#bleachers (self titled)

[consuming-unhealthy-particles]

I'm afraid to tell the world how genuinely disappointed I am by Bleachers' new album.. like, i struggled to listen to it all the way through.

AND IM SO MAD AT MYSELF.

I love a majority of all of Jacks other music, and usually the songs hit immediately.

But this album definitely needs.. a month.. or 3.

I like "Self Respect" though. Mostly. A lot of the songs feel.. messy? I can't tell what's he's going for.

[astrangerlately]

isimo (2024), bleachers x children of the sea (1872), jozef israëls

[youareinlove]

thinking so many thoughts about the new bleachers (self-titled) album following a story of struggling with faith -> finding a relationship that feels like a belief system

[jacobsnicket]

on repeat 🎵🔄

go to 'on repeat' playlist on Spotify, throw it on shuffle and share the first 10 songs you get.

tagged by @summerfevers!

self respect - bleachers

stay down - boygenius

triptych - samia

big time nothing - st vincent

bags (recorded at electric lady studio) - clairo

you say - blu detiger

me before you - bleachers

thick skull - paramore

sexy to someone - clairo

timefighter - lucy dacus

tagging @snckt @beatricebidelaire and @kitsnicket if y'all feel like it

[skeletal-cornerstone]

my favorite genre of music is “black and white album cover” cause the music always hits.

[souplups]

anti-hero ft bleachers is like if you took a song that was good and made it better

[whoscallingwhoafraud]

what is your first fav?

TTPD! That might change I've listened to it less bc

But it just really landed with me. I love most songs on it I love the themes she explores on the album release week was very fun etc. like I said I need to sit with it more but I think it's my fave Taylor album period

[porcelainseashore]

Teenage Headache Dreams (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: This is my first RE / Leon fic, but I wanted to try my hand at writing this little self-indulgent and potentially clichéd series. As you can guess, I love dance and high school dramas. I also created this with a sequel in mind, which will take place post-RE4R and involve more horror and mystery elements.

Title from Teenage Headache Dreams by Mura Masa and Ellie Rowsell / Wolf Alice.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Friendship

It was one of those beautiful late summer days with endless light and clear blue skies overhead. You leaned back against the bleachers, feeling the sun cast a warm glow on your face and the sultry breeze against your skin, sighing in utter bliss. The football field and the running track surrounding it were completely empty, just how you liked it, silent except for the relentless trilling of insects and the occasional bird that flew by. No one in your face, no one judging you or telling you how you should be like, no one you had to put up a front for. Just peace and quiet. A place where you could sit alone with your thoughts - and you had a lot of them - mostly about leaving this goddamn small town with its insular, mind-numbing inhabitants.

A trail of thick smoke wafted from your mouth as you took a drag from the joint you had been nursing for awhile. You weren’t exactly high as a kite, but you were definitely feeling some of its effects. You chuckled and gave a wry smile as the thought of being caught red-handed visualized in your mind. Sure, it was highly illegal what you were doing, much less on school property, but you were always a bit of a rebel. And frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. It was already August, but most students were still away on holiday. Not you though, you had to work on your extracurriculars. That’s what you had put your mind to this summer. No fancy beach getaways like the rest of your cheerleading mates had jetted off to. Just a grueling dance intensive and showcase you had auditioned successfully for in one of the larger cities nearby, as well as a bunch of campus visits. You needed to perfect your performance technique for that arts college application coming up in about a year’s time. You started way earlier than the rest even thought about it, because you knew you only had one chance for a one-way ticket out of this hole and you sure as hell weren’t taking any chances. Well, except with that funky smelling thing in your hand. 

No one would be here anyway, it’s a Sunday for crying out loud! You shook your head in exasperation. Besides, you needed to relax and take the edge off a little.

Just as if you jinxed it with those thoughts, you heard the gate to the field unlocking and creaking open behind you. 

Shit, shit, shit! Your eyes darted around frantically, but your movements were just so slow. Why the fuck would someone be here now?

Before you could drop the joint and stub it out with your shoe, a mop of dirty blonde hair and what you made out as someone dressed in a blue tracksuit with a duffel bag slung over his right shoulder entered your peripheral vision. It was soon accompanied by a sharp twist of his head in your direction, bangs falling over his deep blue eyes and you knew he had found the source of the offending smell, probably even from a mile away. His gaze trailed their way from your startled face to your joint hanging limply at the edge of your fingers and then back to your face again. His expression turned from confusion to a frown and then into a knowing smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned against the bleachers.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t expect to see you here. You got cheer practice or something?”

God, he was teasing you. At least you hoped that was all it was and not some form of blackmail. Well, no point hiding now.

“I’m off-duty,” you retorted. You tried to jog your memory of the boy standing in front of you. You were social, or at least you had to be with the rest of your girlfriends to keep up appearances, but you never really bothered with the people here beyond superficial conversations. Then you finally found it - a vague recollection of last season’s track and field meet. He had been one of the better sprinters, maybe the best even, you can’t really remember. There was an afterparty, and you congratulated him, but you doubt there was anything more substantive than that.

“Leon, isn’t it?”

His eyes perked up slightly and he smiled. “In the flesh.”

You snorted at his cheesy reply. What was he pulling? 

“They gave you the key?” It almost sounded as if you were jealous.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his duffel bag on one of the benches in front of him, rummaging through its contents. “Yeah, I got a comp in the new term coming up.” Every now and then he glanced up at you, as if he wanted to ask something, but stopped himself.

A sense of boldness surged within you, as you felt like evening the odds a bit. “What? You want some?” You waved the joint in his face.

That certainly caught his attention. He stared for a good moment, before giving another one of his playful smiles and shaking his head. “Maybe after practice.” He unzipped his jacket and put it away. It was warm enough to train in his sports tank and as you admired the lean, muscular structure of his arms and shoulders now bared open, you couldn’t complain.

“So, how did you get in?”

Fuck. You snapped out of your reverie. He got you there, but you didn’t feel like lying. “Jumped the fence. You should try it some time.” You replied as nonchalantly as possible.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he laughed.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Will I now?” The way it rolled off his tongue felt like a challenge and you secretly enjoyed this banter going on between you, as if you had known each other for years.

Shrugging your shoulders, you took another hit from the joint and let the calmness envelope you. “I never disappoint.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Leon flashed a wide grin that made you feel a knot forming in your stomach, but you didn’t know why. 

He started to move towards the tracks, but stopped short, turning back to meet your eyes again. “Look, you don’t have to worry about all of that.” He gestured to what you were holding and the general surroundings. “I’m not going to tell.” With that, he made a sign that resembled crossing his heart. “It’ll be between you and me.” 

You would have thought it was a joke if not for the sincere look he gave you, before heading off to train. That, and the fact that he did indeed take up your offer to join you afterwards in sharing what was left of the joint. You didn’t expect someone like him to. He seemed a bit too much of a straight-laced, golden boy for that. But then again, life was filled with surprises and you quietly scolded yourself for playing into stereotypes again - something you despise others doing to you.

It prompted both of you to converse even more until the late evening where you even missed your dinner. The questions and responses just flowed.

It turned out that you would share a number of classes together in the new term, specifically Math, History and Biology. Leon was a real earful when it came to his “insightful” one-liners on the teachers, which made you bury your head in your hands and groan. You never realized he would be such a goofball, but you found it somewhat endearing.

Like you, he was popular at school, but unlike you, he seemed to enjoy the company and appeared to be an open book. He would say it how it is, sometimes to the point of being blunt to a fault. Still, you guessed people found him rather easy-going and likable, in a non-threatening sort of a way. A part you wondered if chance meetings like today were how he made most of his friends.

Leon didn’t really have a plan for college yet. He just knew he wanted to do something good and help other people. You had a word for it - “idealistic”. He just shrugged in response, eyes downcast, until you assured him that it was an admirable quality, and you were the jaded one. He made a toast to your future in some arts college in the big city with his water bottle, remarking with a hint of self-deprecation that he wished he had a clearer idea of what he wanted to do with his life.

