sleepyjackets

[sleepyjackets]

The chunky TV, the MySpace emo, Ouran highschool host club… those were the days.

[sleepyjackets]

I LOVE YOU, ALWAYS

pairing: Se-Mi x f!reader

warnings: violence

synopsis: you don't know where Se-Mi is. She doesn't answer your calls, nor your messages, so you try every possible way to find her.

content: this gives pure depression

wc: 3.2k

a/n: this is like the best fic I've ever written. I was going to say I'm sorry in advance but, actually, I'm not 😇

“The number you have dialed is not in service at this time. Please leave a-“

Your hands were shaking, the beep of the call ringing, your breathing becoming heavier.

This was the third day. Third day since you’ve been calling non-stop, sending messages, asking people around. And still, you didn’t get an answer.

Everything between you and Se-mi looked fine, felt fine. Why did she leave leaving no trace? Was she okay? You couldn’t stop your mind from thinking that something happened to her. Something bad. Because how could she do that with no reason? That wasn’t her. Your instinct told you there was something else, something deeper.

You decided to call again. That damn beep sounding for the eighteenth time that afternoon. This time, you stayed until the ��please leave a message after the tone’.

“Se-mi… are you okay? Please tell me if you are, where the hell are you? I’ve been looking for you, asking people about you, sending messages and calling. I… I don’t even know what else to do” Your voice broke through the phone, but you didn’t care about it anymore. “Don’t leave me, please. Not like this. Did I do anything wrong? I’ll apologize, I swear. But please, just tell me something, anything” A pause was heard. “I love you”

You waited for five minutes, felt like two whole damn hours. You spent those minutes looking at the clock, hearing the sound it made every second. Then, you started writing more messages. You lost count of how many you had already sent.

“Please tell me you’re okay. Say something”

“I miss you, come home”

“I’m sorry if I did something. I love you”

“If something happened, tell me where you are. I don’t care if you’re in the fucking Antartica, I’ll go. Right now. I’ll do anything.”

“Please tell me you’re safe”

“Are you going to choose to keep playing next time?” Min-us asked, not judging, just curious. She shook her head. “Why?”

The room felt tense, smaller than other days. They could hear people planning things, making groups. But they were going to end up dying anyway, that was the harsh truth behind all of this.

Se-mi was sitting next to Min-su on the stairs between two rows of beds. No one else was near.

“I have something to fight for outside here” She looked at the floor. “Someone”

The younger one didn’t say anything, but he turned his face to her, allowing her to keep talking.

“She’s… the most beautiful human being to ever exist, you know? You should see her” She turned her gaze to meet his. “I know she would hate this fucking place, and I know she would hate that I decided to get in too. Even without knowing about the killing part”

Min-su nodded. “I'm sure she would understand”

“She would. She always does” While she was talking about you, about her girl, her smile was genuine and her eyes sparkly as ever.

Her smile slowly faded away when she remembered something. “Min-su, can you do me a favor?”

Min-su was surprised, but he quickly nodded, a little bit nervously. “What is it?”

“If something happens to me…” She put her hands inside her pants pocket, taking out a folded piece of paper. “Can you give it to her? The address is in the paper”

The boy's mouth opened and closed a few times because he really didn't know what to say. Of course he would do it, if he survived, but hearing those words was harsh. Especially coming from her.

From what he could know in those three days, Se-mi wasn't the type of person to open up easily or talk about personal matters. So, since she was talking about that, it should be very important for her.

Min-su rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes… sure”

Se-mi smiled and handed him the letter. “Hey, don't open it, I told her where the body is hidden in that”

Min-su laughed a bit awkwardly, his usual laugh, followed by Se-mi’s.

They didn't know that was going to be their last laugh together.

It was rainy. You didn’t even know which day it was. You just knew this was the fifth day and Se-mi didn’t send a single message, didn’t call.

You tried everything. You went outside everyday to try to find her somewhere, you continued asking, calling and texting. Still nothing.

What were you doing wrong?

You thought about people who could want to hurt her, to do something to her. She did have debts, but you didn’t know who she owed her money to. You did ask, but she didn’t want to tell you.

Now, you understood she didn’t want to put you in danger.

There was still a chance that she just left. You preferred it, because that would mean she’s okay. All you cared about was her being fine. You couldn’t cry anymore, there were no more tears in your eyes because you just couldn’t let it all out.

You sighed, got up from the couch and grabbed a hoodie and some pants. You didn’t even grab an umbrella.

Well, not a hoodie, her hoodie. It was her favorite.

That was why you thought something happened to her. She left with no clothes and no money. She couldn’t be out there without that.

When you stepped out of your building, you felt the rain dropping on your skin. You closed your eyes for a couple of seconds. Her hoodie felt like her, felt like she was hugging you.

You wished it was like that.

