ilyviolent

[ilyviolent]

"Sun or Moon?"

Pairing: Vinny Hong x Reader

Summary: You asked him if he thinks you're the sun or moon in his life—you're neither.

Tags: Established RS, Fluff

a/n: i haven't written in so long, but i do have a lot of drafts🥀 sorry for being inactive😭 i miss having lots of fics too

"Do you think I’m the sun or the moon type?"

It was just a random question—something you’d seen trending online where girlfriends ask their boyfriends and get back answers dripping with charm, or at least something borderline poetic.

And sure, your boyfriend isn’t exactly Shakespeare—he’s emotionally… under construction, let’s say—but he’s proven he does have a romantic nerve now and then.

Like hoe he gives a quiet kiss in place of an “I love you"—a small gesture that lingers longer than words.

So naturally, you were expecting something along those lines.

One soft sentence. Maybe a half-smile and that kiss that shuts you up mid-laugh.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"I think you’re a brat."

The words were flat, deadpanned, tossed lazily from where he was sprawled on his futon like a man allergic to being awake.

You blinked, cocooned in the fortress of his blankets and pillows you’d built in the corner of his room to keep out the chill of the rain drumming against the window.

Surely you misheard.

"...What?" you asked again, poking your head out from the warm nest.

His face didn’t even lift from his pillow, voice muffled and groggy from sleep.

"A brat—a short, crackling brat."

You gawked, jaw nearly unhinging—that was not an answer you were expecting.

Not…a charli xcx album.

That wasn’t even in the galaxy of answers. The trend called for celestial metaphors—sunshine, comfort, eternal glow.

Slowly, surprise gave way to an offended pout—you let out a sharp huff, rolling yourself further toward the wall, wrapping tighter in his blankets like a burrito of righteous indignation.

That actually pissed you off.

Not only was his reply flatter than the futon he was drooling on, but he had the gall to call you a brat.

Not even a planet.

Not even a star.

A brat.

And the cherry on top? He didn’t even bother looking at you when he said it.

The audacity.

So you kept silent—burrowed deep under the covers, sulking in your blanket fortress while he snored his way back toward dreamland.

Meanwhile, you were already plotting your revenge. Maybe you’d “accidentally” eat his snacks, or hog his hoodies until he begged for them back.

You huffed into the sheets, muttering under your breath, “You think I’m a brat? Fine. I’ll show you brat."

But before you could cement your diabolical schemes, there was the sound of shuffling, then a familiar groan from behind you.

"…Are you mad?" his raspy voice cut through, closer than you expected.

A second later, his warmth seeped behind you.

"C’mon—pop your head out, brat."

Your brows twitched violently at the cursed word, and you whipped around with a wiggle, ready to unleash hell.

Instead, you came face to chest with him—he was already right there.

Propped on his elbow, his red hair falling messily into his mismatched eyes, he watched you with that infuriating blankness that somehow always chipped at your resolve.

His other hand slid down until it landed on your waist—or at least where your waist was under the cocoon of blankets—and gave a soft, absent pat.

"You sulking?" he asked flatly, though the faint tug at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

You immediately wriggled away like a worm fighting for its life, trying to shake him off.

"I’m not a brat," you hissed, face hot with both annoyance and embarrassment. "You’re supposed to say something cute, not insult me!"

"Mm, not a brat—got it." His hum was maddeningly calm, his eyes unblinking as he tugged you closer anyway.

Then his hand is smoothing over the blanket at your waist, steady and warm—keeping you pressed against him.

"But who said a brat isn’t cute?"

Your indignation spiked, but your body betrayed you—every time he touched you with that kind of lazy certainty, it softened something in your chest.

Still, you wriggled in his hold, whining like a feral cat caught mid-scruff.

"That’s literally an insult!" you chirped, your pout threatening to wobble.

He only shifted closer, draping an arm over you with the slow patience of someone taming a tantrum. His fingertips traced the outline of your shoulder through the blanket, feather-light.

"What, did you want me to call you my sun? My moon? Whatever orbiting rock you’re jealous of right now?"

You made a noise of protest, halfway between a growl and a whine, burying your face deeper in the covers.

"At least something like that!"

His hand cupped the side of your head through the blanket, his thumb pressing gently as though to anchor you.

"You’re being loud—and a brat," he murmured, voice soft enough to make your stomach flip.

