#im done bending over backwards trying to figure out what you want from me reading your increasingly obtuse social cues

[soothinglee]

Okay (this is the anon from the "too scared to request" ask) I read a fanfic similar to this and it got me thinking. What abt Ranboo x Vampire reader (platonic) where Ranboo basically kills people for money and he, not knowing reader is a vamp, tries to kill them and they pretend to be dead until later where they show up to his house and get revenge by making his life a living hell every day

You can totally ignore if you want I get it if it's too weird or specific for you to write

Revenge (part 1.)

requested?: (yes read above)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, knives, death and a whole lotta angst. (a bit ooc)

 a/n: Non this was perfect! Dw about specific-ness or how ‘weird’ it is, that means you have a good imagination! Also being specific makes it easier for me to write! I hope you enjoy! I tried as best as I could^~*.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Ranboo had been friends for ages. Ever since he first joined the smp. You always admired how truthful and kind he was. Spilling everything that happened to him in a instant, he trusted you so much that he even told you about everything that happened with Dream when no-one else knew. So the fact that he didn’t tell you that he killed for money hurt.In all honesty you could’ve helped him. But, it was very hypocritical of you. See, you had a secret of your own. You were a vampire. And no one knew.

You planned to keep it that way.

Everyone has been skeptical of how Ranboo got richer and richer every second. They honestly thought that he grinded for hours or worked in tradding materials but it was something different..something worse. You knew exactly what it was. At the dead of night he’d sneak out of his house, clad in Netherite armour and a sword shoved into his pant pocket like clock work. Theres was only one destination in mind. He’d set off to the community house.

Hovering over a tree, you floated in the air watching as ranboo quietly close the spruce door and hesitantly stepped down to avoid the creak of the step. He slings a bag over his shoulder that looks like it could crush anyone under 120 pounds.

‘Whats in the bag?’ you think eying it closely ‘wouldnt be a dead body, he wouldnt keep that in the house especially with Micheal in there.’

Ranboo stumbles here and there until he finally reaches the crafting table covered floor. Three guys stand infront of him. All varying in different heights.One carries a enchanted axe, the one on their right equpied with a bow while the other one is bare-handed. But…there was something else you noticed about their stance…

They were scared.

“Ranboo!” One called walking forward “So nice of you to finally join us.”

Ranboo scoffs walking towards the man but only to stop a little ways from them. He throws the bag on the floor gently. “You know its hard for me to sneak out of there.” He says bending down “Took me ages to put Micheal to bed.”

The guy laughs and shakes his head “I bet, childern are always stubborn. How is micheal now? 3? 4?” He watches as Ranboo opens the black bag slowly, eying it as if a monster is going to pop out and attack him and his goons.

Ranboo looks up at the man through his eyelash from the floor and lets out a laugh “How old my son is shouldnt be your business, punz” he sneers opening the bag a little wider.

Punz looks back to the guys behind him who were now taking off the hoods that layed upon their heads. The two figures behind punz was none other then AntForst and Bad. Its his turn to laugh “Shouldnt I know the things about my client?” to which ranboo huffs out a 'I’m not your client’ under his breath.

Standing up, ranboo towers over punz by a good amount making the boy in white peer up at the hybrid. “Yeah Yeah, whatever. Whats in the bag?” Looking away from ranboo,his gaze drops down to the bag on the floor. A purple-ish light floats from it making punz laugh in greed.

Ranboo huffs again as if hes done this a thousand times.

“He probably has” you mumble, you yourself trying to see what was in the bag without getting spotted.

“Everything you asked for,” He starts picking the bag up with ease “5 enchanted cross-bows, two stacks of arrows, half a stack of diamond blocks and 10 gapples.”

The men whoop and Punz goes to reach for the bag but his hand is slapped away by Ranboos freckled one.”No. This is not how the trade works, you know that. Dont get greedy. I dont sell to greedy people.”

Punz sighs and rolls his eyes but nonetheless takes out 10 blocks of netherite and 4 blocks of gold. “This what you wanted?” he asks making ranboo nod to conform. “Alright then on the count of 3 we had over our respected items and go our marry little way, alright?” Ranboo nods again. He can sense something- no. Someone lurking.

“Alright then 1,” Punz takes a step forward towards Ranboo and ant and bad do the same. Ranboo stays where hes at. “2,” Ranboo stays still once again but this time slowly reaches for something in his back pocket. The boys don’t notice but you do.

“Oh god ranboo please dont let that be what I think it is..” You gasp covering a hand over your mouth. From the your place up in the air you know take position on the ground barely visible behind a tree.

“3″ Ranboo pulls the sword that once was rested in his pocket and swings it into punzs’ stomatch. A bewildered look flashes across punzs’ face as he stares into Ranboos eyes. He grunts and falls forward but ranboo catches him before he can crash. While the knife is still in punzs’ stomach he lies him down getting his blood all over his hands.

Theres a scream couple feet in-front of Ranboo.

‘Crap,’ He panics looking up quickly and noticing the two men inching away from him ‘I forgot they were there!’

Ranboo slowly inches forward slowly to not cause any alarm. Ant speaks up for the first time in 30 minutes “Ranboo you dont want to do this...” He puts his hands up in defence. “Me and Bad can just move on! Forget about it! Just please...” his sentence trails off.

Ranboo twirls the knife in his hand. The blade soaked to the brim in blood. He shakes his head slowly...sadly. “I’m sorry but...I cant have any witnesses” with that he teleports infront of them and with one swift motions they take their place on the floor. Now, there are three bodies.

‘This is too much, whats going on? Whats...whats happening?’ You scream inside your mind. Thoughts running a mile a minute. This wasn't  the Ranboo you knew and loved. This wasn't him.

Your body moves before you think and now your standing behind Ranboo as his shoulders shake. It hard for you to look away from the blood. The smell is strong and the desire to eat is stronger. But, you have to focus on the point at hand...

“what the heck is going on?!” That got his attention. He head snaps backwards so hard you think he might've snapped his neck. Your voice didn't register in his head until he saw your crazed look, fear danced in your eyes as you look at the enderman dressed in black. You were bent forward slightly, both hands wrapped around your baby blue robe eying the sword that rest in his palm.

Tears sprout in his eyes as he trips over his words. “(Y-Y/N)?What are you doing here?” He tries to walk towards you stops when you take a step backwards.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Your voice wavers in disbelief. “Why? WHY?! Why didn't you tell me this was happening? I thought we tell each other everything!”

Ranboo whimpers and shakes “we do..we do..we do..” he cries “im sorry..im sorry im so sorry...”

You scoff and take the hand from your robe and place it on your cheek, eyes stuck to the ground. You cant bare to look him in the eye. “why..why are you sorry? hmph? Are you sorry for brutally MURDERING THEM AND THEN GETTING CAUGHT! AND FOR WHAT?! THEIR MONEY?!” Anger was now in place of fear. You looked up and looked straight into his eyes. Remorse is written all over his face.

this causes him to shake more. “no, im sorry for what im about to do..” in the blink of a eye he teleports behind you and places the cold, metal object to your neck. “I love you so much...remember that” and with a quick slash you join the bodies on the floor.

Thick tears fall from his eyes bound to make scars later. With one deep breath he says these finals words before the darkness fades in “There shall be no witnesses.. im sorry (y/n)”

is this what betrayal feels like?

taglist (g):

@angelicaschuyler-church

@kusuinko

#ranboo x reader platonic #requested #dreamsmp #teen!reader #!vampire reader #platonic #cmerearson #arsonisago #hyrid

[stargirlfics]

Relationship advice here..... So my boyfriend broke up with me because i went somewhere without him while he was going through some things but i didnt know he was going through stuff because he always pushes me away when hes angry and the day before i left he was being really mean to me and he really hurted me n im just trying to figure out where i went wrong 😔 he says i broke him n he doesnt matter to me when thats completely false im just so confused right now because i always understand his point of view but he never understand my point of view n how he makes me feel its like im always the bad person :(((

Hey love ❤️ so first I wanted to say I’m sorry that happened I know that must be a lot to be feeling and experiencing

Second, I need you to know that you didn’t do anything wrong, there’s no point in this where you went wrong. Right now it probably feels terrible but I think it was better for the relationship to end because of the way he act and treats you

It’s unfair for him to get mad at you for not knowing he was going through stuff when he was the one that pushed you away and didn’t communicate what was going on, he can’t just expect you to read his mind or constantly be in tune with his moods and even if you were, like you said he pushes you away so there was nothing you could have done because he didn’t let you even try

It just seems really manipulative on his part to make you feel like you’re in the wrong constantly and then telling you that you broke him and that he doesn’t matter to you, that’s not cool at all and you don’t deserve that one bit. You gave your effort to him and the relationship, you tried your best to understand him and see things from his perspective and he gave you nothing in return but blame and that isn’t healthy or ok

Your partner shouldn’t ever be mean to you, your partner shouldn’t get angry and blame you when they are the one that failed to communicate what they’re feeling, your partner shouldn’t expect the world from you and then not give you any effort in return

I’m really sorry you had to deal with that, it sounds stressful and hurtful and you truly deserve far better, he wasn’t treating you right and has a lot of work he needs to do on himself because it isn’t your responsibility to bend over backwards to be there for him when he won’t let you in

I hope this helps ease your mind a bit and I hope that coming out of this relationship you take the time to grieve it however that looks like for you and it’s ok to be confused and hurt because it is hurtful, please also know you deserve a better man than he was to you and to never settle for less! 💖💖💖

#asks

[jzixuans]

hi hi so i know it was a few days ago that you asked for stuff to cheer you up but i figure hey there’s never a bad time for brotherly/platonic prinxiety, right? right.

