#nyu icons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seouljazzbar · 6 months ago

Text

selfish (m.)

𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹

about— wonbin’s a musical prodigy, having worked alongside critically acclaimed producers, and now he’s your guest lecturer for the semester. correction, your hot lecturer for the semester (producer!wonbin x f.reader)

author’s note— this is a little rough but i still like the way it turned out! title is from this song if anyone's curious hehe i think it's wonbin coded lowkey

warning— language, teacher-student dynamic, me blatantly lying about new york/nyu, alcohol use, (soft?) dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), whiny wonbin, oral (m. receiving), teasing, penetrative sex (with a condom!!) 18+ MDNI!!!

word count— 5.3k

Thursdays and Fridays from four to six, those were his office hours. It was difficult to have office hours that fit everyone’s schedule and that was the best he could do given he was only a guest lecturer. Even worse, he wasn’t given an office for said hours due to the deconstructed nature of the city. Going to university in New York was already far from traditional, and the conditions were no exception. But Wonbin didn’t mind, reserving a nice table on the second floor of Gregory's coffee on Broadway. It wasn't much but it was enough for the four or five students who took advantage of the time.

You were one of them. You knew all too well the struggle of falling behind in a class by thinking you had a handle on the material, only to be drowning in confusion come midterms. The class, The Sociology of Pop Music, interested you too much for you to risk completely flopping just because you failed to utilize your resources. But it wasn’t just your grade that you cared about. It helped that the guest lecturer in question was unbelievably sexy, an absolute dreamboat wunderkind who was just barely older than the students he was in charge of.

Park Wonbin, musician to the stars. He’d worked with countless acclaimed producers, written for most of the Billboard Hot 100 artists, and even put out his own flawless body of work that gifted him one Grammy and several nominations. He was an absolute icon at the ripe age of twenty-two and you were dying to sink your claws into him. Soft and athletic, inky black waves, a bashful smile and a voice that the heavens surely blessed him with. His presence was more distracting than conducive for your precious six-figure education, your thighs clenching together every Tuesday and Thursday that he took his place at the professor’s podium.

But you weren't the only one. Nearly everyone in the class was crushing on him, eyes batting as they asked elementary questions and giggles erupting at even his worst attempts at jokes. You felt like a dime a dozen lusting after him, gnawing your lower lip at the way his back muscles flexed when he turned to write something on the board. Get a grip, you’d think to yourself. You’re fighting for a slot on a list of many.

So you amused yourself with your self-labeled delusion, daydreaming about him outside of class and showing up to his office hours to clear up even the smallest of questions about the week’s lectures. He was careful with every word, taking his time to cultivate thorough responses to any and all questions you thought up for him, even ones that stemmed outside of the class's margins.

You still remember the first time you saw him, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as he entered the lecture hall like any other student. Except he headed straight for the front of the room, placing his bag down at a table near the podium where the staff chaperone was setting up. He picked up the small expo marker that sat on the table, taking off the cap to write wonbin on the white board in messy penmanship before he followed it up with a squiggly smiley face. You knew who he was, his name notorious in the music wing of your school considering what he’d accomplished at such a young age. His looks definitely didn’t hurt, either.

He smiled at you, sitting in the second row waiting for class to start. Most people opted to sit as far back as possible, in the seats that were easier to slip out of the classroom unnoticed. But you sat proudly in the second row, alongside a few other eager students who’d heard good things about the class. His smile felt so personal, the glint of his teeth nearly causing heart palpitations as you smiled back. He didn’t know your name just yet, and suddenly that was your life’s mission; to make this man say your name.

It almost made you think he was giving you special attention with the way he paid close attention to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you came around the coffee shop steps with your notes in tow. He’d even stay past six o’clock if there were too many people before you who needed help, always offering to buy you a cup of coffee or a pastry after having waited for so long. He was so attentive, leaning into your space to look over the notes you took and making sure you were following along correctly. It was hard not to drool over him, especially when you were two of the last people left on the second floor, looking like a couple to the onlooking world.

“I’m serious! I think I’m gonna ask him out.”

Winter rolled her eyes, closing the magazine that she was never really reading in the first place. "So, what? You'll fuck his brains out in his office and then walk into class like nothing happened?"

"Actually, he doesn't have an office." The thought made you blush, sneaking around with Wonbin while your classmates and professors were none the wiser. The taboo was too hot for you to let go of.

Another roll of her eyes, this time meant for you to see. "___, get a grip. You're just slobbering all over him because he's famous. At the end of the semester, you'll go back to eyeing that one saxophonist."

Winter was numb to the novelty surrounding celebrity and the likes of it. She was a not so struggling artist whose parents funded her entire lifestyle, and it had been that way her whole life. She'd had her fair share of moments in Page Six, and the lavish New York socialite life had grown old for her. Her friends were still in the scene, but she had long since retired. Winter's idea of a fun Friday night these days included watching The White Lotus while experimenting with cookie recipes (with hopes of making it into the NYT Christmas Cookie lineup, of course).

