Hey y'all. Sorry for not updating in so long but I've been bust for weeks now about school and such. I hope you guys can understand and enjoy Niall as Male Cruelle De Ville. ≧ω≦
Many times, you had wished that you had just quite your job already. He was getting so difficult to work with. All the patterns and designs you had offered, you didn't know what to do after he denied every single one. He denied every fabric, texture, color, design, and anything else there was!
He may have been a fashion icon, but he was also a fashion diva.
You were trying so hard to come up with something to use as a design or fabric when you can't even get your head to work straight. You had been sick for the past three days and your cold had just gotten worse. You were so tempted to go back to sleep all the time, but you loved making new fashions and you loved dealing with the people that helped you become a designer in the first place.
But there was a new person that joined the critics.
It was said that he was poise, but serious. Straight, but blunt. He didn't say many words, but only a few expressions and it made everyone hate you. He had done made Jérôme Jenkins leave and Mandy Morena cry in hysteria. He was one of the most infuriating, but one of the most exhilarating critics in fashion there was.
Scribble after scribble, idea after idea, paper after paper; wasted. You could not figure out any idea that would be suitable to show the critics for the mini secret show of your designs. But you were a procrastinator that could get anything done in a hurry. It was absolutely crazy, but amazing.
You were in your office, just trying to figure out an idea, when Paisley, your assistant, came in in a rush. She was panting for a second and brushed her red hair away from her face. "Paisley, what's wrong?" you asked her curiously. You were slightly worried someone had quit or any critics were there, a week early. "Paisley?" you were wary of her answer.
She took a breath and then straightened. "Mr. ... Mr. Horan is on line two," you were confused as to who was Mr. Horan, and just as you were going to ask her, she says, "He's the new critic."
Your face and mind went blank and you couldn't help the lump that formed in your throat. Your breathing was more heavy in breathes that you felt yourself heaving almost. With a shaking nod, you motioned her to leave and counted to three as you closed your eyes. "Hello, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." you went into professional mode, thinking about all your achievements and tried to talk cockily and arrogantly as you answered the infamous new fashion critic.
There was a pause before you heard an accented voice through the phone. "Miss (Y/N)," you wanted to melt at his voice, "I will be coming Wednesday at five pm sharp. I expect to see your work as soon as I come in. I will want a caramel macchiato with a blueberry tea cake as soon as I sit down. You will show me your designs within the hour and then I will leave and you can fix everything I don't like-"
"Woah woah woah," you started, standing up in your chair. "Excuse my French but," you started your pissed off tone just as soon as Liam, a worker that often controls one of the sewing machines, comes in as you speak. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, and frankly, I do not care, but you are not to fucking tell me what to do. I am my own boss and if you wish to see my designs, then you will wait like everyone else. Just because you are some new hotshot, Hollywood fashion critic that's new on the block, doesn't mean that I am going to give you special treatment. I'm sorry but if you cannot wait like everyone else, then you will not be allowed to see my designs. Good day you bloody jackass!" you slammed the phone down on the receiver, ending the call.
Liam just stared at you wide-eyed, not expecting you to lash out on someone on the phone. You were normally the most kind and caring boss that has ever existed, but when you got pissed, everyone steered clear. "What is it Liam?" you asked impatiently.
He shook in his spot, but finally answered, "S- Sybil needs more fab- fabric for the designs you- you wanted." with a nod of your head, you sighed and then apologized for screaming at him as he speed walked away from your office.
.....
The weekend came and went, but you were still tired as fuck. You had come up with a Spring and Summer Collection but you still needed the other two seasons to even be finished. You had until next Saturday until you had to present to all those critics that were coming to view your new fashion sense.
You were a crazy person when it came to fashion. It didn't matter if any of the critics liked your clothes; they were basically the ones that reviewed the items before you sold them to others, even if they didn't go all the way to Paris. You still sold clothes and accessories, so their snobby opinions didn't matter much to you anyway.
With a big sigh, you got up and decided to go for a walk to the stores to think of some ideas for your line. You threw on your jean jacket as you locked your door and walked to the elevator. It was so hard for you to actually think about trying to find two more collections to show when you now have five days to come up with them.
Autumn had come a bit early this year and you drew you coat closer to your body for warmth. The air was crisp and breezy, making your hair go everywhere. Your beanie covered a majority of your hair, but the flyaways got on your nerves. It was only three o'clock in the afternoon and you couldn't help but feel like wanting to get a latte.
You had decided to go into a coffee shop and started thinking of a few different designs for doing or lines. You couldn't help but be torn between these two certain ones that you just felt that you needed to let the whole word see. Of course, your train of those gets interrupted by the ring of your phone. Rolling your eyes and grabbing your latte, you sat down near one of the windows as you answer it.