ANYWAY

this is once again inspired by my friend and i (because im love her) so without further ado, i give you: virgil and roman and their summer passion project –✨ (warnings for murder and cult mentions (both done in good fun because virgil is just Like That sometimes), a bit of swearing, and the fact that i didn’t proofread this At All and played fast and loose with tenses because time is fake)

- roman is the one who comes up with the idea. of course he is, he’s the creative one! he has only the best of ideas, and virgil agrees. - this time, his idea is for them to write and direct a short film - (fun fact: it came about solely because roman wanted to try his hand at directing. he’s been in the spotlight so often that he wanted to see what it was like behind the scenes.) - at first, virgil is curious as to why roman wanted him to be a part of this project. roman can write and direct, and virgil certainly isn’t going to act, nor does he know any other actors - as it turns out though, roman wanted them both to be directors! - roman would take care of the more performance-based aspects while virgil would deal with technical ones. - (virgil has tried his hand at set/costume/make up design when he’d taken up technical theatre as an elective the previous year, and roman had been in awe of his work. they’re best friends, yes, but that’s certainly not the only reason roman wanted virgil’s help :D) - roman had approached virgil with this idea around mid-march of their junior year, figuring that they could write the script before summer rolled around, begin filming then, and finish up whenever they had time their senior year - he wanted it to be a sort of last hurrah for them, a wonderfully dramatic way to go out with a bang - virgil was not one for dramatics, but he had to admit that the allure of the potential cinematography he would be able to work with was hard to ignore - (he and roman are best friends, yes, and he would have agreed to helping him anyway, but by no means was he upset about it. ignore any grumbling he may have done, he doesn’t mean it. he’s just Like That, and roman both knows and appreciates this fact.) - ANYWAY - that’s enough snappiness for now i got very sidetracked there - when it comes to ideas about the plot for their little short film, the two were Stumped at first. - “what is there to write about that hasn’t already been done to death?” roman had asked - “why are you looking at me?” virgil had replied. “i’m in a constant state of no thoughts, head empty.” - (roman wasn’t going to argue with that. he was far too busy laughing.) - then, a few hours into their brainstorming session (which, naturally, had been taken over by a fair bit of bitching about classmates, teachers, and homework with a healthy dose of existential crises thrown in for good measure), roman made the brilliant mistake of asking, “what’s the most ludicrous thing we could make a short film about?” - “murder,” virgil replied almost immediately - (this was not the most ludicrous thing they could make a short film about, but as virgil had stated previously, he was very no thoughts, head empty. murder was one of the few things that managed to fill the void that was his brain.) - (roman knew that too, of course, but he replied “let’s do it” anyway) - and so their short film was going to be about murder - (this would become a rather common occurrence too—virgil coming up with the most batshit insane ideas that blinked out at him from the depths of his void-brain and roman bending over backwards to find a way to include them in the story.) - (a notable example was virgil’s request for him to incorporate cults and the fountain of youth. roman had surprisingly little trouble with that one, actually. cults can be very, very strange things.) - this is getting Far Too Long By Far, and while i do have a few more ideas, i’m going to. stop here for now and wrap this up fhdkskdk (but let me know if you want more of Them sometime 👀) - so. roman may be a Bit adhd (because i Said So) and ended up procrastinating before hyperfocusing and writing a vast majority of the script in the final week or two of school, but it was done by the time summer finally rolled around. - they’d found actors (aka roman’s ✨Extra✨ theatre friends) during the school year and virgil had done a lot of design work before roman had finished the script, so their summer was entirely spent on completely ignoring their responsibilities and filming a murder cult short film :D

blink: i’m sorry i took so long to read this i wanted to have enough Spoons to savour this and it didn’t disappoint!!

i love the idea of roman and virgil working on a film together i think that’s a real neat way to combine their interests

#platonic prinxiety #submission #this was so cute!! thank you for this!!!!!

[ongnable]

first love w/ daniel

for: wanna one’s kang daniel; a belated birthday gift warning: overthinking reader; reader-centric; angst

{part 1 of 2}

grabbing your hand, daniel led you out of the car; it would’ve have been a sweet gesture if the the baseball cap he let you wear didn’t get caught by the door - causing your neck to bend back, head whiplashing the rest of your body back

“yah, y/n, what are you doing?” instead of helping you, daniel was laughing

so much that you were sure his cheeks were going to hurt later

(it was entirely his own fault if his stomach decides to curl in cramps from making fun of you)

letting you of his hand, you grab the back of your neck, rubbing it in pain

“it’s not funny!”

“no, no, of course it’s not funny” you could hear the smile in his voice as daniel’s arm came around you, lifting you out of the car, holding you in a bear hug when you’re finally out

“our y/n got hurt, why would it be funny? lemme just kiss it better”

when you feel his hair tickling the side of your neck and soft lips at your nape, you finally break out in laughter too

looking around to see the open road, you asked where you were; there was nothing surrounding you two but water

“i thought it’d be nice to take a photo with the sea at the back, come on” daniel laced his fingers through your own, leading you to the edge of the fence

his hand never leaves your own when you take the selfie, his other slung comfortably over your shoulders - his favourite spot to rest them

daniel always told you how much he liked you fitting in his arms perfectly

“don’t you want one on your phone too?”

“hm? it’s on yours right~?” he flashed you a toothy grin, walking backwards so that he could face you “it’s better if its not on mine” he adds after a second of thought

ah. right. daniel had to be careful

“come on, let’s walk to the restaurant!”

“walk?” you guys were still in the middle of nowhere

“i left enough time for us to walk there, it’ll be nice - some fresh air.”

the smile on your face drops a bit. you’d forgotten how tired and stressed daniel must be, always having the paparazzi around. it was only in such rural places that the two of you could get some peace

“okay.” you squeeze his hand, hoping he knows that you’re here for him “let’s go - im hungry~”

“me too~” daniel mirrors your whining tones, bursting into laughter at himself when it comes out a little strange

“niel-ah, don’t try to be copy me when you’re not as cute! i mean,” you dramatically flip your hair over your shoulder - loving the way you can already hear daniel chuckling at your actions, loving that you’re the reason for his joy - “look at me, i made the nation’s number one pick fall for me. im the full package. i’ve got the looks, the smarts - not to mention i’m soooo humble”

“yes, yes. whatever you say, kiddo.”

you fall into easy conversation, catching up on what one another had been up to

you tell him that you’ve finally got a job at the firm you were eyeing - even though you’re just an intern for now

it’s been too long since it’s been just the two of you and you let the feeling soak in, cradling his arm against your body, swinging it slightly as you walk

and the long road in front of you seems too short

the buzz of daniel’s phone ignores your thoughts of staying close by him when he reluctantly lets go of your hand to pick it up

it had bothered you for a while now,

the little things.

and you hate yourself for noticing.

how the gifts he spoilt you with changed from jewellery and teddy bears to baseball caps and sunglasses, and street food stalls turned to private rooms hidden

how you going to meet him before a performance to tell him ‘good luck’ has become parking a mile out from where you were heading at night after a show to tell him ‘good job’

and now, it was in the way daniel went from showing you off to the whole dance crew to hiding you from the members he so clearly cared for

“where are you?”  you hear the mumbled tones of one of the wanna one members - the volume too quiet for you to make out who it is

“i just went out for a bit, i wanted to get my mom something. i’ll be back soon”

it was always like this. he never told anyone of you

he’d even go as far as lying for the sake of ‘protecting’ you

you hated it. it made you feel useless. and you hated the effort daniel had to put in for you

“niel-ah… are you ashamed of me?” you try it carefully, leaking in a teasing edge into the mix of emotions that have brewed up in the question despite how much it bothers you

“what? no! why would you ever think that, y/n?” daniel frowned. worried. puppy face and furrowed brows.

“it’s just that we always hide. i get that you’re a public figure now and you can’t have people knowing we’re dating - but what about the other members or your manager?“

jisung knew that you and daniel were together - you had been the one behind the camera filming daniel since his b-boy days

but you’d thought that daniel would’ve at least introduced you to the rest of the members when he finally debut

“sometimes i feel like i’m not enough for you”

seeing your worried expression, daniel cradles face to place a soft kiss on your lips; using his large frame to swallow you behind him completely and hiding you from everyone’s view

“i just think that the less people that know of us, the better it’d be. i want to protect you. you know how easily news get out.”

you nod. understanding what daniel was trying to say. but why did he have to protect you? you’d always had his back. you’ve always fought side by side.

daniel never had to stand in front of you.

as if reading your overthinking, he takes your hand in his own. the other stroking your hair gently, brushing a stray fringe behind your ear.

“i also don’t think i’d be able to trust the members with you kiddo - they’re no good at lying. not to mention, i’d get jealous. what if you saw minhyun-hyung and seongwoo-hyung and left me for them?”

hoping to cheer you up, he begins spouting the sappy lines he knows you hate so much. the honeyed words tumbling out easily

the ones that made you first fall for him.