You didn’t tell any of your college friends, though. Sure, the whole university knew that he was guest-teaching a music-related course and that he was unbelievably attractive, but you never mentioned to your friends that you felt something between the two of you. As much as you trusted your small circle of friends, you knew that student-teacher relationships were absolutely prohibited, no exceptions. Knowing this did nothing to quell the insatiable thirst you had for him, or the flutter of your heart every time he locked eyes with you. You were willing to throw caution to the wind for him, knowing you officially had it bad for him the moment you started doodling his name in your notebook. It got to the point where you were ready to make your move, ready to invite him to an apartment party one of your friends was throwing.

It was a Thursday evening, another night of attending his office hours despite your ninety-five percent in the class. You were the last student left in the final minutes of his office hours, just the two of you at the moderately sized table of the café. Your hands were mere centimeters from touching where they were laid out on the table, his warmth radiating onto you as he penciled in some helpful reminders in the margins of your notes. Just as you parted your lips to speak, he interjected. “I think it would be best if you stopped coming to office hours.”

That was not what you were expecting him to say. “Oh, um. Alright. Can I ask why?”

“You’ve clearly got an amazing grip on the material, and if anything you’re wasting your time showing up so frequently. It would be better if I had the full two hours for the students who are really struggling.” He refused to look you directly in the eyes as he spoke, opting to stare at your notes instead.

“Oh. Okay.” You gathered up all of your notes and pencils as quickly as you could, shoving them into your backpack without caring if the edges curled. The chair skidded back as you stood from it, not bothering with a goodbye as you saw yourself out. It was humiliating, almost, for him to have given you such a backhanded compliment. You started ruffling through your attendance record in the class and decided that you could afford to miss Tuesday, too embarrassed to be seen by him so soon after.

You really dodged a bullet there, then. Just seconds away from making a move on him when he told you that you should stop showing up to the only semi-private time you had together. It made you feel more delusional than ever before, allowing yourself to think he might actually feel something for you, too. You ignored the tears of frustration teasing the corners of your eyes, running off to the subway station that would deliver you back to your lousy campus housing safely.

What you didn’t see, however, was Wonbin nervously pulling at the ends of his hair. He was always such a bad liar but he knew he needed to put on the performance of a lifetime in order to get you to leave him alone. Considering it was quite the opposite of what he wanted you to do. There was something so intoxicating about you, your voice, your lips, your scent, that had him thoroughly fucked for you. Legally, he didn’t feel bad about it. But the professor he was working under, as well as the university, had already told him that under no circumstances was he to have dalliances with any of the students. So there he was, stuck thinking about you and not being able to do anything about it.

He had everything under control, at first. A few stolen glances during class but nothing to raise suspicion, just long enough for it to seem casual. Then it was finding you on social media, careful not to like any posts or to actually follow you, which made him feel like he was in full creeper mode. That was where he decided to draw the line until you started showing up to his office hours consistently, just as gorgeous as ever as you plopped down next to him in full concentration. He let himself indulge for a while, showering you with just a bit of special treatment until he realized he was crossing into dangerous territory. So he drew the line without a second thought.

You felt like you were back in high school, throwing a fit over being rejected by your longtime crush. All he’d done was politely ask you not to attend office hours anymore, but it felt like he’d told you off. You tried to convince yourself that it was because of your education, that you didn’t appreciate him taking away a resource that was proving itself helpful for you. But the real reason, the one you didn’t want to admit, was that you knew he felt it too. The storybook surge of electricity when his shoulder brushed yours and the way he never offered to get any of the other students coffee and pastries. The way he’d sometimes call you by a nickname when you were together or the way he spoke so highly of you in your exam notes. It was more than a one-sided schoolgirl crush and he was denying it just the same as you, and you couldn’t ignore how much it stung.

Saturday night was your chance to forget all about it. A friend of Winter's had convinced her to open up her ridiculously large penthouse for a laidback party, and she reluctantly agreed. You went to the party having skipped Wonbin’s office hours the evening before, successfully resisting the urge to 'drop by' the coffee shop casually; that would've been worse than just going to office hours. You were ready to let loose, your body a bit tense after the marathon overthinking session you had when Wonbin all but rejected you. All done up in one of your favorite ‘going out’ getups, you set yourself at a three drink maximum before starting the trek there.

You arrived considerably late, the party in full swing by the time you stepped off the elevator and onto the floor. There were so many people, sweaty bodies and intoxicated breaths, so much so that you almost missed him. He was leaning up against one of the kitchen countertops, nursing a drink of his own as he chatted with your friends. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight, almost annoyed that you ran in the same circles. But you pushed it aside to go talk to them, knowing they’d have a drink in your hand faster than you could make one. “___! You made it!” Wonbin’s eyes shot up to you making your way over to them, a raspy ‘fuck’ making its way off of his tongue. He suddenly felt trapped, nowhere to run as his student joined his little conversation circle. “Have you met Wonbin?”

“Yeah, we know each other. From around.” You avoided his gaze at all costs. “I need a drink.”

Wonbin quirked an eyebrow at you, “You drink?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight to the other foot as he avoided eye contact with you. “I just, you know… Are you old enough for that?”

“Ew, don’t be gross. I’m a uni student, I’m not in daycare. I’m twenty-one, promise.”