Your feet started moving, almost automatically. You decided to go search through dark alleys, the ones where shit happened. Everyone in that street knew it. If someone took her, they must be there.

No one was outside. You were the only person there, because you were mad in love.

You remembered what you told her that night when you were on the couch. “I love you, always”. You swore to yourself that you’d never, ever, stop loving her. Because your heart knew it. You wouldn’t stop loving her, not even if you wanted to.

You pulled up your hood to cover yourself a bit from the rain and started looking at the sides of the street, searching for some places that might look suspicious.

The first alley looked like a poor neighborhood, clothes were hung out in the street, broken bicycles were everywhere. Even the smell was weird. But nothing, no one was there.

Same thing happened with the second one: an alley with a lot of bars with lights. The only ones there were just alcoholics, or drug addicts. But no one was exactly dangerous.

Just when you were going to walk out of the third alley, someone grabbed you from your shoulder and made you turn around. It was a tall man with a big beard, you could see tattoos all over his arms.

The typical ‘tough’ guy, you thought.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him with no hint of any fear. “What do you want?”

“Aren’t you Se-mi’s girl?” His voice was rough and deep. You could smell the scent of alcohol.

Something lit up in your eyes. He knew her. Maybe he knew where she was. But you weren’t going to be that obvious.

“I am. Again, what the hell do you want?” You shook your shoulder, getting rid of his hold on you.

“Same attitude, no doubt you’re her partner” He said that in a way of derision. “Where the fuck is that bitch? She still owes me money, you know that right?” He got closer.

You didn’t buy it. If someone did something to her, it must have been him. You took a step closer, showing you didn’t care about him.

“You’re the one who knows where she is” You pushed him in the shoulder.

He quickly grabbed you by the collar of the hoodie, making your hood fall off. You gasped. “Listen, little piece of shit, if I had any idea of where she is I would have beat the shit out of her already”

It was impossible not to be nervous with that man grabbing you, but you kept on talking. “You talk too much, but you don’t do anything. Who’s the little piece of shit then?” You knew you shouldn’t, but you spit him on the face.

He instantly threw you to the floor with force when you did that. You fell on your elbows and your face showed that it definitely had hurt. He lowered himself to the floor and grabbed you again.

You didn’t expect him to do it, but he did. He punched you, right on the side of your face. You fell on your side, supporting your whole body to the floor with one arm.

“I don’t care where she is. I don’t care if she’s dead or alive. But that money is mine. If she doesn’t pay me, you’re going to” Then, he grabbed you by the face. “And if you don’t, you’re going to be disappearing too”

He finally walked out from your sight. You could feel blood coming out of your face, but you instantly got up. It hurt, but still not knowing where she was hurt more.

Se-mi's dad was a drug addict and a compulsive gambler. Since her mom was dead too, when he died, all his debts were transferred to her. It wasn't her fault.

You came out of the alley at a fast pace. Your breathing was so heavy, you couldn’t breathe. You put your hand on a wall and folded your knees, pressing your chest with your other hand.

You tried to breathe, you definitely tried. But you couldn’t. That’s when you noticed tears were running down your eyes. You couldn’t stop them.

Your knees fell to the floor and your back pressed to the wall. You closed your eyes, tried to breathe three consecutive times and failed. You punched your chest, tried to make your lungs work.

It felt like hours until your breathing came out again. But tears never stopped flowing. You didn’t know if someone saw you, but if they did, no one did anything.

Where the hell was she? You wanted to be with her again, to feel her arms surrounding you, her lips on yours. Everything. You couldn’t be without her, what would you even do?

Your world was falling apart piece by piece.

Ninth day.

You didn’t leave your bed for two days. You couldn’t. What was the point anymore?

Then, your door bell rang. You waited four seconds, your eyes opened instantly. Was it Se-mi? Did she come back?

Please, let it be her.

You got out of bed in the split of a second, you ran towards your door and grabbed the telephone next to it.

“Se-mi?” Your breath sounded heavier, and your voice desperate.

“There’s a package for you”

You couldn’t believe it. You threw the telephone to the ground, left it handing over the cable. You fell to your knees again.

You punched the floor. You screamed. You cried.

And then, you walked down the stairs with your pajamas, without any shoes.

When you reached the door and opened it, there was a black envelope with a red little lace on it on the floor. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. But you grabbed it.

You entered your house again, sat on the couch, took a deep breath and opened the envelope. It looked like there were two papers inside it. You took out the first one.

You didn’t notice that your hands were shaking when you unfolded the paper. Right when you saw the first damn letter, you knew whose handwriting that was.

Your hand came up to your mouth, to silence the sobs that were going to come out.

To my everything,

I’m writing this at night, I think. I don’t know what hour it is. No one knows. At least they were human enough to give me a paper and a pen.