"But you know what I meant." he added, so soft it made you nuzzle just a little into his touch.

You peeked up at him then, lips still pursed, only to find his gaze trained fully on you—steady, unreadable, but undeniably warm.

“…What did you mean, then?” you muttered suspiciously, though the fight in your tone was thinner now.

His thumb brushed along your jaw, coaxing your head free of the blanket and against his chedt instead.

"That you’re mine." he said. "Cute, annoying, sun, moon—none of that matters, brat covers all of it."

Your glare wavered, the heat in your cheeks spreading until you were squirming for a whole different reason. "You’re just… saying that."

"Yeah," he admitted, leaning closer until his forehead bumped lightly against yours. "Saying it until you quit sulking."

And just like that, the storm inside you fizzled.

You whined quietly, hands snaking out of your little cocoon and tugging at his shirt with weak defiance until he gave in and pressed his lips against yours—lazy, slow, the kind of kiss that tasted like an apology without ever saying the word.

When he pulled back, you were already chasing after him, your earlier plotting dissolved into the simple need for more of his warmth.

“…Still hate that you called me a brat,” you whispered, lips brushing his.

He smirked, pecking you again before settling his chin on top of your head.

"Yeah, but you’re my brat."

And just like that, you melted completely.

[ilyviolent]

[ilyviolent]

HOGWARTS X WINDBREAKER

chapter: 2

houses: slytherin, gryffindor, hufflepuff, ravenclaw taglist: @levifiance, @osariin, @shintaru(sorry king), @dzvelinaskebiyars, @yuriaxx(your goat is umm..yea), @pantheonofbeauty, @nixruniii, @i-nssomniia, @wthphe1n, @bfwooin, @erisawrites, @thetreegeo456, @zyart-jpg, @hyukwwn, @kittsyspaw, @r31ra , @wooinslut, @wh0ish4jun,@thaliasnicket, @ilyviolent, @l0iip, @prepchii, @mscatheart masterlist includes pairings: poly!(shelly x jay), poly!(wooin x joker)|2397 words

⋆｡°✩

You woke with the sound of voices that weren’t supposed to be there.

At first, you thought it was a dream—the low murmur of conversation right outside your door, words bending in and out of clarity like a half-tuned radio. But when you sat up, the air was cold, your lantern still burning from last night, and the voices were still there.

Ghosts. Two of them drifted past your window, their chatter thin as frost.

The castle itself seemed to breathe with them. Light leaked through the curtains, pale and golden, crawling across stone walls still damp with the chill of morning. You dressed quickly, the fabric of your robes stiff from being new, the air biting at your arms until you pulled the sleeves down. When you fastened your cloak, your fingers brushed the folded timetable you’d been given.

Potions, Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic. 9:00 AM to 4:00 PM. No gaps to hide in. You might visit the Quidditch field after to check out the infamous Hogwarts Quidditch teams.

You slipped your wand into your pocket, gathered the few books you thought you’d need, and stepped out. The corridor stretched long and hushed, lined with portraits that wasted no time whispering the moment they noticed you. A knight raised his visor in a stiff salute; a woman with a quill cocked her head as though studying you for a sketch.

The staircases creaked and shifted with a life of their own, grinding against the walls as students crossed them. From below came the murmur of hundreds of voices all flowing toward the same place.

The Great Hall.

You followed the sound until the doors loomed tall above you, opening into a storm of chatter and clattering dishes. Four tables stretched down the length of the room, each marked with banners in jewel-bright colors. You crossed the threshold and almost immediately felt the air sharpen, eyes following you, the noise of conversation thinning just enough to notice.

“…that’s them, isn’t it?” “Exchange student…” “Why aren’t they at a table?”

You caught only fragments, but the weight of stares was harder to miss.

At the staff table, a seat had been set for you at the far end. You sat quickly, reaching for the nearest platter as though concentrating on food alone would dissolve the whispers. Eggs, some mushrooms, potatoes, a cup of tea. When you finally looked up, you forced yourself to study the room instead of the eyes studying you.

Gryffindor was the easiest to find—red banners overhead, laughter louder than most. Dom sat in the middle of it all, already cramming food into his mouth while still finding the energy to wave at you, grease shining at the corner of his grin. Across from him, Kaneshiro leaned in toward Ryohei, both half-turned your way like they couldn’t quite decide if you were worth staring at or not.

