension between you and Harry. “Ready to go?” You looked up at him briefly, placing a fake smile on your face before looking back at Harry who already had his back turned towards you, walking to his room. 

“Yeah, I am.” 

21 June 2018

The prospect of not talking to Harry as much hurt you a bit. 

You haven’t had a full conversation with him in about two weeks. The most you’ve ever spoken to him was when someone was looking for him or if he was clearing up and clarifying his schedule. But other than that, nothing. You didn’t know why it was like that, but you tried not to let it get to you as you told yourself that he was tired from the tour. He was on the last month of tour and the flying had definitely caught up to him. 

But that wasn’t the real reason. 

You have been going out with Alex ever since that night in Dallas, and you thought it was nice to have someone to talk to other than Harry and the rest of the crew and band--although they’re very nice and fun people, you saw them everyday. And you came to find out that Alex was even more fun once you’ve gotten to know him even more. 

Alex made you feel free. There was something refreshing about hanging out with him that made you want more, and he definitely took your mind off of thinking about Harry... by having his tongue down your throat and inside of you. There have been plenty of pleasurable times when Alex had made you feel good, and vice versa. It started out in the night at Fort Lauderdale, two days after Dallas, and you went out with Alex to a bar in the city. Both of you had too much to drink and he asked if you wanted to go over to his hotel, which of course you said yes. One thing led to another, and you were underneath him, moaning his name out. Ever since then, he would watch every other show and you two would have date nights that took the night away into a hotel room. 

It was nice, and he liked you and you liked him back. 

Liked him as much as Harry? Not quite. But there were definitely a little bit of feelings for him. Besides, he calls you nice things and tells you you’re pretty. 

It was Harry’s first New York show in Madison Square Garden as a solo artist, and he was pumped, but also a little nervous. You were so incredibly proud of him and what he’s done in his career, so you were happy for him. And you were happy to be back home for a few days as well because you haven’t been home since the beginning of the month. 

Alex stood next to you with an arm around your shoulder the entire time of Harry’s show. He was wearing a custom Gucci white suit with flowers printed all over and the phrase ‘Memento Mori’ underneath it. The lapel part of the suit was a velvet material and he wore a black shirt underneath. The trousers were flared from the knee down, and you absolutely loved it. 

When the show was over, you and Alex headed backstage to meet with the band. You had expected that he wanted to get dinner already, but he hadn’t mentioned anything, so you assumed that you were going to go back to your hotel and hang out with him there. 

“Lovely show, H,” you hugged him tightly, but he didn’t reciprocate the same energy into the hug like you, and you found that odd because he usually hugs you tight. 

“Thanks,” he smiled softly, shaking Alex’s hand before thanking him for coming to the show. 

You turned towards Alex and asked, “What’s the plan for tonight?” 

“Oh, I was going to tell you, but I’m hanging out with a couple of friends from college that live here. So, I can't hang out with you tonight. I’m sorry,” he slightly pouted. “I’ve got to get going now though, so I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nodded understandingly. 

“Yeah, definitely. Probably best we don’t hang out all the time because I don’t want you to get tired of me,” you joked, and he shook his head no. “But I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me,” you told him before he gave you a kiss on the lips before heading towards the exit. 

Harry had watched the whole interaction with a small frown. He tried to contain his jealousy when he saw Alex kiss you and you smiling, but it was difficult for him to not scoff loudly, so he turned around and walked towards his dressing room. You turned around to find Harry missing, and you assumed he went to his dressing room, so you headed over there. You knocked on the door before entering, and you found him on the couch with his phone in his hands. 

“Hey,” you smiled, sitting on the couch as he muttered a ‘hi.’ “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, what makes you think I’m not?” He said defensively, and you furrowed your brows. 

“I never said you weren’t. I just wanted to make sure you were. I haven’t talked to you in a while.” 

“Well, that’s not my fault,” he whispered under his breath before continuing to scroll through his phone. 

There was a bit of a silence, and unfortunately, it was an awkward one. You didn’t feel needed in the dressing room, but you sat there awkwardly as you didn’t know what to say to him. 

“You’re seeing Alex?” He suddenly asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah. Just hanging out with him,” you got up to grab a water bottle from the table, and you opened it, taking a sip. 

“So, you’re fucking him?” He said casually, but you choked on your water, immediately coughing. Once you calmed down, you looked at him with watered eyes. 

“Uh…” 

“You can tell me,” he said sternly. 

“I mean, yeah, we had sex a few times, but there’s no label or anything like that. We’re just hanging out,” you told him, and he nodded. 

“Do you like him?” He raised his brows, and you took a deep breath, wondering what all these questions were for. 

“I think so, but-”

“Good, he’s a good guy,” he interrupted you. You liked Alex, yeah, but comparing your feelings for Alex to Harry...unmatchable. “I’m glad you’re happy,” he said, getting up from the couch before grabbing a towel from the vanity and walking out of the dressing room. Once he left, you were alone in the dressing room. You sighed deeply as you buried your face in your hands. 

“Yeah, sure I am.”

22 June 2018

The sound of ringing had woken you up from your slumber. 

You groaned as you tried to make out where your phone might be on your bedside table with your eyes closed, but you were hitting empty spots, so you opened one eye and grabbed your phone. 

“Hello?” Your morning voice coming out through the speaker. 

“Y/N. Can you come by, like right now?” It was Harry on the phone, and you groaned. After the night prior, you thought he didn’t want to talk to you, but seeing as you’re still his assistant, of course he would call you. 

“Why must you call me at,” you pulled your phone back to look at the time, “six in the morning?” 

“Please. It’s important. I have some stuff I need you to do,” he pleaded, and you stretched your limbs out, making inhumane noises while still being on the phone, and Harry chuckled. 

“Fine. Be there in like twenty.”

“Thank you, angel! See you.”

He must be in an awfully good mood this morning, you thought. And it’s been a while since you heard your pet name, but you brushed it off and got ready. 

You unlocked the door of Harry’s house, letting yourself in. You found him sitting on the couch, reading a book until he looked up at the door and saw you. He got up and walked towards you, and opened his arms, giving you a big hug. 

“Hey, angel. Thanks for coming by,” he said into your ear, leaving you in goosebumps. 

“Course. Everything okay?” You asked once you pulled away. 

“Yeah. I miss you, y’know. Feel like we haven’t spoken in a while,” he trailed off a bit, and you squint your eyes at him. 

“I sense a ‘but,’” you said, and he chuckled. 

“I actually need you to get these for me, if that’s okay? Just need them before the show,” he handed you a list, and you looked at it. 

The items were something similar as before: a bouquet of flowers and a gift basket with various types of snacks. As you read through it, that’s when you knew and your heart sank. 

“So who is it?” Harry looked at you curiously, and you waved around the list up. “Who are you dating?” 

“Oh, this girl I met through a mutual friend. She actually was at the Dallas show and we met after at a bar. She’s in the fashion industry; her name is Rena,” he explained with a smile. “She’s coming to the show tonight, so I just wanted to get her a little something.” 

“Okay, I’m on it. I’ll see you tonight,” you headed out, figuring since you had nothing else to do, you could stretch your errands out until the show. You decided to have breakfast first and get some coffee since it was quite early still, and enjoy a day to yourself until Harry introduces you to yet another girl. 

Rena was a nice lady. She was two years older than you and Harry, and she was drop dead gorgeous. You’ve never seen anyone this stunning up close. She always had the sweetest smile, and you were contemplating if she was real or not, and why Harry is calling you ‘angel’ and not her. It was difficult to hate her, and it’s not like you wanted to, but considering that you have feelings for Harry, you wanted something to be wrong about her--maybe a Brooke 2.0, but she was so kind to you, and she loved everything that was gifted to her from Harry, even if the items were the smallest things. So, there were no complaints. 

Harry seemed happy with her, so that’s all that mattered. 

1 July 2018

It seemed like Rena was around all the time now, like she was at every show since night two in New York. You tried to busy yourself by going around the town you were in or talking to Alex, but you missed Harry. It was always like this when he was dating someone; the first few months, he would completely forget about you and always hang out with the person, but once he starts settling in, he wants to talk to you. And since he’s only been dating Rena for a month, he hasn’t been talking to you lately. 

You watched Harry on stage in St. Paul next to Rena, Alex, and Jeff as Harry was wearing a sparkly pink Gucci shirt with a pussybow on the front and some black trousers. The energy in the room was amazing. By far it was the best performance of ‘Medicine’ you’ve seen him perform. He even held out a pair of handcuffs in front of the crowd, making them go crazy, and he looked up at your section, glancing at Rena before smirking, making you cringe a tad bit as she cheered. 

At the end of the show, you greeted the band, and immediately Rena was attached to Harry, which made you impatient because you wanted to hug him like you always do. But they were wrapped in each other’s arms as they kissed, no plans of letting go of one another. 