In turn, he asked you about your dealer. You had to stifle a laugh at that one. Generally, you weren’t as big into smoking up as he thought, but this time you bummed it off one of the seniors as a favor he owed you for hooking him up with one of your cheerleader friends. It didn’t stop Leon from calling you the “high school’s little pothead” every now and then though. He peered at you intently with his lip curled in amusement, as you rolled your eyes each time.

It had been such a long time since you could joke and speak your mind with someone this way. There wasn’t that suffocating nausea of pretending to be someone else around him and he had been so relaxed with you too. You could finally breathe again, and you’d like to think it wasn’t just the weed talking.

Whatever it was, you guessed this was the beginning of a real friendship - one that happened out of serendipity, but made you feel like you weren’t going to rot away in this small town. Well, not alone anyway.

[spiderhanzzz]

"WORST REGARDS, YOUR KARMIC RETRIBUTION" — yang jeongin.

they say success is the best revenge, but sabotage feels better.

word count: 5.8k

pairings: jock!jeongin x nerd!reader

genre: fluff, humour, high school au, one sided enemies to lovers, slow burn, loosely inspired by i hope this doesn't find you by ann liang

warnings: swearing, partying, kissing, biblically accurate (religious) jeongin, everyone is the same age except chan, no use of y/n + gn reader, reader is literally evil incarnate plz dont do this irl ;;

playlist: ivy frank ocean, sexy to someone clairo, everybody talks neon trees, i can't radiohead

a/n: dedicated to @allforhee & all the other i.n stans out there :3 enjoy!!!

You know a lot of things. You know that the idea of zero was invented by an Indian mathematician and astronomer named Brahmagupta. You know how to recite your future Valedictorian speech in Latin. However besides these things, you also know that most things in life are pretty much uncertain.

Except your hatred for Yang Jeongin. That is your probability of 1.

Although your best friend Kim Seungmin says that your probability of 1 should probably be the fact that you’re a damn sore loser.

So when classes started to end and your school’s sports day rolled around, everyone knew not to cross your path. Either they would be on your team, or they wouldn’t even get near you. You’re not even that athletic; in fact, you can barely work out to save your life. But you’re the brains, the mastermind, of your team’s strategies. It’s like that saying, if you can’t beat ‘em, outsmart ‘em, or something like that.

You knew you were winning, or at least you thought you knew. Because just when you were about to cross your final lap of the track and field match, the corner of your eye caught a glimpse of Yang Jeongin’s infamously cordial grin. Disturbed by the audacity, you stop in your tracks to look at his friends sitting on the bleachers and feel a rush of satisfaction rush back in when you see them petrified for their friend’s questionable actions.

He won, of course. And though you took home five more gold medals than him that day, something about the utter disrespect of stealing the spotlight from somebody so clearly feared for a reason unsettles you.

Which is why you’re currently writing a letter to him threatening to take away his position in the basketball team if he doesn’t earn back your respect that he lost from a sports day event three years ago.

It’s less of a letter and more of a drafted email, since you’re not writing it by hand; he doesn’t get to have that sort of power over you. You’re not sending it either. God, no. You’re not that insane.

It’s simply a form of coping, nothing more. You’d reckon if you were to ask a therapist about this method, they would think it’s stellar. It’s like journaling… except instead of self-reflection, the end goal is to live in the delusional cloud where your nemesis knows and fears how much you hate them.

Do whatever your wretched soul can manage to revert back to the regular human state— that is, being absolutely petrified of my existence. Otherwise, say goodbye to that pretty “varsity basketball” title you adore so much.

A smirk twists upon the edges of your lips as your gaze fixes on the words you’ve just typed out. What’s the word for when you gain pleasure from the idea of torturing somebody else? You’re sure ‘sadist’ doesn’t apply when you only crave the suffering of one specific person.

You consider rewriting the entire letter on paper, for the sole purpose of leaving a crimson lipstick stain on the envelope for him to unseal. You don’t even use red lipstick, but perhaps the Irene Adler-ness of it all might subconsciously trigger a flight or fight response from him, as most stupid teenage boys do when faced with distinct power.

When other people fall asleep to daydreams about their crushes, you often drift away to slumber through the relaxation brought upon you from fantasizing about Yang Jeongin on his knees, begging for your forgiveness.

You would have fallen asleep to that dream for yet another night, but your best friend Kim Seungmin rang your phone. Now, if it was any other night, you would have sent him death threats and went back to your fantasies. However you had just asked Seungmin for a very special favor, so you decide to pick up.

“This better be about what I think it is,” you start. “I won’t put up with your post-exam depression bullshit tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that, I managed to get extra credits for everything.” Thuds and crackles fill the audio from the other side of the phone, and you can practically smell Seungmin’s bag of chips and old dusty laptop opening on his desk. “I got what you asked for.”

“Good, just forward it to my email.”

“I don’t understand why you would need it, though,” Seungmin’s voice is muffled by the chips in his mouth. “I mean, the team’s orders at Lucy’s Diner? Seriously? If you had a crush on one of them, you know I could just set you up, right?”

“Ew, I would never!” You fake gag, earning a chuckle from the boy on the other line. “C’mon, you know I have too much self respect for that.” “I think you mispronounced blatant narcissism and self obsession.”

The two of you go back and forth teasing one another for another moment until you urge Seungmin to send the list to your email. He inquires once again but you only brush him off, coming up with something about helping out at Lucy’s for the summer. Which wouldn’t be a complete lie, technically, if all went well.

You know you can’t tell Seungmin about your plan. Not right now. He’s reached that stage of being a teenage boy where he started developing attachment and empathy towards others, and now he’s practically attached at the hip with the rest of the basketball team. All he knows is that you hate Jeongin, and that’s enough for now.

And sure, this whole situation has made you question if you were actually a sociopath, but it needs to be done. You consider it a fair service to the community for taking down another straight male with no brains and a huge ego. They don’t know it yet, but he’s the common enemy.

Soon enough after the sports day incident you had come to the conclusion that if nobody could hate Yang Jeongin, you would make him hate you so much until a primal, animalistic desire to destroy you would take over his spirit. You assume he’d do something so utterly terrible, as men do, then afterwards everyone would finally see with their own two eyes that he is just like every other man in this cruel world. If anything, you’re volunteering as a sacrifice!

So as you zone out on Seungmin’s newfound amusement in the way Mr Marks’ glasses make him look like Chicken Little, you switch your tabs to open the sacred document.

In big, bold letters it reads OPERATION 143: 1 ENEMY, 4 PHASES, 3 YEARS.

The document itself already has over 25 pages, written in detail about your genius ideas to slowly infiltrate your enemy base from the inside out— most worked, but some of them just ended in your loss of dignity. You had even taken ideas from books and films like Parasite to further enhance its artistic integrity. These last three years were a performance, and Jeongin’s life is your stage. You have now entered phase four, and this is your closing act; nobody can steal your spotlight.

Contrary to the precise executions of your past eras, phase four is abstract. Its main goals are to disrupt Yang Jeongin’s peace as directly as possible, whilst leaving as little trail as possible. This, paired with the built up tension from the previous phases, is going to set in motion a domino effect, leading to the collapse of your greatest enemy’s social stature.

Accidentally letting a particularly mischievous giggle slip under your breath, you look back at the email you were drafting to him. You know exactly how to end it.

Careful where you run, Yang Jeongin.

Worst regards,

your karmic retribution.

This is your least favorite time of the year: the period just before summer break. Exams are over, so most teachers let students roam free during their lessons. But not going to school at all can take away from your total attendance, which then goes on your report card, so most students spend their school days sitting around in boredom and watching the sports teams play.

seungmo: Do u wanna come to practice

seungmo: Jisung bought cheesecake for everyone and I don’t want mine

seungmo: I don’t want him to take mine tho lol

That was fifteen minutes ago, and now you’re sitting on the bleachers on a date with a delicious slice of blueberry cheesecake and iced coffee, absentmindedly watching your best friend practice. Despite your close ties with Seungmin, you’ve never really been interested in the other team members— except for the occasional trading of homework answers with Jisung. Ever since middle school, you’ve sort of established that you want nothing to do with people like them: rowdy, sporty, and popular. Seungmin once noted that you say “popular” like it’s a slur. You couldn’t disagree.