Further down, the Ravenclaw table glimmered with blue. Minu spotted you first, his nod bright and open. Jay followed with a quieter dip of his chin, while Shelly seemed less interested, caught between him and a pretty blond boy who spoke to her like the rest of the hall didn’t exist.

At the Hufflepuff table, June waved the moment he noticed you. His energy was easy, unbothered, like he didn’t mind at all that half his table turned when he did it. Among them, a girl with striking blue hair laughed at something the blonde giant beside her muttered, while further down sat a scarred tall boy with a blade tattoo carved beneath his eye, and an oni sleeve tattoo that peeked through his shirt . When his gaze snagged on yours, you looked away too quickly.

Finally, Slytherin.

Green banners draped their table, shadows pooling around the corners where a few already had their eyes on you. A tall redhead buried himself in food like the table might run out; beside him, a boy with messy black hair stared without blinking, his expression unreadable. Another leaned back with dyed-white ends catching the light, his tattoo curling sharp across his cheek. And one more—capped, pierced, yellow glasses shining and barely covering his snake-like eyes as a lollipop stick jutted between his lips—smiled at you like he already knew something you didn’t.

You dropped your gaze to your plate.

“Doing alright?” a voice asked at your side.

Professor Mahon stood there, hands folded behind his back, his sharp features softened just slightly in the morning light. You nodded quickly, offering something about the food being good, though your voice came out quieter than intended. He gave a single approving dip of his chin, then moved on, and the moment his attention left you, you realized how stiff your shoulders had been.

By the time the clock struck nine, the hall was emptying. Plates vanished in a shimmer, benches scraped back, and streams of students funneled toward the doors. You slipped out behind the Hufflepuffs, catching June’s eye as he slowed enough for you to fall in step with him.

“Potions first,” he said, adjusting the strap of his bag as he walked. “Don’t worry, it’s just with us and Slytherin. Not too bad. Usually…Hopefully.”

The way he said it made you less sure.

The dungeons were colder than the rest of the castle, the walls sweating damp where lanterns flickered. The classroom was already half-filled when you stepped in, shelves lined with jars of ingredients casting warped shadows through greenish liquid. Cauldrons gleamed dully on every table. You sat beside June, grateful for the anchor of someone familiar.

Behind you, a tall boy with pale blond hair dropped into his seat, his eyes as sharp as glass. Another student—midnight blue hair, soft-featured,joined him a moment later, their conversation low but friendly. You caught only names exchanged in passing: Poel, Oliver.

The door creaked open, and a man swept in with long, deliberate strides. His robes brushed the stone like ink spilling behind him, his voice calm but edged as he introduced himself:

“Professor Michele Doss. Today, we’ll be preparing a basic Draught of Peace. Quiet focus will be expected.”

It might have stayed quiet—until the door slammed open again fifteen minutes later.

Two boys stepped in.

The first was unmistakable—the lollipop, the yellow glasses, the slow grin like he’d been waiting for this moment. He sauntered in, not hurrying at all, before slumping into the seat directly in front of you. The boy beside him was different. Scarred jaw, tattooed cheek, expression set in something harder. He didn’t bother with eye contact as he slid into his chair.

“Wooin Yoo,” Professor Doss said flatly. “And Hajun. Late again.”

The boy sitting behind you, 'Poel' muttered“Told you they’d get caught first day," underneath his breath.

Hajun dipped his head in silent apology. Wooin only rolled his eyes, dragging his bag onto the desk with a careless thud. The professor didn’t waste more breath, turning back to the chalkboard as though already tired of the exchange.

You tried to follow the instructions—ingredients, measurements, stirring clockwise, but Wooin’s voice carried just enough to reach you.

“Joker,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. “You think they’d buy the powder straight, or we cut it with dittany to stretch it?”

Your eyes flicked down to your cauldron, then to June, who sighed like he’d heard this too many times before.

Then Wooin’s head turned, sharp and sudden. “Exchange student, right?” The words snapped the air like a whip. You blinked, caught off guard, then managed a short, “Yeah.” His grin widened. “Didn’t think Hogwarts was importing cuties. Where you staying at?” The room smelled sharp with herbs and ash, but beneath it, something colder crawled in—the weight of his gaze through yellow glass, the glint of metal at his tongue when he spoke. “…Faculty Tower,” you answered, quieter than you meant to. Wooin tilted his head, as though savoring that answer. “Fancy. Must be lonely though. Me and Joker could keep you company you know…” Your eyes flicked toward 'Joker', half-expecting some reaction. All you found was a glance—steady, unreadable, carrying more silence than words ever could.