You were baiting him, and he knew it. Your anger was directed at him and only him, your bubbly demeanor intact for your friends as you caught each other up on the last month or so of your lives. You had no intention of making this night, or his life, easy. You knocked back the drink your friend Sohee gave you easily, sending Wonbin a sarcastic wink as he stared at you.

Even though your mind was begging you to run, you refused to let him ruin your night. They were your friends, too, and things were only awkward because he made them so. You stood your ground, pretending like he wasn’t even there as the conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the party music seeming to follow suit. Everything was fine until someone who’d had too many came barreling into the kitchen, spilling their sticky spiked punch all over your legs. You let out a curse as it spilled into your shoes, the sensation far too uncomfortable to ignore.

“Here, go clean up in my bathroom.” Winter handed you the key, sending you off with a gentle shove in the direction of her bedroom.

You didn’t bother locking the door back behind you, knowing you’d be in and out before anyone could miss you. You took the time to freshen yourself up as well, poking around in Winter’s cabinets to see if she had anything exciting or ridiculously expensive. Perfumes, hand creams, serums. Sometimes you forget how rich New Yorkers could be. You turned the light off in the bathroom, turning to leave when you nearly jumped out of your skin at the pair of eyes watching you. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t lock the door back.”

Wonbin crossed further into the room, hands in his pockets as he watched you. Even when you were irritated with him, his charm was able to cut through your faux harsh exterior. “I'm sorry, is this allowed? Or does this count as office hours, too? Should I see myself out so that other partygoers can take advantage of your precious time?”

“___, stop. I was just trying to make a decision based on what I thought was best.”

You scoffed at that, trying to ignore just how close he’d gotten to you. “Yeah, right. There’s only like five people who bother showing up anymore, so I don’t know why me showing up is such a big deal? Like you must think awfully highly of yourself if you th—”

He cut you off with a swift kiss, lips finding yours in the pale lighting of the bedroom as you froze. Time seemed to slow; just barely noticeable, but you could feel it. Like one minute felt like two with his hands cupping your cheeks and his hips pressed against yours. You relaxed into his touch, daring to kiss back as the party outside seemed to disappear. All your senses could focus on was him and the way he seemed to consume you.

He walked you backwards, stopping as you stumbled into a wall. The once innocent kiss grew in desperation, your hands everywhere at once as your tongues clashed over and over again. It could’ve easily been a dream with how much you’d both had to drink, the taste of tequila fresh on his lips as you begged for more. Your leg hooked around his waist to draw him closer, a gasp slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. And then he just stopped.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” He was breathless, his words not matching his desire as he slowly backed away from you. “This is exactly what I was trying so hard to avoid. I'm your superior, ___, I'd get fired for this.”

Your mind was blank, not a single thought worthy of being voiced in response to him. You knew it was wrong, knew his position could be terminated, but you didn’t care. Not when his touch was so addictive and your name sounded so sweet on his lips.

“This… this never happened, okay? And it can never happen again.”

He stalked off to rejoin the party, leaving you breathless and unsure of if any of that was real. The only evidence was the faint waft of his cologne that stayed behind, taunting you with the memory of his kiss. His soft, heated, spine-tingling kiss that had your head spinning from the feeling of it. Your lips were puffy from it, fingers reaching up to touch them delicately as if you could scare away the feeling somehow.

Your thoughts were interrupted by him coming back in, locking the door behind him as you fixed your hunched over posture. “Fuck it, fuck this job, I don’t need to be a guest lecturer.” His hands found your hips as he pulled you in once again, kissing you with much different intent behind it. “This is all I've been able to think about this semester.”

You let out a whimper, clawing at his shirt as his teeth pulled at your lower lip. His hands smoothed their way up your body, cupping your breasts through the material of your shirt as you moaned into his mouth. This felt real, no doubt in your mind as you melted like putty in his hands. “Do something.”

His lips migrated to your ear, licking along the shell of it as your head tipped back. “Do you want my fingers?” You nodded sheepishly, cheeks flooding with heat in a sudden wave of shyness. “Then spread your legs for me, baby.” Your body obeyed him without question, legs spreading for him to slip his hand between. He could feel how wet you were through the pants you were wearing, your underwear no match for the arousal he was responsible for. Your fingers fumbled with the button of them, popping it open and dragging the zipper down.

You knew this was a bad idea. Whether you cared or not, having his hand slip past your panties was wrong on so many levels, no matter how good it felt. His reputation and your academic career were on the line, but you couldn’t will yourself to stop him. Not when your body was yearning for more, thighs clenching at the circles he was rubbing against your clit. Not with his lips scaling your neck with kisses that only made your knees weaker than they already were.

Your resolve finally melted when he slipped a finger into your warm heat, the stretch easily out-rivaling anything your own fingers provided. The relief sent you into a spiral of high pitched sighs and moans as he added another, curling them near perfectly against your g-spot.

“Sound so pretty for me, baby. Wanna put your moans in a song.” The thought alone made your stomach twist, visions of riding him in his studio while he held his microphone up to your lips. He could see the shift in your expression at the suggestion, teeth practically destroying your lower lip. “Is that what you want, baby? Wanna be my muse?”