“So… Karmic retribution, huh?”

You freeze.

“Pardon?” You turn around, only to be faced with the one and only Yang Jeongin.

“Karmic retribution?” He inquires further, expecting you to get the hint. “Y’know, what you called yourself in your… email? Death threat? Not sure what to call it, actually.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude,” you laugh off the question. “I don’t even know your name, let alone your email.”

“Well, that’s clearly a lie, since your name is on your email address. And my name was in your… Seriously, what should I call this thing?”

Fuck fuck fuck. You must have accidentally hit ‘send’ when you fell asleep on the phone with Seungmin. That prick; he always manages to embarrass you somehow.

“Listen, I didn’t even know you go here. I had to ask Chris if he knows which one you are, and you just happened to be here right now.” Jeongin rakes his fingers through his stupid gross sweaty damp hair, then dragging his palm across his face in exasperation. “Whatever I did to you, I’m really sorry.”

“What do you mean you didn’t know I go here?” You’re baffled, truly baffled, and you basically lost control of your body when you heard those words. Suddenly your voice can be heard by anyone within a ten foot radius, and if it weren’t for that they would have thought you were about to smother him with kisses by the lack of distance between your bodies. “I’ve been here since fucking middle school! I sit behind you in Spanish— I ask you for a pen every two and a half weeks only to lose it every single time. You’re saying you don't remember me?”

“Oh, that’s you? My bad. You sit behind me, so I didn’t really get to see your face up close.” Jeongin doesn’t even flinch at the proximity of your faces. He simply gives you a brief look up and down and goes, “Now that I am seeing you up close, you’re the one that always hangs out with Seungmin, right?”

Then it hits you: this is the universe sending you a signal to initiate phase four. Sure, him not remembering who you are might have set you back by a few milestones, but who’s counting? (You are. You always are.) 

If anything, you’re grateful for the redirection, because now you know that before you can ruin him, you must first build him up.

“Alright, look,” you begin, taking a step back to put some inches between the two of you. He reeks of rubber and soda, the stench makes you ill. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

“‘Kay, cool,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “See you around, I guess…?”

“Wait, that’s it? You’re not even gonna ask why I hated you in the first place?”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re already starting over.” The genuine lack of irritation in his face makes you curl your fists and fight the urge to give him a black eye. “Plus, you’re one of those nice smart kids. I don’t have beef with your kind.”

And for the first time in your life you wanted desperately to become popular, because maybe then Jeongin would take you seriously.

But it’s fine. You’re going to destroy him regardless.

“Yo, not to interrupt this whole bonding thing we have going on, but I kinda need to head back to practice.” His voice snaps you back to reality. “Is that chill with you?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s chill.” You muster up your most convincing smile for him. One time in fifth grade your drama teacher told you you’re a natural actor, and you pray to God those innate talents are still there. Now that you think about it, she may have just been calling you a liar.

For good measure, you give him an awkward thumbs up before walking away. When you make eye contact with Seungmin, he raises his eyebrow as if to ask what the fuck was that? You can only shrug in response. You have no idea either.

You sit back down on the bleachers, occasionally eyeing your target, feasting your eyes on the way his muscles flex under his baggy Radiohead t-shirt when he dribbles the ball around the court and the sweat that drips from his hair. You’re used to your own deranged behavior, but this feels almost perverse. Maybe it’s because you’re basically acquaintances with him now (the word makes you want to spit your cheesecake back up), or maybe it’s because you can’t help but let your stare linger on the cross dangling from his chain.

Gross, you think to yourself, as you keep your eyes on him for the rest of the day.

On the last day of school before summer break, the unexpected happens: the basketball team invites you to their party. Well, technically, they invited everyone. It’s supposed to be Bang Chan’s last party before he graduates, and he just so happens to be friends with every single student. Thus, you and Seungmin are now situated in front of his front door, waiting for him to welcome you in.

You don’t usually go to parties, and to be very honest nobody really expects you to. The reasoning is a bit pretentious, you suppose, but you truly just don’t believe in the necessity of rebellion in leading to better adulthood. However you do believe in yourself and your incredibly sexy intellectual prowess, and you have an operation to carry out, so tonight you let yourself let loose just a bit.

“Ah, there you guys are!” Chan greets you and Seungmin, ushering you inside his… house is an understatement, honestly, it’s a mansion. “Mingle around!”

You’re still out of place, you notice. Since you didn’t plan on actually drinking or dancing, you decided to come in your usual get-up of your dream university’s merch sweater and a pair of baggy jeans. You mentally cursed yourself for not realizing that all of Chan’s friends would be the cool, charismatic type.

Suddenly wishing you had stayed home instead, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, which was (fortunately for you) on the second floor, away from most of the crowds. When you get there, however, you’re met with Jeongin’s sharp gaze in front of the door.

“Been a while,” he states, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Could I get you anything? A drink, maybe?”

“I don’t drink. At least not tonight,” you respond. Then you notice that his hands are also empty. “What about you?”

“Nah, I don’t do that stuff.” He shakes his head to enunciate his disapproval. “I don’t mind that the other guys do it, but I’m pretty religious, so…”

The devil perched upon your shoulder whispers hot but the angel on the other side exclaims what the fuck?

“Cool.” You stare at your shoes, thinking about how to turn this exchange into yet another round of revenge. When you get an idea, you beam up at him. “Wanna walk and talk with me?”

The moment he verbalizes his agreement, you grab him by the arm and rush downstairs. There, you do as you had suggested: walk and talk. Turns out Chan’s first floor is big enough for about thirty minutes of conversation.

When you get to the outdoor pool, you take off your shoes and dip your toes in the water with Jeongin following suit, sitting right beside you. Your conversation drifts to so many different topics— music, childhood TV shows, dating— you almost forget the reason why you brought him here. He’s observant, you notice, and he has thoughts on a lot of different things, something you didn’t think was possible. You always thought he was just dumb.

“Y’know, I was kinda flattered by your email, I’m not gonna lie,” he admits sheepishly.

“Pardon?” You look at him, puzzled. “Did you say flattered?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, no one really notices me like that.”

You stare at him, eyes blank and mouth agape. Surely this guy has gone insane, right? He’s one of the school’s most beloved students, by other students and faculty members alike.

“Like, I know they like me, but I don’t really stand out amongst the others. Chris is the friendly one, Minho is the mysterious one, Changbin is the strong one, Hyunjin is the artistic one, Jisung is the funny one, Felix is the kind one, Seungmin is the smart one, and what am I? I have all those qualities too, but they pale in comparison. People don’t have enough reason to hate me, but I know they think I’m boring. So being hated so passionately was kind of a big thing for me… I’m sorry, is that weird?”

If you didn’t want to slap him before, you sure as hell do now. How blindly privileged is this guy that his problem in life is not being the coolest guy on the varsity basketball team? You puff out your cheeks to hold back an exasperated sigh, and pull out a gentle smile instead.

“Jeongin, I don’t think people see you that way at all.” You place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Have you ever considered that maybe they might just be a bit intimidated by you?”

This is exactly how your mother talks to you when you start crying about how nobody ever has a crush on you on a random Thursday night. God bless that woman for gaslighting you into a positive attitude.

“You really think so?” He looks at you with these wide puppy-like eyes and you finally understand what the girls on Instagram mean when they talk about ‘getting the ick.’

“Really,” you affirm with a bright smile.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Just as he pulls you into a warm embrace, you push him just subtly enough that he wouldn’t notice it until he’s falling into the pool. With a large splash, all eyes turn to the two of you. He comes up from the water, clothes and hair drenched, and you feel a sense of satisfaction wash over you when you finally see a distressed expression etch itself onto his features.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” You lie, faking your concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m fine.” He climbs out of the pool, and you curse yourself for staring a little too long at his defined muscles under his wet shirt. Then, he turns to you and says, “Needed to cool off anyways.”