“Hey, wanna head out?” Alex asked. You still hadn’t said hello to Harry, but you figured you could text him later, so you nodded, glancing back at the two of them and walked out with Alex. He took you to a diner that wasn’t too far from the hotel and you both ate breakfast for a midnight meal because breakfast simply hits differently when it’s at an unusual hour. Alex then walked you back to the hotel room, and you were exhausted by this point. You just wanted to get out of your shoes and sleep for a very long time. You were lucky that you weren’t sharing a room with Alex because sometimes you just needed to be alone, and this moment was that time. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said, stopping in front of your room and your brows raised as he continued. “We’ve been dating for about a month now, and I really like you, so I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my girlfriend.”

You had expected anything else, but that question. Your heart beat practically stopped for a moment as you looked at him, wondering if he was serious, and when he didn’t say he was joking, you realized that he was actually being serious. 

“Oh, uhm…”

“It’s been fun getting to know you and travelling to these places with you, so I figured it was time to ask you.”

“Alex...you’re a really nice guy, but I’m just not sure I can be your girlfriend,” you told him honestly, and his brows furrowed. 

“Why’s that?”

“I-I like you, but I feel like my feelings for you aren’t 100% there when it comes to being your girlfriend.” He only nodded, and you were getting quite anxious when he didn’t say anything. 

He then started laughing, pacing around in the hallway and you crossed your arms. 

“That’s hilarious,” he said. 

“What-”

“No, the only reason you don’t want to be with me is because you’re in love with someone else!” His voice raised, making the hallway echo a bit. You looked at him, not knowing what to say. “Yeah. I know you’re in love with Harry. Noticed that the first time I met you; that you were staring right at someone that wasn’t yours, but desperately wanted to be.”

“I…” you were speechless. Had you really been that obvious about your feelings towards Harry that everyone around you noticed? 

“It’s a shame though, isn’t it?” He had a grin of the devil; mischievously and humiliating. You looked at him nervously, urging him to continue. “You’re in love with someone that doesn’t even want you,” he stated. “That doesn’t look your way for a second when he thinks about a relationship because you’re only his assistant. Not once would he look your way down the street if you weren’t working for him,” he looked you up and down, and your eyes started watering, and you were embarrassed that you were about to cry in front of Alex as he crushed you in every possible way. “It’s okay, don’t cry. You have me,” he opened his arms to take you in for a hug, but you physically pushed him away because now you were angry. 

“I have you? Are you fucking kidding me? After you just humiliated me?” You were breathing out through your nose as your tears made their way down your cheeks. 

“Hey, I’m just telling you the truth-”

“Why did you even ask me to be your girlfriend?” You asked, genuinely confused on his logic. 

“Well, the question that you’re supposed to be asking is why did I talk to you in the first place?” 

“Why did you?” 

“Since you want to know so bad,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes. “When I saw you, I definitely liked you, but then I saw you were giving heart eyes to Harry, so I thought I could change your mind. See if I could switch your feelings up,” he chuckled. 

“So, this was some sort of experiment? Guessing your hypothesis was wrong then, huh? Go ahead and write your conclusion as: fucked her, but dick wasn’t good enough to fall in love. So, fuck off,” you rolled your eyes and opened the door before slamming it shut in his face. Your back was leaning against the door as more that you’ve been holding onto fell from your face as you heard him still talk. 

“You’ll never be like Brooke or Rena, or whoever he dates in the future! You’re nothing to him!” He yelled through the door as his words came out muffled. 

Sliding down the door, you finally heard him leave, and you were full on sobbing. You tried not to let his words get the better of you, but the way Alex spat them out so easily, it was hard not to. 

Because what if he’s right. 

7 July 2018

Harry noticed that you had been feeling off the entire week. 

It was like you were simply existing, but not present in some moments when people would talk to you. You had this dull look on your face, and it wasn’t the same as your bright and happy look that he looked forward to everyday. He noticed it when everyone was leaving from Minnesota, and he told himself that it was because you were tired, which was true, but he didn’t know the whole reason. 

After the show in Seattle, he didn’t see you like he used to, and he wondered where you or if you even watched the show. Once he high fived and talked to everyone for a bit, he headed to his dressing room, hoping that you were in there, but you weren’t. So now, he was worried. 

H: Hey, where are you? He texted. Luckily, Rena wasn’t around anymore because she would want all his attention after the show. He simply couldn’t take someone being so clingy, so he called things off with her. It may have also had to do with the fact that he didn’t want to hide his feelings anymore, and being with other people just wasn’t working for him anymore. Not when you were in front of him. 

It’s been a long time coming now, and he felt stupid for not telling you in the first place since he’s been in love with you since last year--during the time he was with Brooke. He was honestly afraid to tell you, and when he heard Brooke say it, he just felt so much shock run through him, so he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t have an excuse as to why he got with other people while being in love with you, but it just made him feel in control of himself because he couldn’t control his feelings towards you, so he got scared. So, he decided that when everyone gets to California in two days, he’s going to confess his entire feelings for you. 

Harry walked to your hotel room, knocking on it as he waited for you to answer. He could hear shuffling and movement through the door, and he hoped to god that Alex wasn’t in there with you. 

“Who is it?” You said through the door, softly. 

“Angel, it’s Harry. Can I see you?” He asked. There was a pause, but then he heard the door handle rattled as you opened the door. 

Your face was a crying mess and your hair was up in a very messy bun. Harry’s mouth opened slightly as he concerningly asked, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His question and concern had made you sob even more as you shook your head. “C’mere,” he pulled you in for a hug and you sobbed into his chest as he walked you over to the edge of your bed. He observed your room and saw that there were a stack of clothes folded on the other bed along with your open luggage with some of your belongings inside. “Angel, what’s going on?” You pulled your head out of his chest to look at him, knowing that he was probably wondering why you were packing; and he had a sad expression on his face. 

“I’m leaving,” you simply said. 

“Leaving? Where are you going?” His brows furrowed. 

“I’m going back home.” 

“W-What? Why?” 

“I can’t be your assistant anymore, Harry,” you cried, and Harry’s heart sank as his jaw dropped. 

“What are you talking about? A-Are you quitting?” You stood up, placing the stack of clothes in your luggage as you sorted them. 

“Y-Yeah,” you said quietly, and Harry has never been more confused in his life. 

“W-What did I do wrong? I’m sorry we haven’t been seeing each other lately, but I promise after tour-”

“No, no. It’s not you, I promise,” you shook your head. In this moment, you felt like you should tell him everything because he deserved an explanation from you. “Please, listen, okay?” He nodded. You walked to sit on the desk chair in front Harry as he sat on the edge of the bed. You proceeded to tell him everything that Alex said from him asking you to be his girlfriend to you saying no. “He said these mean things that-”

“What the fuck did he say?” He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. 

“Just listen,” you stopped him. “He said those things because I’m in love with someone else…I’m in love with you, and you probably heard Brooke say that, but you didn’t say anything, so I just assumed that you didn’t want to believe it.” It was the words Harry has been wanting to hear and he went to open his mouth, but you immediately started talking again. “I have been ever since I started working for you, and I thought it was just a crush on my boss, but it’s way more than that. Alex told me I’m not good enough for you and that you would never love me, and I think that’s true-” 

“No! That’s not true! I love-”

“Please, don’t,” you shook your head as you sobbed. You’ve been waiting for years to hear those words, but you knew that you couldn’t hear them just yet. “Don’t say those words because I’m leaving and to prove Alex wrong.” 

“I’m not trying to prove him wrong, it’s true,” Harry’s eyes watered, and you sighed.

“What he said got me thinking…I go to all these stores and pick shit up for your love interests, sending me a list of all their favorite things, and wishing that they were for me. And in the midst of it, I realized you don’t know what my favorite flower is! I’ve been hurting for so long that I covered it up everytime and put a fake smile on my face just to see you happy.”

“Your favorite flower is-”

“I just really think that I deserve to be happy as well,” you nodded your head as a way to try and convince yourself. 

“You do deserve to be happy, angel baby. But we can be happy together? I-I… want you here. With me.” His voice was filled with hope, and it only made it harder for you. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, burying your face in your hands. “I want that so bad. I do, H. But I really need to be happy with myself and by myself first. I depended on you and the others around me a lot, and I just didn’t save that love for myself, so…I need to leave,” you sniffled, wiping your cheeks. 

“And when you come back?” 

“I don’t know when that will be or what’s going to happen, but I’m not asking you to wait for me or anything because you should live your life. But when I come back, I’ll call you, and we’ll talk,” you told him, and it seemed like you had everything planned already, but you were just as lost as he was. He dropped his head, crying into his hands. You rolled your chair closer to him, grabbing his wrists, and he lifted his head. “We’ll be alright, okay? Just need a little time to myself.” He nodded, sniffling. 

You stood up and walked over to your luggage, zipping it closed before you looked around to see if you forgot anything. Harry stood up and walked over to you, grabbed your wrists, and pulled you to him, giving you a hug. His face was buried in your neck and you felt him press kisses against your skin as he cried. 