You turned back to your cauldron. The potion inside had begun to hiss.The potion finished with a shimmer of green smoke, rising lazily from your cauldron. You let out a small exhale, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to look confident as Professor Doss passed by, his eyes lingering on your work. “Not bad for a first attempt,” she said, her tone neutral but slightly approving. You nodded, quietly pleased. Wooin, ever the storm of energy, leaned over your shoulder before the professor had fully moved away. “Could’ve used a pinch more unicorn hair,” he teased, letting the words brush past you like a soft caress. “But for an exchange student, I’ll let it slide.”

You looked up, blinking at him, and noticed the slight curl of Joker’s lips—not quite a smile, but an unmistakable warning. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Stop distracting them,” he muttered, voice low but sharp enough for Wooin to hear. Wooin only chuckled, licking the end of his lollipop before flicking a glance at you. “Oh yeah, and by the way,” Wooin said casually, leaning closer, “we’re dating, in case you were wondering.” His tone was playful, teasing, snake-like in its cadence, probably also sensed your confused glances between both of them. Joker’s glance met his, and you caught the barest flinch—a silent agreement to let him do it, if only for now. Your cheeks flushed, though you kept your attention on the now-still potion. Wooin winked, tipping his head toward you like he was letting you in on a secret. “Don’t get jealous now, okay?” After a few more murmured exchanges, the bell rang, a low, echoing chime that made the stone walls vibrate faintly. Students began gathering their things, and you followed June toward your next class he lead you to: Defense Against the Dark Arts. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw shared the session today. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom smelled faintly of dust and wax, sunlight filtering through the tall windows and catching on the polished wooden floor. You were assigned a partner—Owen Knight. He looked up as you approached, tall and composed, with that small, careful smile that seemed effortless, though something in his posture suggested he measured it. “Hi, I’m Owen,” he said, voice steady and polite. “Looks like we’re partners for this exercise.” You nodded, offering a small smile in return. “I’m [name]. Nice to meet you.”

As you practiced the defensive spells, you noticed his attention occasionally flicker across the room—toward Shelly, sitting nearby, and Jay, whispering something that made her laugh. The glances weren’t blatant, but there was an easy attentiveness to them, like he was silently keeping track of their movements. Across the classroom, Ryohei and Kaneshiro were already working through their task, their conversation low and animated. You fell into step beside Owen, discussing the spells and the peculiarities of Hogwarts—the way the enchanted ceiling seemed to shift with the sky, the odd squeaks from the floorboards, and the portraits that appeared to lean in closer when someone new entered the room. His tone was polite, friendly, and surprisingly easy to talk to, though you sensed an undercurrent of careful observation, like he noticed more than he let on. By the time the exercise ended, you felt the class had passed quickly, the spells and practice almost secondary to the quiet, unspoken rhythm of learning alongside someone who seemed to notice everything without needing to say it. By the time the bell rang again, signaling lunch, the room was buzzing with laughter and chatter. You followed June back to the Hufflepuff table, where he introduced you properly to Poel, Harry, and Noah. Poel’s calm charisma was immediately apparent—he shook your hand with a confident smile, undeniably a house prefect. Harry’s presence was … interesting, while Noah observed you with sharp, curious eyes, already asking some questions about yourself. The conversation drifted lightly over past experiences, shared jokes, and the smallest hints of the dynamics between their group.

Lunch passed with its own quiet rhythms. Plates passed, whispers shared, and the scent of roasting meat lingering in the air. Soon enough, afternoon classes began. Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic blurred past you, uneventful enough that your mind drifted now and then toward what you’d heard about Quidditch.

By late afternoon, you found yourself walking toward the Quidditch pitch. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the field in warm gold and long shadows. The stadium stood silent, empty save for the occasional student wandering about or practicing on their own. You found a patch of grass and sat, knees pulled close, eyes scanning the pitch. The size of the stadium made your chest tighten with awe.

Nearby, a group of students laughed and whispered among themselves. You couldn’t help but overhear snippets, curiosity drawing you closer without even thinking.