“you know you mean the world to me. the world ends and starts with you. you’re the moon in my nights. the only thing i want to wake up and see in the morning. the one i want to spend the rest of my life with. i’d pick the stars out of the sky for y–”

“stop! stooop! fine, i believe you.” daniel grinned as he takes in your cringing, loving the effect he has on you

rolling your eyes, you let him lead you into the back room of a restaurant to enjoy the meal. ordering everything that catches his eye on the menu; the sight of him eating happily without worry as he recounts wanna one’s recent japan trip warms your heart effortlessly

you don’t see him for another two weeks.

and the choking feeling doesn’t return until you receive a text from him one night, with daniel reminding you to watch the latest episode of wanna one go.

to focus on his interview cut

“to my dear wannables, i really appreciate you.”daniel’s voice runs through your cheap bluetooth speakers, a little grainy, and little lower than what you’re used to - “i love you”

new text from daniel: [ did you watch it? ]

you hastily type a reply: [ yes ]

and you think of what you heard daniel say at an awards show the other day

almost bitter. because it seems that you can only hear him speak on television these days.

“i can’t believe i’m receiving so much love, i didn’t know i could be so loved by those around me.”

did i not show you that i loved you, daniel?

“i treasure all the memories that i am making with the members and my fans, and i want to become a better version of me that you expect me to be”

but you never wanted a better version. you just wanted kang daniel. it did not matter whether he was performing in the basement or at the center of the stage.

“my heart towards my fans will never change.”

you cried when you heard him. the hollow feeling that has been building inside you chest bursting.

you didn’t deserve him, and daniel didn’t need you dragging him down.

not when you couldn’t find it in yourself to be happy for his success.

playing with the necklace around your neck - a nervous habit - the pendant fell between your fingers

gliding smoothly past your fingertips as you tried to catch it mid-fall

the anniversary gift dropped soundlessly onto the floor - and you crouch to reach for it

but as if the ground is shaking, it tumbles out of your grasp even though it hooked onto your finger

and it seems so far away

and you aren’t sure whether you wanted to pick it up anymore

“y/n?” you turn to see daniel standing by your door. bag slung lazily over his side, and you stand back up.

“hey.” a smile. you muster a smile for him. because that was what daniel should come back to. what he needed to see on your face.

and daniel walks towards you, a teasing look on his face

“kiddo, how am i going to leave you alone if you keep dropping things?”

leave me alone?

you wonder

hasn’t he already done that? daniel has gone so far ahead of you that you don’t know if you can reach him anymore.

you once saw forever in his eyes and felt okay when he smiled

but now your heart breaks a little when he smiles because it reminds you of what used to be and what you could no longer get back

you’ve left me behind niel-ah

you still remember when you confessed to him. his bright smile, his half moon eyes. your stupid grin, your blushing cheeks.

how could i have been so stupid?

the way he said–

“i like you too. but it should be the man that confesses. y/n, i like you. please be mine.”

you have me, daniel. you had me. and i like you so so much. you wanted to tell him. scream it at him.

because why aren’t you good enough? why weren’t you enough?

“my heart towards you will never change.”

when he said that - his voice had been so clear with the affection you now shared with the rest of the world

“daniel.”

“hm?” he looks expectant. you rarely use his name.

“let’s break up.”

his hands grip your wrist as you try to turn away. though it wasn’t a tight hold - it was firm. sweaty palms burned on your cool skin as daniel held you in place.

“y/n–”

you know you’re hurting him. but at this point, you almost want to cause him the same amount of pain he’s caused you.

the same rippling pain you felt every time he told you that he was meeting new people, or challenging fresh choreography

how he said ‘i love you’ on broadcast as a message to the world, only to text you after it’s broadcast to ask if you watched the episode,

telling you that it was meant only for you

“i love you.” daniel’s eyes widen at your confession, and you wonder how long it’s been that you’ve said those word to him.

that he’s said the same to you. only to you.

“then why? why? y/n, tell me why. please. i’ll do better, i’ll do everything to make it right. is it because of how little time we’re spending together? i’ll make time. how about this weekend–”

“i love you. which is why it hurts to see - to not see you - daniel, i’m only holding you back. you deserve so much more. you deserve the love of the whole world and im not willing to share. you deserve to be loved than more than just me.”

“but i love you.” daniel whispered. “i need you.”

and you could hear his voice cracking. reminding you of how much of a crybaby daniel could be. your heart pulling and pushing - threatening to rip through your chest.

the tears that began to stream down smearing your heart

“not anymore.” he didn’t need you anymore.

you force yourself to stare at daniel’s tear stained face, pushing your gaze through him. 

you’d embed this in your memory. a constant reminder of your mistake.

because how dare you hurt him.

and how dare you feel good to see some sort of proof that he still cared.

shaking his hold off you, you pick up the necklace from the floor. the pendant much heavier than you remember it being

and you realise that the constricting weight around your neck has seemingly disappeared

ah. a bitter smile was the only thing left on your face now. you’d actually made up your mind without yourself knowing

you could no longer see the broken boy in front of you

you were looking through him now.

you wouldn’t hold him back anymore

and you wouldn’t torture yourself

“but niel-ah…” you allow yourself to let the syllables roll off your tongue one last time

niel-ah niel-ah niel-ah niel-ah niel-ah

(would you ever be able to call him that again?)

faintly, you hear the ringing of the school bell echo through the neighbourhood, loud in the silence of your apartment

enough. this was the end.

“if this is love, why is it only breaking me down?”

you both deserved more.

goodbye, my first love.

{ part 2 : last love }

#rip mother post #im an idiot that didnt check what she was doing #at least the typos are gone now #kang daniel #kang daniel imagine #kang daniel scenario #wannaone #wanna one #wannaone imagine #wannaone scenario #wanna one imagine #wanna one scenario #wanna one angst #jas writes

[warmau]

{Special College!AU} Ten

{tw: drinking mention} 

major: modern dance 

minor: spanish 

sports: focuses solely on dance performance and auditions 

clubs: is part of the uni radio show that reviews new music and is on at like 2 am but ten loves it so much and he basically makes johnny promise to stay up and listen so he can tell ten if he did well but johnny falls asleep and ten is like what are you even good for. thankfully taeyong loves to support his friends so he stayed up and he thinks ten did really well :-)

there is nothing more in the world ten loves than the stage

dancing on it, singing on it, just performing on it,,,,,,it’s everything to him

people like to assume it’s because there’s an audience, that ten likes to flaunt and show off

but in reality,,,,it’s just the surge of sharing what he loves and works so hard for with the world that makes him so excited

and yes,,,it’s easy to fall for ten’s charming socialite personality, but when it comes to dance - it’s more than that. when he’s dancing, he’s really - truly the person he wants to be

which is why modern dance feels so right to him,,, it’s so complex and vibrant and striking - much like what he is like as a person

and although he’s had fun growing up and doing everything from ballroom, to latin, to ballet ,,,,,,,, something about learning a style that let’s you explore and be as free as modern dance clicks for him

so whenever jaehyun comes to watch a performance and sheepishly admits that some of it,,,he just doesn’t get,,,,ten always perks up and is like “that’s fine!!!! it’s just supposed to make you FEEL”

johnny: cool, i FEEL hungry let’s go get foo-

taeyeong: jonathon don’t say that, ten honey i thought everything was very beautiful

doyoung: how do you bend your arm like that. is your arm broken?

sometimes, just to be cheeky, ten tries to teach his friends some of the moves that he 100% knows they can’t pull off

but sicheng always freaking gets it on the first try and ten is like dude why aren’t you a dance major and sicheng just shrugs, in that totally dazed out way about him

and ten is just like clasping his fist like,,,sicheng you could be world famous i dONT GEt IT

sicheng: idk, im gonna go take a nap now

ten took spanish as his minor because he really likes learning languages, and much to everyone’s shock, he’s actually decent

it has nothing to do with the fact that for a class there was an exchange teacher from spain who danced in ways ten didn’t even think were imaginable???

and well,,,,let’s just say someone had a tiny crush

(and totally learned the phrase ‘i respect you’ in spanish just to be able to say it through half tears when that teacher had to leave)

but no really, a lot of dance comes from spanish-speaking cultures and ten is honestly so excited about it,,, 

even though it isn’t his main discipline when he watches people do flamenco or paso doble he literally thinks it’s the coolest and he’s probably got a bookmark folder on his laptop for every kind of dance and his fav youtube videos of it

as much of social butterfly as it is,,,,ten is nerdy when it comes to his passion

like if there are biography's of dancers, instructional manuals on posture, and films on genres of dance - best believe ten has seen/read it all 

people brush dance off as an easy major, but it’s an art

and all types of art have history,,,, that ten just really rEALLY loves to indulge in

totally splurges on cute practice clothing

neon headbands anyone,,,,,,,,,,,,,,he’d look cute ok

actually there’s a ballet technique class all modern dance majors have to take and ten had remembered looking at the prices of really good ballet shoes and just being like,,,,,,oh god

tried to get a job at a bakery outside of campus,,,,which went well and people actually started showing up more just to like,,,

see ten???????