And he laughs. Laughs at himself and laughs at your befuddled face and laughs when Chan asks if he’s alright, shooting him a quick thumbs up before grabbing the nearest beach towel. When his other friends crowd around him, he laughs and laughs and laughs and it drives you fucking insane. The resonating sound of his laughter surrounds the backyard in an instant, and for a moment you wish you had drowned yourself in that pool instead.

“I will shove my middle fingers in your dimples,” you mutter under your breath, and you consider it a promise.

“Be right back,” he tells you before rushing to the nearest bathroom to change his clothes, playfully flicking droplets of water onto your face and ruffling your hair, dampening it.

You watch as he walks away, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest when you notice his smile faltering as people start to focus amongst themselves again. Now it’s your turn to laugh, half out of disbelief and half out of pure glee.

Everything is going according to plan.

“I didn’t push him.”

Lie.

“We were just talking.” Lie.

“I still hate him.”

Lie?

Wow, three lies in a row. And to your best friend, of all people. This Operation 143 has really tested your moral compass, and it’s not looking great for you. No wonder why Seungmin is calling you at 3 AM, interrogating you about what the hell happened tonight.

“See, now, some of those statements kind of contradict each other,” he states. “I have no doubt that you still hate him, but I also don’t doubt the pure evil in your heart. You would have pushed him, and you wouldn't even be sorry about it.”

“Uh, well, you’re wrong,” you tell him. “Clearly you don’t know me that well then.”

“Whatever you say, but if one day you decide to come clean of your crimes, you owe me something. Something very very dear to me.”

At first you were nervous, because it’s obvious your best friend is on to you (note to self: be less evil on a day to day basis). But then you remember it’s your best friend, there’s only one thing he would want from you in this situation.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take you out for a fancy dinner,” you sigh. “That’s only if I confess my sins to you, Father Seungmin, and it’s not happening because I’m completely innocent.”

“Please never call me that again.”

“Noted.”

At that, your phone buzzes with a new notification. It’s from an unknown number, but you can see a display name. Jeongin.

~Jeongin: u up?

God, could this guy act more like a fuckboy? Somehow noticing the tension in the air despite your physical distance, Seungmin questions your mood.

“Jeongin just texted me.”

“Oh, so that’s what he wanted your number for.”

“Are you dumb?” You ask, but it feels more like an accusation. “Why the fuck else would he ask for my number, idiot?”

Seungmin makes a noise equivalent to a shrug, and you let it pass. You were just about to question him further about Jeongin asking for your number, but the man himself texts once again.

~Jeongin: wanna hang tmr?

“Ew,” you mutter quietly. “I think he thinks we’re friends or something.”

“Oh, right, I remember you don’t do those.” You can almost hear his eyes rolling at your annoyance at Jeongin. He’s expressed his disapproval for your one-sided rivalry many times, but you always bite back with words too vulgar to write down here.

“Yeah, you know you’re only my close acquaintance, right?” You turn your attention back to your phone, biting your thumb in deep thought. “I’ll be mean to him. Should send the right message.”

You need to change your technique anyway. Befriending him only to be annoying is only going to make him like you more, and betraying him out of the blue takes too much commitment. This is phase four, after all— you have such little time to get the job done. If you manage to succeed during senior year, people aren’t gonna care anymore because everybody is leaving anyway.

You won’t shy away from it anymore; it’s time to be direct. It’s time to be evil.

You: no.

Seungmin sputters out a laugh once you send the screenshot of your texts to him. “You couldn’t have even given him a reason why? God, you’re crueler than I thought.”

“Why can’t he just hate me back?” You whine, slumping your shoulders defeatedly. “Why is he so… So nice? What’s wrong with him?”

“Maybe he likes you,” Seungmin teases. “I kinda see the vision, actually. The nerd and the jock… Classic perfection.”

“You mean cliché,” you groan. “His type is probably other athletes or something. Popular people date popular people, Seungmo.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Seungmin continues in a sing-song tone, so you close your ears and make weird noises, a signal that it’s time for him to shut the fuck up.

jeongin (DONT RESPOND): oh

jeongin (DONT RESPOND): ok :[

A week later you’re sitting in front of the bus station, waiting for Seungmin to arrive. He had promised to take you to the new coffee shop that just opened up to get some work done as a means to get ahead of other students. Nerdy as it may be, this is your summer ritual with your best friend, and if you didn’t fulfill it by the beginning of the summer, the guilt is going to eat you alive until you won’t be able to properly enjoy your holiday.

The summer breeze (or lack thereof) feels like it’s burning you alive, so you pull off your usual sweater to reveal a tank top underneath. Huffing out in irritation, you send a quick text to Seungmin.

You: wru

You: why take so long

You: ur so not a gentleman this is why ur single

Instead of an answer, you receive a phone call in return. You pick it up. “Yo, where are you? I’ve been waiting here for fifteen fucking minutes, dude, I’m parched.”

“I brought a friend,” said Seungmin, completely disregarding your complaints. “Look in front of you.”

And there he is, walking towards you with none other than Yang Jeongin beside him, waving at you like a stray puppy. You close your eyes, trying to pretend for as long as possible that none of it is real. This is probably what I get for trying to sabotage someone out of the basketball team, you think to yourself, deciding to surrender to your fate and greet them with as much kindness as you can muster for the time being.

After approximately thirty minutes of sitting down and discussing the next academic year’s syllabus, you decide that that was the last bit of kindness in your heart. So when Jeongin leaves to go to the restroom, you waste no time catching Seungmin up on what you’ve actually been doing. The letter, the operation— everything.

“25 pages?” Seungmin asks you in disbelief. “My god, that’s a thesis.”

“It might as well be, at this point.” You nod solemnly at his comment. There’s no use denying anything; at your core, you’re just pure cruel and sadistic. At the very least you know your best friend will love you regardless, even if nobody else will.

“Listen, I love you, truly I do. But you’ve got to stop,” Seungmin grabs your shoulders and looks you dead in the eye. He has never looked this serious before and meant it. “He’s, like, falling in love with you.”

“Pardon me?”

“I know, I know, it’s your worst nightmare, and I know you don’t like him like that, which is why I’m telling you this. Stop now or you will break his heart even more.”

Just as you were about to respond, Jeongin comes back to the table. If he hadn’t, you’re not sure what you would have had to say. Would you disagree with even the thought of it, telling Seungmin he’s a liar? Would you have argued that if your plan were to work, Jeongin would hate you in the end anyway? Or would you have asked him how to make those feelings grow?

But no, no. He doesn’t like you, not like that. He’s just kind, that’s all. He can’t.

And the next hour passes by like torture, with both boys having to snap you back to the present moment about five times each. You couldn’t care less about the syllabus or the coffee or the new inside jokes you all made that day. All you could think about was how Jeongin’s hand would brush against yours when he borrowed a pencil, or the way his eyes would lock with yours when he laughed at Seungmin’s sarcastic remarks.

The entire time, your mind was calculating the probability of Jeongin actually being in love with you. Each answer was always too close to 1 for your liking.

You couldn’t get him out of your head.

To be fair, you never could. But it used to be about hatred. You used to find joy in boring two-hour classes because you knew you could just spend those two hours daydreaming about what Jeongin would look like with real tears in his eyes, with a scowl on his lips, with anything other than that damned smile.

You told your boss you’d be taking the night shift at Lucy’s for a while, because your days would be spent hanging out with friends on the holidays. This isn’t true at all, of course, you just found it more difficult to escape those Jeongin-plagued thoughts when you were about to drift to slumber. Unfortunately, this didn’t work the way you had hoped, because it turns out the diner basically doesn’t have any customers after 8 PM.

It’s almost 10 PM now, the hour when you’ll have to close up the diner. Nobody has come inside in the last forty-five minutes, so you figure it’s best to close up early. That way, you’ll get more time to scroll on your phone or read a book.