“You’ll be back?” The pain in his voice was enough to tip you over the edge of bawling. 

“Yeah, I’ll be back,” you said in between sniffs. “I’m going to stay with my parents for a while; get a job back in Oregon,” you told him, so he’s not completely out of the loop. He pulled back, looking down at you. 

“When you come back, your job will always be here.” You smiled sadly, raising your hand to caress his cheek. 

“We’ll see, okay? But I have to go to the airport now. My flight is in two hours,” you managed to free yourself from his grasp as it tightened so you wouldn’t go, but you really had to. 

“Let me drop you off?” He offered, and you shook your head. 

“No, it’s only going to make this harder,” you said, grabbing your luggage and backpack. “Have a great rest of the tour, alright? Take care of yourself,” you placed your palm on his cheek again, looking in his sad eyes before you reached up and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you, honey.”

You walked out of the room with no glance back at him, and Harry was alone in your hotel room, and it was the last memory of you that would be ingrained in his mind forever. 

14 July 2018 

The crowd cheered loud for Harry for his final show in Los Angeles. He overwhelmingly smiled as he took a deep breath before continuing onto the next song. Everyone seemed to know what the next song on the set list was, so the room went a bit quiet as the crowd turned on their flashlights as the lights went completely dark, and the only thing was heard was the strumming of the guitar. 

Woke up alone in this hotel room… As he sang, he took in his own lyrics, feeling like they really related to him at the moment despite writing the song two years ago. Harry sang with every emotion in him as he let it all out in the dark room that was silent, and the only thing he heard was his voice and the guitar that was played by Mitch. 

We haven’t spoke since you went away…He had thought of you every night he sang this song since you left in Seattle, and it pained him that there was no contact between you ever since you left, but he figured that was what you wanted. What you needed. 

Comfortable silence is so overrated… The moments when there would be silence between you two, he hated looking back at those moments because he knew he should’ve said something, you would’ve still been here. 

Why won’t you ever say what you want to say? Why didn’t you say anything, Harry? 

Even my phone misses your call, by the way…He missed your contact name pop up on his phone that went along with his contact picture for you. You were smiling bright as you ate ice cream. It was a summer day in New York and really warm outside, so you decided you two took a break from running around and got some ice cream. You were so happy that day, and he was happy he got it on camera. 

Harry would often find himself looking at your pictures together; trying to pinpoint the exact moment you knew you were in love with him. Your smile always made his day, and it broke his heart knowing that he wouldn’t get to see that smile for a long while--at least he hoped it’s not a long time till he gets to see you again. Since, he knew when his feelings had progressed, he looked back on the pictures when he knew he fell hard. His smile had gotten bigger and the look he gave you was full of love, and he wished that you saw how he looked at you. 

He missed you so much. 

13 December 2019

It took you quite a while since you felt whole again. 

You hadn’t felt so empty as you had been when you left Seattle. The year and a half you spent back at home really helped you with that. You were able to find yourself again; spending time with your family and with yourself was something so refreshing that you cherished every moment with them. You learned a lot about yourself, and you reshaped your own worth and values. You came back stronger than ever and you’ve never been happier than you are now. 

You nervously walked over to the section you were going to be sitting in. The room was dark and the crowd was absolutely wild as they were finally seeing the one person they’ve been waiting for. You looked down, watching your step as you held your phone with the flashlight on your feet as they stepped onto the red floor of the pit, until you saw the familiar faces you’ve been looking for. 

“Y/N! There you are!” Glenne smiled, taking you in for a hug. “I’ve missed you babe,” she said in your ear as you hugged her tight. 

“I missed you too, so much.”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Jeff said, giving you a warm embrace. 

The music was playing and the crowd had gotten louder as the man of the hour finally stepped on stage, and all the spotlights were pointed on him. You watched him as he walked down from the high stage to the main stage, grabbing his guitar as said hello to everyone before strumming the first note. 

As you remembered, he was amazing on stage as he wore the same outfit as the album cover. He ignited the crowd with his charm and voice that left people in tears from being so overwhelmed by him. You felt overwhelmed as well; seeing him for the first time in a year and a half had made you quite emotional. 

You knew you wanted to go to Harry’s ‘One Night Only’ show when he first announced it. From keeping in contact with him, you figured you could keep in contact with updates of him, and what he’s up to these days. You streamed his music, watched his music videos, and stayed up late just to hear a snippet of him on the radio. You were always excited when you would get the notification on your phone of new pictures and videos of him because that was the only way you were able to see him. You found out that he had spent quite some time in Japan towards the end of last year and the beginning of this year. You really hoped he was doing okay. During the days of finding yourself, the thought of seeing him again had scared you, and you weren’t ready for that, so you waited until this day to see him. 

So, at the beginning of the week, you had texted Glenne that you wanted to go to the show, and she immediately said yes, putting your name on the list. You told her not to tell Harry just yet because you wanted to surprise him, and she was on board with the idea as was Jeff. 

They were both really supportive of you during your times sulking and growing, and Glenne had even visited you in Oregon to make sure you were okay and simply just missing you. You were really thankful for both of them because you knew that it was hard to see their two friends in pain, but you were glad that they supported your decision. Glenne had always known that you were in love with Harry, and you told her ever since you figured your feelings out. But you had made her swear on her life and Jeff’s that she wouldn’t say a word about it to anyone, not even Jeff (although Jeff saw it coming). 

“He’s going to be so happy to see you and know that you’re here,” Glenne said to you as the beginning of ‘Fine Line’ was starting. You thought the album was an  absolute masterpiece that was composed of beautiful lyrics, melodies, and emotion. You made sure to dance and cheer for the songs you didn’t know the words to extra loud, and you sang to the ones you knew without hesitation. You stayed up all night, listening to the album multiple times on repeat and trying to get the words down, and you were sure everyone did the same. 

As you listened to Harry sing the outro and the words ‘We’ll be alright’ coming out so effortlessly, you were reminded of your words to him as you left the hotel room. The song was quite hard hitting and you felt every inch of your skin cover in goosebumps. 

You practically lost your shit when Stevie Nicks came out and performed ‘Landslide’ with him, and when he sang ‘Wonderful Christmas Time’ while fake snow was falling from the ceiling. Before you knew it, Harry was in the middle of singing ‘Kiwi,’ and Glenne tapped your arm, telling you to follow her and you knew that you three were going backstage already. You felt butterflies in your stomach, feeling really nervous to see him again up close after a year and a half; and you only hoped that he was happy to see you as well. 

You heard the muffled final beat of the song as the crowd loudly cheered for him, telling him to do another song, but you knew that it was the end of the show. Jeff had walked way ahead of you both to grab Harry really quick, so he could point his attention towards you. Your hands were shaking as your arm was looped with Glenne’s as she provided physical support for you, holding you up, and continuously telling you that he’s going to be so ecstatic. 

Cheers erupted from the crew as everyone hugged each other, proud and happy of the success of Harry’s first show of his sophomore album. Once you were close enough, you could make out everyone’s faces. The band was there along with Harry’s friends and producers that had written the album with him. Finally, there was Harry; his back was facing you as he hugged Jeff, and Jeff gave you an amusing smile as he hugged his best friend. You heard him whisper into Harry’s ear, and Harry pulled back, saying, “What?” 

Jeff nodded, and Harry quickly turned around. His face was pulled into a shocked expression as his eyes widened and his body was practically frozen as he took in your presence. You smiled softly, waiting for him to say or do something because you didn’t know how he felt with you being here on his special night. 

Finally, he took two long strides towards you, pulling you in for a hug. Your body collided with his, and smiled into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his tone body. 

“How are you?” You whispered in his ear as you practically felt him shaking in your arms. 

“I’m doing good. Better now,” he said softly. “What the fuck are you doing here, angel?” He chuckled, finally realizing that you were here in his arms. The sound of your pet name had widened your smile as your eyes watered; feeling so happy that you finally got to hear that name come from out of his mouth again. 

“Came to see you,” you said in his neck. He pulled back, looking at you in the eye before smiling like crazy as he took you in his arms again. He felt like he was on the moon; the overwhelming feeling of the feedback from the album, the show, and now finally getting to see you for the first time in a very long time—he truly couldn’t believe it, so he held you tight, not wanting to let you go as he felt like if he did, then you would vanish again. You felt his hesitancy or not wanting to let you go, so you whispered in his ear, “Hey, I’m here. Not leaving.” 

He eventually pulled back, and noticed everyone that gathered around you two, and smiles were on their faces with their hands over their hearts. They all had really witnessed Harry struggle the past year and a half; from song writing, recording, rehearsing, and just being present. They really saw Harry at his lowest, and now they're happy to finally see him happy now that you’re here. 

“I-I have to go meet some people and take some pictures, but do you think, uhm…” he trailed off, realizing that he might be acting too eager. 