If I didn’t give this to you myself, I’m probably not here anymore. You know you were, are, and will always be the love of my life. I want to show you that more, but I don’t know if I’ll have time for that. I hope you’re okay, you always find a way to be.

I want you to know that you have to get through this. Don’t get stuck, not for me. I want you to live. I got in this shit to finally pay off my doubts, to not put you in danger. I have you in my mind every day, every fucking day. I want to get through this for you, but this is… I don’t even have words. It’s cruel. So much.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not making it out, for every damn mistake I made about us… I’m sorry for everything I can’t tell you I feel sorry for anymore. When I sleep, I dream about hugging you. Remember that time you wanted a flower but it wasn’t allowed to take one and I did and then the police came? I’d do it again. I’d do everything for you, I swear. I’m also sorry for not telling you about this, I didn’t want you to get worried. You would have said to me that it was crazy. I didn’t tell you because I know that if you asked me not to go, I wouldn’t. But I don’t want my problems to eat you alive.

Please, remember me. You’re the most important person in the whole universe for me. The way you always succeed to make me calm, the way you find solutions for every problem, the way you love so deeply. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.

You’re my everything in every universe.

Love you, always,

Se-mi.

Tears started falling when you started reading the first damn word.

You were right, something did happen to her. But being dead? You didn't expect it at that limit. You couldn't believe she was gone just like that.

One day she was holding you and the next she was just… gone.

The worst thing is that you don't know where, how, what was that place she was talking about. Why didn't she call the police? She probably didn't have her phone, but…

You didn't even know what you were thinking about. Your gaze stopped on a random place in your room for minutes, Se-mi’s letter still shaking on your hands, your whole body tense.

It was like the whole world stopped. Your world.

Because your world was Se-mi.

What were you going to do without her? How did she expect you to keep going, to not get stuck?

Then, you remembered there was another letter there. You sighed shakily and took it in your hands. When you opened it, the handwriting wasn't the same one.

The handwriting looked messy, like someone was shaking while writing it.

I'm Min-su. I met Se-mi in the games. She was the one who told me to give this to you if something happened to her. I convinced a guard to send this to you if I don't make it out.

I'm writing this hours after she died. After she was killed. I thought you'd want to know what happened to her.

This place is… somewhere where desperate people like me, like us, have a choice to pay off their doubts. They offered this to us by playing ddakji. If you won, you'd get money, and if you didn't you'd get slapped. After this, they gave us a card with these symbols △□○ written on it and a number on the other side. We called and they got us here. We didn't know, I swear we didn't. They make us play children's games and if you fail, you get killed. I know this sounds crazy, but I swear it is what's happening.

We had to vote to keep playing or to stop and go home. The first option won, because most of the players needed more money. Everytime someone's killed, they add money to the prize.

The lights went off and on every single second. People started killing each other with anything they had. It was a game for them. Nam-gyu, that idiot, he killed her.

I tried. I swear I tried. I threw a bottle, but I just couldn't… I couldn't. I'm sorry.

She voted to go home last time, and she told me it was because of you, because she had someone to fight for outside here. Someone worth this place. She told me that she loved you, deeply did. That you were the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. Just by her eyes, I could tell how much she loved you. Her eyes lit up that time when she talked about you.

Se-mi was the only human person here. She helped me, every time. Every single time. And I didn't. Right when I had to, I didn't.

It's my fault. I'm sorry.

-Min-su.

What were you supposed to do in that situation? You couldn't take it.

Who was that guy, Nam-gyu? You wanted to find him, to kill him for what he did. You felt angry, sad, desperate.

Broken.

You felt thankful for that guy, Min-su, for telling you how she… died. That word was difficult to say, to think about it even.

But what did he mean when he said he couldn't do it, that he tried? You wouldn't have more answers. And that felt like someone kicking your stomach.

Your heart was ripped apart.

You pushed your knees to your chest and you hugged your knees with your arms, resting your head on them. You cried, you cried out loud because you couldn't hold it anymore.

There was no place to talk to her, to feel her loss. Not a cemetery, not a coffin, not her body.

A year has passed since you received those letters. You still kept them next to your bed because you still read Se-mi’s some nights befores sleeping.

Well, you couldn't even sleep.

But you just couldn't read Min-su's. You couldn't read how he died anymore, because your mind started making scenarios. You had nightmares about it.

You still called her sometimes. Because there was still a piece of you that hoped to hear her voice again. But that didn't happen.

Now, you were sitting on a bench in front of a lake. That's where your first kiss with her happened, when she asked you to make it official, when everything started.

You knew she was the one since the first day. And you know she did too.

You started going out without feeling bad a month ago, hanging out with friends. She was still on your mind every single second, but you accomplished her last wish.

It was the time of the sunset. You were looking at the sky. You weren't religious, but if she was somewhere there, you wanted her to know that you still love her and always will.

