football imagines [requests open]

ben chilwell.

soignés

Ben glanced over himself in the mirror, trying to look around Y/N constantly circling him. His outfit was too basic and apparently, that was on him. "I feel like this is a bit excessive, don't you think?" They believed there was something to fix about his fit but he had his doubts. Not because Y/N couldn't fix it; there was only so much you could do for an informal gathering with your friends.

Y/N lifted their chin and Ben did the same, giving perfect access to his collar. They began to adjust it, huffing out a laugh. "You asked for my help, and now you're questioning that same help?" They laughed off their joke knowing Ben was one to be indecisive with his clothing. So creative with it yet lost in fashion. One day he could put together a fit from head to toe by himself. Another day he would scramble for someone's advice, Y/N being his first and only option.

"I know but--"

"Just be patient with it, Ben. I promise," they assured him, smiling through their glasses. "Give it a few more minutes and I'll be done."

So Ben nodded with no disagreements and kept perfect composure for Y/N to work on his appearance. I mean that's all he could do for now. To keep perfect composure, to witness his partner, Y/N – his stylist – form his fit as they perceived it should be.

Dressing himself—it was something that the player could do himself. He had the range and the originality and the ease when it came to pairing one article of clothing with one another. It took a minute to perfect to a certain degree, sure, but he could do it. Something that he was complimented on, something he was encouraged to invest in by others, something he, too, could see himself doing as a side hustle to his career. But when he stood himself next to Y/N, he simply couldn't reach their ankles even by the least.

They were his stylist after all. Knowing and perfecting the art of decorating with clothes was their profession. They took great care in what they did. How they would leave a few buttons undone; how they would tell him to wear one colour jumper over the other; how they would advise Ben to wear a smart shirt one size too large (or too small) to conceal (or compliment) his figure—Y/N always understood what was best for his appearance. Never was their work over nor underwhelming and Ben, of course, was always left satisfied.

From the beginning of time, from when Ben was simply just a lost client to their partner, Y/N has been styling him for time. He put his trust in them with everything he wore, and never was there regret with any of it. Ben could surprise himself some days. Wearing clothing out of his comfort zone, maybe something that others would question or mock. But he didn't care. He gave them his trust, and never did they let that go astray. And that was something for him to love and admire about Y/N. They gave him the confidence to believe that he could look good in anything. Not because they were a stylist; it was their personal words to him before their fashion input.

He focused his sight on Y/N in the mirror, slowly cocking his head to the side. Their own outfit was made up of so much of everything. An art teacher, one of high fashion. Style modern and full of youth and creatively simple. No real definition to what they chose to wear, a rather grey fashion sense. Drift sophistication and elegance in their dress and detail, so subtle yet you could seldom miss it—maybe even flashy. It was inevitable that all of them would turn up in all of him and his outfits.

Y/N looked up at the bathroom mirror when they heard his laugh. "Okay, just some small changes but--" they stood beside Ben and tilted their head. There was no shame in inspecting your own works. "--very much needed if I do say so myself."

One glance over his attire was just about enough to judge. Turning his face side to side, he grinned. "I honestly just come to terms with the fact that you're so much cooler than me." And Ben was right with his opinion. Always did Y/N do him right by his outfits. It was the small changes that fascinated him. Never were they generic; they suited everything to be for him. Materialism remained optional in his attire. He was given what he would like – what he might just like – and anything he would do if he styled himself but just so much better.

Y/N scoffed, shaking their head. "And since when was that not the case?" Ben pulled Y/N into his side, the two laughing in their shared bathroom while admiring one another in the mirror. There was something so stunning and handsome about a couple who could dress so well.

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I want to start taking requests on my tumblr account @blueaetherr so if you're on there, don't hesitant to drop an ask!