“H, I’m right here. Do what you have to do, and I’ll wait for you, alright?” You told him with a smile, and he nodded. He didn’t want to walk away from you, but you knew that some people were waiting for him, so he had to leave. He gave you one last hug, which brightened your smile, and he walked down the hall of The Forum. “Stay in my dressing room!” He called out, and you laughed, remembering the talks and moments in his dressing room after his shows. 

Heading over to his dressing room, you stopped to say hi to everyone as they excitedly greeted you. You couldn’t believe that you were here again. The journey to get here was a struggle, but reuniting with everyone had made it so worth it—seeing Harry again was worth it, and you knew that you had to do it. 

After an hour of catching up with the crew and band, and sitting on his couch, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the Fine Line Booklet that contained pictures of Harry in the process of recording his album, he finally showed up. Sighing as he walked in from the rush of the entire day, once he saw your face again, he knew he wasn’t in the state of dreaming because you were really here. 

He took a seat on the couch next to you, taking your hand in his. He hesitantly raised your hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of it; you smiled at the sweet gesture, caressing your thumb against his hand. 

“How are you, angel?” He asked, softly smiling as he was trying to contain his excitement that you’re finally here. 

“I’m good, H. I’m happy,” you said, and hearing that made Harry’s eyes glossy because that’s all he wanted from you. He wanted you to be happy; with yourself, with others, and with life. 

“I’m so glad to hear you say that,” he smiled, dimples poking out. You reached over to caress his cheek, rubbing his dimple out, and he turned his head to kiss the inside of your hand. 

“I want to hear everything from you--catch me up on everything?” He nodded eagerly, wanting that from you too. 

“Security said that the parking lot is empty now because they had to practically kick everyone out, so there’s no one out there, but what do you say we go out there and walk around the parking lot?” He suggested. It was almost midnight, and despite being exhausted and overwhelmed by this whole day, he’d rather stay up and talk for hours with you. 

“Are you sure? You’re not tired?” You asked, and he shook your head. 

“No, not at all. It’s been a year and a half since I last saw you. I want to spend time with you.”

“Okay, I’d like that,” you smiled, and he nodded, telling you that he was going to change really quick. He walked over to his duffel bag, grabbing some clothes before walking over to the changing room that was in his dressing room. Before he walked in, he turned around, facing you. 

“Hey.” You perked up, smiling. He missed your smile so damn much. “Your favorite flower is a baby pink peony,” he said before walking into the room. 

You were immediately taken back to the night when you had left when you had told him that he didn’t know what your favorite flower was, but all this time, he knew. He had always known. 

Walking towards the exit of the venue, the night was dark as the moon shined from up above you. With cold air rushing through you, you shivered, and Harry smiled next to you as you two walked through the emptiness of the parking lot. Before you two even spoke a word on how to go about having the ‘catch up’ conversation, you sensed Harry’s nervousness as he felt a bit hesitant with you because of the distance and time spent apart. But you wanted to remind him that you were the same person. You had the same feelings for him, and you really hoped he had some feelings for you too. 

So, you brushed your left hand against his right hand, cheeks flushed, and you interlock your fingers together, holding his warm ringed hand with your small one. 

This was it--this moment right here. This was where you were supposed to be. 

please come into my inbox and tell me how you’re feeling and what you thought of this! she was an emotional one :’)

[amphtaminedreams]

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart. 

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out. 

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway. 

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

[favefandomimagines]

Everything Happens For A Reason (t.h.)

Summary: Tom asks you, his bartender at the pub he owns, to accompany him to his next deal.

AN: since i’ve been into Peaky Blinders and got inspired by Thomas and Grace’s arrangement in season one when they go to meet Billy Kimber at the races AND this is my first time ever writing anything Mob!Tom related soo go easy on me please! xx

It was no secret that every man who worked for Tom found you attractive. That’s why Tom hired you to begin with. You were a pretty face and pretty face’s were easy to tell secrets to. Every man who stepped foot in the pub, always ended up telling the pretty bartender everything. 

And you would report back to Tom if it was something you saw as worthy of him knowing. He obviously thanked you and then sent you on your way. It never escalated beyond that. Though parties wanted it to go beyond that but there were the obvious risks. 

Until one day, as you were preparing to open, Tom and Harrison stepped inside. Wearing their expensive Yves Saint Laurent suits and Rolexes adorning their wrists, perspectively.

“We don’t open for another fifteen minutes.” You told them, as you were wiping down the counter. “Last time I checked I owned the joint. I can come in whenever I please.” Tom replied. “And last time I checked, when you hired me, you said I can run this place.” You rebutted. 

Tom chuckled lightly as he walked up to the bar and rested his elbows atop it. “I need you this evening. I have someone covering for you tonight.” He said.

You furrowed your eyebrows and set the rag down in the sink. “What do you need me for?” You asked. “I need you to accompany me to a meeting. One of the other bosses I’m meeting with, he tends to say more when there’s a woman present.” Tom explained. 

You looked from Tom to Harrison and then back to Tom. “Oh so I’m just your arm candy for the evening? Let me guess, you’re going to have me play the typical dumb bombshell and have me compliment him, stare seductively at him so he’ll tell you everything? Why not just ask the girls you bring in here every weekend?” You snapped. 

Harrison laughed dryly, causing Tom to glare back at him. “She’s good.” Harrison added. “Come on, love. Just one night. I need your help.” Tom said. You looked at him for a moment before a smirk crept on to your face. 

“The great Tom Holland needs my help? Wow what an honor it is.” You said sarcastically. “Y/N,” He started. “Well, what do I get in return for helping the infamous and greatly feared Mr. Holland?” You asked. 

Tom clenched and unclenched his jaw and crossed his arms across his chest. “Anything you want. You name it. Clothes, shoes, jewelry, I don’t fucking care, just name your price.” He told you, losing his patience. “I don’t want materialistic things, Tom.” You started. 

“I want Thursday’s off. If you spent any time out here instead of in your private room, you’d know that weekends suck. They’re busy and everyone thinks that if they tip me enough, I’ll blow them. So, give me Thursday’s off for a little me time and I’ll come.” You explained. 

“You really are a thorn in my side.” Tom muttered. “A thorn in your side that gives you information. Information that’s made you the biggest and baddest mob boss in London.” You commented. 

He was quiet for a moment. Contemplating taking the risk of you being gone even for just one day. Truth was, he really did need you. In more ways than one. He for one, enjoyed your company. You were a spitfire and sassy and it was a change of pace for him. Another was, since you were so attractive, people were instantly taken with you. 

Tom also liked to know where you were at all times. Since meeting you, he himself was taken with you. You made him feel things he thought he buried when he became head of the family. So he liked to keep tabs on you to keep you safe.

“Fine. Thursday’s off.” He finally said. You smiled triumphantly and walked around to the other side and stood in front of the two men. “What am I supposed to wear then?” You asked. 

“I had something sent over for you.” Tom said, taking his leave from the pub. “Oh and uh, wear that perfume you wear on Sunday’s. It’s one of my favorites.” He added before leaving for good, Harrison smirking behind him. 

You watched the two men leave, heart pounding in your ears, before going back to opening the pub. 

Tom and Harrison got in the black Audi parked outside, Harrison wearing a smart ass smirk on his face. “What are you smiling at?” Tom asked as they drove. “You’re in love with her.” Harrison answered. “What? In love with Y/N?” He questioned. “Yes. The way you look at her, the way you don’t want to let her out of your sight on Thursday’s. Oh and let’s not mention the attention to detail you have when it comes to the perfume she wears.” Harrison explained. 

“I’m not in love with Y/N.” Tom rebutted, the word ‘love’ sounding weird coming from his mouth. “Yes you do. I’m your best friend, I know you better than you know yourself.” Harrison said. 

Tom was silent, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. “Even if I was, it’s too dangerous.” He said. Harrison rolled his eyes but decided to drop the subject, knowing he was getting nowhere with his friend, 

__

When you were allowed to leave to get yourself ready, you arrived back home and saw a garment bag hanging on the closet door in your entry way. You didn’t want to know how Tom had keys to your apartment but you weren’t all that surprised. 

You grabbed it off the door and took it to your room. Unzipping it, you quickly noticed the lack of straps on the black dress. You took it out of the garment bag and noticed the short length. Included with the Saint Laurent dress, was a black Louis Vuitton bag and black Christian Louboutin heels, the obnoxious red bottoms sticking out like sore thumbs.

You sighed and grabbed all of the provided things and started to get yourself ready. You curled your hair loosely and kept it down and did your makeup somewhat naturally. 

Once you were dressed, you sprayed the perfume on your neck and wrists and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your attention instantly went to the diamond necklace that hung from your neck. You definitely looked like one of the girls Tom and his lackeys would bring back to the pub. 

Definitely undermined your self-esteem. 

Tom arrived at your apartment and decided to go up to your door instead of making you walk out to him. It felt like it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

He knocked on your door and heard you shuffle around a bit before opening the door. He went slack jawed when he saw you. Standing there in the little black dress he gave you, your hair done and the necklace sitting around your neck.

