°•

"No, over there," Zayn groaned, walking towards the cat walk and beckoning a mover towards him.

Crissle watched him in awe, surprised how level headed he was being during one of the most important events for him this year.

He was doing a fashion show in which young artists displayed their talents and Zayn chose at least one with his brand and the rest got with designers on a more discreet and underground level. He explained how both were beneficial because underground artists were in higher demand and anyone working with Zayn were also. It may have sounded conceited, but he was actually right.

Crissle looked up just in time to see Zayn run a hand through his hair. Most of the blonde was out now and his beard was more scruffier than ever.

She loved it.

"Crissle, come here."

She got up, clipboard in hand, and walked up to her boss. "Yes, sir?"

"What else do we have to check?"

"Uh, the catwalk, the actual designers, the models who are running late, and the security guards. Also, check your emails and look at the VIP lists to see who reserved front row seats, and," she scanned the paper one more time, "oh, and the host."

Zayn sat on the edge of the catwalk, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He looked at her. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Zayn?" she leaned beside him, her elbows resting on the catwalk.

"It's our one year anniversary and you're spending it under my orders," he pouted, "I should have looked at the date better. You know what? Forget this whole thing, I can just do it tomorrow--"

"No, you can't," she shut him up with a quick kiss, "Zayn, it's fine--"

"But--"

Crissle kissed him again, a little harder than the first. "Zayn, if you cancel this showcase I'm breaking up with you. It's fine, only a year."

"Only? That's a long time for me."

"Really?"

"Mhm," he hummed, "especially with you. My favorite person."

She grinned, hiding her cheeks with the clipboard. Zayn chuckled, pulling the clipboard away and kissing her lips once again.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, Zayn."

°•

"Damn, babe," Zayn licked his lips when she turned around to meet his eyes.

"What? Is anything showing?" she asked insecurely, looking down at her stomach. As his girlfriend, Crissle was to sit in the front row of the fashion show beside him. And since she wanted to fit with the all black and sleek theme, she wore something that she never thought she would.

It was a simple body suit with fabric blocking, meaning some was sheer and other parts weren't. The material was thin and only bedazzled at the cuffs and turtleneck line. The sheer parts were what made her self-conscious because she couldn't wear a bra or underwear so she felt exposed.

Zayn made the suit, so it was his fault.

"Nah," he hummed as his barber brushed his hair. The idiot decided to cut his hair more and put silver dye in it. He looked so good. "It's perfect."

"Well," she smoothed the already clingy material down. It went over every curve of her body. "I don't know."

"Babe, you're fine."

"Are my nipples showing?" she pressed, "because I feel like--"

"Baby girl, come here," Zayn beckoned with a roll of his eyes. She huffed, sitting next to him and pouting. "Why are you acting like this? I thought you said you liked it."

"I do."

"Then what's wrong?" he paid his barber when he was finished and sat up straighter in the chair. It was just them in the dressing room now.

"I...I just didn't know it was gonna show this much. Like, my butt and my chest--"

"It's not showing as much as you think," he said, "I mean, it's a partially sheer bodysuit but there's enough bedazzling to cover your flower."

"Flower?" she repeated with a grin.

Zayn rolled his eyes again. "What did you expect?" he sighed, "if you don't wanna wear it, I understand--"

"No, no, I wanna wear it," she chanted, getting up, "I just have to calm down," she stared at herself in the large dressing room mirror, the bright bulbs around it making good lighting.

It was obvious her nipples were showing, that was the sheer part. The only parts that were completely opaque were the wrist, turtleneck, ankles, and her "flower". But it was sleek, so it wasn't tacky looking, the bedazzling looking Locke metallic shards all over her body. she loved the subtlety of the bodysuit, hence why she wanted to wear it.

Crissle grabbed the choker she was to wear and clipped it around her neck, it had a turquoise stone in the middle and it was silver. The actual choker part was made of a strong black, but thin rope. She decided to keep it.

"Okay," she took a breath, still conscious of Zayn's eyes trailing over her body. Crissle's hair was as big as ever, the results of her twist out making her a happy hoe. She applied the dark brown lipstick and fixed her mascara. "Done."

"No you're not," he said gently, "shoes."

"God," she huffed, walking over and stepping into the pointed black heels.

"It only seems right."

"Andrea is gonna flip and so is my mother," she giggled, standing in front of the mirror and taking out her phone. Zayn decided to finally put some clothes on since he was supposed to be the star of the show. Everybody was here for him and the next upcoming young artists.

Crissle turned and took pictures of Zayn's back muscles and his chicken legs. "Babe, you look so good."

"Quit," his cheeks became pink and she cooed, "fuck you."

°•

Zayn was the king of all black attire.

He looked like an actual sugar daddy, a black and fitted turtleneck on his torso and sleek black pants along with dark brown leather dress shoes. His silver hair was to die for and he wore those same glasses he always did just to fuck her up. His beard was nice and scruffy and the sleeves of his shirt were scuffed up to his forearms. He had minimal jewelry, a few rings with a stone to match Crissle's choker and a Rolex on his wrist. His nose ring was in along with all three of his earrings.

(Two on one side.)

She felt really good about herself in the bodysuit, her boobs weren't even that big to begin with so she didn't understand why she was making a big deal out of it. Confidence was key, and with a man like Zayn to uplift her and tell her how fucking fine she looked, nothing could stop her.

Zayn was very attentive during the whole show, making small comments about the designs and sometimes his face gave it all away. He was right, there were photographers taking pictures at every angle, and even some of the A List people that showed up were only there for him.

"That one's sick," Zayn nodded to the man walking down the aisle. It was the superhero round, meaning the contestants had to do at least two designs -- one man and one woman -- of a made up character. Zayn's favorite round.

Crissle wasn't bored, per se, she was just hungry. And a bit tipsy.

"Do they have fries here?"

"Here, fam," Harry said from beside Zayn. Him and Liam showed up just to see how the event was going. They liked shit like that for some reason.

"Thanks," Crissle grabbed his carton of curly fries and smiled, "is this Arby's?"

"Only the best curly fries in town."

"Yes--"

"Guys," Zayn snapped, not looking at either one of them. His hand stayed on Crissle's thigh, though. That was his spot.

"Sorry, babycakes," Crissle giggled, kissing his cheek lightly.

"Harry, don't let anyone else give her wine tonight. That was her eighth glass."

"Got it."

"Anything to get me through this night," she burped and covered her mouth, "oh, that's nice," she looked at the girl walking the catwalk, "she kinda copied Wonder Woman."

"That's what I was thinking," he furrowed his eyebrows, "I'll definitely let Stabler have this designer."

"Stabler? Detect--"

"Shut up, Criss," he laughed, finally glancing at her, "no, another company, babe."

"Oh."

"You're not going to the after party."

She frowned. "Yes huh. They have better wine."

Zayn shook his head, grinning as he turned back to the show. "Fine, just sober up first."

°•

hey babies, did I already tell yous crissle was solange? welp

quick question: honestly, should I have a sequel?

honestly.

anyway, I just published a Reece King fic if you wanna take a gander. And my Fine Wine fic thanks. no pressured