“Who do you think will win this Quidditch season? I’m placing my bets on Gryffindor—Kaneshiro, Dom, Monster, and Ryohei might be coming full force this year,” one voice said.

“Really? I’m placing mine on Ravenclaw. They have Jay and Owen, after all—they’re literally geniuses,” another countered, a teasing lilt in their tone.

“Hufflepuff is strong too,” a third argued. “Harry, Joker, Noah, Oliver, and their Chaser and captain, Poel. Don’t count them out.”

“Yeah, but Slytherin has monsters too. Take Hyuk, for example—he’s literally the Grim Reaper. And Chris, Hyouma… I’m afraid for the other teams. They’re ruthless,” someone added, voice low, reverent. A pause, then the quietest whisper reached your ears: “What about Vinny? He’s one of the stars too, right?” “The Half-Blood Prince?” “Yeah. I don’t know if they’ll let him be the Chaser this season. Think they’ll let a poor half-blood be the star of their team?”

You pulled your knees closer, the words lingering in your mind. 'Half-Blood Prince?'

The wind stirred faintly across the empty pitch, and the sun dipped lower, casting the grass in amber light. You didn’t move, not yet, letting the hum of the castle, the chatter, and the weight of unseen eyes settle around you as a quiet tension curled through your chest.

divider by: @mycupoffanfiction

[ilyviolent]

HOGWARTS X WINDBREAKER

Welcome to Hogwarts. Mind the staircases, keep an eye on the paintings… and try not to get lost. Chapters below....

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8 chapter 9 chapter 10

houses:slytherin, gryffindor, hufflepuff, ravenclaw

BLOOD PURITY

Slytherin: Wooin-Pure blood, Hyuk - Half Blood, Chris- Pure Blood, Vinny - Half Blood, Hyouma - Pure Blood Ravenclaw: Jay-Half Blood, Shelly - Pure Blood, Owen - Pure Blood, Minu - Pure Blood , Clover - Muggle Born Gryffindor: Kaneshiro - Muggle Born, Deokbong - Half Blood, Dom - Half Blood , Ryohei- Half Blood Hufflepuff: Joker - Muggle Born, Harry - Half Blood, Noah - Muggle born, Poel - Half Blood, Oliver - Muggle Born, June - Muggle Born

disclaimer! I DO NOT SUPPORT J.K R*WLING, AND THIS IS MY OWN TWIST TO THE HP WORLD. dividers by: @mycupoffanfiction

[ilyviolent]

I have a feeling you got everything you wanted

And you're not wasting time stuck here like me

[ilyviolent]

Thanks to these two I'm crying (Get more angst out of Vinny 🗣🗣🗣)

Trope: unrequited love. Angst, angst, angst—all for @zyart-jpg pls pls pls suffer a bit. Tagging: @shintaru @bfwooin (I'm sorry bae) @wthphe1n @i-nssomniia @pantheonofbeauty @wh0ish4jun @osariin @bunnygirlgonewild @six-eyed-samurai @nixruniii @yuriaxx @sylith @erisawrites

dividers by @cafekitsune

It started since he joined Hummingbird.

That one, specific red haired boy, with heterochromic eyes and grumpy personality, became the centre of your life since he joined your brother's crew.

He had pale skin that mirrored the moonlight, his grey eye sharply cut through the time, but his red eye was the one that caught your attention. It's rare to see anyone with albinism in Korea, obviously you'd immediately notice his unique appearance from the moment you saw him, even if his hoodie was pulled low on his face, as if he wanted to hide from the world.

You learned his name—Hong Vinny. Vinny wasn't the one to talk much, he easily got frustrated, embarrassed—his personality was definition of tsundere.

That's why you were surprised about yourself after you realized you liked him.

At first, you didn't think much of Hummingbird crew. You were just tagging along with Dom, since he begged you to come with him and help his friends with cycling crew. It was fun, sure. They were good kids, energetic and unintentionally funny—most of all, they were motivated to win already, even if crew wasn't even created yet.

But you noticed how easily bored you got. Neither of the guys were your type. Minu was womanizer—a playboy—and too extroverted. June was too shy and boring. Jay—he was more or less alright, but you just weren't into nerds, especially rude ones.