You should have seen it coming, really. You know you could never escape him. There, standing in front of the doors of Lucy’s diner, is your haunting, your shadow, your karmic retribution.

“I keep thinking about you,” he says, almost breathless, as he steps into the diner.

“How long have you been standing there?” “Like, five seconds,” he answers. Then, as if to emphasize his previous statement, he says, “You owe me sleep.”

“You don’t think that goes both ways?” You turn away from him, placing all the cleaning supplies on the bar counter. When you look back, he’s already eagerly striding towards you.

“What are you saying? That you want me?”

“I… I don’t know,” you mutter. You can’t look at him, not right now, not like this. You would break not just his heart, but yours as well. “I don’t know how I feel. I need a… an experiment or an investigation or something that I know is going to tell me if this is actually real, because I have no fucking clue what’s real anymore.”

Without another word, he places both palms on the counter behind you, trapping your body between his, and kisses you.

It knocks the breath right out of your soul. Every vessel in your brain is screaming at you, reminding you that it’s wrong and he’s not supposed to like you and you’re not supposed to like him back and that you sure as hell shouldn’t be kissing him at all, let alone your workplace.

Nevertheless, you can’t help it. Everything you knew has been proven wrong. Everything you have questioned has proven themselves to be true. You know nothing at all. You kiss him back.

Acknowledging your reciprocation, he lifts a hand to cradle your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheekbone down to your jaw. He takes a step closer, pressing your body flush against his. You haven’t closed the diner; somebody could walk in at any moment.

Running your fingers through his soft locks, he takes the opportunity to trail his lips to your neck. It’s at this moment that you begin to feel everything, and it’s all too real too quick. You push him away, taking one brief glance at his disheveled hair and swollen, rose-tinted lips.

You know you shouldn’t. You know you’re being a coward. You know the answer.

Be that as it may, you still run.

seungmo: Bball game @ school tonight

seungmo: Idk what happened w u and jeongin but pls come to the game

seungmo: U know how much ive been looking forward to this

seungmo: I'll keep him away, i promise

You shouldn’t have gone. You should have stayed home, rotting in your room for yet another night, catching up on all the studying you missed out on when you went to that coffee shop with Seungmin, finding yourself tracing the shape of your lips when you’re deep in thought, recalling the way Jeongin’s felt on yours.

The truth is, you do know how much Seungmin has been looking forward to this match. He had realized long ago that you couldn’t care less about sports, but still he found your face amongst the crowd every single time. Even though you had such a deep scowl it made him chuckle every time he saw you, he felt his chest warm with affection at the act of being present.

This is one of those unconditional, unspoken rules you’ve established in your friendship. You would support him, and he would support you. You couldn’t have ditched this.

But as you approach closer and closer to the basketball court, you notice something amiss. By now, you should have been able to hear the rowdy chanting of other students. You should have already been blinded by the lights surrounding the court, considering it’s already 6 PM. You should have seen Seungmin waiting for you, but he’s not there.

Nothing’s there. Nothing but Yang Jeongin, standing in the middle of the court.

“I’m starting to think Seungmin is playing matchmaker,” you say as you walk towards him.

His face cracks into a fit of laughter, and it lights up the whole area. “You think?”

You’re close enough to him to see how puffy his eyes are— is he just exhausted or has he been crying? He’s silent for a second, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, before opening his mouth to finally speak.

“Listen, I—”

“No, no,” you interrupt him. “Let me speak first.”

“I used to despise you, as you already know. For a reason that is so stupid that if I said it out loud right now I’d pee myself laughing, probably. And I guess that hatred helped me cover up my insecurities, and that I couldn’t believe someone like me and someone like you could be with anything more than enemies.” At some point, you started looking into his eyes, and now you can’t seem to pull away. “You’re not boring, Yang Jeongin, not at all. You’re certain. You’re my probability of 1.”

“So… Moral of the story, I’m different from all the other boys, yes?” He teases, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer inch by inch.

“You think that’s the moral of the story?” “Hell, no,” he chuckles. “The moral of the story is that sometimes you need to ditch that whole superiority complex and realize that you’re exactly like everybody else. You’re smart, yes, but you’re also stupid and naive and clumsy. And that’s completely alright. That doesn’t make you any less deserving of anything, it just makes you human.”

And as he tugs you into a kiss, you realize he’s right. It doesn’t matter what you know. Life is still uncertain, anyway, and the probabilities of most things are far less than 1. All you know is that whatever happens, you’ll be loved in the process.

[foursaints]

anyways highschool au where they dissect frogs in class evan wordlessly scalpels out its heart first despite instructions and nudges it over to barty on a little glass plate IF YOU EVEN CARE

!! I CARE SM!!! this is the cutest hc and i’ve been brainrotting about this ask ever since you sent it like i genuinely am possessed..i feel sick

you’ve got me imagining this whole high school au with every cliché. pure twee teenage suburban melancholia where the rosier twins have a treehouse in their backyard and double-knot the laces of their converse and get the cuffs of their jeans soggy sitting in the wet grass on the football field and lily makes homecoming court and barty®ulus skip every school dance to eat mcdonald’s in formal wear and they sit under the bleachers w scraped knees and drop a lit cigarette between their forearms just to see who’ll pull away first

evan who was homeschooled and lives with his grandparents and only wears old baggy clothes from goodwill. he doesn’t talk much. people call him weird but he never eats lunch alone because he has a sister. pandora doesn’t mind being ostracized and puts unlit incense sticks in her buns and throws shoebox funerals for roadkill and squeezes her brothers hand under their homeroom desk

evan who doesn’t mind either but sometimes he imagines what having friends would be like. he writes down things he would say to them in his spiral bound notebooks instead of paying attention in calculus

barty who is self-explanatory. barty who is exactly what you’d expect. barty who sits next to evan in chemistry class with their knees knocking together under the desk. barty who draws tic-tac-toe on evan’s notebooks and always lets him win. who picks out the gory titles for him in blockbuster video and laughs at his jokes and who isn’t his friend, not exactly, but something close. barty his lab partner. barty who lets him borrow his jacket and who throws rocks at his window and who meets him in his treehouse in the middle of the night. LIKE!!!!!!!!

[astrangerlately]

[youareinlove]

rank the new bleachers album

this ranking is super initial because i've only been listening for a few days but

self respect > isimo > modern girl > call me after midnight > tiny moves > me before you > jesus is dead > we're gonna know each other forever > i am right on time > hey joe > woke up today > ordinary heaven > alma mater > the waiter

[nyuzip]

˚₊‧ 박성훈 ─ on the ice ✧ park sunghoon

엔하이픈 𓂃 femreader ★ fluff ★ not proofread , wc 1.4k sum: somewhat enemies to lovers with your ice skating rival park sunghoon.

while tying your skates, you looked up to glimpse at park sunghoon, your arch nemesis on the ice since you two were children. he was gliding on the ice rink per usual but the lights seemed to hit his face perfectly, emphasizing on his prince features. you scoffed at the thought of admiring him. he would be so cocky to hear you were checking him out. but it was not time to focus on sunghoon’s visuals, surprisingly, he was here to prepare you for your upcoming competition. 

as soon as you saw him begin to approach your exit, you quickly got up, ready to face your opponent. < ready? >  sunghoon questioned you, unfazed after going many rounds. of course, this is HIS sport. everyone thought highly of him and you always hated that. you wanted to beat him in so many aspects yet no one acknowledges your skills as much as his so it was always your goal to beat him. ever heard of keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? you made sure to take advantage of sunghoon in order to get ahead.

< yeah, i have a feeling practice will be good this time. >  you answered with determination in your voice, prepared for whatever sunghoon had planned. 

< oh really? keep your word. i will be hard on you today. >  sunghoon spoke, unwavered by your confidence. you were practically nothing against him in his mind and that bothered you.

he opened the gate for you and held out his hand as you came forward. you dismissed his generosity with a scoff and went inside the rink. he smirked at your false display of being nonchalant. fits your cold princess title that you’ve always lived up to. 

you practiced your spirals and jumps countless of times, trying to perfect it each time as sunghoon concentrated on your form. he kept nodding his head while keeping quiet with his eyebrows furrowed. it made you slightly nervous but you kept going, encouraging yourself in your head because after all, the nights you stayed late on the ice, it wasn’t for nothing and maybe you subconsciously longed for sunghoon’s approval despite your desire to beat him. 