A year felt like three without her. You couldn't sleep on her side of the bed, you couldn't eat her favorite foods, nor her favorite drinks. Sometimes, you took one of her clothes out of the wardrobe and hugged it while you slept.

You were still dealing with loss and pain, you'd be dealing with that forever. But you did what she wanted, you lived. You didn't get stuck.

Because like she said, you always found a way to be fine. A solution.

Or, at least, tried to.

Because you loved her, always.

[sleepyjackets]

squeaky clean 🫧

pairings: toxic se-mi x reader

summary: you enter the squid games after being down on your luck yet you find yourself facing more bad luck when your ex finds you there with her

tags/warnings: smut, some angst, toxic!se-mi, fingering, public sex, p0rn with plot, dirty talk, ex girlfriend, se-mi is high key a manipulator

a/n: i wrote this a while back and revised it since season 3 is out and this fandom is finally alive again 🥳

If there was one person you could trace all your current problems back to it was her.

Some sketchy guy in a suit had offered you money to play dalgona with him on the subway. Which you didn't think twice before saying yes because you'd do anything for money after being down on your luck for the past few months. Whose fault was this?

Se-mi.

You two had dated for almost 3 years and moved in together. She convinced you to quit your job once she proposed. But you later found that she was cheating on you with your own best friend. She's always been a dirtbag but she was a loveable dirtbag whose many flaws you were blind to by choice (atleast for the first 2 years). Besides the cheating she was just not a good partner whatsoever but god was she so good making you feel like this relationship was actually good for you. Se-mi would make jokes about gaslighting you but it never dawned on you that she was doing that exact thing.

After moving out you essentially had no money. Your only option was to pick up 3 different jobs and work yourself to death until you joined these games.

After waking up you looked around trying to figure out how the hell you got here from that cramped bus. When you turn your head the first thing you see is the person you hold the most hate for in your heart.

Oh fuck me.

You run up to her and grab her arm, whispering in her ear harshly.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

She turns around and smiles that same enchanting smile that makes you forget how much you want to scream in her handsome face.

"Same reason you're here," She says with a small smile while her eyes drag over your frame with no shame. That's just Se-mi, If there was one word to describe her it would be shameless. While you're stuck in your thoughts you hear a laugh that's way too familiar and immediately snap back.

"You're here, I'm here, we should work together" She steps a little closer

"Did you just forget or something?" You ask with pure disbelief

"No but I'd like to believe that the past is the past you know? Brighter pastures ahead baby" She reaches her hand towards your cheek and you slap it away.

"Don't touch me. Or even speak to me." Your voice is hushed for the most part but towards the end you raise it

"You came up to me, sorry for assuming you were willing to put the past aside" She raises her hands in fake surrender

"That's it that's what you do. You make me feel like shit for not putting up with you and your weird little mind games" You're finally yelling at her the way you've wanted to yell at her for months.

"I'm not trying to fuck with your head baby, I'm not smart enough for that"

Then she just walks away. You know exactly what she is trying to do and you're falling for it in the same way you have many times before. She points out some bullshit insecurity she doesn't even have then makes you feel like an asshole for "enabling" her problems. You know her all too well but still let yourself feel like shit because of her.

*+:｡.｡

That night you're tossing and turning. The first game is tomorrow morning and guilt is eating you alive. Amidst your tossing and turning you spot Se-mi going to the bathroom and jump up running after her.

Once you're in the bathroom you walk up to her grabbing her shoulder and turning her around

"I'm sorry for blowing up on you earlier, how can I make it up to you?"

You blurt out without thinking all too much.

"You're apologizing that's new. But I guess I'd feel better if you agreed to be my partner" She smirks the same smirk you'd have if you won a game of uno not if you manipulated your ex into playing children's games with you.

"Yes of course anything else?" God you feel so pathetic

Se-mi grabs your arm gently tugging you towards her and kissing around your neck and collarbones. In between kisses she mumbles "I want things back how they used to be is all"

You laugh a little bit and let her set you with your back against the wall. Se-mi peppers kisses down your chest until she reaches your titties. She unzips your jackets and throws it aside. Her hands gropes your tit and kisses the other over your shirt. "No bra that's bold even for you"

Her hands lift up your shirt but she doesn't take it off instead opting for just holding it up. Her lips clasp around your nipple and while she's sucking she glances up at you with desperation in her eyes. But not desperation for you, desperation to win. Win what? You're not quite sure.

A moan shudders out of your mouth and you gently run your hand over her hair. Se-mi takes it upon herself to start sliding down your pants while kissing down your stomach. Se-mi's always loved eating you out because it gave her a chance to see you undone and vulnerable. As much of an asshole she was Se-mi always made sure the sex was focused on you. It was her way of reassuring you that she did care to an extent.

