Okay, so imagine this- Harry is a model, right? He’s fucking gorgeous. The camera loves him. Every designer on the planet wants him, because no male model in the business has the same way of making themselves look like they were born to wear the clothes like he does.
And, at 24, Niall is the most sought after fashion photographer in the world. He’s done covers and shoots for every major fashion magazine out there. So he’s not really surprised when GQ calls him up and offers him full creative control for their Christmas cover and a feature spread. And Niall has been dying to do a cover for GQ, because he’s tired of the boring, repetitive pattern that they’ve gotten themselves into. You can do so much more with male models than just have them smile at the camera in a suit against a white backdrop.
The only catch is that they want to feature ‘Fashion’s rising star’, Harry Styles, for it. And Niall has heard of Harry, of course, heard that he’s a dream in front of the camera, but he’s never actually worked with him before. But- Full creative control of a GQ cover and an 8 page spread. So of course Niall signs on. This kid could be the world’s biggest pain in the ass, and Niall would still sign on.
By the day of the shoot, both of them are nervous. Niall has done a lot of shoots, but he’s never had this kind of responsibility before. And Harry has been on so many runways and shoots that they’ve stopped affecting him, but this is Niall Horan. This is the man who made Harry want to be a model in the first place, because he wanted to be half as beautiful as the pictures that Niall has put out there.
And then they meet, and holy shit – Pictures don’t do Harry justice. Niall isn’t sure his camera could ever capture the roiling storm of beauty that is Harry Styles. Even sitting there in a mini-robe, his hair only half done and his eyes closed as he downs an entire cup of coffee to try to wake himself up, he looks fucking heaven sent. And fuck – Why does he have to play with his lip like that? And Niall is positive that Harry should be dressed by now, so why is he completely naked under the damn robe, which he doesn’t even have the decency to fasten up completely before Niall’s brain can short-circuit and make him babble like an idiot.
And Harry is half asleep when some blond introduces himself, but he must be dreaming, because this guy is too fucking perfect for words. He has to be a dream. He’s hitting so many of Harry’s buttons that it’s not even funny with his rosy complexion, and that Irish lilt, and those eyes that are so blue they’re practically screaming at him about the ocean. And Harry is a bit too distracted by how pink the guy’s lips are and what pretty shapes they make when he speaks to actually pay attention to the words he’s saying, until he hears that name. Niall Horan.
It’s just not fair that the photographer is this pretty. That a man who should be in front of the camera, who should be on every runway from New York to Milan (even if he is a bit short), and who should be fighting Harry tooth and nail for every shoot they can book, is actually the one who makes Harry’s heart race every time he releases new pictures. It’s not fucking fair.
And maybe Harry flirts a bit too much, spends too much time trying to entice Niall into his pants to focus on how he’s actually supposed to be showing them off now that the shoot has started. He can see that his complete lack of professionalism is beginning to make Niall lose his calm, but he likes the flush that covers Niall’s face and follows the line of his neck until it dips into his shirt, begging Harry to chase it with his lips.
But Niall has had enough. Enough of Harry playing around like a fool and giving cheeky winks and stupid poses that exaggerate his delectable arse. It’s making him look completely incompetent in front of the entire crew, so he sends them all out, leaving himself alone with Harry.
He waits until he hears the door close, and then growls out, “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’d heard that you were magnificent in front of the camera, so why are you acting like such a little shit?”
“Tell you what-” Harry hums, loosening his tie and walking across the space between them with all the predatory grace of a wolf on the hunt. “Agree to go out with me tonight, and I’ll be every bit the perfect model.”
And Niall argues with him, but he’s mostly sputtering and grasping at illusionary straws about professionalism that become harder to find with every bat of Harry’s eyelashes, until he finally agrees. Of course the rest of the shoot goes off without a hitch. And, despite his protests, he ends up picking one of the pictures of Harry laughing at one of his own terrible (endearingly so) jokes from early on in the shoot to be the cover. It’s the highest selling issue in four years.
So when Niall wakes Harry up on Christmas morning, four months from the day they met, he presents Harry with a very special version of that issue. Cover to cover, the only pictures are of Harry. A lot of them are from the shoot, but most are from the time afterwards, from their first date up until two nights ago when he had to get his mock up to a printer if he wanted it in time. And it’s filled with retellings about their dates, rather than the usual articles and stories. The food section has all of Harry’s favorite recipes, and the style section has pictures of Harry sitting around Niall’s flat in the blond’s clothes, rather than his own, because he looks as good in joggers and ratty t-shirts as he does in Gucci and Prada.
And Harry may cry just a little bit, because he never really saw himself as beautiful, through all of his career, until he started to see himself the way that Niall sees him. So when Niall finishes off the gift with a key to his flat, and a card saying that he’s pretty sure that Harry is the reason he ever picked up a camera in the first place, Harry is wrecked, and proceeds to wreck Niall in return.
prguitarman
amandla
blakekathryn
gracieabrams
romaincrisis
jacobvanloon
ellievsbear