"Yes, it's (Y/N). What's the news?" you already knew who it was so you didn't bother with be so formal.
You were stirring your latte when you heard his voice. "The news is that I'm here, waiting to see your designs, but it appears that you're not here.." you could hear him screaming at your workers for a drink and something to "nibble on while he waits".
To say you were pissed was an understatement.
"Look here Mr. Horan, you first call me to schedule the showing just for you a day early than original and then I decline it. And now, you show up five days before originally planned and your yelling at my workers? How dare you Horan! You know what," you yelled through the damn phone. "I am informing you of some new information Mr. Horan; you are banned from the show." and with that, you hung up.
You were so furious at the fact that the man whom didn't care about anyone but himself had the nerve of call you at all, and especially on your days off. With a huff, you stormed out of the coffee place with only one thing in mind; clothes.
.....
You had finally finished the line and was so excited to show everyone the clothes and how your designs were. The clothes were already made, but you just hadn't showed anyone at the moment. The show was today at three and you were going to show the major critics.
Pasiely was so enthusiastic to see your clothes that you couldn't believe that she had worked with you for five years. It was like she had never seen your clothes up close before and it meant everything to her. She was acting crazy, but you could only hope that the fashion critics could do the same.
With deep breaths, you felt yourself calm down and your nerves simmer. Putting a smile on your face, you managed to calm yourself down. When Paisley left your office and went to gather the critics, you breathed in and out, getting yourself ready for the show. You gathered up your paperwork and extra things before locking your office. When you turned the corner, you were grabbed from behind and found yourself in one of the empty drawing rooms.
Your heart beated erratically in your chest as your eyes found a pair of blue ones. It was strange to have someone so intimantly close. You could not speak with the hand over your mouth. Instead, you heard a voice. "Now, now (Y/N). We wouldn't want to ruin your career now, would we?" came the snarly remark as you yanked away in disgust.
You staggered back and gave him a dirty look. "Louis," you seethed, "what the hell are you doing here?" You hadn't seen him since he last took advantage of your time and stole his (your) newest line.
He gave you a charming smile - well, it would have been charming if it wasn't for the look in his icy blue eyes. "Oh (Y/N)," he chuckled sickly sweet. "It's been so long since we've seen one another... I thought we were friends," he pouted as you gave him a scowl in return. After a few seconds of looking at you with his infamous pout, he finally shrugs his shoulders. "Guess not." his face turn stoic as he leans towards you to grab you.
You yanked back and spat at him, "Stay the fuck away from me Tomlinson. I'm warning you," your eyes narrowed at him as he took a step towards you.
"You're going to give me what I want," he growled. His hand grabs your wrist and pulls you close to his strangely muscular body with a stern look on his face. His nostrils flared with rage as his eyes burned with icy flames. You knew this wasn't going to end well. You flinched as you prepared yourself for the hit. "Whether you like it or not!"
You waited for the physical contact to come upon you.
You waited..
And waited...
And waited for it to come, but it never did.
"What the hell do you think you're doing to Miss (Y/L/N)?"
You couldn't believe the voice you heard. It was a pure miracle.
"Well?" Mr. Horan's voice was impatient and dark.
You could not see him since he was behind you, but you could hear the tone of his voice and you knew that he wasn't playing any games. Louis smiled down at you and loosened his grip in you, but didn't let you go. Giving you a slight smirk, he turns to Mr. Horan and explains, "(Y/N) and I are very good friends and we were just... Discussing some things," he looked down at you suggestively. You cringed at his face and flinched away.
Mr. Horan growled. "I don't think so Tomlinson. I suggest you get your hands off her this instant or I shall make it to where you will never work in fashion again - not even picking up scraps of cloth." You noticed the fear in his eyes as he retreated from you. Louis took one look at you and smiled darkly before leaving the room.
You let out the breath you didn't realize you were withholding and moved your wrist in a circular motion. You thought about saying a thank you to the devilish man behind you, but you figured it would go to his ego. But either way if he was genuine about it or egotistical, you had manners. "Thank you," you turned around to find him right in front of you. "Mr. Horan."
You had never seen this man before making you hard to comprehend. The man in front of you was adorably childish looking but still had the build of a man. His hair was scooped up, showing off his darken roots. With great haste, you took a step back and found him in a button up shirt and jeans. He looked professional, but intimidating.
His mouth held a slight smile. "So does this mean I'm allowed back in?"
His words took you by surprise as you came back to reality and realized where you were and who you were. Breathing, you swallowed your pride and decided it was the right thing to do. "No way in hell."
You gave him a sweet smile before walking out if the room briskly.
.....
It was later that day and every critic was in their spot for the mini fashion show. The models were ready and the clothes looked fabulous. You couldn't wait until the show actually started. The lights went down as the runway was lit up. Music started in the speakers and you could already feel the thickness in the air.