because he’s so sweet and talkative,,,,, the manager was loving it 

but it was cutting into his practice time so ten had to leave,,,,,but believe me everyone who worked there totally got his # and followed his instagram like im telling you right now ten is everyone’s best friend

hangs out with seungcheol, the kinesiology major who he met while stretching at the gym

knows hyungwon, the linguistics major who gave him tips on studying another language

regularly invited to mark and jackson’s parties 

modeled for art history major hongbin in his painting class

him and jin sometimes host the campus radio show together 

he’s just,,,,, he’s just always someones friends and there for people and the center of attention - even when he isn’t even trying

he just shines bright because he’s always trying to be positive

even if he’s just busted his butt practicing for five hours, is wearing the SWEATIEST pair of leggings, and is running on iced coffee only

oh, big thing about him: as a broke college student he thinks he can survive on super high levels of sugar

eats essentially the following: chocolate, ice-cream, sugary coffee, soda

taeyong is so worried he’s going to die 

you and ten are acquaintances, how you ask?

you and ten frequent college parties,,,,well like,,,,who doesn’t??? but here’s the thing about college parties: the drinks are all beer

and ten doesn’t like beer,,,,,,,,

so when people expect him to be tipsy, singing along to shinee’s ringdingdong, they only get one of the two. it’s the singing

now, don’t get me wrong - if there’s wine? champagne? fruity cocktails?????? ten is all done for it

and ends up with his shirt on backwards and a fake tattoo of a dragon on his cheek

but that’s only out in the city, the occasional meetup with friends for dinner 

college parties,,,,,,,that’s johnny’s turf,,,,,,he’s the Beer boy 

which makes ten - part of the sober patrol

you,,,,are also in the same boat. your friends are all fans of beer pong, keg stands, etc. and you just don’t have the taste for beer

that or maybe you just know you’re the last to get too wild and someone has to make sure everyone gets home safe

so you and ten have gotten used to doing the rounds. johnny teasingly refers to ten as the designated driver even tho ten’s never driving - he’s just dragging johnny out by the collar

your friends tease you just the same, affectionately calling you the parental figure when they’ve got their heads in the clouds

and on one or more occasions you and ten have found yourself out on the lawn near the dorms or standing above your giggling friends on the sidewalk curb

handing out water bottles (or pouring them ontop) to your friends, telling them that tomorrow there’s class - there’s work they gotta get their butts up and in bed

the most common place scene is ten with johnny, doyoung, and surprisingly taeil all slumped over one and other. ten shaking his head and going “who has a test tomorrow? all three of you? jesus-”

you find yourself right beside him, your own group of friends groaning and asking you to get them something for the headaches

ten and you share the same sigh, the same crossing your arms and going “why did you drink on a tuesday night” speeches

until it’s happened so many times that you see each other at the same party

and ten jokingly grins and goes “what’s up sober patrol”

and you’re like “not much, designated driver”

more than anything, it’s just silly banter between each other 

you’re honestly surprised by the fact that ten manages to still be so energetic and magnetizing without participating in drinking

like he’ll still get up on tables and dance, he’ll still tell great jokes and be every bit as comfortable

even when people hand him cups, he passes them along and doesn’t let anything bother him from just having a good time 

and still being able to take care of his friends when it’s over

one night, as your group of friends manages to not get TOO wild and you’re leaving with none of them leaning on you for support

you spot ten, crouched down in front of a well known senior

as you look closer you realize he’s the one  everyone knows ,,,,, he’s the schools top dancer - accepted into a major company with a whole track list of performances

he’s slumped against the wall, rubbing his temples and ten seems to be trying to offer him water

which the older boy sluggishly takes from his hand and you walk over, asking if ten needs help

at first he just smiles and tells you it’s nothing,,,but the guy up close is obviously bigger - with broad shoulders and long legs

if ten tries to hoist him up,,,you know he’ll never be bale to do it by himself

so you go “i can help, really”

with a LOT of struggle you get the dude up, he leans most of his body weight on ten which doesn’t seem to bother ten as much as you guessed

although dancers are lean, you know they’re also toned

but you swat the image of ten’s muscular upper arms and legs from your mind and try to bare you brunt of the guys weight

by the grace of who knows what you get to the dorms, the guy’s bunk is on the top so you and ten watch in horror as he tries to barell his way up the stairs

at some point he tilts back and you and ten think he’s going to fall over 

once he’s safely in bed, feet hanging off, ten throws a blanket up ontop

where it lands -- it doesn’t matter 

ten just tells you that you’d two better get out of there before the floor RA does rounds

you both find yourselves, sweaty and tired, out on the campus grounds at 4 in the damn morning 

and you think,,,,really being the sober friends isn’t worth it either - you have class at 

and just when you’re sure ten’s going to tell you he’s gotta split he motions to the main dance building and goes

“i know a good place for some snacks and since it’s basically morning, wanna get an early breakfast?”

you’re shocked one; at the proposition to share breakfast with him but also two; tht he doesn’t want to go get a quick nap instead

either way it’s free food - but what’s more important is it’s ten,,,,,

and ever since you both started this whole weird in between of strangers-with-tipsy-friends thing going on,,,you’ve wanted to more about him

like seriously all you had so far was cute, dances,,,,,,,caring,,,,Cute

so with a small nod, you follow ten curiously into the building

the doors aren’t locked - ten explains that late night practice groups usually always forget to lock the door 

you two end up in the kitchen of the teacher’s lounge and out of the mini-fridge ten pulls out two yogurts. handing one to you he opens a couple drawers and throws you an energy bar

“isn’t this,,,looting?”

ten shakes his head with a laugh “it’s not the teachers food, it’s snacks for students. people raid this place all the time.”

you feel a small tinge of guilt, but hey he’s the dance major here

so you unwrap the energy bar to take a bite 

“i know the coffee machine works, but there’s only hazelnut flavor?”

you shrug and go that’s fine

ten grins and disappears toward the back of the kitchen

you look around, the desks are covered in pamphlets for different performances, there’s a stack of books on the history of different dance styles

someone’s got photos of alumni in elaborate, beautiful costumes tapped to their wall

and there are countless racks of CD’s, tangled wires from stereos, and what you assume are recordings of past choreography’s 

it doesn’t look anything like any other departments office, but at the same time you see just how much the people who work there must love dance

when ten motions for you to come with him you can’t help but wonder,,,,where does that passion for this come from

getting the door open with his foot, ten uses his elbow to flick the lights of one of the studios on

the entire room is pretty empty - the mirrors go from the floor to the ceiling 

and there’s only a computer in the corner on a standing desk which you assume is for music

setting your drinks and coffee down on the floor he jokes that you can’t spill anything - this floor is too hard to clean

you settle in with your legs crossed, ten sorta lays on his side with his arm propped under his head

and for a while it’s silent till ten goes “we deserve a day off from the sober patrol, we should get some good wine together or something.”

you laugh, but agree “beer is gross” you state and crinkle your nose

ten nods, taking a spoonful of yogurt and going “it tastes dry - it gets stuck in my throat. i could drink anything else, but not that.”

“i think college kids like it because it’s cheap.”

ten wags a finger and goes “i know a place where there’s bottles of wine for $12. kids just don’t have class these days”

you giggle and go “do you?”

ten raises an eyebrow, “oh you don’t even know”

it’s so natural around him, you guys spend the next two hours talking about the worse parties on campus, the horrible scheduling this semester, and ten impersonates the chem teacher you both had for core

even though you’re hanging out with him for real for the first time - it feels like you’ve known each other for years

“you should give me your number, just in case we need each other for more sober patrol missions”

ten suggests, sitting up and handing you his phone

“it’s at 8%, how hot”

“just enough time to get those digits”

he winks and you laugh, rolling your eyes

but just like that you and ten are in each other’s contacts. under the very creative name ‘sober patrol buddies’ with the ambulance emoji next to it

it’s all goofy and silly but ten suddenly goes “ive seen people abandone their friends at parties, not a lot of people are loyal like us.”

you nod slowly, but it’s true - college can really bring out the worst in people. the amount of times you’ve helped out random students is pretty high

ten catches your gaze and adds “loyalty is important to me, trust is something i don’t want to lose in people you know?”

it’s the most serious thing to come out of him since you met hi

but you somehow understand why that would mean so much for him. in dance, a lot of the time you have to trust the partners you’re with. the people who train with you and help you become better

you don’t say anything, but you go that ou just want to be the kind of friend whose there for people

and you hope those people will be there for you

ten leans over, patting the top of your head and going ‘ill be there, just call your sober patrol buddy”

in that moment, you assume he’s just being silly

that he means it, but in a friendly way

you don’t know that for ten, it’s something a bit more

not until weeks have gone by since you guys hungout like that - a party or two happens and you and ten see each other again

but you don’t hang out - not until you get a random text in the evening that’s from ten and it’s the wine emoji and question mark

and you’re like “are you inviting me or are you asking me if i can hook you up?”

ten just says he’s all set, you can come over if you want

you’re surprised when you see his dorm

it’s a little cluttered, but somehow feels really genuine to ten

with fairy lights, pictures of his family on his wall, and rows of dancing shoes and duffle bags full of training wear pilled near his desk

ten pulls something out of the corner of his bed 

“is that the cheap wine you told me about?”

you joke and ten goes “cheap, but not that cheap.”

you sit down at his desk and ten opens the bottle

“i thought we should have a day where the sober patrol gets to have fun”

“inside you dorm,,,,,,,,?”

ten shrugs “it’s safer than t some frat house. we can get tipsy and critique twilight if you want, or oh - my fave - truth or date ft wine”

you laugh, but agree. there’s a nervous knot in your stomach because tbh this seems kinda like a stay-in date??

but you don’t know,,,,there’s no way ten feels that way about you ,,,, right??

you watch him pour some wine into a mug with your college’s logo on it. he passes you an identical mug and pours you some

the wine is red, which you like and makes you feel warm

“ok , truth or dare?” 

you spin in his desk chair and go “,,,,,,dare?”