So you started excusing yourself from the crew, saying you had job to attend to, even though it was a lie. You'd just go to your father's club and think of the ways to make your boring, miserable days into better. Somehow, the solutions always included handsome guys, especially older ones, sex, alcohol and etc. Typical activities of sexually deprived young adult.

But, one day, he showed up. Vinny Hong.

Wearing ridiculous floral jacket, his eyebrows furrowed as scowl complimented his lips.

He was supposed to look ridiculous in your eyes, just some wannabe edgyboy—but he somehow pierced your heart with Cupid's arrow and left you blushing and squirming without even touching you.

Ever since that day, you started attending crew gatherings more often just to see him. Your brother thought that you were just happy to help them out, but in truth, you were there for Vinny. You didn't have courage to talk to him much, just small conversations, since he didn't entertain your feelings nor attempts at talking to him.

And you didn't pressure him, he was new member, after all. He'd need time to get used to everyone.

You noticed he always kept his distance, didn't want to let anyone near his heart. You heard from Dom that he was in difficult situation, his mother was deathly sick and Vinny didn't have enough money—that's the reason he joined LOS cycling competition. You guessed that was the reason of his cold personality, but you also hoped that he would, one day, let you in.

You weren't sure how you two would work out, he was unpredictable by nature, he was also hard to read. And most of all, he was so distant. Even when you were standing close to him, it felt like he was miles away. Even when you were talking to him, it felt like he was lost in the void and couldn't even hear your voice.

Every "hello", every "you're so cool" fell on his deaf ears. It's like he didn't even bother to acknowledge your presence. And you were confused why. He talked to Dom just fine, he talked to Minu perfectly, heck—he even talked to Jay The Mister Quiet Decoration. But not you and neither Shelly. So you thought maybe he was just shy with girls.

And you found it adorable. Which is weird—because you never liked shy boys, especially nonchalant shy ones. But somehow Vinny stole your heart and turn your world around.

You even followed Hummingbird to mountains, or wherever the hell they were going, skipped your math test—all just for Vinny. You even sat next to him and tried to be less talkative, but miserably failed.

Hence, even after 7th eyeroll from Vinny, you continued yapping to him. About how much you like his bike, how you love his ramen, how you think he looks cool, how Dom's farts stink, about bikes and anything you could talk to him about.

"I'm surprised League Of Streets turned out to be so dangerous. I never expected Jay to get hurt like that." You mumbled to Vinny, recalling how horrible Jay fell on the downhill because of his bike.

Vinny's sigh grabbed your attention. He was still looking out of the window, not even glancing at you, but his lips finally parted in response. "It's extreme cycling event. Obviously it'll be aggressive."

You giggled, startling him a bit. "Right, right. Still, you should be careful so you won't get hurt too. I don't want to see you with broken bones."

His eyes finally landed on your face, taking in your expression. His jaw tensed up a bit, but he didn't say anything else—he just turned his head to stare out of the window again, processing to ignore you afterwards.

The rest of the ride, he remained quiet, just nodding along the few lines you said before he fell asleep.

You felt like a creep to stare at him in such vulnerable moment. But he looked so divine and unapologetically human that it made your heart flutter. Had you not remember that rest of the Hummingbird were in the bus too, you might have leaned to him and kiss him right there.

It wasn't any better when he wordless took your bag and carried it for you in the middle of the forest. You tried to ignore the loud beating in your chest, told yourself that it's not like he did anything much, but you couldn't stop blushing. Even Yuna asked you if you got sick.

Yes, yes you were sick. Sick with love for him. And you couldn't tame it no matter how hard you tried.

You were never the girl to become this pathetic for a boy. You were used to being in control, used to having boys throw themselves at you, or get terrified of you because of your family—but this feeling that made you feel like a child, so pathetic, was utterly unfamiliar.

And you blamed Vinny for making you like that. For making you fall for him, for winning your heart and messing up your brain until you couldn't even form sentences anymore.

Your standards were always high, but he somehow lowered it. If you wouldn't accept a man who couldn't buy you a house before, now you were simping over a broke boy that barely had money for bread. If you wouldn't accept cold behavior from a guy before, now you were constantly trying to melt Vinny's icy heart. If you wouldn't accept bare minimum as princess treatment before, now you were blushing over simple things that Vinny did.

You honestly didn't even remember when you changed so much. You even stopped going at clubs, stopped chasing other men or money, you stopped having sex—everything that you did before. Just for a boy that didn't even talk to you more than seconds.