All you could do was nod as the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your orgasm crashing over you much sooner than you expected. He kissed you through the waves of pleasure, swallowing the pleas of his name and the whimpers from the slight overstimulation of your clit. The cherry on top, though, was when he licked his fingers clean of your arousal without once breaking eye contact. It made you shudder.

Neither one of you knew where to go from that moment on, the heat of it all long gone as you faced reality head on. You zipped your pants back up to break the silence, fluffing your hands through your hair to alleviate any signs of sexual activity before rejoining the party. Not a word to Wonbin before going back like nothing happened, even though the uncomfortable dampness of your panties said otherwise.

unsaved number, 3:25am

↳ it’s Wonbin, i got your number from sohee. we should meet soon

you, 9:08am

↳ yeah? where?

wonbin, 9:09am

↳ 150 east 14th st, @ 11

you, 9:12am

↳ smh making me get my day started on a sunday morning

His apartment was as well kept as him, minimalistic in all its glory but decorated with his achievements wherever he saw fit. Awards, records, framed lyrics, any and everything he felt deeply proud of. You knew that you shouldn’t be there, no matter what occurred the night before. Wonbin was irresistible, and giving into his invitation was practically asking for trouble.

“I got coffee and bagels, if you’re hungry.”

Not just any coffee, though. Coffee from Gregory's. Of course he’d do something like this, you thought. He's trying to prey on my sentimentality to get me in bed. Kinda smart. “Why am I here, Wonbin?”

“Well as of three o’clock this morning, I’m no longer your teacher.”

You nearly choked on nothing as he smiled at you, pulling up the email correspondence from the Dean. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I never needed that teaching job, anyway. I took it because it felt good helping students, but it was getting to be too much, cutting into my own work time. And then when we crossed that line last night… I knew quitting was just the right thing to do.” He walked gingerly toward you, assessing your reaction carefully as he closed the gap between you.

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed as if he’d grown a second head. “Y-you’re not my teacher anymore?”

“I'm not your teacher anymore.” He backed you up against the wall of his foyer, the position eerily similar to where you were mere hours before. Heat rose to your face as he gazed at you, his smirk painfully malicious as his hand cupped your jaw. “Lemme take you out on a proper date. Dinner… the Angelika… dessert.”

Your gulp seemed to echo the walls of his apartment, giving up any and all fronts you were trying to put up. You could feel his lips hovering over yours more than you could see them, the soft hum that reverberated as he asked you if you’d like that. “I'm… not sure we’ll make it to dessert.”

“I thought I taught you last night to always leave room for dessert.” He popped open the first button of your blouse, getting a peak at the lavender bra beneath it. You’d dressed up for him, knowing very well where things could lead and not wanting him to see you in your far less alluring Sunday attire. Your breath hitched at his touch, your mind shouting for you to just wait for the date before crossing any more lines. But there he was, just as sexy as ever, sliding the sleeves of your top down your arms with his forehead pressed against yours. Youd didn’t stand a chance.

Your back was hitting his mattress before you could gather the strength to hold off, more of your clothes in a tangled web on his floor than on your actual bodies. Your skin was saccharine, a sweetener he’d been searching for ever since he could identify its name and he couldn’t get enough of it. Marks of his lips were blooming on every inch he could reach, your body signed with his name in a way you never knew you needed. His name rolled off your tongue like it was the only word you knew, the two syllables your new favorite combination in the entire world.

His hands guided your slip skirt down your legs, discarding it carefully with the rest of your clothes as you tugged impatiently at his boxers. He was hard, dangerously so, and it was killing you not to see him in all of his naked glory. “Canisuckyouoff?” You didn’t even think about it, the words flying out of your mouth before you could even try to stop them.

“Seriously?” You were already flipping the two of you over, inching your way down his legs until your face was leveled with his hips.

“Yes, please. I wanna make you feel good.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you properly for his length springing out of his black balenciaga underwear. It would’ve been a shame if he wasn’t as well-endowed as you wanted, but you were mature enough to know that it wasn’t all about size. Wonbin, however, was all about size. He was probably just barely above average in length but he was thick with veins in all the right places that had you close to drooling all over him.

You licked at his tip in a graze, not enough to satisfy him but enough to get him squirming. Small, agonizing licks here and there that had him fisting at his hair in sheer frustration. You pitied him with a bold lick up the underside, but went right back to the teasing that had him close to tears. “___, fuck, I can’t take anymore of this. I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good.”

“I will, baby, you just have to be patient.”

He whined out, not sure how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out if you kept teasing him so mercilessly. He was just about to beg again for you to touch him when your lips wrapped around his tip, his back arching involuntarily and sending him further into your mouth. A guttural groan accompanied the pleasure pumping through his veins as you bobbed her head along his cock, swirling your tongue around him every so often. You had a primal need for more of him, more of the way he tasted and the precum that was oozing out of him. More of the way his groans switched to melodious moans as his climax neared him, more of the way his face was contorted in pleasure as your hands rubbed at his thighs.