“i dare you to prank call my friend jaehyun”

“but he’s so sweet, he doesn’t deserve it”

ten taps his chin “you’re right lets go for the real demon,,,,,,joh-taeil.”

the game goes on for a bit, you almost finish the entire bottle when you go “truth” with a small hiccup

and ten goes “have you ever thought of me romantically?”

you drop your eyes to the floor, the embarrassment burning bright on your cheeks

“hmmm?”

ten hums, sitting upright on his bed

“,,,,,,,,,yes”

truth or dare has never been 100% of a real game to you - the amount of times you’ve lied playing it is countless but something pries you this time to just do it. say the truth

ten suddenly puts a hand on your knee and pulls you a bit so the desk chair slides you closer

“im gonna ask another one, truth or dare”

you presses your hand to your lips, “truth,,”

“is that the wine talking. or do you really like me.”

“i really like you”

ten doesn’t try to hold back the grin on his face, he doesn’t even try to hold back the “oh good, i was worried for a sec”

you both sit there,,,,you shell-shocked that you said that - well, admitted that

and ten basking in the happiness of knowing you like him, he goes “you can ask me”

“truth,,,,o,,or dare”

the words come out a little nervous and ten goes “truth.”

you know he expects you to ask him back, ‘do you like me too’, but you shift a little and go

“do you want to kiss me?”

“yes”

and just like that, ten let’s you lean in and his lips are soft - the mutual taste of wine lingers on them

he gently falls back, tugging you on top of him and you feel the knot in your stomach turn into a butterfly

but as ten’s hand cups your face, you stat thinking,,,,,,what if this is just the wine talking for him - do you really wanna do this right now - when neither of you are sober

you suddenly pull back, ten confusing lifts himself on his elbows and you go

“i,,,,,i want to do this,,,,but not like this,,,,”

you say the words in an almost hushed whisper, the thoughts that flash through your head have to do with everything you’ve ever seen or read about college

where if you pull out in the middle of a hookup- the other person will be hurt, angry, distraught

and you know you completely have the right to say no if you’re not feeling it 100%,,,,,but you also don’t want ten to stop liking you-

but ten makes all that wash away

he nods, that signature smile on his lips 

“i understand, wanna just cuddle and watch a movie? im telling you - twilight is better with wine”

you giggle and moves so you’re laying beside him, arms pressed against each other and you go

“i think,,,,,,,horror movie would be better?”

ten scrunches up his face and goes “sure, but im going to be hiding and holding onto you for dear life, that cool?”

you nod, and ten gets up to find his laptop

for the rest of the time, you guys stay huddled under the blanket,,,,and everything is warm and fuzzy and ten doesn’t ever take things too far

just small kisses here and there and ten going

“the sober patrol is now the sober,,,,,couple??”

you must already know who the first person is that knows you’re dating,,,,,,,,,

well actuaally johnny is the /second/

because the first is the senior you and ten dragged home, he’d actually spotted you and ten on campus after ten had walked you to class and he’d went up to both of you to thank you 

but to also beg you not to tell anyone about his state that night,,,,he was even like “ill put in a word for you a t my company” to ten but you and ten were like it’s fine LOL

he’d left with a “you guys are cute together” and you had turned cherry red as ten just shone like our first compliment babe we are gonna be the POWER couple soon you just wait and see

but yeah, after that it was johnny and oh,,,,,it was special

johnny, upon hearing ten introduce you as his s/o had just got the most happy look on his face - to the point where it was a lil goofy

and pulled you two into his arms like you guys,,,,you guys,,,,,you’re my favorites ok,,,

johnny gets dramatic ok

and ten, gets just as dramatic he was like johnny i honestly feel like they make me the best version of me and we’ve been on like one date

johnny: marriage-

ten: don’t say that. but also very very low key do say that jokes jokes

the rest of ten’s friends, and by friends i mean nct, are all really happy for him. they’re also happy that someone will be there to help ten deal with their tipsy butts and you’re like oh,,,i wish my friends get in over their heads too

which leads to nct being like we should all party together then

you and ten: oh god. our worst nightmare

ten: this is mark, he’s great because he doesn’t like drinking at all

the rest of ten’s friends, the entire damn campus, is also super happy for him

a lot of people start introducing themselves to you and asking you to hangout and stuff be cause anyone that dates ten has to be an awesome person

which you’re flattered but you’re like my boyfriends a celberity,,,

he’s even friends with amber?? JACKSON WANG???

ten is the kind of boyfriend who everyone assumes is going to take you clubbing, make you do things you’ve never imagined, and basically just be wild

which,,,yeah is something you guys do

because ten knows the nightlife of the town like the back of his hand , but you know he’s a hardworking dace major

sometimes he’s just tired and wants to be lazyi n the dorm with you

and both lively ten, and cuddly ten is perfect for you

but as you find out, after an evening of drinks with friends, ten can get LOUD 

and i mean loud like singing along to karaoke at high volume, asking the DJ to play sons when the DJ is literally across the room, downing shots like his liver just doesn’t exist

dunks his whole body in the pool with his clothes on and pulls you in right after him

but it’s fun, being with him is exhilirating, but can also just be so romantic and safe

because even tipsy ten is still aware of boundaries and puts communication first

honestly ,,,,,there’s a point where you two are just eskimo kissing each other in the club and johnny is like “true love,,,,,”

but im not even gonna lie does ten grind on you and pop some hot dance moves out - yeah, he does and you love it

how can you not it’s ten like???

those nights, neither of you is on sober patrol because you both end up gripping onto each other for dear life and taeyong is the one to call the uber LOL

dance majors are super studious in their studies, as you learn with ten and his spanish minor

like he never misses a chance to practice and he’ll turn to you and go from “Eres la persona más bella que he visto,,,,” to “Dios mío, ¿que pasaría si le pinto el cabello naranja a Taeyong mientras duerme?”

if you understand spanish: you’re like thank you,,,but don’t do that to taeyong 

if you don’t understand you’re just like ??? babe??? translate?? babe all i got was bella and taeyong what’s happening

i feel like ten is a big petname person , but also like personalized nicknames that are inside jokes

oh- he takes a lot of pics on his phone

most of them are selfies and the amount of time you’ve had to stop in the street, sip your coffee and reply to texts while he gets the perfect angle is hilarious

but also like it’s adorable, he takes pics of you - and they’re god. like totally candid quality

but also he’s like ‘look at my new dance tights - i could do a split’ and you try not to laugh in lecture because of the pics he sends 

squishes your face 

likes when you squish his face

practice for him can be super long and sometimes you’ll surprise him after with dinner and you’ll sit infront of the mirror and eat while other dance majors come in and out and try to steal the snacks you got ten

and he’s like swatting at them like mine,,,they’re mine,,,the snacks and my s/o

piggy backed you to class once because you were running late and didn’t even get a chance to brush your hair

like literally just got you on his back and he was off!

when you got to class he let you down and put his cap on your head and he was like “your look is complete, and none but me gets to see your cute bedhead”

you and him totally do the couple challenges that go viral on the internet because ten is just totally that boyfriend

you’ve done each others makeup blindfolded, you’ve tried to guess each others favorite things, played pranks on one and other, and just in general been cute as hell

everyone on campus wants u two to vlog

like so bad

ten runs that radioshow and when he really really likes a song he dedicates it to you before they play it

johnny: i know your s/o is texting you because you always get that dumb goffy look on your face

ten:you always have a dumb look on your face, it’s your face

johnny: im calling the police

ten stresses out a lot about auditions and you always have to stock up on his favorite ice-cream and come over and just tell him he’s gonna do fine

one of those nights, as you’re laying beside him and ten is telling you that he’s just,,,worked so hard what if it goes to waste

you go “you’re ten, nothing can stop you.” 

he’d looked over at you, eyes softening and his lips pressing against yours

and it had felt so right in the moment ,, having his arms around you and you’d remembered what ten had said to you

about mutual trust,,,and just knowing people will be there for you

and you had let your hand rest on his neck, his lips against your collar and you just felt like you had to tell him

“ten, i trust you. forever.”

something had sparked in him, having your trust gave him the confidence

and it had been perfect, with marks left on both of you and giggling shyness afterwords as you ducked under the covers and ten had to tickle you to show yourself again

also just a comment, dancer’s body. that’s all i gotta say

you and ten have less time to always be on sober patrol because now you’ve got date nights instead of parties - but don’t get me wrong you guys still go out with friends

and you and ten still nag at your friends for forgetting that they have exams tomorrow or competitions and everyone is like it’s hard to be maD at you TWO when you’re SO CUTE together And im drunk

you attend one of ten’s performances and seeing him dance, you get it. you get that he belongs there and why he tries so damn hard

why he’ll keep practicing when everyone’s gone and keep trying to learn new techniques

and you’re so freaking proud

ten asks you one time, as you’re sitting at lunch, your friends surronding you and chattering away

he asks if you think he’ll make it

you just put your hands on both his cheeks and kiss him and go “yes. don’t doubt yourself”

he grins, pulling you closer and mumbling, “Mi vida seria un desastre sin ti.”

you and ten are dating but the amount of times you’ve both had to pull johnny out of some dorm with silly string in his hair and someones number scribbled on his cheek just indicates that you’re both the parents of this overgrown child

but it’s ok,,,,,,,because in the end you and ten have something undeniable - a connection that’s gonna last forever

you just can’t believe you found each other indirectly, literally, because of something you both don’t like : beer

“we should get matching t-shirts, and i want one to say ‘if lost please return to the best person on earth’ and the other one gets the ‘im the best person on earth’ shirt”

you look up at ten from your laptop and chew your lip

“that would work, but who gets the best person on earth shirt. we’re both pretty great”

“it’s interchangeable, we switch it up depending on how we feel.”