But you convinced yourself that it was alright. It was fine. As long as you loved him, he'd one day love you back too.

And when Hummingbird went to another trip, after you discovered that Minu and Mia were together, after everything settled down—you got proven right, at least you think so.

You brother bought very strong alcohol on the trip. He, apparently, stole it from your dad. You told him that dad would get mad, but Dom just refused to listen.

"He won't know! It's not like we're going to drink it all." He said with a stupid grin.

But then that dumbass got so drunk that he threw up over his own crush, making himself huge embarrassment in middle of the beach.

You went back to your bags for spare shirt for Yuna. You couldn't let the poor girl stink with your brother's vomit. The bags were scooped on the bench, the very one Vinny was sitting on, his legs spreaded comfortably.

"Hey Vinny!" You called him, failing to control your overly happy expression.

He turned to you with same blank look that he always wore, but his eyebrows were more furrowed in confusion.

"I'll leave this bottle here, alright? Can you watch it?" You said and placed the bottle of an old alcohol on the chair.

"Yeah, sure." Vinny replied, as he watched you dig through the bag next to find the shirt for Yuna. Your cheeks heat up immediately when you felt his gaze on you, before he looked away.

Then you left to find your friend and give the shirt to her. You were confident that Vinny would watch over the alcohol, you just didn't think he would drink it all himself.

You didn't even know that Vinny liked alcohol at all, especially old and traditional ones. But you were sure that he was drunk as hell when Minu and June struggled to carry him.

His face was flushed, he could barely balance himself even while sitting. So you knelt down beside him to help him out.

"Come on Vinny, drink it." You brought the bottle of water to his lips, trying to get him drink it. But he just groaned and slapped the bottle away from your hand, making you drop it as all the water went to waste.

You didn't even had time to scold him pr pout, since he immediately rested his head on your shoulder, causing your brain to short circuit.

"Vinny?" You softly gasped his name, turning around to look at him but he was already staring at you.

Heat rushed to your cheeks just from his gaze. There was something behind it. He didn't seem like usual Vinny—cold, tsundere, distant. He was more…playful now, almost flirty and there was kind of intent behind his eyes that you couldn't even name.

"Were you always this sexy?" He whispered in your ear, his tone almost seductive. But he was bold, too bold. It felt like he was completely different person, like real Vinny got killed by the alcohol and now this was imposter.

You choked on your saliva, your jaw dropping to the ground. You didn't even know what to say, you couldn't even process what he just said—like your brain completely stopped working.

"I…what are you saying?! This isn't like you." You stumbled upon your words, trying to make sense out of this situation. But he just laughed.

This stupid boy just laughed. Like he didn't just cause your heart to burst.

But you couldn't complain. This was the first time you heard Vinny laugh, genuinely and sincerely. He looked so adorable, so alive—like he finally found something to live for, like he was finally letting his feelings get best of him, almost as if he didn't need to pretend anymore.

And that made your heart beat faster than ever, your cheeks flushed red and your mouth sealed shut. You didn't want to ruin this moment by saying something, afraid he'd put up the walls between you two again. But no, it seemed like he didn't have such intentions.

"Are you…sure you don't want water?" You asked him. "You're so drunk. Water will help you, at least."

But he just groaned in return, like your question made his head hurt—so you shut up. Vinny run his hand through his red folks, his gaze frozen on the sand, his vision still blurry from the alcohol he drank.

You knew it would be risky. Maybe he would remember this moment tomorrow, maybe he would question you about it—but you couldn't hold it all to yourself anymore. You wanted to tell him, that you loved him, that he meant the world to you, that you wanted to be his girl.

With a shaky, quiet voice, you called his name to grab his attention, praying he wouldn't hear you so you wouldn't say something stupid. But as if the fate was telling you to finally tell him everything, he heard you loud and clear. His head turned around to look at you, his gaze almost hypnotizing you.

"You know…" you started now that you were actually planning to tell him. You just wanted to get it off your chest already. "Ever since I first met you, from the moment you joined Hummingbird crew…" you took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze as your cheeks burned from heat. "I've liked you. And I like you now too. I-I think you're the one for me. I just…I just love you so much, Vinny."

