Hello, Durarara fandom. *huge smile*
I've never written a Shizaya fic before, since I'm currently hiding in the KuroBasu section. But I couldn't help my love for this pairing, so one day, I came up with the idea of a fashion show. As stupid as it sounds, it's not really that bad. Just bear with me? I just hope you guys like this idea, since I can't stop writing it.
Okay, first thing's first. This is an AU. There might be A LOT of OOC'ness, so sorry in advance. Also, I am not a native english speaker, so sorry for grammar mistakes. This is almost a draft, so I shall take care of the mistakes when I see them (see, I'm a lazy butt, I barely check my fanfics twice).
This fanfic will contain smut, angst, romance, comedy and a whole lot of stuff you might or might not like. Eventual Shizaya, of course.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED ABOUT LEMON AND MALE RELATIONSHIPS.
Description: Heiwajima Shizuo is a Japan famous designer, while Orihara Izaya is a free-lance model that everybody seems to want in their shows. What will happen when Shizuo is forced to have a male lead in his upcoming shows and his boss wants Izaya to work for them? And Shizuo can barely stand the raven head and his quirks. Especially when Izaya has a daughter he cares for very much...
Disclaimer: NO, I DON'T OWN DRRR, BECAUSE IF I OWNED IT, SHIZAYA WOULD BE CANON.
"Just choose one and let's go, Tom," I whispered and he waved me off, staring at the males walking on the stage. They were barely smiling, they were content, they were boring.
I already had my magnificent crew of male and female models, but Tom insisted we go to a fashion show and pick one more, since my male lead got sick and had to go back to the U.S.
"You need a full crew, Shizuo, if you want your own show to be perfect," Tom answered, half looking at me, half staring at the models on stage. "And we don't have time to go around model agencies to have one assigned."
I sighed and put my head in my palm. This sucked.
I was a well-known fashion designer in Japan, and my company decided that this year would be the perfect time to introduce me to the world. Since there were a dozen of shows in different continents, I prepared my best piece of art ever and bam, look who can travel the world and wriggle his way through the fashion industry.
"Tom, they don't have anything of interest," I said and he rolled his eyes.
"I heard Namie-san has something up her sleeve," he said, his eyes still skimming through the crowd of idiot models. "It's all over the internet, they guy must be worth something."
I lift my eyebrow. "Seriously? We came here just to look at one male model?"
"Shit, Tom, we could've called him through his agency and that would be it, now I have to sit here and –," I started but he shushed me.
"That's the problem," he said, finally looking directly at me. He looked tired. "He doesn't have an agency."
"He works free-lance. Whoever pays the highest price gets him," he said and worriedly followed one of the models dressed in a pink suit strutting his way on the stage.
Tom and I have been friends and colleagues for forever now. Ever since I started working for the fashion company, he has been my employer. The down side of it was I had to listen to his every word. Whenever I had a design, I would show him and he would either turn it down or praise it. That's how it worked. And I loved it.
I realized I had a taste for fashion in high-school. Living in Ikebukuro and creating designs wasn't as amazing as it sounded. At first, I was the gay guy with a strange talent, but after the senior year of my school, when I was asked to design and prepare outfits for the whole senior prank and show, I rose in their eyes and it was the best year of my life. I got accepted into the fashion college at once, been lucky enough to have a job in my second year and then, one day, I got a letter from the richest company of fashion in Japan, asking me if I wanted to work for them.
I never regretted my decision.
The show was dull. I coughed once and twice, listening to the sappy music from the speakers. Namie-san was quite popular, but her shows were nothing but a sad view to me. Lucky for her, her outfits were amazing and people barely cared how they were presented.
Then, the music died out and I was surprised when the whole room fell into darkness. I grabbed Tom's hand and blinked a few times to get used to the dark.
"What the –," I said and suddenly, a flicker of light appeared out of nowhere. The end of the stage lit up with gold, and I heard soft piano sounds coming from the speakers. Tom looked at me with 'I told you it's gonna be good' look and I didn't even bother answering, for what happened next made my whole world disappear into whiteness and the feeling of magic pumping through my veins.