“deal”

“i love you”

“i love you too” 

taeil | johnny | doyoung | jaehyun | taeyong | yuta | bangtan | vixx | monsta x | got7 + kard + amber | seventeen |

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #ten scenarios #ten imagines #chittaphon scenarios #chittaphon imagines #drinking/ #nct u scenarios #nct u imagines #nct #ten #chittaphon #College!AU #this one is actually based on a couple i know lmao that met because they didn't like drinking on campus it's actually cute #if this disturbs anyone in anyway - please tell me so i can properly tag

[kokkoro]

you and me (were meant to be) (1/3)

Her name is Clarke and she likes coffee and it takes you half a second to decide you like her.

or the ‘i just met you but there’s this couples contest on campus rn and all my friends are busy and you’re just sitting there reading on the quad, pls the prize is a Technivorm Moccamaster KBT 741 and my coffee machine broke last week and im dying pls i need my coffee’ au 

(aka the couples competition au) (on ao3)

If asked you would say you were bribed. Or blackmailed. Something dramatic like that. Except you don’t even like coffee and the last time someone tried to force you to do something you didn’t want to do they ended up with a fist to the face and a bloody nose. What you do like though are pretty blonde girls in loose button-ups and tiny jean shorts and backward snapbacks, so in hindsight there really was no hope for you.

So you say yes, and it's this wobbly cracked thing that stumbles from the tip of your tongue in two pieces that’s only halfway out your mouth by time she’s pulling you to your feet.

“Come on,” she says, urging, her lips halfway to a grin and you’re already lost. “The competition starts in ten and we still haven’t signed up.”

You’re pulled from your spot in front of the library and into the thick of things without warning and she doesn’t let go of your hand in what you assume is a precaution against losing you to the droves of people congregating on the quad. This is what you imagine a stampede to feel like, the cacophony rattling and your breath lodged just below your throat, but you focus on her hand and everything thins. It’s the beginning of October, right when the chill of oncoming autumn is contested only by the sun’s last attempts at summer, but you know it more commonly as homecoming week.

There’s stands with food and drinks and the art students have dragged out displays and people crowd in a manner that makes at least some semblance of sense. Clubs and various organizations shout to be heard above the ruckus of the radio club, vying for the attention of the incoming freshman who wander through the chaos like lost souls in the styx.

You see the queue for the line by the practice field. It’s not long, but the sun’s in your eyes and Clarke turns the hat on her head to block it. She fiddles, lifting and shifting until it rests the way she wants it. It sits a little askew, her blonde hair ruffles and curls.

“Have you done this before?” she says.

You look away only to settle on a burly young man attempting to rip his shirt off, and you turn back to focus on Clarke. That’s also a terrible idea, so you shift to watch the line steadily move forward. “Gotten drafted into a couples competition by a stranger? No, I haven’t.”

“Enjoyed the festivities I mean.” Clarke says, and the small smirk she wears means your attempt at humor went better than planned. “Did I drag you away from something important?”

“Not particularly.” You’d actually be apart of it if you hadn’t been coerced into delegating the task to Anya. She had said you needed a break. Really, you think she just gets off seeing the freshmen's faces when they meet you for the first time and are lulled into a false sense of security. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it amusing in some ways.

“Good.”

The silence picks up, interspersed by the low chatter of the couple in front of you. The girl giggles, tucked into the side of her boyfriend and he bends to whisper something into her ear before pressing his mouth to the side of her head. She swats at him playfully, but her retaliation doesn’t last, her arms wrapping around his torso.

“Why me?” you ask softly and Clarke brows scrunch, confused, so you squeeze her hand and repeat: “Why me? Surely you’d have a better chance with someone else.”

Clarke snorts and looks ahead, standing briefly on her tip-toes to peer around the people in line in front of you, tilting the bill of her hat back. It’s another second before she says, nonchalant, “And be utterly heteronormative? Please. I didn’t spend my high school years struggling with my sexual identity to stop here.” She glances at you and maybe you’re imagining the way her eyes dart to your lips. “Plus all my friends were busy.”

Your heart thuds, a quick one-two beat, and you feel lost. It takes a second to pull yourself back. “What makes you so sure?”

“About what?” Clarke says with a slight smile.

You watch her watch you. “Me.”

“A hunch?” she says, raising her shoulders in an innocent shrug. “Am I right?”

She is. God, she is. Your eyes dart to her lips--to her eyes and the faint flush dusting her cheeks and you swallow before tearing your eyes away, but she lets out a small laugh and you’re right back to where you started.

“You have rainbow pin on your bag,” she points out, her voice soft and unassuming, and you look down despite knowing what you’ll find. You completely forgot you had that. “I figured the odds were in my favor. But if you’re not comfortable with, uh, this… thing, I… No hard feelings, really. You don’t have to do this.”

You move another pace forward, tugging her gently forward with you. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. “I want to.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, a grin slow to form on her lips. She squeezes your hand and you feel it light a fire in you. “Then lets kick some ass.”

You’re still staring at her by the time you make it to the front and the guy behind the table at the sign-in tent can’t keep the wry smile from his mouth. He taps his pen against the plastic fold-out table. “Welcome to the annual Official Unofficial King and Queen Competition. . .ladies,” he says, and Clarke scoffs quietly next to you, her thumb passing restlessly back and forth across your knuckles. “Here to sign up? You’re just in time. Names please.”

“Clarke and Lexa,” Clarke supplies easily, and the guy mmhmms as he scribbles chicken scratch onto a ledger. You catch Clarke eyeing the impressive coffee machine up for grabs, this superfluous monster of a machine that you’d swear could sooner do your taxes than make you a cup of coffee.

“Nice to meet you, Clarke and Lexa,” he says, peeling off two stickers from a roll by his right elbow and holding them out to you. “Stickers where we can see ‘em, alright? You can leave your belongings here is you want and the competition starts in five. All couples should be by the platform on the practice field by the start time, you know the deal. Good luck guys.”

You take yours somewhat awkwardly, stuck to your index finger, unsure of what to do with it until you see Clarke place hers on the sleeve of her button up, patting it down with this small determined look on her face. You place yours on your stomach, over the loose white tee you’re wearing, and then hand over your bag for safe-keeping.

Clarke takes your hand again a second later like it’s already a habit, threading your fingers together and wiggling, and you allow yourself to be led. From what you can see, the practice field is set up accordingly. There appears to be what seems like an obstacle course made out of some of the old football equipment set up at strategic points on the field. Even the few rows of bleachers have already started to fill out with spectators. They’re either friends of the competitors or those with down time during the festivities and looking for a laugh.

You’re not unused to the attention though it’s hard to not find it a tad unnerving. This is nothing short of a spectacle, meant for entertainment and the emotions and thrill competition brings, perhaps at the expense of your pride. You’ve learned from experience not to let it get to you. It makes you impulsive, a little bit reckless, and that’s not something you are. But now, as Clarke leads you up onto the platform and the adrenaline begins to prickle to life under your skin, you let it. You have a feeling you’ll need it.

The group of couples line up in a row and you and Clarke find a spot near the end of the line as one of the last few onto the stage. She sticks close, her arm around your waist and this small determined grin on her face as she scopes out the competition, looking up and down the line appraisingly. Watching her drowns out the noise, the persistent chatter of the other competitors and the far off white noise of the people filling out the stands.

Confidence looks good on her.

She snaps out of it the second someone tests the microphone and the sound blares loudly, her arm tensing around your waist. A few boos and curses issue out from the stands and your host, a tall, bright eyed man with shaggy hair and a slight beard, laughs. He shakes it off, tapping the microphone one more time to make sure it works as intended, before spreading his arms wide.

“Welcome!” his voice booms over the speakers, voice low and powerful, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You can feel the sound in your chest. “To the annual official unofficial Polis U King and Queen Competition!”

The man takes a moment to bask in the noise, scanning the crowd, smiling as random onlookers take notice of the commotion and try to find seats among the madness. “Today, these young lovers will seek to prove their worth in three grueling tasks for the right to become this year’s top couple. So sit back, relax, pick a favorite, they’ll need all the help they can get.”

“Are you ready?” you hear Clarke mutter, just barely over the noise, and you dip your head, angling towards her. You try not to look at her, but she turns to you then and your world seems to crumble, leaving nothing but the sight of her looking back at you.

“I was born for this, Clarke,” you tease, and her lips stretch into the widest grin.