“Earth to Tom?” You spoke, waving your hand in front of his face. Tom blinked a few times, being brought back down to reality. “You look absolutely beautiful.” He said.

“Really? I feel like one of those girls you always bring around.” You said, pulling the bottom of the dress down to try and cover your thighs. “Trust me, Y/N, you could never be one of those girls.” Tom said, offering you his arm.

His comment stunned you but you took his arm anyways. You were curious as to where the meeting was going to be held but apart of your job description was not being told anything.

After a few moments, the car pulled up to a stately looking mansion. Definitely a step up from your one bedroom apartment in the middle of London.

Tom got out first and walked around to your side to help you out.

“This is-“ You started before he cut you off. “Small.” He said. “Small? Are you kidding?” You questioned. “This is bigger than my entire apartment building.” You added.

It was obvious you weren’t used to the lavish lifestyle so all Tom could do was laugh at you. The two of you walked up the steps of the house and waited patiently for the double doors to open.

“Mr. Holland. He’s expecting you.” A large man said once the doors were opened. “I sure hope so.” Tom commented.

You felt Tom tense up a bit as you walked through the hallway and you didn’t know why.

You were led into a large dining room and you were so busy admiring the baroque style decor, you didn’t notice the man walking towards you and Tom.

“Mr. Holland. It’s a pleasure.” The man started, shaking Tom’s free hand. “And who’s this lovely lady?” He added. “Y/N. She’s with me.” Tom answered for you.

The man looked at you like he was a lion and you were the prey. Tom saw the look and held onto your waist tightly, trying to get the point across to the man that you were his.

“Shall we get started?” Tom questioned. “Ah, yes. Please sit.” The man said. Tom led you to your chair, next to his and pulled it out for you.

You never knew Tom could be such a gentleman but you figured it was for appearances. He had to keep up the charade that the two of you were ‘together.’ 

“So, Mr. Smith, let’s just cut to the chase. You’ve lost your foothold here in London. You have no resources, your men are corrupt. You’re a sitting duck.” Tom started. “And what makes you think I’m a sitting duck?” Mr. Smith asked.

“Because you arranged a meeting with me, of all people, and have no security present. Probably because your men have made deals with other powerful families. Information for money. Leaving you helpless.” Tom said. “Let me give you some of my men, in exchange for your territory in the West End.” He added.

Mr. Smith leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Glaring at Tom before his eyes landed on you. If it were possible to squirm out of your own body, you would have. You’d rather be anywhere else than under the vile man’s gaze. 

Tom noticed him looking at you, far longer than he was comfortable with. He looked over at you before back to Mr. Smith. He could sense your discomfort and rested his hand on your thigh to try to put you at ease. 

“I’ll make the deal with you. On one condition.” Mr. Smith started. Tom sighed impatiently and glared at the man across from him, choosing to entertain whatever he had to say. 

Mr. Smith leaned closer to Tom but not close enough so you couldn’t hear. “I’ll make the deal, if you give me her for two hours. I’m quite intrigued to see what a woman like her can do.” He added.

Just hearing how he was speaking about you, made Tom see red. “Did the words ‘she’s with me’ not make it clear to you that she’s mine?” Tom snapped. “Oh come on, Tom. You have a million other whores like her. What’s so special about this one?” Mr. Smith said. 

Your jaw dropped at his words and Tom slammed his fists down on the table and drew his gun, pointing it at the man across from him. 

Before Mr. Smith ever saw it coming, Tom pulled the trigger and shot him straight in the head. His body falling from the chair and on to the floor with a loud thud.

“Oh my god!” You yelled, standing up from your seat. “We’re leaving, let’s go.” Tom said as he grabbed your hand. “Tom, what the hell did you just do?” You questioned.

He didn’t reply to your question and just kept dragging you back to the car. He wasn’t worried about security because he paid off all of the men that were supposed to protect Mr. Smith. 

“Can you please, for the love of god, answer my fucking question?” You snapped, pulling your hand from his causing him to stop. “You said this was a meeting! You never said you were going to murder someone right in front of me!” You yelled.

You were basically scarred for life seeing the blood pooling around Mr. Smith’s head before Tom pulled you out of the room. The image of brain matter splattered across the lavish curtains permanently stained into your mind.

“There was no meeting, Y/N! This was always the outcome. I thought I could get more from him before I had to kill him but then he was saying those awful things about you, I couldn’t take it anymore.” Tom explained. 

You ran your hand through your hair as tears began to well up in your eyes. You were scared, traumatized and you didn’t know what was going to happen to you if the small handful of Smith’s loyal followers were to find out you were a witness. Would they use you to get to Tom? Would Tom even care if they killed you in an act of revenge? Your imagination was turning against you.

Tom saw the look on your face and could tell you were scared. “Y/N,” He started. You looked up at him and he saw the couple of tears that rolled down your cheeks. 

He stepped towards you and placed a hand gently on your cheek, though you slightly moved away from him. And that action didn’t go unnoticed by him. He never wanted you to be scared of him and yet you were. 

“I know you’re scared. The last thing I wanted was to do that in front of you. You’re too good for a world like this. You’re too good for me.” He said. 

You were silent for a moment, looking at him to find a trace of him lying to you. When you didn’t find it, you nodded your head and looked back down at your feet. 

Tom placed his hand on your back to guide you back to the car. 

The way back to the city was silence. Absolute silence. You didn’t speak nor did you want to. And Tom didn’t know what to say. He knew he shouldn’t have killed a man in front of you but he let his anger get the best of him. 

Hearing another man speak about you as if you were an object set him off. But he was no saint in that category. He brought you to this meeting as just a pretty face, which he never should have done in the first place. 

You were dropped off at your apartment and quickly got out of the car. Not wanting to look at or speak to Tom.

“Y/N,” Tom started but stopped short when he saw you weren’t going to speak to him.

He sighed as he watched you step inside without even a second glance in his direction. He didn’t want you to carry the burden he had been carrying for years. But there you were; carrying what you shouldn’t have to. 

__

Tom had gone almost a month without seeing you. He tried to avoid you as he best he could, not coming into the pub unless he needed to. And favored it on Thursdays when you weren’t working. 

You had grown rather angry because he didn’t even try to apologize for exposing you to such a traumatic event. You had nightmares for days, only seeing a bullet go through someone’s skull and the blood all over the floor. And yet Tom didn’t even say the measly words ‘I’m sorry.’ 

It was Tuesday night, a usually casual night for you and Tom snuck past you and into the back room of the pub. You knew he was there because you saw Harrison a few times as you were getting people their drinks. 

Harrison stopped at the bar to get another drink for himself when you stopped in front of him.

“Why has he been hiding out in the back all night?” You asked the right hand man. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lied. “Harrison.” You said. 

He looked up at you and sighed. You always knew how to read him well. “He knows that there’s nothing he can do that can make you forget what you saw.” Harrison answered. “Look, I know this is the terrifying mob boss we’re talking about but all I wanted, was for him to care. Does he?” You told him. 

Harrison was quiet, not wanting to answer for Tom but he wanted to tell you how much Tom cared about you but he knew it wasn’t his place to say.

“I know he’s not supposed to care about people, considering they usually end up dead or betraying him, but as stupid as it sounds, I thought he cared about me.” You added. 

Before you could continue your conversation, another customer was trying to get your attention. You gave Harrison a sad look before walking away from him. Harrison felt bad for you. You were a nice girl and he knew Tom had feelings for you but clearly, he didn’t know how to handle that. 

Harrison returned to the back room and sat across from Tom. Tom could tell something was off about his best friend and furrowed his eyebrows at him. “What’s wrong with you?” He asked. 

“Y/N.” Harrison answered. Tom tensed up just from hearing your name and he had no clue why Harrison was bringing you up. “What about her?” Tom questioned. “For some unknown reason, she has feelings for you. God knows why but she does. And she just wants you to care.” Harrison explained. 

“She knows who I am. She knows what I do, hell she knows that better than anyone. She’s expecting too much from me.” Tom rebutted. “Maybe. But this is your chance to leave your work at the door. You’d be able to go home to her and leave the business out of it.” Harrison said. “But because of what I do, she’d never be safe. There will always be a target on her back and I can’t do that to her.” Tom told his best friend. “With you is the safest place she could be. Who’d be crazy enough to go after Tom Holland’s girl?” Harrison quickly replied. 

Harrison got back to his work as Tom sat in his chair thinking about what Harrison had told him. He wanted to be with you, it was obvious. But the last thing he wanted was to put you in harms way. But having a job at his bar was also putting a target on your back if anyone were to find out he was the owner. 

A few hours later, there wasn’t a single person left in the pub. Except for Tom and Harrison still sitting in the backroom. Tom’s cowardice starting to agitate you. You were wiping down the counter, getting ready to close for the night when you heard the door open. 

You assumed it was Harrison again and didn’t bother to turn around to talk to him. “Y/N?” You heard. You froze momentarily before turning around. There stood Tom, in all his clean cut glory. You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the back counter and the two of you just looked at each other. 