I knew the song all too well. It was an amazing piece, a song about home and love. It was slow, the exact opposite of Namie's shows all together.
A man appeared in the center, his hands in his pockets, dressed all in white. I could see why Namie left this for the end of her show. The outfit was amazing. It was a suit made of white fabric, with slight decorations of glimmering gems here and there. It had little wings attached to the back, barely showing, but shimmering in colors of the specter. It was only when the man started moving down the stage did I get a good look at his face.
He had raven hair, a beautifully shaped face and the smile of a devil. His eyes looked innocent, but his posture showed me he wasn't who you thought he was. He was confident and he spiced his walk with everything he had, showing his talent of a model with all of his strength. It was as if he didn't try, but made everything perfect just by a casual walk on the stage.
I felt my mouth open when he passed us by, never looking into our direction, just straight at the cameras and the light. But he was the light itself.
He stopped for a few seconds, let the cameras flash, literally thousands of flashes, and turned around with a little wave. It was chaste, useless, but it made everyone start clapping to the music.
He reached the end of the stage and Namie-san emerged from the covers of the backstage. She waved at the crowd, who all started clapping, stood up and some of them even cheered. I didn't know when I have gotten up myself, but I was clapping too. Not at her, but at the amazing raven haired model.
Tom nudged me and smiled.
Tom dragged me backstage, quickly pulling Namie into a tight hug. She hissed and pushed him away, but a ghost of a smile still lingered on her face. Me and Namie kind of liked each other, but I knew her personality was bitchy when she was with other people. Maybe she respected me and never showed her true side whenever I was involved.
I shook her hand and she sighed.
"I'm glad this is over. I have a week before my next show, so finally, a few days of good sleep and rest."
Tom nodded enthusiastically, but I saw his interest was elsewhere. To be honest, I was scowling the area of half-naked models myself. The raven haired one must be here somewhere.
"So, you called me about my male lead?" Namie asked Tom. She always talked to him, rather than me, and I was thankful. I was fairly scared of her.
"Yes," Tom said. "Shizuo here is going to have a tour with his newly produced show, I guessed we could get good use of your male lead now that you don't need him anymore."
"I heard your male lead got sick," she directed her attention to me. "Sorry to hear that."
"Yeah, thanks," I said absentmindedly. I didn't have the energy to pursue this small talk. I just wanted to see the mysterious model and scram out of here.
"Alright, I'll go search for him, you guys wait here," she said and walked away. Tom stood on his tip-toes, following her with his eyes.
"Are you sure he'll accept?" I asked.
"Of course," Tom said. "Your company has a shitload of money, they would surely love to spend every little penny on you."
"It's not on me," I said. "It's on the models."
And then my eyes caught the raven head.
The first thing I saw was still wearing his outfit.
The second thing I saw that he was shoeless.
And the third thing I saw was that he was carrying someone.
A little girl, with long black hair and dressed in a very questionable outfit. It was all yellow and covered in sparkling matter.
I didn't wait for Tom's approval. I strolled down to the man immediately.
I pushed through the crowd of models, already whispering my name and chatting with others. My eyes were fixed on the raven head.
I could already hear what he was talking. His voice was soothing, manly and kind of amusing.
"Tami, I'll let you eat just one popsicle today," he said to the girl in his hands. "You had your sugar rush already. I don't want you getting diabetes."
"But daaaaaaaaad," the girl groaned in a very squeaky voice. Cute.
"Sorry," I interrupted when I was near enough the raven haired one. It was pretty obvious the little girl in his hands was his daughter. Why was she here?
He lifted his eyes and I saw them for the first time. They were ruby red, fierce and shining. Still innocent looking and somewhat appealing to my likes.
Instead of saying anything, he searched me with his eyes, checked me out from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my chest and somewhere else. I assumed he was being professional.
And then he whistled.