Once her lips make their way down her warm breath ghosts over you cilt before she sets her thumb over it and presses down a little.

"That feel good?" She says before blowing a little air over your cilt

"Jesus Se-mi" You look down a little shocked at her rather unique way of teasing you but you're not mad

"That's a yes I assume" She says before shoving her tongue into your folds. She gently presses two fingers up your pussy to keep her hands occupied. Your head tilts back while a strangled moan leaves your lips, all too familiar for you too. One hand slips through her hair pushing her face in deeper while Se-mi just let herself get lost in you.

She ups the speed of her fingers while pulling her mouth away glancing up at you like a teasing puppy. "Cum for me ok?" She says, moving to use her free to gently rub your thigh.

"Yes ok ok" You nod your head knowing you didn't have much control over this to begin with. When Se-mi adds another finger you finally loose all ability to hold back and spew all over Se-mi's fingers. She pulls her digits out and licks them with a sly smile. By the time she's back on her feet you're still a sweaty panting mess, it's pathetic compared to her messy perfection.

She kisses your cheek before turning the water on to wash her hands. You know it's the logical thing to do after fingering someone but you're still a little insulted by the notion that you're something she can just wash off.

Se-mi glances over and knows exactly what's on your mind because you two have had this exact argument about 4 times before. Her hand cradles your cheek while she mutters

"You made it up to me."

[sleepyjackets]

he can sing he can cook and he survived in a family with five siblings in a poor neighborhood of Chicago

the man you are, Jeremy

[sleepyjackets]

Happy two year anniversary to whatever the fuck this was

[sleepyjackets]

if you're wondering why i'm not uploading any fics it's because i'm spending all my free time reading green yuri

[sleepyjackets]

inject this shit into my veins right now I ADORE SEEING LESBIANS JUST BEING HAPPY AND CUTE AND IN LOVE

[sleepyjackets]

yeah

[sleepyjackets]

[sleepyjackets]

reposting to remind myself to read these

Bird Watching

Construction Worker!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x single mom!reader

‘Birds of a feather,

We should stick together, I know,

I said I’d never,

Think I wasn’t better alone’

Part one (2.3k words)

Part two (2.4K words)

Part three (3.6k words)

Part four (coming soon)

Main Masterlist

[sleepyjackets]

[sleepyjackets]

ok but imagine post crash Nat dressing like thisssss

[sleepyjackets]

#the questioning #the hesitation

[sleepyjackets]

NOW PLAYING ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. summerboy — lady gaga

summerboy!art, who keeps a disposable camera in his back pocket specifically to take blurry, overexposed photos of you when you're not looking—you squinting into the sun with a slurpee mustache, you mid-laugh with sand stuck to your wet shoulder, you asleep in the passenger seat of patrick's uncle's beat-up civic with your mouth open and your hair a disaster. he gets them developed at the cvs and hides the packet under his mattress like they're contraband. patrick finds them once and art tackles him so hard they both go through the screen door. "she's gonna think you're a creep," patrick wheezes, but art just snatches the photos back and mutters "shut up" while his ears turn red. later that night he slips his favorite one—you in your striped bikini, mid-cannonball, arms spread like wings—into his wallet behind his lifeguard certification card.

summerboy!patrick, who steals your cherry chapstick and then pretends he doesn't know where it went, even though you can literally see the waxy red smudge on his bottom lip when he's talking to you. he'll lean against the boardwalk railing, all cocky and sun-drunk, going "maybe you left it at the beach house?" while actively licking his lips. art calls him out every time—"dude, it's literally on your mouth"—and patrick just shrugs like he's been caught shoplifting candy. "tastes better on her anyway," he says, and then tosses the tube back to you with this shit-eating grin. you want to be mad but he looks so stupidly pleased with himself, hair bleached almost white from the salt water, freckles multiplying across his nose like connect-the-dots.

summerboy!art, who gets genuinely upset when you and patrick team up against him in the pool, even though it happens every single time. he'll surface, sputtering and indignant, pointing between you two like he's filing a formal complaint. "that's not fair! you can't both dunk me!" meanwhile you're clinging to patrick's shoulders, both of you cackling, and patrick's got this arm around your waist that lingers just a beat too long after you've stopped trying to drown art. art notices everything—the way patrick's thumb traces the tie of your bikini bottom, how you press your face into patrick's neck when you're laughing too hard to breathe. later, when you're all sprawled on pool floats, art "accidentally" tips patrick into the water and then offers you his raft with the kind of courteous sweetness that makes patrick roll his eyes so hard you can hear it.