“--first,” the hosts voice cuts through your self induced fog and you look back up and out over the crowd, trying to ignore the way Clarke holds you tighter. “Let us weed out the weak.”

A stagnant pause hangs over the training field

“Contestants!” the man continues, and there’s a certain satisfaction you find in the way a few of the men in line jump at the words that travel over the loudspeaker. “Spread out before you is an obstacle course designed to test your physical limits. Men, and women,” he corrects quickly at the sight of you, “must carry their ladies safely all the way across field to the end. But the catch,” he motions to a helper down on the field and they quickly toss up a brightly colored beach ball, “is that this must as well.”

“You are allowed,” he continues, “to use this ball to knock the other competitors ball out of their hands. You may not tackle, hit, or otherwise hurt your fellow competitors, but besides, be one of the first fifteen couples to cross the finish line and you’re through.”

Clarke pokes you in the side as you and the other competitors are herded off the platform and down onto the field. “How fast can you run?”

“Fast enough,” you say.

“I say we book it. Let the rest fight amongst themselves.”

You fight back a smile as you watch her out of the corner of your eye, taking a knee once you arrive at the starting line. You brace your hands against the grass and Clarke clambers onto your shoulders, her touch light against your back. When she finally settles, hands on your head, you hook your arms around her thighs and try to make sense of the extra weight. “Ready?” you say, tilting your head back and tapping her leg to get her attention. From the look on her face, you have an inkling she might be afraid of heights. “on three, two, one--”

You stand and Clarke’s grip tightens on your hair briefly, fingers tugging a bit at the strands, before the tension relaxes. She gathers her bearings, legs clenched around your shoulders, feet hooked on your sides. Any tighter and the circulation to your arms might cut off, but she takes a moment to center herself.

“I’m good,” she says, a bit too quickly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She holds out her hands and one of the event staff tosses up a blue beachball that she catches just barely. She lets out a slow breath, nodding to herself, and clutches the ball to her chest.

You find your place behind the line, watching the others settle in beside you. Some look lost. This palpable apprehension that seems to take hold in their eyes. They won’t make it twenty feet, you’re sure. The tall dark man with the broad chest and the small firecracker of a woman on his shoulders not ten feet down from you, however, is another story altogether.

Everything drowns away the second the countdown starts over the speakers. You feel kind of stupid, but there’s a pretty girl with her legs around your neck and everything else seems to fall away in comparison. She’s warm. Not to mention probably more embarrassed about this than you. Or at the least that’s what you find yourself hoping the second the countdown reaches zero and you bolt off as fast as you can towards the finish line.

Only to make it two feet before someone comes running at you from the side with a yellow beachball.

You manage a strangled “Clarke,” and she turns.

There’s a split second you take to brace yourself and Clarke is just as fast. She meets the impact head on, leaning in with her weight as you lurch to the side. The resulting impact causes the couple to jerk back and without the necessary balance they topple to the ground.

The crowd roars.

“Motherfucker,” you hear Clarke huff under her breath, and you try and fail to wipe the smirk from your face.

It’s awkward running with someone on your shoulders, you realize. You’re scared she’ll fall off, but if the numbness you’re beginning to feel in your arms is any indication as you step through a rows of tires spread out past the twenty yard-line, you think she’ll be okay.

You hear a chorus of shouts among the cheers from the stands and the slightly unnerving laughter behind you, but you don’t look back, keeping your focus on putting one foot in front of the other. You stumble out of the last tire and Clarke’s free hand is quick to tangle itself into your shirt to keep herself upright. It rubs roughly against your collarbones, and if nothing else it reminds you to breathe.

“Lexa,” she says a little breathlessly, releasing her hold. You feel her shift to glance at the commotion behind you, and you’re not sure if she’s scolding you or warning you as you sprint headlong into a barrage of standing football dummies.

They’re placed close together, which is good for you if a bit ridiculous to think about. Blue, red, yellow, red, blue--they pass in a blur, knocking against your elbows and Clarke’s knees. Somewhere to your left you have a feeling someone is close behind and when you burst through the thick of it you feel a little disorientated. The other couple overtakes you, taking advantage of your sudden stupor, and you know that means the others are not far behind.

You don’t remember the rest. It flies by as you attempt to gain back what you lost, unaware of much besides Clarke urging you on and the finish line not ten yards away. You come in second and you don’t realize you’ve finished until Clarke’s gleeful yelp, too focused on getting back the air you lost in that last made dash. She drops the beachball unceremoniously in favor of wrapping her arms around your neck and it only makes it harder to breathe. The sudden stop in forward momentum and the enthusiasm of Clarke’s excitement however, is all it takes to cause you to trip.

It’s much like crumbling, undignified and maybe a bit embarrassing. You manage to land somewhat on your butt, leaning heavily on your left arm with Clarke draped over your right shoulder and half in your lap. She’s laughing though, this bubbly thing that’s more a snort as she tries to pull herself the rest of the way over your shoulder. To little success. You try to help her and she nearly elbows you in the face.

She rolls off eventually, somersaults onto her back in the grass, her head near your thigh. She’s red in the face, hair wrestled free from the hat that had tumbled off just moments ago, and her chest heaves in gulps of air under her nearly untucked up button-up, but her smile -- god, her smile.

You lean over, blocking out the sun, breath coming in much more manageable intervals and wait for things to settle. Around you, a few more couples come running in and they’re careful to keep clear of the both of you. It’s a hard won break and you’ve earned these few moments of respite.

It’s a moment or two before Clarke finds the wherewithal to move, taking one last deep breath before propping herself up on her forearms. She smiles at you this time, little bits of grass in her hair, and it’s almost as if you’re the only thing that matters to her.

Standing, you brush the dirt from your palms on you jeans, and you pretend you don’t notice the way she watches you. Casually, cautiously. The curiosity in her eyes is hard to mask and you  don’t think she cares. You bend to pick up her hat, smacking it against your thigh to dislodge the bits of dirt and grass and when you offer her your hand there’s no hesitance when she takes it.

“Thanks,” she says, finally back on her feet. She’s close and her words are soft and you give back her hat wordlessly. She flexes the bill until she’s satisfied with the feel, and you brush a few blades of grass from the strands of her hair. The grin that captures her lips is slow and soft like honey, and you’re surprised by the way it has you yearning. “What a way to kick things off, am I right?”

“I don’t do things moderately,” you say, tilting your head and taking the time to observe her back.

She looks up at you, amused. “Neither do I.”

Clarke turns the hat around in her hands, fiddling with its weight that she’s so suddenly taken by. You see the decision she makes then though. How it begins with this little nod and the determined set to her lips, and how it ends with her hat on your head.

It’s the moment you realize you want to know what it’s like to kiss her.

You’re herded back towards the other side of the field before you have a chance to really think about those thoughts. That doesn't mean you let go of Clarke’s hand even though the opportunity presents itself. You quite like how she twines her arm with yours and the gentleness she has as her thumb passes over your knuckles, soothing. It’s unconscious, like breathing, and so is the small peck you press to her temple as you wait--offhand and it surprising even you. You pull away, pretending to focus your attention back on the emcee.

The problem with that is, you find you only half pay attention. The announcements are background noise compared to the softness of her touch and you have to wonder if she’s aware of what she’s doing to you. It’s a tragedy then, that Clarke lets go of your hand long before you’re prepared for it and you look at her in mild confusion as she slips her fingers from yours. She gives a small shake of her head, brows knit adorably as if to ask what’s wrong, and you find it’s hard to voice the truth.

You watch as she accepts a blindfold from one of the event staff as he makes his way through the remaining couples and there’s no hesitation as she goes about securing it round her face, blocking her eyes. When she lets go it slips down over her eyes and this low laugh escapes you before you have a chance to reel it back in.

She looks at you disappointingly but lets you position her in front of you as you go about untying the knot she made.

“This is--” you give a generous tug and it holds tight “--quite the feat you’ve managed here, Clarke.”

“It’s tougher than it looks,” she says. You can’t see her eyes, but you can see the smile that curls the ends of her lips.

“I’m sure,” you mutter back, struggling for a few more seconds until the knot gives and you’re able to pull the fabric free.

You keep Clarke close as you reapply the blindfold to her eyes, laying it gently across the bridge of her nose and over her eyes. You secure it with a simple knot, careful to avoid getting the strands of her hair caught in the tangle.

“Everything feel okay?” you ask, running your fingers through her hair a few times to tame the mess you made. She doesn’t bring attention to it and you drop your hands from her hair before they betray you and they drift down to her lower back.

“Fine,” she says, and her head turns towards your voice. “It feels fine.”

You smile and it’s something you’re glad she can’t see. “How many fingers am I holding up?” Your hand near her back stays where it is, too content with the contact as your are. The other however, doesn’t move from your side. It’s a simple thing to forget to mention.

She hums, even though you’re sure she’s rolling her eyes at you from behind the blindfold. “Four.”

“Good guess.” You watch her lips curl into a grin, only vaguely aware of her left hand as it finds the fabric of your loose shirt and holds on. But you are all too aware of the feelings it ignites in you. “But no.”

Clarke huffs, though she looks unbothered by the development, stepping in closer so that she’s just shy of touching you. She smells like too much sun and the warmth it settles in you simmers just below your skin. If Anya could see you now, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Do you trust me?”

Clarke shrugs, leaning forward so that her nose bumps your shoulder. “Sure,” she says, the word muffled by your shirt. “I trust you.”