"Whoah, there," he said, putting his daughter down, who immediately clung to his leg. "Aren't you a pretty sight!"
My mouth opened to say something, but he started walking around me, his pale skin shining in the dim lights of the backstage. I suddenly became very conscious of him.
"Never thought I'd have a fan this good-looking," he said after walking around and shooting a smile at my face.
What the fuck.
"I'm not a fan, actually," I said, furrowing my brows.
"Then who are you?" He asked, a bit surprised, but never failing to smile.
"I'm a fashion designer," I started rummaging through my pockets, until I found a card. "Heiwajima Shizuo."
He took the card and read it curiously. His daughter tugged his arm so she could see, and he sat on the ground just like that, letting the girl climb into his lap and read with him.
"Hei-wa-ji-ma-shi-zu-o," she read it out loud, his dad holding the paper firmly.
"Don't tell me you want to employ me," the raven haired said and I was about to say something.
"Yes, we would definitely want to employ you," I heard Tom behind me, finally catching up to me and standing next to my left side.
"I refuse~" he sang out and stood up, again getting his daughter into his hands.
"What?" I asked and he started walking away.
"I'm sorry, I have to get dressed, since this little brat wants to eat," he nudged the girl. "Unless you wanna watch."
"I don't want to watch, I want to –," I started but Tom grabbed my shoulder.
"Why would you refuse? Do you even know how much money you could make out of this deal?"
"Frankly, I don't really care, I need my parent time with Tami here," he pointed at her. "Tami, say hi to the men who have loads of money."
"Hi," she waved.
"Look, can you just hear us out?" I asked.
He shook his head and again, smiled. "I don't want to do any shows in Japan anymore, seriously, what is it with you fashion designers thinking you could lure a model into working just by snapping your fingers?"
Holy shit was he annoying me.
"Alright, fuck this," I said and turned on my heel to walk out of this place.
"What if we said you could work overseas?"
I was mad enough not to care what Tom was offering, my blood was boiling. Who was he to treat us like this? He was an ordinary model, for fuck's sake.
This made me stop in my tracks.
I turned my head to see the raven head's reaction, and his face was rather confusing.
"See, you didn't even hear the whole offer out, and you just refuse us," Tom was working his magic. I never really knew how he managed being so cold-hearted toward a business talk. I always stomped out whenever I got pissed, and that was what Tom called 'being too emotional over work'.
"Listening," the raven haired said.
"Why don't we discuss this over coffee?" Tom said and the raven haired one looked at Tami or what was her name.
"Not coffee," he said, his eyes on me now. "If you pay for dinner, I might re-consider hearing you out."
"We'll pay." Tom said and I glared at him. He shrugged.
"Oh, mister Heiwajima Shizuo doesn't like my company, ne?" the raven pouted.
Tom stared at me until I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Alright, we'll pay."
"Or maybe he does, but he can't admit it! Gosh, you fashion designers are mean," the raven laughed and winked at me. "Fortunately for you and your gorgeous eyes, I shall go with you."
He looked at his daughter. "Watch over them, Tami, I won't take long. They might run off and then you won't get your ice-cream dessert."
She nodded and kissed her dad on the cheek. I found her cute, but her dad was unbelievable. If I knew he would be so god damn annoying from the start, I would have never gotten into this in the first place.
The only thing keeping me here was the memory of him shining upstage. I couldn't believe it was the same man here. His daughter immediately got a liking of Tom, and they started chatting, while I looked at the raven's back, straight and slightly muscular, moving forward and sometimes stopping to chat with some of the models around. His wings were flapping around, creating the vision of flight about to happen. But I imagined him as a little devil laughing maniacally in Hell.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into.
"Yup?" Tom and Tami looked at me.
"What's his name?"
Tami walked up to me and her glowing eyes were fixed on mine before Tom could answer anything. Her eyes were a brilliant hue of red and brown, so deep and warm, I could drown in them.
"My daddy's name is Orihara Izaya," she said with confidence and pride.
I couldn't help but smile at her.
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