“Can we talk?” Tom asked. “Now you want to talk? After avoiding me for a month?” You rebutted. Tom sighed and walk towards the counter, getting a sense of deja vu.

“I’m sorry for what you had to witness at that meeting. The plan was to get the information, have you go out to the car while I took care of him. I never intended for how it actually happened. I didn’t want you to see that but, Y/N, being around me means you’re going to be exposed to things like that.” He told you. “So I’ve been told.” You muttered. 

Tom walked behind the bar and took your hand in his slowly, afraid you’ll flinch away from him again. “Y/N, I love you, okay? You have intrigued me since the day you started working for me. You don’t hide from me and you aren’t afraid of me. You even like to challenge me 99% of the time which gets on my nerves but I wouldn’t have it any other way. And I’m hoping you feel the same.” Tom confessed. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at your hand in his. “I do feel the same way. I know I probably shouldn’t because of what you do but I can’t really help it.” You replied. 

“I just need you to stay safe.” Tom muttered. “Tom, you can’t control what does and doesn’t happen to me. It’s just how things are meant to be. Like me getting this job for example. We were meant to meet each other.” You explained.

“Do you really believe that everything happens for a reason?” He asked. “Yes, I do.” You said. “And I think you need to start living by that philosophy, Mr. Holland.” you teased. Tom scoffed lightly as he looked down at you. “I guess you’ll have to show me how.” He said. 

You smiled up at him and nodded your head. “I guess I will.” You replied. Tom smiled down at you before he leaned in slowly and kissed you softly. It was something to both of you had been waiting for since your second month working at the bar. And it was everything you hoped it would be and more. 

[hecohansen31]

Never Too Much Champagne:

Duncan Shepherd+Female! Reader+Fallon Carrington.

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

So... I am not going to be at home in the weekend, but I’ll be away, which is going to be nice... I hope (I low key need relax), but I thought I’d still share a little fic with you.

This is a personal ‘thank you’ to @melodylangdon for her support to my favorite rich OT3, Fallon, Duncan and Reader and who made the beautiful moodboard here (this is like one of my favorite things ever, and I got a lot of inspiration from it), but THANK YOU AGAIN!

It meant the world for me!

(Also I am tagging @wickedlangdon because she is also a fan of this OT3)

So I hope you’ll enjoy this little one!

WARNINGS: Sex, Strap-On Action (also in these cases it is suggested to wear a condom, better be safe than sorry), Oral Sex (Male & Female Receiving), Fingering, Dirty Talk, Daddy/Mommy Kink, Use of Champagne (please don’t use this fic as a tutorial for Champagne Sex, food/liquid, unless stated, SHOULD NEVER BE USED FOR INTERNAL USE, this is a fic and it is Duncan Shepherd/Fallon Carrington, but avoid it in reality).

You knew perfectly that Adam’s accidental slip wasn’t so accidental.

But you hadn’t protested or made a scene and had simply excused yourself to the ladies-restroom to dab away the excessive champagne on your newest dress, a gift of Fallon, since it had made her think of you.

Meanwhile you were in the bathroom, you heard its door being opened without too much thought about knocking or courtesy, immediately making you realize that it was Fallon, coming up to you with a few muffled excuses.

“I’d like to say that he is that way because he was adopted, but… that isn’t true as much as I wish it” she mumbled, coming to softly try to collect the excessive champagne from your drenched dress, since Adam had fallen onto an entire tray of champagne, which had then fallen onto you.

“… don’t talk about adoption with Duncan, it’s a touchy subject, you muttered lightly, knowing all too well that Fallon was fresh to your own relationship.

You saw her immediately biting her lips as if she kind of wanted to take back the words, but nodded softly, continuing the useless job onto your dress, probably just a simple excuse to continue on touching your body, highlighted by the drenched fabric.

To which you had no objections.

“Ahh, it’s such a shame that dumb-dumber decided to ruin this dress, you almost looked as pretty as me” joked Fallon, falling back to admire you, which made you smirk lightly, as you adjusted your hair, avoiding them to touch your champagne drenched neck.

“… almost as pretty as you?” you pumped out your leg through the slit of the dress, giving Fallon a good look of it, ending up and being even more enhanced by the pair of golden Jimmy Choo you had been wearing.

You smirked at her dumbfounded expression.

But you were also soon surprised as the bathroom door opened again, and before Fallon could utter ‘I am having a lawsuit against you’, Duncan appeared behind the door, sending you a light smirk and raising an eyebrow, meanwhile you set your leg down.

“I came to see if you needed some help” he joked, although you doubted it ”…you were taking quite your sweet time”.

“Did you think we had started without you, handsome?” joked, smirking, Fallon as she approached him, coming to gently caress his chest, through the tailored Hugo Boss shirt, the cufflinks, which adorned it, another gifts of Fallon, who had in common with Duncan his penchant for spoiling her lovers.

“… I was worried” he smirked softly, before he lowered his lips onto Fallon, and a little thrill of jealousy went through your spine, pushing you to lightly glare at them, annoyed that they weren’t giving you  any attention “… you can’t leave two beautiful women, even more if one is drenched in expensive champagne”.

You felt the gears shifting in Fallon’s head at those words and she smirked at you, turning to join your lips in a kiss, extremely open-mouthed, probably to show Duncan the entire dynamic of it.

“... why don’t you go and shed that drenched dress in my room” she suggested softly on your lips, making you ask for more, your eyes half-closed, in an hazy daze “… we wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, would we?”.

Duncan shook softly his head, a breathless smirk on his face, probably understanding what Fallon wanted, but you were clueless.

Still you obeyed the two of them, going to Fallon’s room, to wait for them, shedding the dress and the lingerie under it, although you kept the panties: a light line of tiny diamons connecting the two pieces in the front and he back, on the sides.

It had been one of Duncan’s most appreciated gifts, alongside your other pair with little pearls that teased you whenever you wore them, making you already drenched, just for Duncan’s cock…

… or, as happened lately, for Fallon’s strap.

You then moved onto the bed, waiting on your stomach for the two, meanwhile you took in Fallon’s elegant room, definitely designed with style and efficiency (and you weren’t going to lie a bit of… flare, but you didn’t mind it too much).

(You had quite grown to like it, with Fallon’s company).

As you felt a little clicking of heels you realized that she was on the threshold, of the room, and you turned lightly to give her a good view of your perky breasts, even going as far as to twirl lightly a nipple, as you looked around.

“… this place is nice, I am going to ask for the interior designer name, me and Duncan are thinking of redecorating our Washington house…” you joked softly, meanwhile Fallon was speechless, taking in your naked body, as you smirked.

“Fuck, now you look fucking beautiful” she commented simply, rushing to the bed, and gently laying on you, the silk of her dress creating a delicious friction on your legs, meanwhile she collected your mouth for a messy kiss, her Dior lipstick staining your Yves-Saint-Laurent one, as you smirked, an hand immediately going to the slit of her dress, inching it up.

“Even more than you?” you joked as your fingers slipped inside her dress, teasing her lightly over the panties “… am I not mommy’s prettiest princess?”.

Fallon wasn’t able to reply, just letting soft shaky breaths, when she was busied by your soft lips and your delicate fingers.

“... what I said about starting without me?” Duncan’s deep voice startled both of you and you turned around lightly, Fallon with a pure look of shame, but you simply smirked, continuing on teasing Fallon, who wasn’t unable to stop herself from letting out a soft moan.

Meanwhile you did this, you were finally able to notice what Duncan held in his hands: a champagne bottle and a glass, something wicked working up in your mind, making you smile lightly.

“… oh, c’mon Daddy, I am just making mommy ready for you, am I not, mommy?” you joked, meanwhile you kissed down Fallon’s exposed neck “… she is so wet… daddy, I can’t wait to feel her”.

Duncan simply mumbled a little ‘mmm’ and he joined you in the bed, setting the champagne bottle in on the ground, it was opened so it was definitely stolen from the party going on downstairs.

“… do you like what our little minx is doing to you, Fallon?” asked Duncan, pushing himself on top of her, his chest to her back “…she is good with her hands, isn’t she?”.

And he pushed his hands onto her covered breast, kneading them softly, meanwhile he focused on biting her ear lobes, in a mix of pain and pleasure that made Fallon moan louder, meanwhile your fingers slipped inside Fallon’s panties, simply pushing them to their side.

At first you teased Fallon’s folds, her eyebrows scrunching alongside her nose, which you kissed softly, almost to comfort her.

Then you finally reached her pearl, smirking as Fallon let out a breathy moan, shaking lightly between you and Duncan, who had raised lightly her dress to allow you an easier access.

You continued on rubbing with attentive touches Fallon’s pearl, meanwhile Duncan reached up to palm Fallon’s cunt, as you softly spread her fold, letting Duncan dip his finger easily, allowing him to enter her with his fingers, and Fallon threw her head back, pleasure coursing through his veins.