summerboy!patrick, who absolutely loses his mind when you wear his Red Sox cap backward while driving his uncle's boat, even though you have no idea what you're doing and nearly crash into the dock twice. something about you in his hat, squinting against the sun with your hair whipping around your face, makes him forget how to form sentences. art has to grab the wheel because patrick's just standing there staring at you like you've grown a second head. "earth to patrick," art mutters, but patrick's already fishing his phone out of his swim trunks to take a picture. the photo's terrible—blurry and overexposed—but he sets it as his wallpaper anyway and then gets weirdly possessive about his phone for the rest of the summer.

summerboy!art, who memorizes your dunkin order (medium iced coffee, oat milk, two sugars, extra shot) and places it for you every morning without being asked, even though patrick always makes fun of him for being "whipped" and you insist you can order for yourself. he just shrugs it off, sliding the plastic cup across the sticky table of whatever diner you've invaded that day, still in your wrinkled hoodies and yesterday's swimsuits, sunglasses pushed up on your heads, trying to look less high than you obviously are. the waitress always gives you dirty looks—three teenagers in various stages of undress, reeking of chlorine and weed, giggling over shared pancakes at 2pm—but art tips her extra anyway because his mom raised him right.

summerboy!patrick, who gets irrationally jealous when the lifeguard at the public beach (some college guy with a perfect tan and a whistle he actually uses) asks for your number, even though you very obviously shut him down. patrick spends the rest of the day making increasingly ridiculous comments about "whistle boy"—how his tan is definitely fake, how he probably can't even swim that well, how his sunglasses are stupid expensive and probably don't even have uv protection. art tries to change the subject but patrick's on a roll, practicing his own lifeguard poses and asking if you think he'd look good in red shorts. "you already look good," you say without thinking, and patrick goes quiet for exactly three seconds before grinning so wide you think his face might crack.

summerboy!art, who always insists on being the one to put sunscreen on your back, even though his hands shake a little when he touches you and he takes way longer than necessary, fingers tracing the line of your shoulder blades like he's memorizing the geography of your skin. patrick watches from his beach chair, pretending to read some trashy paperback he found in his uncle's basement, but you can feel his eyes on you over the top of the pages. art's touch is gentle, reverent almost, smoothing the lotion in careful circles while you try not to shiver despite the ninety-degree heat. "you burn easy," he murmurs, but his voice sounds rougher than usual. patrick clears his throat loudly and art's hands still for a moment before he caps the bottle and hands it over. "your turn," art says, but patrick just smirks and says he doesn't burn, even though you've all seen him lobster-red after forgetting to reapply.

summerboy!patrick, who has absolutely no filter when he's stoned, which is most of the time, and says things that make art kick him under the table at whatever greasy spoon you've stumbled into after hours of swimming and sun. you'll be sitting in a corner booth, your hoodie strings pulled so tight only your eyes are visible, sharing a plate of cheese fries and trying not to look as obviously baked as you are, when patrick will just blurt out something like "you have really nice collarbones" or "your laugh makes my chest feel weird." art goes red and starts aggressively stirring his milkshake while you blink at patrick from inside your hoodie cave. "what?" patrick says, genuinely confused by the sudden tension. "it's true." the waitress refills your water glasses and pretends not to notice when you all dissolve into hysterical giggles.

summerboy!art, who starts leaving little gifts in your beach bag when you're not looking—a perfect seashell, a smooth piece of sea glass, those stupid temporary tattoos from the boardwalk prize counter that you mentioned liking once. you never see him do it, but you know it's him because patrick would just hand you stuff directly, probably while making some joke about how you owe him. art's gifts are always tucked between your towel and sunscreen like secrets, and when you thank him he just ducks his head and mumbles something about how he "saw it and thought of you." patrick rolls his eyes but there's something soft in his expression when he watches art watch you peel a dolphin tattoo off its backing and press it to your ankle.

summerboy!patrick, who gets weirdly competitive about the dumbest things when you're around—who can hold their breath longest underwater, who can shotgun a beer faster, who can do a better backflip off the pier—and then gets sulky when art inevitably wins because art actually played sports in school while patrick's main hobby is smoking weed behind the tennis courts. you always compliment patrick's attempt anyway, tell him his form was better or his technique was more creative, and he lights up like you've just told him he's won an olympic medal. art notices the way patrick preens under your attention and starts letting him win sometimes, which patrick absolutely does not catch onto but makes him insufferably smug for the rest of the day.

summerboy!art, who gets so worried about you when you're swimming in the ocean that he hovers like an anxious lifeguard, staying close enough to grab you if a wave looks too big or the current seems too strong. patrick makes fun of him for being a "mother hen" but secretly thinks it's sweet, how art's eyes never leave you when you're in the water, how he counts the seconds when you dive under and visibly relaxes when you surface. "she's not gonna drown in three feet of water," patrick says, but he doesn't move any farther from shore either. when you finally trudge back to your towel, hair dripping and skin gritty with sand, they both look at you like you've returned from some dangerous expedition instead of just bodysurfing for twenty minutes.