< thoughts? mr. park sunghoon > you teased him after the silence that came after your finished spirals. you were expecting to be praised at this point. 

< yeah. i think you are ready for your match this weekend. > he simply replied, trying to cover up his smile that crept across his face. he was impressed, to say the least. you were oblivious to how proud sunghoon was of you and your progress from a young age. he was just too prideful to say it out loud — maybe when the time was right. 

(ฅ˙˘˙ฅ)♡

your anxiety felt heavy on your chest as your heart thumped loud enough to reach your ears. nothing seemed to calm you down. the air suddenly became colder sending chills down to your spine down to your trembling legs. tugging at your fleece tights, you began to think about sunghoon. he has been with you for an entire three weeks waiting for this very day and was there for you throughout your entire career. although he was your “enemy”, he was also your role model. 

you could hear his strict voice lecturing you to keep practicing after every little mistake as your fellow skater but on the other hand, hear his younger-self lifting you back onto your feet as you stumbled on the ice with nothing but his arms to help maintain your balance, genuinely worried if you were hurt or not. to be fair, it was your fault that you began to lose the friendship you once had with sunghoon. there was no point in regretting your past decisions, the ice was calling for you. he was waiting patiently in the crowd, excited to see your performance that he knew would never disappoint. 

as you stepped onto the cold platform, the blinding bright lights of the stadium stared at you along with the hundreds of guests sitting in the bleachers. if your eyes attempted to glance up at the audience in search of sunghoon, your whole body would tense up so you began to focus on your breathing, letting your feet guide you on the ice. you appeared to be in complete harmony with the rink beneath you. The mesmerizing elegance of your facial expressions along with your effortless spins had left the entire audience captivated. sunghoon, in particular, couldn’t take his eyes off of you. his mouth hung slightly open in awe, and it took him a moment to compose himself and fix his posture. 

the stadium erupted into cheers once the music faded and you felt yourself soaking in all the noise. after your performance, you bowed with such passion yet daintiness, keeping your image in mind. the sound of cheering made you emotional, leaving you to reminisce on all your past competitions where a familiar adrenaline rush ran through your veins. once you looked up, your eyes instantly locked in with sunghoon’s who had the cheesiest smile spread across his face. all you could do was give him an airy chuckle, with rosy cheeks, not only from the cold, but sunghoon’s ability to get a reaction out of you. 

walking out into the lobby, you came face to face in front of sunghoon, where he held a bouquet of your favorite flowers. it felt as if the world around you had come to a standstill, people passing by became a fuzzy blur. at that moment, he was no longer your enemy nor your mentor, but simply the same boy you had grown up with, who had grown from his once-boyish innocent features to the point where his bangs almost covered his eyes to a matured look you never really noticed until now. 

< didn’t take you out to be such a romantic. thank you for the flowers sunghoon > you poked fun at him for this being his first time having a surprise for you at the end of your performance. you wondered why it was different this time. 

< oh stop it. i know i’ve been hard on you but i’m genuinely so proud of how far you’ve come. it’s almost like you’re better than me, maybe just a little? > he laughed heartily, tilting his head and covering his mouth with a fist. 

< hmm, you can compliment me some more, park sunghoon > you grinned, leaning your upper body towards him with your open hand behind your ear. 

waiting for his next joke, he suddenly pulled you into his arms without warning, with his chin fitting comfortably over your head. a single tear had trickled down your face as you felt his warm embrace. it was a vulnerable moment for you both, remembering your friendship had faltered these past few years; it was an overwhelming amount of emotions. sunghoon’s cologne was prominent — there was a hint of floral notes with a a soothingly  fresh smel that flooded your senses as his soft hand rested against the nape of your neck. no words were spoken yet the wave of reassurance you felt once sunghoon pulled you in for a hug made all your nerves wither away.

< sunghoon. i missed you. i missed us. > your words came out in a muffed, barely audible tone. part of you wished he wouldn’t be able to distinguish your words against his sweater, while the other part hoped he could catch the faint sound of your voice amidst the comforting warmth of his embrace. 

< me too. i won’t let us fall apart again. > sunghoon softly whispered back, pulling you further into his arms. 

< you better. > you jutted your lips out into a pout, trying to lighten up the conversation you were not quite used to blurting out how you feel just like that. 

< okay. okay. partners on ice… and maybe off the ice? > sunghoon eyes turned into crescent moons, enjoying how corny he was being with his cunning question. 

you covered your ears right away, pacing in circles. < lalalala > 

a giggle escaped sunghoon’s lips at your cute behavior, which you had been unaware of how entertaining you were acting. 

< ask me at a more romantic time. i will not let you say this so casually! > your ears were still covered as you knickered, pretending to walk away from him. 

you took a swift peek at sunghoon to see if he was following you. his endearing expression radiated throughout his face as he yelled for you to come back. after all that bickering, his gentle tone only induced you to give in to his pretty words. you felt at ease as the once-close relationship you had with sunghoon came rushing back and a vision of the future jolted your mind: you and sunghoon gliding through the ice in front of a crowd. jumping back into sunghoon's arms once again was a perfect illustration of all that excitement. 

authors note: sorry for the long wait but my new fic is here! i first want to say thank you for all the love on my jake fic, it makes me soso happy to be back. i also want to give a shout out to my bff for helping me with writing this, i always appreciate feedback and criticism, so feel free to do so in my comments / inbox ! alsoo i have ideas for heeseung n maybe anton huhu. enough rambling, i hope u enjoyed reading this about our dear ice prince

[weemssapphic]

Hello! I'm in a bit of a ✨️Mood✨️ and was wondering if I might request an insecure reader, with Brienne to reassure them? Just a titch of angst with loads of (romantic) fluff? 🤗

I Wanna Get Better

A/N: Hello, darling! With how long ago this request was placed I am certain the ✨️Mood✨️ has passed, but also one can never go wrong with Brienne being a soft, loving girlfriend. I hope this turned out alright 💗 (the title is literally just because I was listening to Bleachers as I wrote this and it semi fit, I just could not think of anything lol)

Words: ~1.3k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: insecure!reader, body image issues, hurt/comfort, fluff

Standing in front of the mirror, your eyes trailed over your body, stopping on every single flaw, every little imperfection. You could feel it happening - could feel yourself starting to spiral as the thoughts in your head became louder and louder, drowning out the world around you. Everything you hated about yourself was amplified in the first rays of dawn, in the silence of your little bedroom. You hadn’t even meant to look in the mirror, you’d simply woken up early and gotten up to get some water - yet here you were.

The feeling of strong arms wrapping around your torso from behind ripped you momentarily out of your thoughts, and your eyes snapped up to meet Brienne’s sparkling pools of sapphire in the mirror.

Your eyes traveled over her form, or what you could see of it as it was partially hidden behind you - her chiseled face, pale lips pulled up into a sleepy smile; her golden curls, soft and messy after a night’s sleep; her broad shoulders and muscular arms, dotted with the cutest little freckles; her large hands, long, slender fingers splayed out across your bare abdomen. 

Brienne was just so… perfect. So beautiful. So confident - at least outwardly. Of course she had her own issues with her appearance, you knew that. But she seemed able to take them in stride somehow, seemed to be able to focus on other things, while you felt yourself drowning.

“You weren’t in bed… What are you doing?” Brienne’s eyebrows furrowed in concern at the somber expression on your face, lips parted gently as she held your gaze.

You dropped your eyes to the floor and attempted to untangle yourself from your girlfriend.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, eyes still cast downwards as you turned away from the mirror, crossing your arms self-consciously across your chest. “Just on my way to get some water.”