Duncan kept a steady rhythm, till Fallon reached the ecstasy point, in a lazy orgasm that made her scrunch up her nose light, again, a sight you found adorable dragging her in a light kiss, meanwhile Duncan licked up his fingers, shining with her juices.

“You made me feel so good” she muttered your lips, once she finished riding her orgasm, as she moved slowly down your body, till she was met with your panties, dragging them down your legs slowly “… now let me and Duncan make you feel good”.

And you were simply able to nod, simply resting you back down onto the soft mattress, meanwhile Duncan went to kiss your lips, sharing Fallon’s flavor with you, as he grabbed the glass from the nightstand and Fallon collected the bottle, pouring the golden liquid in the crystal glass.

“You know that champagne always taste better, if mixed with the taste of your skin?” he asked lightly, meanwhile he twirled lightly the glass, as Fallon smirked, licking a small stripe from your inner thigh to the juncture of your legs and hips, teasing lightly your pubic mound.

“… oh” you simply muttered, as little droplets of champagne fell onto your overheated neck, pushing a pleasurable sensation on your tummy, which Fallon stroked lovingly, tickling you.

Then Duncan’s tongue followed the droplets of champagne on your neck, meanwhile Fallon gained the control of the glass and dropped some other onto your tummy, making it spasm lightly, the coldness definitely surprising you, but her tongue soothed it, meanwhile her plus lips, caressed your hips.

A little mark of red being left in its wake from her lipstick, meanwhile she continued trailing champagne till right on your mound, and Fallon wasn’t certainly shy to lick a bold line from your Venus peak to where your pubis met your stomach, your abs tensing under such a teasing action.

Duncan smirked in your neck, feeling you arch under him, meanwhile your hands set down to explore his back, pushing him closer.

“Sweetie, can you raise your hips for daddy?” he asked softly, pushing a pillow onto the small of your back to keep your back on an higher level so that there would be a light difference in height, which allowed to create a perfect descent.

Perfect to let champagne fall, right onto your pearl: the coldness of it, alongside its bubbles completely awakening a broken moan from you, unable to stop buckling up, although Fallon held you down, before she dared a light lick down there, slurping champagne straight from the source.

“Duncan was fucking right… it tastes better”.

Duncan smirked against your neck, before he dipped down two fingers, rubbing them on some of the champagne mixed with your juices, before he brought it to his lips, moaning around them, because of the perfect taste.

Fallon dropped more, some of it even dirtying the mattress, something which made you lightly laugh and then moan as Fallon’s tongue followed the taste of champagne, in the most private of your secrets, pushing her tongue in and out, meanwhile Duncan’s rubbed your pearl.

It was a torture from heaven, and as Duncan pushed a kiss onto your lips, you understood why they were so… ravenous.

It tasted like fucking ambrosia.

But right when you were reaching the edge, they stopped their ministrations and Fallon retreated from the bed, meanwhile Duncan started undressing, with you raising lightly to help him, although your fingers were clumsy and hasty, desperation coursing through your veins, meanwhile you moaned at their denial.

“Don’t whine, little one” giggled Duncan, pushing you back, pinning your hands over your head, as you smiled silly “…daddy will make it up to you”:

“But I am… so so desperate daddy” you replied, pushing on his hold, trying to get a soft kiss, meanwhile he pushed you back.

“Be patient, little girl” he grabbed her chin, immobilizing you softly onto the bed, meanwhile Fallon reappeared over your shoulder, to which you sent her a pleading look,  but your mood immediately brightened as you saw that she was wearing the strap, your legs immediately brushing together in a desperate attempt to ease the friction “… now, mommy Fallon, here, will fuck your picture perfect pussy, with her big fat cock, meanwhile I’ll fuck your pretty red mouth”:

You nodded, immediately excited, as Duncan moved away from the bed, to push off his boxers, giving you and Fallon a good look of his ass, which she pinched, meanwhile you smirked at his shocked face.

“Don’t make me spank you” he muttered, although his tone wasn’t threatening in the slightest.

Even more because both yours and Fallon’s eyes were glued onto his big and hard cock, swollen with the lack of attention you hadn’t given him.

You licked your lips, already anxious about the treat you would be given soon.

Fallon, oh so jealous Fallon, brought you attention onto her, leaning down to bit down onto one of your tits, making you moan lightly, as your mound accidentally brushed against her strap, making you repeat the movement, wanting to goad her further in you, but she kept it steady and Duncan set himself over your head, his cock right in your face, your lips lightly teasing him as they brushed against it.

And then Fallon pushed herself in you, lightly and slowly.

A little moan escaped you, before it was shushed by Duncan’s cock, completely stealing your breath and you were thankful for Fallon’s attentive movements, stilling and kissing your thighs, as she brought your legs to her hips, to deepen the thrust.

Because Duncan wasn’t so merciful.

He quickly took advantage of you and pushed a ruthless rhythm, one still that you enjoyed because your internal walls gripped Fallon’s strap tighter and tighter but she kept up her gentler rhythm, pushing slowly in and slowly out.

And Duncan just chased his high with your mouth, in a rather vulgar way.

But it wasn’t as vulgar as when he reached down, shoving his cock entirely in your throat, to collect the champagne bottle and with an easy move of his hands, he dipped champagne onto his cock and in your mouth, mixing the pre-cum with it, in something that tasted deliciously contrasting.

Due to the thrust some champagne even ended up onto Fallon’s breasts, drenching your entire body.

Duncan thought it was a complete waste of good champagne and he quickly pushed himself to lick it off, making Fallon moan and her thrusts intensified, following the friction of the strap against you, which felt heavenly in you.

And it was enough.

You were already oversensitive for the previous teasing, and it took Fallon just to find the perfect spot and you were seeing stars, dragging Duncan alongside you, completely engulfed by the heat of your mouth, spilling cum and champagne again in your mouth.

As you came down, the champagne started being less sexy and simply sticky, and you couldn’t help but feel too oversensitive to withhold Fallon anymore in you, and she exited you slowly, making you feel each painful inch, as Duncan did the same, softly coming to your side, exiting your mouth, meanwhile you felt your throat raw and painful, and were thankful when Duncan moved away to collect some towels to clean you up and a glass of water, and Fallon discarded the strap, throwing it carelessly away.

Then she laid down next to you, and although you felt a bit annoyed by the stickiness of the champagne to your skin, you were more than happy to cuddle up to your lover, as she caressed your hair, murmuring about what a ‘dirty mess you were’.

“A dirty mess that we will have fun cleaning” giggled Duncan, pushing a towel up your thighs, awakening your desire again.

“Just no more champagne, I don’t think I can have more” asked Fallon, making you and Duncan laugh.

“I’d never thought I would hear you say that”.

[simonamelville]

David Bowie

Bowie started off his career in in the early 60s, since then he has released 27 studio albums. He was very well recognised for creating different alter egos that would reflect the album that he is releasing, the genre of music that he is creating, as well as the style of clothing and the fashion movements that he is interested in at the time.

With the release of his 3rd album in 1970s ‘The Man Who Sold The World’ came a very boundary pushing album cover. Bowie was featured laying on a vintage sofa wearing a silky dress with a bright floral pattern, as well as long wavy hair. This was the era when Bowie was very interested in androgynous fashion, which at the time was very controversial and uncommon; however, bowie was not afraid. In 1971 he released another album called hunky dory which also reflected his interests in androgyny in the album cover. He is pictured wearing a blue and black fur coat, with matching blue eye shadow and soft pink lipstick as well as having long blonde hair to compliment the look. Like most artists, David Bowie also had a muse which he took inspiration from, which was an American/German singer and actress Marlene Dietrich. She was mostly known for her androgynous sex appeal, as she would be seen wearing men’s suits with a top hat and smoking a cigarette, this was very strange and atypical at the time.

One of the biggest turning points for David Bowie in fashion was when he created his two different alter egos, Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane, the birth of these alter egos was born after he became close friends and had collaborated with one of the most influential fashion designers of all time, Kansai Yamamoto. Yamamoto was the most influential Japanese designer in the 70s/80s, with his bright coloured, Avant Garde clothes. Bowie started gaining a lot of interest in space and space travel around this time, which influenced his alter ego Ziggy Stardust as well as the album ‘The Rise And Fall of Ziggy Stardust’ which was released in 1972. Bowie was influenced by Yamamotos jumpsuit designs, as they reminded him of the astronaut’s suit, as well as singer Legendary Stardust Cowboy. This was also the time period where Yamamoto designed the famous black and white, stripped, oversized jumpsuit for David Bowie which we all recognise to this day. The oversized style was very popular in the early 70s, as well as psychedelic patterns, which Yamamoto was known for. Bowie was also very much in love with silver platform boots, as well as boots with stars in it, as this related to his obsession with space.