summerboy!patrick, who steals sips of your drinks constantly—your slurpee, your iced coffee, your water bottle, whatever—and always does it with a ridiculous grin like he's the cleverest guy alive. art groans every time and makes exaggerated gagging noises, but you know patrick's just doing it to get a reaction out of both of you. when you finally catch him mid-sip, you glare and he shrugs, saying "can't help it. tastes better when it's yours." later he tries to be sneaky and swipes a fry off your plate but art catches him and calls him out, so patrick dramatically pretends to drop the fry on the floor and mourns its loss like a tragic hero. you laugh so hard your sides hurt.

summerboy!art, who falls asleep on the beach every single day, sunbaked and exhausted, with the faint scent of coconut sunscreen and sea salt in his hair. patrick teases him for it, saying art looks like a baby seal wrapped in a beach towel, but art doesn't care. sometimes you lie down next to him and both of you just stare up at the sky until the clouds change shapes and the world feels quiet and small. patrick joins in sometimes, but he always complains when he has to stop talking. art just smiles and closes his eyes, the weight of the summer settling into his bones like a secret promise.

summerboy!patrick, who insists on taking you to the boardwalk arcade at least once a week, even though you hate the noise and the sticky floors and the way the lights make your head spin. he drags you from game to game, laughing when you accidentally win tickets on the claw machine or beat him at skee-ball, crowing like a little kid when he finally nails the timing on the basketball toss. art watches from the sidelines, arms crossed but clearly amused, occasionally stepping in to show off his own skills and steal some tickets for you. patrick ends up with a ridiculous pile of plastic prizes that he insists are "for you," even though half of them end up in his backpack and art is secretly amused by the whole ridiculousness.

summerboy!art, who texts you pictures of the sky at sunset—pinks and purples and oranges melting into one another—when you're not with him, sometimes with a simple message: "wish u were here." patrick sees the texts and rolls his eyes but you can tell it means something. when you finally meet up again, art pulls you aside and presses a cool hand to your forehead, smiling softly and saying, "you look like you need the ocean." and you do, more than you realize, because the sun is warm on your skin and the waves sound like home and art's hand is the only steady thing you can hold onto.

summerboy!patrick, who never actually learns how to surf properly but is always first to volunteer when the surf instructor calls for volunteers. he tries his best, falling off the board more times than you can count, face-planting into the water with a splash and a groan. art laughs but never mocks, instead cheering patrick on and helping him get back on the board. patrick gets this ridiculous look of determination on his face whenever he finally manages to stand up for even a second, like he's just conquered the world. you grin and take a million pictures because it's the most earnest, adorable thing you've ever seen.

summerboy!art, who gets shy when you catch him staring but then quickly tries to act cool, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and running a hand through his damp hair. patrick always calls him out, making some snarky comment about "sunscreen smudges on the lenses" or "the way his lip twitches when he sees u," and art just groans, burying his face in his towel. but you see it—the way his eyes light up, the way his whole body relaxes when you're near. it's like the sun breaks through the clouds just for you two.

summerboy!patrick, who sneaks off to the ice cream stand and buys you a double scoop cone of your favorite flavor when he thinks no one is looking. he hands it to you with a goofy grin and says, "don't tell art, or he'll make me share." you pretend to scold him but really you're thrilled, because nobody knows the way to your heart better than patrick does—even if his methods are a little childish. art just shakes his head but you catch a flash of something tender in his gaze when he watches you lick the ice cream, sticky and sun-kissed and perfectly happy.

summerboy!art, who always has a book in his backpack, usually something heavy and dusty that he reads by the water while the sun sets. he reads poetry mostly, or old stories about the sea, and sometimes he recites lines quietly to you, voice low and intimate like he's sharing a secret. patrick sometimes tries to join in, making exaggerated gestures and goofy voices, but art just smiles and rolls his eyes, happy to have you both there even if it's ridiculous. these quiet moments, with the ocean roaring behind you and the sky turning violet, feel like the only place you really belong.

summerboy!patrick, who laughs way too loud at his own jokes, which are usually terrible puns about the ocean or summer or your messy hair after swimming. art groans and buries his face in his hands, but you just shake your head and smile because patrick's laugh is contagious and it makes everything feel lighter, like the sun is always shining even when the sky is gray. when he looks at you with those bright eyes and that goofy grin, it's like the whole world is nothing but endless summer and possibilities.

summerboy!art, who stays up late with you on the roof of patrick's uncle's beach house, watching the stars blink awake over the dark ocean. you lie side by side on a threadbare blanket, shoulders touching, and art points out constellations he's learned from his grandfather. sometimes you talk quietly about the future—college, moving away, whether the summer will end or if you can somehow keep it alive forever. patrick joins you sometimes but mostly just listens, letting you two have your moments while he fiddles with his camera or scrolls through his phone. the night smells like salt and jasmine and promise.

summerboy!patrick, who accidentally calls you by art's name once during a kiss, and then immediately apologizes like he's confessed a sin. art just laughs and tells him to chill, saying "as long as you don't call me patrick, we're good." you roll your eyes but you can tell it means something, this tangled mess of affection and confusion and longing that makes the summer so unforgettable. and somehow, even with all the awkwardness and sunburns and endless teasing, you wouldn't trade a single second of it.