Louis was in the room, but you had already had security stationed by the brat. Mr. Horan was nowhere to be found and you were feeling ecstatic. With a smile, you watched the curtains open and out came your first line; Spring.
The outfits were dazzling the crowd. Many loved your ideas and the clothing. They looked better than you ever imagined they would be. The smile on your face was never taken away as you relished in the feeling of being noticed and loved for what you do. You truly loved your passion and wouldn't give it up for the world.
You hears many good comments, and a few bad ones, but they still brighten up your sights on your clothes. There was a few tweeking you could have done to fix a few pieces, but you were satisfied with it over all. Once that line was finished and all the claps were silenced, the Summer line came out.
You were so happy by the time the line was halfway done. It brought tears to your eyes as others were in awe and surprise. You were so into it that you didn't realize that someone had sat down next to you. Your hands gripped the paper plan out of the fashion show as you heard the applause.
It was a few more moments of silence before another song rang out through the speakers and the Fall line came out. You were at the edge of your seat as you watched the clothes come out. It was thrilling to see your clothes on the runway and how people would make happy noises and talk lowly about your clothing items. Halfway through the line, a hand touched yours and you turned to your left to see the infamous Mr. Horan. "What the hell are you doing here?" You whispered saltily.
He only smiled and puts a finger to his lips, silencing you and turning back to the line of clothes. You were apalled at the fact that he was even besides you, let alone him shushing you. You wanted to slap his face until your hand turned numb. He was supposed to be your enemy right? You were supposed to hate him because of his attitude and how he's talked to you. The only am out of respect you ever could ever give him was because he saved you from the arrogant and fake Louis Tomlinson.
But the thing was, he never let go of your hand.
Many people loved the Fall line as much as the Summer, but you loved the Winter style that you had created. As the music stopped and changed to a slower beat, you felt pride as you watched the line come out.
Many applauded as soon as they came out and modeled the clothes. You were on cloud nine as the clothes came out and were presented. It was just the fact that you had done something amazing and fabulous. You were really proud of yourself for what you've done.
When the crowd stood up afterwards when the show was done, you smiled so hard, you felt tears in your eyes. That moment in time was the best you had ever experienced in you time because you had officially become a famous designer.
.....
It was days later when you heard the critics words. There were many in the crowd that day, so you knew there would be many good and not so good reviews. So far, the only review that you had not gotten was from Mr. Horan himself.
It was half past five when Zayn came rushing in with Paisley. The two of them were hard workers, and lovers. You've told them many times to get a room and to behave. They were crazy about each other, but they also knew when to quit. Zayn was a friend you met at a local art gallery and you admired his work.
"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" Paisley screamed as soon as they walked into the door. She gave you no time to prepare as she flung a magazine at you in happiness.
Zayn had a grin on his face as he watched the two of you. "Turn to page fourteen," he said knowingly. You had no idea what they were trying to pull, but you cautiously picked up the magazine and saw that it was Vogue's newest magazine out.
You were genuinely curious as you flipped to the fourteenth page and found a faminlar man on the page. His hair was tossed to the side and thin line formed on his face. The title read: Niall Horan’s Reviews: Fashion Week In Paris. You looked up at the two lovers and gave them an inquiring gaze.
"Go on; just read it (Y/N)." Zayn smiles.
Rolling your eyes, you read through the first four reviews of Paris and its settling, along with its people. You frown when you come to the part about the mini fashion show that took place there.
"With great fascination and my utmost respect, (Y/N) (L/N) has made more than just an insatiable appetite for her passion of work, but has made a boundary called the (Y/N) that only few can pass. She has made a 2ork of art not only to us critics, but to the people as a whole. I hope to see more work that will leave me wanting more.."
You mouth was slack as you looked from the two to back at the magazine page. It was silent for a few moments before you went to speak, but the phone rang. Picking up the vibrating object, you answer. "Have you seen my review yet?" your throat was dry and your voice lost itself. You couldn't believe that he had actually written that; like, he ligitly wrote it. And now he's on the phone with you.
"Well?" asked the impatient man.
"Oh uh, I'm so sorry. Um, thank you.. thank you so much for the review," you had no idea where the waterworks came from, but you just couldn't help yourself. “I really do appreciate it.. so much.” you hated how your voice sounded, but you were really grateful for his words. They gave you happiness and joy in life.
You heard his chuckle through the phone. "How about you let me take you to dinner and call it truce, eh?"
For the first time, in a long time, you giggled. "Truce.."
Hey guys, I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in SOOOO FUCKING LONG! Imma real bitch. But hey, Happy New Years! Have fun and stay believing! ≧∇≦
2017!!