A year later Bowie released his next album called ‘Aladdin Sane’. Aladdin was his next famous alter ego that was a continuation of Ziggy, which David bowie described as “Ziggy goes to America”. The album was loosely based on his brother Terry who was diagnosed with schizophrenia. This is also the time period when Yamamoto designed the flamboyant, knitted leotard that Bowie has worn many times on stage as well as in photo-shoots.

As David Bowie became bored of the space themed looks, he decided to take his style in a completely different direction, and for his next album cover of ‘David Live’ he was seen to be wearing the iconic blue suit created by Yves Saint Laurent in 1974. This suit was a very light and bright blue colour, with the classic 4 button jacket, as well as oversized, baggy, pleated, trousers.

The ‘Thin White Duke’ was another famous look of David Bowies that not only inspired the creative director of YSL Hedi Slimane, but keeps on appearing on catwalks year after year. It’s a simple white shirt with large, 70s style collars, worn with a simple black waistcoat and well-fitted pleated black suit trousers. This look is from the album which was released in 1976 ‘Station to Station’.

In the late 90s Bowie started working closely with the upcoming, talented fashion designer Alexander McQueen, for his 1996 tour. Alexander McQueen has also created the well known ‘Union Jack’ coat that Bowie has worn on his ‘Earthling’ album cover in 1997.

David Bowie will always be remembered as one of the most influential icons in the music industry as well as the fashion world. He has always been boundary-breaking and fearless of any controversy that he might be facing with any of his outfits. Bowie dressed in the clothes that he liked and wore the designs that meant something deeper to him, not just because he liked the way it looked. He always found meaning in everything he created and felt passionate about, his music and his fashion was very personal and contextual, and that is why he was and always will be one of the most inspirational and influential people in the world of art.

[cam-rowe]

(If I ever get married) I would most definitely want to wear something similarly to what Bianca Jagger wore on her wedding day. She was ahead of her time with the suits. Reminds me of Katherine Hepburn in the 40’s wearing menswear. But if you look at Yves Saint Laurent who dressed Bianca a lot, he was ahead of his time when it came to dressing women.

I’m with you on that! Em Rata took inspiration from Bianca Jagger for her wedding day and she looked great.

Yes, I do feel like there’s a link between the way Katherine Hepburn, even more so Marlene Dietrich dressed and the way Bianca Jagger did. Bianca Jagger definitely added a more bohemian take to it, and later on took inspiration from the glitzy/sleazy 80s disco era.

Yves Saint Laurent, as a fashion house, was revolutionary up until the 2010’s. The brand has churned out so many major collections that have changed fast/ready to wear fashions. It’s a shame that it’s gone to utter shit since the direction of Anthony Vaccarello. Hedi Slimane did an amazing job at reviving the brand so it’s very upsetting to see that the brand has gone backwards after all his hard work.

[talbottoalam]

Hedi Slimane by Benjamin Chait

Aesthetics define photography and they also help in shaping a fashion sensibility. For French designer and photographer Hedi Slimane (born Paris, France, 1968) they are one in the same. Slimane is most widely recognized for his work as a fashion designer and creative director for the houses of Yves Saint Laurent, Dior Homme, Saint Laurent, and currently for his position at the house of Celine. His fashion designs are in many ways married to his photographs, specifically in their shared obsessions with youth, rock n’ roll, glamour, and California. Born in Paris, Slimane remembers picking up his first black and white camera at age eleven to begin recording the time he was living in.According to him, his preference for black and white photographs dates back all the way to Nadar, who Slimane feels is the father of the French photographic tradition he participates in with his camera. Following his departure from his first appointment at a fashion house in 2000, Slimane began a residency at the Kunst-Werke Institute for Contemporary Art in Berlin and published his first book of photographs. Throughout his many high-profile and highly profitable appointments within the fashion industry, photography has remained a constant focus for Slimane.

Naturally his talent as a photography and his talents at clothing designers would bleed into one and another, (and with the power appointed to him by his role as creative director) and so Slimane began shooting his own fashion campaigns, first at Saint Laurent and then at Celine. Before Slimane’s first runway debut for Celine’ Spring/Summer 2019 collection, he began “teasing” the world with his vision for the house by posting his photographs to the brand’s Instagram account. Fashion critic Robin Givhan noted that the photographs were united in that they all featured “young, androgynous models staring into the camera and looking vaguely dissolute.” This choice of subject is something that crosses over between Slimane’s fashion work (both photography and design) and his personal photographs.

Slimane’s photographs that were used as advertisements for Celine (figures 1-3) show a range in his fashion design abilities, but a rather singular, if not limited vision as a photographer. All the photographs were presented through Instagram with the Celine-branded format. The portrait of Liv is one of the teaser shots and shows a thin female form wearing an extravagant couture dress. What makes it Slimane is the messy unkempt hair and skeletal frame. Having Liv’s back positioned towards the camera adds an aura an anonymity—this could be any woman, hopefully a client. Within this series of ads is a similar photograph, but here the work is a color photograph and of a male model with long blonde hair modeling a leopard-print jacket. The texture of long shaggy hair is almost surfer life, and beautifully contrasts with the pattern of the jacket. Slimane does not often use color in his work, but it may have been a pressure brought about by the demands of social media (color photos tend to be more popular) and the business side of Celine who may feel that a color image better shows a range in offerings from Slimane’s collection. Fashion photographer is a tricky art to master as there are other considerations beyond the story and the aesthetic needs of the image; the clothes must look desirable. The concept of fashion photography is nothing new to Slimane, who has shot stories for Elle, V Magazine, and Vogue Russia. He told The New York Times, “Occasionally, I would shoot fashion photography, but it is a photographic repertoire of its own, and about a certain romanticism, precisely composed, with a production, groomers, stylist, etc.”

One of the ads, by default considered a fashion photograph, is a still-life shot of disco balls in Berlin taken by Slimane. Without product visible in the shot, the suggestion is that music and night clubs are an essential part of the Slimane’s vision for the brand.  The music scene has been a relentless reference for Slimane, along with the subcultures of skating and surfing which he started shooting in 2007 when he moved to California from Paris. While at Saint Laurent Slimane photographed a series of rock icons such as Courtney Love, Marilyn Manson, and Joni Mitchell in an ongoing campaign. The obsession with these subcultures is best documented on Slimane’s website, hedislimane.com/diary. This ongoing photo project was launched in 2006 and is full of thousands of images of his life in Los Angeles and around the world. They are all in black and white with high contrast and strong grain. Most images do not feel stage, but instead assume the atmosphere of a photographer on commission to capture a secret youth society that you will never be invited to join. Prevalent in this body of work is Slimane’s obsession with young, thin, blonde men. This is evident in three photos from a series published on his website in the fall 2017 (figures 3-6). Two photographs are live action shots of skateboarders in action. The long messy blonde hair mirrors the style seen in his later Celine ads; from a Californian skate park to a high fashion house in Paris. The shots are irreverent and also extremely beautiful. The black and white adds a sense of balance and serenity to the chaotic scene taking place. Though Slimane has stated he likes to keep his photographic work under his name to protect his creative boundaries, there are clear trends between his life in Los Angeles and his fashion collections. His photographs provide the key to this. Though the handsome young man in figure 4 is a part of the Californian skate subculture, his likeness in Slimane's photograph stamps him with a fashionable, even sexualized gaze. His skinny frame, boy-like features, and undefined age suggest a creepy aspect to Slimane’s work. Slimane's fascination with a certain type of youth (white, thin, rebellious) penetrates his personal and professional fashion photographs. The only difference is really the background and the context. Slimane told the Business of Fashion that he is trying to recapture parts of his youth through his photographs, saying, “I always looked at my own youth with a distance. I was not really part of the action, and watched all my friends around me through a lens, the observation of the fields of possible emerging talents and restless behaviors.”[8] His photographs, whether they be his fashion photographs or his personal diary, display a singular style of the highest technical quality. Together they form a unique vocabulary, making mundane sub-cultures and grungy rock shows feel glamorous, and injecting a sense of rebellion and youth into high fashion.

The young kids that populate his photographs and inspire his fashion collections, be them models, rock stars, or skaters, surrender their devil-may-care sense of cool to Slimane. Slimane is not cool himself, per se. But his photographs are, and so are his collections. Of course, the lives of those skater kids are not particularly enviable. They only become so after they are glamorized, really aestheticized by Slimane’s lens. This is why Slimane is not—contrary to his own beliefs—a reportage photographer.  Furthermore, participating in the fashion system only makes one a cog in a larger capitalist machine. Buying a Celine leopard-print jacket will not transform one into a cool long-haired skater, the kind of man Slimane fetishizes in his photographs. But perhaps that is the very brilliance of Hedi Slimane; he makes things appear more desirable than they actually are. His consumers are on some level conscious that his photographs fuel the desirability of his clothing collections. And yet they buy them anyway. The subjects of Slimane’s diary photographs will never be able to purchase the clothing he designs, and yet they pose for him. Each camp markets in what the other will never have. Slimane acts as the middle man. Through his photographs and collections, he has mastered and commodified the one thing that is certain to fade: youth.