[sleepyjackets]

warnings: violence; branding.

i genuinely just can't right now, oh my God. shauna shipman, the woman you are.

you do the same thing mel did: give her a pretty sheath with her initial, 'S', carved into it. "thanks, i actually needed one of these," shauna says, her eyes doeing up a bit despite how much they've caved in from her weariness. and then you say some, "of course, shauna," and "i hope you like it" type thing. she looks up at you from the log where she's sitting, her eyes beaming with this light you haven't seen since when she first got accepted into the yellowjackets. oh my.

shauna slips her knife into the sheath, grinning when it fits perfectly. the thought of you stealing her blade whilst she slept or looked away just to measure it and give her a custom gift swells her ego — like, damn, she really found a way to make a girl obsessed in the middle of the wilderness. the thought of you further dulling your own knife just to make it hers, not caring about the fact nat's gonna be pissed if she finds out you've been using it to feed shauna's power-trip instead of hunting the food you all need.

"hey, why do you even like me?" she asks, her eyes narrowing as she attaches the sheath to herself. you don't really have an answer, not immediately. you just walk over to her and stare for a bit. just before you can answer, shauna tugs on your jacket's sleeve. your eyebrows furrow as you get the memo, slipping it off.

she takes out her knife again, lifting it up and letting the sunlight catch on it. what a pretty sight, she thinks, a pretty girl ready to drip crimson red. just as quick as her thoughts intrude her brain, shauna holds you down and begins digging the blade into your forearm. an 'S' — scratchy, not yet penetrating skin — shows up and begins to swell. shauna stares at it for a second before stuffing the sleeves of your own jacket into your mouth and fully piercing your skin.

there's blood dripping all over both your skins and shauna uses her own flannel to clean you up, the metallic scent boosting her adrenaline. she holds the cloth in place for a bit, keeping the blood flow in check, and then her eyes beam again at the sight of the raised skin and open wound with her initial.

"do you still like me?" she breathes out and you can't help but nod.

[sleepyjackets]

deadass

how do u make friends on this app… i am not boring i swear 🥀

[sleepyjackets]

matching!!

write a jj fanfic about reader being pope's sister and he like really wants that's cookie 🍪

never knew what i was missing

　bf!jj and black!reader headcannons

　﹒　　⟡　　˙　new upload!　　⭐️

　　❍　wrds: 317 　✿　jj maybank x black!reader　　﹒　

　　﹒　　　⟡　　˙　tags : fluff, black!reader, fem reader intended, idk what to put here 　🏄🏼‍♂️

　　⊹　🦩　　﹒ a/n: matching concepts w/ @sleepyjackets 🥹 , this is probably one of my favorites as a black gyal myself #weirdblackgirlsunite hers is a lot more longer than mine but i’m lazy　◍

bf!jj, who definitely calls you his melanated queen.

nobody knows where the nickname came from, but it just was randomly brought up and he was using it ever since. it’s corny, but at the same time; you couldn’t expect anything less from the jj maybank. (an honorable mention is chocolate drop)

bf!jj, who helps you take put your braids almost every time.

he’s slowly getting the hang of it, but he could be rough sometimes.

“ok jj, i’ll do this section and you’ll do the other.” you said, looking at him in the mirror with determination.

“on it, beauty.” he said with a smirk as he started to take down your braids with the usual:

“my back hurts”

“can we take another break?”

“damn girl, your hair getting long”

bf!jj, who’s scared of telling pope the two of you are dating.

“dude, he’s gonna like— stab me or something! i’m scared”

“jj, come on, you know he won’t do that.”

jj hesitantly knocks on the door to his home with his arm wrapped around your shoulder and puts on a anxious smile

pope opens the door confused, his eyes darting at both of you, then the arm slung around your shoulder, putting a hand on his hip.

“you— ohhh… really [name]?”

“this is why you don’t let your sister around your friends… they come back dating the worse ones..”

bf!jj, who is definitely a ass slapper. it could be a regular day, and he would feel the need to just give it one good powerful slap. it happens so much to the point where you just don’t even mind it anymore.

bf!jj, who’s adapted to your living styles quickly. grocery bags under the sink, pots and pans in the stove, and he lets the one pot that needs to be washed “soak for a bit” sit in the sink.

bf!jj, who adores you and praises the ground you walk on with no shame.