Of course, nothing went unnoticed by Brienne, whose gaze immediately dropped to your crossed arms and your slouched posture. You felt her fingers grip your chin and push your head up, ever so gently, so that you would meet her gaze.

“What’s going on?” Her eyes were filled with so much concern it nearly made you sick. You hated seeing her like this, and you hated being the cause for her worry - you hated yourself for it. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, your cheeks slowly turning pink as the familiar sting of tears pricked at your eyes, shame coursing through your veins.

Brienne stepped closer, her hand sliding from your chin to cup your cheek, her thumb wiping away a stray tear that had begun to fall. Nuzzling your face into her warm palm, your brain scrambled (unsuccessfully) to come up with an excuse for your sudden mood.

“I’m not good enough for you,” you whispered finally, so quietly that you hoped Brienne hadn’t heard you. Unfortunately for you, she had - she was always able to see right through you anyway - and the crease between her eyebrows deepened. 

Without saying a word, Brienne crouched slightly and - quite literally - swept you off your feet to carry you bridal style. You let out a yelp as she lifted you effortlessly into the air, and soon you were deposited carefully onto the bed. Brienne settled next to you, her face a mixture of concern and pure adoration as she opened her arms and pulled you into them. One hand splayed across your back to press your torso tightly to hers, while the other hand came to rest on your hip, fingers dancing across your skin in soothing patterns.

“What makes you think you’re not good enough for me?” she murmured softly into your hair, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. She let you tuck your head under her chin, knowing it was sometimes easier for you to talk about your feelings when you didn’t have to worry about making eye contact.

“Just look at me,” you whispered, unable to keep your voice from trembling. “I’m not special, I’m not pretty. I-I have stretch marks and my clothes don’t fit like they used to. And you’re so beautiful. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and- and I don’t know why you would choose me.” The tears began to flow freely down your cheeks and you buried your head deeper into the crook of her neck.

You felt Brienne’s chest shake before you heard it - her deep chuckle. When you raised your head to get a look at her face, you saw nothing but admiration in those bright blue irises, in the gentle upward curve of her lips. Her eyebrow was slightly raised, and you felt your cheeks redden again.

“It’s very flattering that you think of me that way, my love,” she chuckled, her own cheeks a bit pink. “I used to think it was all a big joke to you. I have been insulted by so many people throughout my life, ridiculed for my appearance, stared at like some sort of beast. I believed I was the ugliest girl alive. Brienne the Beauty, they called me. You’re the first person who truly means it. And I believe you.”

Brienne removed her hand from your hip and traced a scar of her own on her abdomen. You watched, entranced, as her fingertips pulled at her skin, moving further down towards the light stretch marks littering her hips. “Do you think they make me less beautiful?”

You shook your head vigorously as you buried it further in Brienne’s neck. You could feel Brienne smile against the crown of your head, pulling you closer and reaching out for your hand to intertwine your fingers. Holding her hand managed to soothe you instantly, and you gave it a light squeeze. You sniffled.

“Why do you think yours make you less beautiful then?” Brienne’s voice was gentle and calm - you found yourself clinging to it, desperate to stay afloat. You shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish.

“You look badass… I just look ugly, I guess.”

Brienne let go of your hand to cup your cheek once more, this time with a little more force. She made sure you met her gaze before she spoke.

“You are the most beautiful woman to grace the Seven Kingdoms.”

Brienne’s eyes burned with sincerity and adoration, and there was a certain graveness to her expression that made your cheeks burn. She sealed her words with a kiss, pressing her lips to yours so tenderly that it left you breathless. Her lips began to trail reverently along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone - she pressed soft kisses all the way down your body, focusing on areas that she knew you were self-conscious about; your stomach, your hips, each and every stretch mark. You could feel Brienne’s love for you with every peck of her lips, and it somehow managed to make your heart a little lighter.

Her nose nuzzled against your bare skin - it tickled a little and had you giggling in spite of yourself. You could feel Brienne’s lips curl up into a smile as you laughed and her kisses turned sloppier, until you were shaking with laughter and gasping for air. 

When you finally looked down the length of your body, still fighting back giggles, Brienne was curled up at your hips, her chin resting on the swell of your stomach, looking adoringly up at you. Her eyes shone with affection and warmth, her cheeks were rosy, her hair mussed - the sight took your breath away.

“You are impossible, Brienne of Tarth. You know that?” You couldn’t help but mirror her smile as you beamed down at her.

“So you’ve told me,” she said with a grin, before crawling up next to you again and hovering over you to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “And you are beautiful, my love.”

“I love you, Brienne,” you said, a little breathlessly.

“I love you, too,” she replied, before mirroring your earlier actions and nuzzling her face into your neck.

x

taglist: @oceansblooming @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles

as always please let me know if you wanna be added to or removed from the taglist!

any and all comments will literally make my heart sing &lt;3 thank you for reading!

[ignorancelive]

im obsessed w this prompt so im letting her skip the line despite me being backlogged like 10 tag games thank you @thepunkpanther for the tag <3

(no pressure) tags: @spaceracers @dykehayleywilliams @userparamore @kermitgasm @orzamara @allamericansbitch @cellphonehippie @andtosaturn @littleoblivions

[oldiesstationlover11607]

HII ME AGAIN! 🎻 I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT THE BLEACHERS FIC WAS AMAZING! BETTER THAN I IMAGINED!! ANYWHOOO I HAVE ANOTHER REQUEST^^ this is pure angst lol! OKAY SO lets say reader and josh dated during like vessel or self titled (early days) and like they broke up. They didn't really move on. Josh and the band got bigger ofc and maybe the reader is now an actor/movie director or something like that now. Maybe they meet at a bar?? Maybe some place like the Grammys if you want! I just want to give you free rein. I LOVE YOUR WORKKK

Never got over you - Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Nothing much lmao

Word count: 2280

A/N: Sorry I've been so busy! I am writing I swear 👀

December 2013

The music thudded in my ears, and the crush of people around me felt overwhelming. I wasn’t exactly in my element. Tyler's birthday party had turned into a full-blown gig in his packed basement, a chaotic medley of shouting, laughing, and the relentless strumming of guitars. As the only one from our high school invited, I felt like a fish out of water. “Awkward” didn’t even begin to describe it.

“What?” I called out, leaning closer to hear Tyler over the racket. He gestured enthusiastically to the guy standing beside him—a guy I couldn’t help but notice.

“Josh!” Tyler yelled, his voice tinged with pride.

My eyes flicked to Josh. He was hard to miss, with a strong build that his snug blue t-shirt emphasized. His tattoo sleeve—intricate and eye-catching—peeked out under his shirt sleeve and wrapped down his arm, and a red baseball cap sat backward on his head. There was an effortless coolness to him, a quiet confidence that made me more than a little self-conscious. My heart thudded harder in my chest, each beat syncing up with the bassline vibrating the walls.

Josh. I’d heard plenty about him. Tyler’s stories were full of admiration for his bandmate—the talented drummer who, according to Tyler, was more like a brother than a friend. I’d even seen videos of their performances, clips that Tyler insisted I watch, even though I’d felt weirdly invasive doing so. Seeing Josh in person, though, was entirely different. He was magnetic.

Josh leaned down to say something to Tyler, his words muffled by the noise. Whatever it was, it made Tyler grin and nod before he turned and disappeared into the crowd. That’s when it happened—Josh glanced at me, then beckoned with a subtle nod of his head. Before I could overthink it, he took my hand and guided me through the throng of partygoers, leading us toward the basement stairs.

The sudden change in atmosphere hit me like a cold splash of water as we stepped outside. The winter air was sharp, and my breath fogged in front of me. I folded my arms for warmth, trying to steady the swirl of emotions that had taken root since the moment Josh had looked at me.

“Tyler’s told me a lot about you,” Josh said, leaning casually against the brick wall of the house. He held a red plastic cup in one hand, his other hand resting in his jeans pocket. His tone was easy, natural, as though we’d known each other forever.

“Oh, really?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I pulled a hair tie off my wrist and gathered my hair into a messy bun, partially to occupy my hands and partially to keep the wind from tangling it. “What’s he said?”