His orgasm was building up in the pit of his stomach, the twine of tension pulling further and further until he was sure it was going to snap. Your mouth abandoning his cock in favor of his balls almost did the trick, your hand wrapping around him to jerk as you sucked one at a time. He pulled you off of him reluctantly, wanting so desperately to cum in your mouth but knowing he’d regret passing up the opportunity to fuck you. “I have condoms in the drawer.” His breath was ragged as he pointed the drawer out to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as his body heat was skyrocketing. You handed one to him before shuffling back to the bed, letting him climb over you clumsily with his arms supporting his weight.

He tapped his tip against your clit, running it between your folds as you bucked your hips toward his. “That's not fair.”

He slipped inside of you, barely an inch before pulling back out. He repeated the movement over and over until you were gripping at his hips in an attempt to force more out of him. “Isn’t it, though? You had your fun…” You were so wet that it was making it hard for him to keep up, your soaked walls pulling him in with every shallow thrust. “Have you learned your lesson yet, baby?”

You nodded your head furiously, feeling almost embarrassed by how much you needed him. He refused to give up so easily, though, continuing his perfectly angled thrusts that grazed your g-spot just enough to make your hips buck. "Wonbin, please."

His first full thrust had you clenching around him so tightly that he almost came on the spot, the warmth of you wrapped around him so overwhelming that he had to screw his eyes shut. Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction as he filled you to the brim, the stretch burning deliciously. All you could think about was the next time, and the time after that, and how he could stretch you out whenever he wanted to now. He was yours now.

His lips wrapped around your nipple as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you, savoring how tightly you were squeezing him. It was all the anticipation finally materializing into something he couldn’t get enough of. Your moans, your faces of pleasure, your scent, your taste. He wanted as much of it as you’d let him have, for however long you’d let him have it. "Is this what you were thinking of while I was trying to teach you? Hm? Thought about me stuffing you full of my cock?"

The only noise you could manage was a raspy moan, mind completely numbed by the sensation of his skin pressed against yours. You could feel your lips move, saying something along the lines of wanteditsobadbinnie, but the feeling of his nose dragging up the side of your neck distracted you.

Your bodies seemed to mold together as he picked up speed, drilling into you relentlessly as your nails dug into his hips, asking for more. The slap of your skin against each other was his kryptonite as he wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to hear it again and again until it played in his mind on a loop. He could feel the knot in his stomach warning him to slow down, to relish in the feeling a bit longer, but he didn’t care. Not when your lips were pressed right to his ear begging him not to stop. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

He tried to respond with a ‘yes’, but the absentminded clench of your walls sent him over the edge in a flash. He emptied himself into the condom, trying his hardest to focus all of his efforts on pushing you towards your own orgasm. His fingers found your clit between your sweaty bodies, the rough pad of his thumb orbiting your clit until you joined him in your own throes of euphoria. Your nails clawed down the expanse of his back as your vision blurred, ecstasy replacing every cell in your body as he kissed along your jaw.

The room smelled of sex and the remnants of his body wash, both of you fighting for air as you wrapped yourselves in his sheets. Your fingertips danced across his chest as he watched you wordlessly, face flushed with the evidence of your Sunday afternoon in. “What are you thinking about?” He caught your hand in his, eyes still trained on your face.

“Honestly? Trying to remember if there are any hidden corners in the Angelika where we can have sex.” You looked up at him as he laughed, a smile of your own creeping onto your lips. “What? Too honest?”

“You’re kinda perfect, you know that?”

His lips pressed chastely against your temple. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

#wonbin x reader #wonbin imagines #wonbin smut #riize smut #riize hard hours #wonbin hard hours #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize imagines #riie x reader smut #park wonbin smut #seouljazzbar

534 notes · View notes

itsnevercasual · 9 months ago

Text

Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #designer!harry styles #designer!harry styles x reader #harry styles x designer!reader #harry styles x fem!reader

534 notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 1 year ago

Note

daniel x gradschool reader?? maybe they’re not officially dating but he meets her when he’s in new york and they spend the summer together??

big apple lovin' | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x gradschool!reader

sparks fly when daniel visits new york on his winter break

yourusername

liked by yourbff1, yourbff2 and 203 others

yourusername: studying up a storm in the city of my dreams

view all comments

yourbff1 stop being so pretty and so smart

yourbff2 yeah leave some for the rest of us

yourusername omg stopppppp i'm blushing

yourclassmate now zoom in so i can steal some notes

yourusername at least do the stealing urself

danielricciardo

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and 602,785 others

danielricciardo: big city exploring

view all comments

username he's looking so fucking good DAMN

landonorris miss you already

danielricciardo i tend to have that effect

username i'm sad he doesn't have a seat but he seems so much better right now

maxverstappen1 so like none of the pics we took matter?

danielricciardo didn't want to hurt your feelings when everyone ignores you for my sexy ass

newyorkstreetstyle

liked by yourusername, f1wagsupdates and 20,651 others

newyorkstreetstyle: our usual warren street fashion icon has been double trouble recently, obsessed with both.

view all comments

username warren street girl having the best taste in men as well ... mother

username not daniel ricciardo on new york street style do they not know who he is?

username DANIEL CONTENT

username people in the comment section freaking out over the man but warren street girl is the real nyc celebrity here

username warren street girl i do not know you but on behalf of the f1 community thank you for taking away danny's skinny jeans !