The noise over the microphone drowns out the words you don’t get to say, and Clarke picks her head up from where it was tucked against you. Her eyebrows furrow, concentrated, and you figure you should do the same.

There’s seven items down by the stage about a hundred feet away and while you and the remaining fourteen couples had rested and prepared, the event staff had taken the time to litter the open space with a new set of obstacles. Still mostly random football equipment (and a couple blow up halloween decorations) it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll have to guide Clarke through it by word alone.

You lead Clarke to the starting line, keeping hold of her hand until the emcee announces the countdown to start. When you let go, she looks a little lost without a tether to you, but there’s no time for reassurances as the air-horn sounds and the chaos erupts once again.

“Clarke--”

She locks on to your voice immediately, sight trained in your general direction. Among the slew of other voices, you wonder how she managed it, but she wastes no time in moving towards you. Her determination is to be admired at the very least.

“Clarke, slow down.”

“Not helping,” Clarke says in return, voice strained and arms outstretched, but she heeds your suggestion. “We don’t have forever, Lexa, where am I supposed to go?”

You take quick stock of your surroundings--the other stumbling couples, the tires and football dummies and random beachballs--and come to a quick conclusion. Just because you can’t lead her through it yourself, doesn’t mean you can’t walk it with her.

You stand in front of her, counting your steps until you can’t move forward anymore, a large blue football dummy blocking the way. “Six steps forward,” you call back to her. “No--no,” and she stops, “--no turning, just forward.”

Clarke huffs, but starts back up immediately, careful to keep in a straight line, and you get out of her way. She stops a bit short of the dummy, but for the most part you’d consider it a success. “Now what?”

“One big sidestep to the right,” you reply, and then you start all over again.

There’s a process to it, an almost rhythm that the two of you settle into as you make your way through the makeshift course piece by piece and Clarke listens intently. Without touch it’s a slow careful pace. By the time your feet away the crowd is a constant stream of shouts and you struggle to be heard over the chorus.

The moment she picks up the stuffed animal by the stage, the first sound of the air-horn blaring out across the practice field, and she tugs down the blindfold to see the evidence in her hands, the realization is slow to come. But when it does, it’s all consuming.

Clarke looks to you with wide disbelieving eyes and then back to the toy in her hand and lets out a little scream. Her body buzzes with energy, high off the feeling, and hurls herself at you, arms cinched around your neck and pulling the air from your lungs.

You stumble a few steps back, your right hand reaching up to stop her hat from falling off your head while the other finds its place around her waist. It keeps the two of you upright in the rush that follows. It doesn’t temper her excitement, however. In fact, it heightens it, and she bounces on the balls of her feel while her hug reaches bone breaking levels. You feel as if you’ve run another mile, but you consider the reward worth it.

“Clarke,” you say, and it's breathy from the air you can’t seem to inhale and she pulls away still holding your hand.

She studies you for a moment before shifting her attention to the field as the other couples snag the remaining items to qualify them for the next round. There’s a fire in her eyes and it burns when she turns back to you. “I think we can win this.”

You exhale and it escapes quietly among the noise, but you watch her and it’s her windswept hair, flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Her breathing comes in long steadying inhales, as if she’s collecting all the courage there deep in her gut. You wonder if that’s how it works; through sheer force of will.

“Does that mean you doubted me before?” you say, teasing, and she tugs the bill of the hat down over your eyes. Warmth floods to your chest and a smirk is quick to steal your lips. You clutch her hand tighter, but when you tilt the bill up again, she’s not looking at you anymore.

It's the moment you feel most lost in her.

You have this odd sense of dread when a small part the field is cleared in front of the platform  and the staff hands out blindfolds to the remaining contestants. Clarke offers to tie it for you, slightly smug, and you decline the offer only because having her hands in your hair sounds like the beginning of a disaster. You wait until the last possible minute though, when they’re leading Clarke away and suddenly you find you’d rather be staring at the inside of a black cloth than watching her walk away from you.

It’s a bit dramatic to think, yes, but it feels like the truth.

You don’t quite know what’s going on but you let yourself be led, pliant as someone places you in an indeterminable spot on the field. The wait isn’t long though and you’re thankful. It's hardly a minute later when the microphone crackles and the man’s familiar voice picks up over the speakers.

“This is it, ladies and gentlemen. The ultimate test. The couples must find their way back together. Without sight, without sound. Only touch.” the crowd ohhhs and wolf whistles and you roll your eyes behind the blindfold. “You have five minutes. Good luck.”

The first hand you hold is large, calloused, and the touch lasts no longer than five seconds before the both of you let go and move on. The second is smaller, slender, and it makes you pause. Your mouth opens slightly, but you remember yourself, closing it before anything has a chance to make it out. They hold you too tight and it takes them a moment to realize you’re not holding them back.

The third… The tips of their fingers finds your arm--the point of your elbow, fingers cold and hesitant. they trail down the inside of your forearm and it feels like forever, but when she folds her hand into yours, her thumb brushing softly over your knuckles, you accept it gently.

Something in you flutters, right there in your chest. High and light and it’s a bit like losing the ability to breathe. Like having the wind knocked from your chest, but carefully, and how it fills again, softly. So you step in closer and breathe in, pressing your lips softly to her temple.

She squeezes your hand tighter and that’s the end of that.

(somewhere off in the stands you hear a few people cheer and it’s enough to quirk your lips against her skin)

You don’t know how long you stand there, but it's probably barely minutes, and when you get the okay, you hook a finger around the blindfold and tug it down. Clarke’s eyes are the first thing you see. Blue and a hint of sun. She raises your linked hands into the air, a triumphant gesture, and you can’t help but laugh when the crowd seems to agree.

The both of you, along with the two other couples who passed, are herded up onto the stage once things settle. Clarke tugs you, your linked hands hanging between the two of you, as she bounds up the steps with you in tow. The grin hasn’t left her face since the little show-off down on the field and it only grows under the attention. You’re the first up onto the stage and you move down to make room for the others.

The emcee starts with the couple closest to the steps. You recognize them to be the couple you saw at the beginning. The fire is still very much evident, but there’s a softness in the way the man has his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder, her body tucked comfortably into his side, her arm slung low around his hips. He catches you watching, and the knowing smile and quirked brow he shoots back at you makes you feel just a tad self-conscious. But there’s not much to look at besides Clarke, and the time it takes to succumb to that notion you already feel like you’ve proven his point.

So you don’t deny it, idly tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear. At least not to yourself.

“And who have we here?”

The suddenness of the words surprises you and you turn your attention to the emcee and the microphone he reaches towards Clarke. There’s not an ounce of hesitation on her face.

“Clarke,” she says, and you can tell she’s enjoying this far too much. “This is Lexa.”

“And how long have you two been together?”

Clarke pulls a little away to look at you, amusement stretched wide across her face, carried in the apple of her cheeks and the grin she tries to fight off and the words just kind of fall out your mouth. “It feels like forever.”

The emcee laughs, nudging you with his elbow. “Is that good or bad?”

“Definitely good,” you reply, still focused on Clarke and that almost awed look she’s giving you.

“Do you think you have what it takes to win?”

You acknowledge him finally. “Yes.” There’s no hesitation in you either.

“What do you think?” he boasts, turning to address the audience. “Who should take home the coveted title?”

A mess of noise surrounds you, rising up, and it’s hard to make out heads or tails of anything. But what you can hear are chants of ‘kiss, kiss, kiss,’ echoing from the stands and its metronome is a steady beat amongst the growing chaos.

Satisfied with the reaction, the emcee turns to you and the other couples, grinning. “Well, you heard the crowd. Who’s first?”

The couple at the opposite end doesn’t wait, the small woman taking hold of her boyfriend by the collar of his shirt and dragging him down. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, smiling against it and pushing back when the surprise wears off and the reaction from the stands is immediate.

There’s whistling and hoots from friends in the stands and a middle finger courtesy of the girl wrapped around her boyfriend, but from what you can discern from the energy, it’s all in good fun.

The second couple, a tall, shy young man and his equally tall girlfriend, share a soft kiss that ends far too quickly for the audience's liking, but the girl laughs, hands cupping the back of her boyfriends head and leaning in again to peck his flushed cheeks with a quick, thankful kiss.

It’s when the noise dies down again that you realize there’s no one left but you.

Before you can comprehend it, Clarke takes you by the hips with such bravado you momentarily lose your train of thought, eyebrows wiggling in an attempt at alleviating the sudden tenseness she must feel in you. There’s a lopsided little tilt to her lips, but she waits for you, the crowd silent and watchful, and if you weren’t sure before, you are now.

You probably love her and the craziness of that thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You cup her cheeks in your hands, and you feel more than hear the soft gasp she takes. You’d swear you could feel it under the tips of your fingers as you lean in, all slow and tortuous, noses touching first. Her breath fans across your mouth, uneven and a little bit nervous. Or perhaps that’s you, because you’re sure it’s her who closes the last few centimeters like she can’t take the thought of waiting a second longer and the cheer that erupts from the crowd is lost somewhere in the mess of your mind.

Maybe, you think. Maybe she’s just as breathless as you.

#clexa #clarke griffin #lexa #this was supposed to be stupid/fun and without stress but then it turned into a project #cc au #its basically all done tho so updates will be on sundays