Josh’s lips curved into a slow smile that turned into a smirk, a look that made my stomach flip. His eyes, warm and intent, seemed to study me like he was committing me to memory.

“Actually,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “he said I’d really like you.”

The words were simple, but they hit me like a jolt. I blinked, caught off guard by how direct he was. Butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach, and my breath felt shallow, though whether from the cold or from him, I couldn’t be sure.

“Oh, did he?” I managed to say, injecting as much lightness into my tone as I could muster. I folded my arms tighter, hugging myself against the chill. “And what do you think?”

Josh took a sip from his cup, his eyes not leaving mine. The intensity of his gaze was disarming, but not uncomfortable. It was as though he was genuinely thinking about his answer.

“I think Tyler’s a pretty good judge of character,” he finally said, his smirk softening into a smile. “So far, I like what I see. You know, he also told me you’re studying film at college. He said you’re super talented.”

The butterflies in my stomach multiplied. I glanced down, feeling the heat creep up my cheeks despite the freezing air. I didn’t know what to say, so I laughed—a nervous, breathy sound that made Josh chuckle in response.

“Yeah, I’m studying film. I’ve always wanted to be a director, y’know?”

Josh nodded. “I can understand feeling passionate about wanting to create something. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. No plan B.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, though. It felt... comfortable. The hum of the party inside was muted now, replaced by the occasional car passing by or the crunch of snow underfoot as someone walked down the street. I glanced up at Josh, and he was still looking at me, his expression thoughtful.

“So,” I said, breaking the quiet, “you’re the infamous drummer. Tyler talks about you all the time too.”

Josh grinned, tipping his cup toward me in a mock toast. “All good things, I hope.”

“Well,” I teased, “he did say you have a habit of stealing the last slice of pizza.”

Josh laughed—a warm, genuine sound that made me smile despite myself. “Guilty,” he admitted. “But in my defense, I am the drummer. I burn more calories.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Right, because sitting down and hitting things is such an intense workout.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Josh countered, feigning indignation. “Next practice, you can come take my spot. We’ll see how long you last.”

The idea of sitting behind a drum kit, with him there, watching, made me laugh and blush simultaneously. “I’ll pass. But thanks for the offer.”

Josh’s smile lingered, and for a moment, the air between us seemed to change. The banter faded, leaving something quieter, more tentative in its place. He shifted slightly, setting his cup down on the low brick wall beside him.

“You know,” he began, his tone softer now, “Tyler wasn’t lying. There’s something about you.”

My breath caught. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I let the moment settle, the weight of his words sinking in.

Josh rubbed the back of his neck, almost as if he were nervous. “I don’t usually do this,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “but would you... I mean, do you think we could—”

“Yes,” I blurted out, cutting him off without meaning to. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and I immediately felt my face flush. “I mean,” I stammered, trying to recover, “sure. What were you going to say?”

Josh laughed, the sound warm and teasing. “I was going to ask if you’d want to grab coffee or something sometime. But I like your enthusiasm.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Oh my God, I’m so awkward.”

“Nah,” Josh said, gently pulling my hands away from my face. His touch was light but steady, and it sent a thrill through me. “I think it’s kind of charming.”

We stood there for a beat, the cold forgotten as the tension between us grew electric. Finally, Josh reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to me.

“Here,” he said, grinning. “Give me your number. That way, I don’t have to rely on Tyler to play matchmaker again.”

I hesitated for only a second before taking his phone and typing in my number. When I handed it back, Josh glanced at the screen, then looked at me with a playful smile.

“Got it. Now you have no excuse to ghost me,” he said.

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had all night. “Trust me, I won’t.”

October 2024

Columbus, Ohio. Home. 9 years since I’d talked to Josh and 3 years since I’d talked to Tyler. Which was why, when I got a text from Tyler asking me to come see them on tour, I was surprised to say the least. And the last thing I expected was to be walking to Nationwide Arena to see my high school best friend and ex perform in our hometown. Josh and I had broken up just before Blurryface was released. He claimed the label wanted him single, that it would improve sales and boost the band’s popularity. And they’d been right. I never wanted to break up, but I loved Josh too much to get in the way of his career. As the crowd roared in the arena, I stood backstage, shifting from foot to foot. The energy was electric, even from here. 

Tyler’s name flashed on my phone screen, a text: “Show starts in 5. I told Josh you’re here. Good luck. ;)”

I groaned under my breath. Of course, Tyler would be cryptic and smug about this. Typical. But as the house lights dimmed and the stage lights flared to life, I forgot everything else. The deep thrum of the bass, the crash of cymbals, the distinct rasp of Tyler’s voice—it was surreal, and a little overwhelming.

My eyes locked onto Josh as he took his place behind the drums. Time had been kind to him. His energy was as captivating as ever, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia—and something sharper, something that still ached after all these years.

When the set ended and the crowd erupted into cheers, I found myself holding my breath. Tyler bounded off the stage first, sweaty and grinning ear to ear. He spotted me and pulled me into a quick, tight hug.

“I knew you’d come,” he said, his tone triumphant. “He’s gonna freak.”

“Tyler…” I started, but he just winked and jogged off, yelling something about needing water.

And then, there he was. Josh, walking off stage, still catching his breath, his drumsticks clutched in one hand. His eyes found mine, and he froze. For a moment, neither of us moved. The bustling backstage chaos seemed to blur around us.

“Hey,” he said finally, his voice soft, almost disbelieving. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “It’s… been a while.”

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice wavering. “A while.”

The silence stretched. Josh ran a hand through his hair, his signature cap gone. His hair had been dyed, black at the top with a bright patch of red peeking out at the bottom, strands of hair sticking out in every direction.

Finally, he spoke.

“Tyler didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said, though his tone made it clear he suspected otherwise. He chuckled lightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I didn’t think I’d be here,” I admitted. “But… Tyler insisted.”

Josh nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before snapping back up to mine. “Can we talk? Somewhere quieter?”

I hesitated, but then I nodded. “Sure.”

He led me through the maze of corridors to an empty lounge. The door clicked shut behind us, and for the first time, it was just us—no noise, no distractions. My heart was pounding in my chest.

Josh turned to me, and the mask of calm he’d worn backstage slipped. His expression was raw, his voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. “I never got over you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. I blinked, stunned. “What?”

“I know it’s been years,” he said, stepping closer. “I know I’m probably the last person you wanted to see. But breaking up with you—it wasn’t what I wanted. It was never what I wanted.”

My throat tightened. “You told me it was for the band.”

“I know,” Josh said, his voice breaking slightly. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I could let you go and focus on the music. But I couldn’t. I tried to move on, but no one else…” He shook his head, his gaze locking onto mine. “No one else was you.”

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I looked away, trying to steady myself. “You left, Josh. You made the choice for both of us.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice desperate now. “And I’ve regretted it every day since. I should have fought for us. I should have told the label to screw themselves. I was stupid, and I was scared, and I’m sorry.”

I wiped at my eyes, a humorless laugh escaping me. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt? Watching you from a distance, seeing you and Tyler rise to the top, knowing I wasn’t part of your life anymore?”

Josh took another step closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know. And I hate myself for it. But you’re here now. And if there’s any chance—any chance at all—that we could try again…”

I looked at him, his face open and vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen in years. The anger and hurt I’d carried for so long were still there, but beneath them, there was something else. Something I’d never stopped feeling, no matter how hard I tried.

“Josh,” I started, my voice shaking. “I don’t know if—”

The door burst open, and Tyler strode in, completely oblivious to the tension. “Oh, good, you two are talking!” he said cheerfully. “Told you, Josh. I knew you’d never get over her.”

Josh groaned, running a hand over his face. “Tyler, not now—”

“No, no, I’m serious,” Tyler interrupted, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Why do you think I invited her? I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. A real, genuine laugh that broke through the heaviness. Josh looked at me, his lips curving into a reluctant smile, and for the first time in years, I felt the tiniest spark of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of our story.

//

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