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, yourbff1 and 1,237 others

yourusername: found this stray cat in central park, anyone recognise them?

view all comments

yourbff1 idk who he is but he looks freakishly similar to the guy who hasn't left our apartment in a week

yourusername ah yes now you say it they do look strikingly similar

danielricciardo i won't stand for the bullying here !! y/n stopppppp

username what.do.we.have.here

username i'm totally chill about this rn

yourclassmate1 if he gets us all coffee again he can stay for as long as he wants

danielricciardo finally someone on my side

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 721,663 others

danielricciardo: wet dream concrete tomato or something like that

view all comments

username i am not okay

landonorris you got a gf WE GET IT

danielricciardo i'll leave you to your thirst traps

carlossainz55 low blow ricciardo

danielricciardo LET ME BE HAPPY

username bf!danny is something so personal to me

yourusername whoa what shade of lipstick is that?

danielricciardo a pretty one :)

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff1 and 4,276 others

tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: final stretch of grad school with some extra motivation

view all comments

yourbff1 believe me everyone in the apartment can hear the motivation

yourusername THERE ARE KIDS ON THIS APP ACT APPROPRIATELY

danielricciardo sorry not sorry

landonorris so this is who the honey badger is obsessed with

yourusername as he should be

username GRAD SCHOOL? educated wag incoming let's go

nyu

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 51,678 others

tagged: yourusername

nyu: nyu graduate y/n y/ln has had her graduate study published in the journal of english literature and cultural studies!

view all comments

username so how did danny's dumbass pull a published researcher?

yourbff1 ENGLISH LIT SLAY

yourusername thank you nyu will miss you guys :(

nyu come visit soon!

danielricciardo congratulations smarty pants xx

yourusername love you honey

username she's so mother i can't

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 12,778 others

tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: grad school ... completed it mate ;)

view all comments

maxverstappen1 congrats y/n !!

danielricciardo love you so much, so glad i met you xx

yourusername thank you for spilling your coffee on my manuscript xx

username they're so cute oh myyyyyyyyy

yourclassmate1 but now we need jobs

danielricciardo

liked by redbullracing, yourusername and 812,673 others

tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: finally showed the mrs my day job

view all comments

username FULL LAUNCH AT A RACE OH LORD

yourusername so you really are that famous?

danielricciardo who wouldn't be a fan of my face?

yourbff1 so where's our tickets we had to deal with you all spring term?

username she's so fucking pretty STEP ON ME

note: pls enjoyyyyyyy (p.s. there's a lando request i finished but tumblr deleted it from my drafts so i'll get that up asap) xx

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine

1K notes · View notes

sinnamongirls · 2 months ago

Text

patrick didn’t let most people know at stanford he had a sister.

and for the most part, people didn’t make the connection that 19-year-old adina rachel, the multimedia artist and fashion designer, was american tennis icon patrick zweig’s kid sister.

adina was the polar opposite of patrick. she embraced her new england-ness. she stayed in new york, lived in the city, attended NYU. she was quiet, analytical. she always looked like she was planning her next steps, the steps to take her enemies down. she was like if charlotte york was jewish and actually made art instead of dealing it.

but patrick loved adina. she was outspoken, had things she cared about. things that weren’t stupid, like tennis. adina’s greenwich village apartment was filled with posters and unfinished paintings, scraps of fabric littering the floor. anyone who knew adina’s background on a surface level would accuse her of cosplaying a broke, greenwich village artist. her parents were the fucking zweigs, they could pay for shit, right?

kind of. when adina said she wanted to go to NYU, her parents didn’t have a problem. when she said it was for art, they got worried. their daughter was talented, but she was very passionate. her mother thought that passion could work better somewhere else, as a politician, or teacher. something with a good paycheck. but george zweig remembered the woman he married: that woman was a gloria steinem reading, bra burning feminist who almost went to bryn mawr or wellesley. george knew the reason dina zweig didn’t like her daughters choice of career is because it mirrored her youth. she was afraid of her daughter getting her hopes up, following her passions, and getting hurt when they don’t work out the way she expects.

so they worked out a deal of sorts: her parents would pay for her apartment and basic necessities. school was her job to pay for. and luckily for adina, she got scholarships and grants to help pay for school, and she worked a part time job at a bookstore for extra pocket cash. sure, she was a rich kid. but she wasn’t spoiled. far from it.

and dina zweig, a high school english teacher, did secretly love telling her students who asked that the insane artwork in her classroom was made by her precious daughter.

george had some in his office, too.

patrick was the luckiest out of all though. when he got accepted to stanford (even though no one expected him to get denied), adina made him a one-of-a-kind piece. stanford’s most iconic buildings, hand drawn in pen and colored in with water color, with every single newspaper article mentioning patrick’s tennis achievements pasted in the sky above. it was incredibly detailed.

it made him cry when he opened it.

and it hangs above his desk now, a constant reminder of his talented as fuck kid sister and how much he misses her.

they facetime every week. and patrick invites her to fly out, to visit him. and she does, at one point, to watch him compete in the southern california collegiate speech and debate tournament. and it was worth the trip, because stanford won both the two-on-two and one-on-one debates.

there’s a picture frame on patrick’s desk. in it is a picture of him and adina at that competition. adina standing at a mere 5’3”, patrick at 6’1”. and despite their differences in wardrobe, and height, one look at their faces and you can tell.

they are, and always will be, zweig kids.

adina rachel (pronounced ra-shel) zweig

#challengers #patrick zweig #blurb ✵#challengers fanfic

43 notes · View notes

welcometololaland · 1 year ago

Text

LolaLand - Red, White & Royal Blue Fic List

Double, Double, Acting Trouble (Alex/Henry) 5/5 - E - cursed theatre AU at NYU (~30,000)

Cursed is a State of Mind (Alex/Henry) 6/6 - E - cursed coffee habits (~18,000)

Catch and Release (Alex/Henry) 1/1 - T - rowing AU (~4,800)

Fifty First Dates (Alex/Henry) 4/4 - E - fake dating with a twist in NYC (~26,600)

Seven Years (Alex/Henry) 7/7 - E - Alex and Henry find each other in every universe, all set at Christmas (~35,000)

(Not) A Cinderella Story (Alex/Henry) 4/4 - E - Canon divergence (~21,000)

Luck of the Draw (Alex/Henry) 4/4 - T - Bachelorette party AU (~19,300)

Route 11 (Alex/Henry) 1/1 - E - Public transport AU (~19,000)

Down For the Count (Alex/Henry) 5/5 - E - Blackjack/poker AU (~40,000)

Speak for Yourself (Alex/Henry) 12/12 - E - Roommates AU (~105,000)

Collaborations

never the same twice (Alex/Henry) 8/8 - E - iconic collaboration of 8 writers about the versatility of Alex and Henry's sex life (~34,000)

Canon Compliant

Contaminated (Alex/Henry) 1/1 - T - Angsty Henry (~1,100)

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 feed #ao3 author #archive of our own #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #alex x henry #rwrb masterlist #red white and royal blue masterlist #lolaland: rwrb

218 notes · View notes

sankta-starkova · 8 months ago

Text

THE OUTSIDERS

001; start of something new

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: the one where daisy returns to camp from college and is blinded by her love for him, even as the world ends

wordcount: 1.8k

The winter Solstice was creeping up on Daisy Valance. She knew she had to head to camp to see her friends again and it helped that her mums new boyfriend Nick had taken her on a trip so she didn't feel so guilty.

Last summer had been her fifth at camp and she loved it like it was home to her. Because it was.

She felt safest there. Although she loved her mother and she loved going to NYU, she still loved Camp Half Blood.

She was wrapped up at in a coat, her suitcase in her hand as she looked around at the place she called home.

Daisy waved at Chiron as he walked over, or galloped, she was never quite sure how to describe it.

"Miss Desdemona," he said, bowing his head.

She chuckled, "You are the only one that calls me that Chiron," she said, walking alongside him as he walked further into camp.

She remembered coming into camp years ago and seeing it all for the first time. The feeling never went away.

"Look who the minotaur dragged in," a voice said and she turned around when she heard the voice.

She recognised him in an instance. It was her best friend in the whole world, the only person who ever truly understood her.

"Luke Castellan, charming as always," she said, dropping her suitcase down as she walked over.

He pulled her into a hug, holding her tight. The last few weeks had been hard without her.

She was his best friend and that was it. But he had always wanted more.

His dreams were getting worse and worse. He could see him standing there, taunting him, telling him that he had things that he needed to do.

He was torn between it all. He wanted to fulfill what he thought was his destiny but he wanted her as well - that's something he hadn't even managed to say to her yet.

"Good to see you again," he said, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

"You too Luke," she said, "I'm sorry I missed your wins at capture the flag,"

"It's fine, a boy doesn't wins twice in a row often," he joked, looking down at her.

"Shut up," she said, stepping away from him and hitting him on the arm, "Now, help me with my bags?"

She looked over at where her bag was to see Chiron standing there, a smile on his face.

He had been working at this camp for years and had never seen a couple quite like them. Having spent years to admit their adoration for one another.

The issue was that he had heard of Lukes fate. That something bad would happen to him even if he didnt know what it was.

He hadn't told anyone but knew that something tragic would occur. He didnt want the couple to falter because of that.

He leaned down and picked her bag up, handing it over to the boy.

They started walking, side by side. It was like they were joined at the hip and couldn't seperate.

They didn't hear the whispers of their camp mates as they walked past. Luke and Daisy were icons in camp so to see them together was news to them all.

They walked into the apollo cabin and they cheered when she walked inside of the room.

She laughed, a blush spreading over her cheeks as she listened to the cheers of her coming in.

Daisy loved her cabin. She had never felt a home like the camp before and they all meant a lot to her.

A little blonde boy rushed up and she pulled him in for a hug.

"How was college Daisy?" He asked, looking up at her.

He was the closest thing she had to a little brother. She had been the one to bring him here and she looked after him fiercely.

"Good Will, its nice there," she said.

She couldn't tell any of them how lonely it felt sometimes, being the only demigod there. Always watching her back to make sure there weren't any monsters.

"I don't get to see you enough," Luke said, leaning against the empty bunk bed. He knew the top one was hers.

She shrugged, a sad smile on her face, "You see me often enough,"

"You don't come back enough, I agree," Will said, walking closer to Luke.

Luke smiled, leaning down and ruffling the kids hair, "Thanks for standing up for me kid,"

"Where's Lee and Michael?" She asked, changing the subject.

"They're somewhere, dealing with the new kid who just joined," Luke explained.

"Very nice," Daisy said, looking at Will, "You should tell me all about what's happened since summer,"

He started talking and then Luke looked down at his watch. He really needed to talk to her.

"Actually, can i borrow her for a minute Will, I need to talk to her," he said.

He had a solemn tone to his voice and she knew that meant that something was wrong.

She worried about him all the time. She didn't want something bad to happen, for those nightmares to take affect him him.

Will nodded and then Luke turned to Daisy, "Can we go for a walk?"

He was serious. Too serious. Her smile faded, "Sure,"

There was silence between the two as they walked through the woods, muscle memory taking them to their favourite spot.

When she saw the lake, she remembered all of her best memories that occurred here. Her eighteenth birthday party.

The moment she realised she loved Luke.

It was here, at this very lake and now, as she sat down next to him on that very same log, she knew something was wrong.

There was a prolonged silence. It was awkward and neither knew what to say and that was new for them. They were always comfortable around one another so what changed?

"You okay?" She asked, looking over at him.

He shook his head, silent. There was this moment where he looked like he was going to say it but he didn't.

His Adams apple bobbed as he fought back the urge to tell her everything. He had to be careful with what he was going to say.

"You gotta tell me what's going on here," Daisy said after a while. She couldn't wait for him forever.

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see her reaction, "I had another one of those dreams,"

She scoffed, "Luke. I told you not to listen to those," she said, almost scolding him.

These dreams had been occurring for years, ever since he was 17 and went off on that quest his dad sent the two of them on.

She could remember him afterwards. She had been injured but his internal problems were worse than anything she sustained.

Daisy had told him that those dreams were dangerous, that he should tell Chiron but he had ignored her ever since; his pride was getting the better of him.

"They're making sense. They all make sense," he tried to explain.

He reached over, hand on her knee as he tried to convince her that these were right.

She shook her head, "They don't. He's trying to manipulate you,"

She was desperate at this point, trying to reason with him. Nothing good would happen if he kept on going the way he was.

Daisy couldn't lose the man she loved. She had lost so much in her life and he was the only one that stuck around. She loved him, even if he didnt feel the same.

"He is right, our parents don't care about us," he said.

She scoffed at his incredulous statement, "I could have told you that," she knew they didn't care but that wasn't reasoning for war.

He reached forward and took her hands in his. Only then did she realise that she hadn't been looking at him.

Luke rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and she looked up at him, eyes meeting his. She could see the vulnerability in his face - he really thought he was doing something important.

Her face blushed a little bit at the intimacy of the moment, her hands in his, his eyes locked on hers.

"Come on Des, this is it, this is our time to take charge of our future," he begged, desperate.

This was Lukes moment to achieve everything in his life that he had wanted. But the other thing he wanted was the girl in front of him.

He couldn't let her down.

"Don't listen to him," she begged, feeling the tears burning up behind her eyes at the thought of losing him.

He brushed his thumb over her hand again, trying to sooth her as he heard the break in her voice, "I should. He's right about everything,"

He wasn't looking at her. He couldn't bare to see the pain in her eyes.

"Luke," she begged.

He looked up at her now, seeing the tears welling up in her waterline. She never cried so to see her like that meant that this was important to her.

"Please, listen to me." He asked, desperate to get his point across, "He wants me to take something from the God's and I'm going to do it,"

Her heart pounded in her chest. This could completely ruin his life and the world. She couldn't let that happen.

"Promise me you won't," she begged.

He hated seeing her like this, "I have to," he muttered, voice breaking.

"Prmoise me you won't. You're my best friend Luke, promise me," Daisy was desperate. She had to stop him.

He watched the tear slip from her eye and roll down her cheek. Luke reached up, the pad of his thumb brushing across her cheekbone.

"Okay, for you," he said, hand staying on her cheek, "I promise,"

She pulled him in for a hug, holding his against her for a little while.

Daisy wanted to believe him, she wanted to hope that he would stick to his promise and maybe it was the rose coloured glasses that prevented her from seeing the truth.

"I won't let anything happen to you, ever," he promised, words muffled as he spoke them into her shoulder.

He pulled away, brushing a strand of hair away from her face so that it was behind her ear.

"Okay," she muttered, hoping that this was all real. That he wouldn't hurt her because why would he?

The nightmares that she had after his quest came back that night.

The image of the man in the middle of the woods came back again, cloacked in darkness, covered in fear.

She woke up in a sweat, eyes pooled with tears. She didn't know that this was the start of the end for her, that this man would ruin her life.

Daisy closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep in blissful ignorance about what was soon to come.

If you would like to be added to a tag list then you can comment here or send me an ask :)

68 notes · View notes