You said it. You finally said it. You thought this moment would feel somehow nice, to finally let it out. But it felt horrible, torturous. The silence that followed your words haunted your mind, moping away any peace you've left in your soul. You were too scared to look at him, too scared to know his answer. You didn't even know if he heard you or not. One part of you wanted for him to don't hear what you just said, to forget it or brush it off, but the second part—it wanted him to accept your feelings, to pull you close to him, to kiss you, to confess his feelings, to hold your hand in public, to finally let you in his heart so you two would be together for forever.

But right now, you didn't know what to think or what you expect from him. So you silently glanced at him. He was frozen in one place, his face shocked, his eyes wide in surprise—as if he never expected such confession from you.

He didn't say anything, and you almost lost all your hope. But then—

He shifted closer and before you even knew it, his lips were on yours. Pressed tight together, as if he was pouring everything from his chest into this kiss, hoping his lips would tell you enough.

And they did. They said more than enough.

You were about to return the kiss, but the sudden sound of camera caught you both off guard.

It was Shelly—with Jay, June, Mia, Minu, Dom and Yuna behind—holding her phone in her hands, her cheeky grin directed at you two as she pictured the perfect blackmail material and kept it in her phone.

"Oh wow, you guys…" June hesitated to finish his sentence, but his cheeks brighten up in pink.

However, someone else did lot of talking instead.

"Vinny, you bastard!" Dom yelled. "You can't just kiss my sister like that, asshole!" Vinny groaned as he told Dom to shut up, but his request fell on deaf ears. "She's MY sister. I protect her! She's my baby sister—"

"I'm literally older than you." You corrected him, but he completely ignored you.

"—you can't just steal her kiss. Fuck, you drank my father's best alcohol and even kissed my sister. My dad is gonna kill me, bro! What kinda situation did you put me in?!?!?" Dom continued yelling at Vinny'd face until Yuna punched him, but even then, your brother told you to to don't fall for Vinny, claiming he was going to break your heart.

But you didn't want to believe. You couldn't imagine that happening.

You were naive.

You thought that night would change something between you and Vinny, you two would become something else—maybe lovers, maybe friends with benefits, maybe it would be situationship. You expect anything, anything, except—

Him ignoring you completely.

You sat next to him in the bus again, now more shy to talk to him. Mostly because Shelly showed him the photo of him kissing you and instead of blushing, instead of anything else he could do—he got mad at her, forcing her to delete the photo and even ignore you completely afterwards.

"Vinny?" You tried to grab his attention, tried to make him even spare one glance at you. "Are you alright now? You were really drunk yesterday."

He bit his inner lip, his eyebrow furrowing once again, but this time, regret washed over his eyes. You thought you hallucinated that, your eyes deceived you. After all, he surely didn't play with your feelings…Right?

The next few days, you couldn't contact Vinny at all. You tried to text him but he left you on seen, you tried to call him but he never answered. Every time you would meet him at races, he would just ignore you.

And it hurt.

You couldn't even give him a water bottle after intense race anymore, he just wouldn't accept it. And he wasn't even doing this because he was shy—no, he simply didn't want to do anything with you.

Your thoughts started to haunt your mind, making you lose sleep and peace. The fear that he regretted that kiss, that he didn't actually love you, that everything between you two meant nothing for him, started to consume you. It was unbearable. It felt like thousand arrows were piercing your heart and wouldn't let you rest, nor breath.

So, you decided to confront him, to finally settle this down. Now, you stood in front of his house, even bombed his phone to tell him that you were waiting for him.

It didn't take long for him to finally come out of his house. He was wearing Adidas sweatpants, with random white shirt and of course, his sneakers that he didn't even have them put on normally. His hair was bit messy, but he didn't care. His expression was almost grim, blank and cold. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was going to hit you.

"What do you want?" He asked in his deep, low voice. His hands stuffed in his pocket as he stared down at you.

"I want to know why you've been ignoring me all this time." You declared, but it made him furrow his eyebrows in annoyance.

"What? You asked me to come out because of that?" He said, like you were just a waste of time, like he couldn't even spend a second on your feelings.

And it made your heart sink further.

"Yes." You said and stepped closer to him. "What's going on with you? Do you need—"

"Go home." He cut you off. Giving you cold shoulder once again. Vinny didn't even wait for your response, he just turned around to walk away.

"The hell?!" You shouted, your eyes fighting back the tears. "What do you mean by 'go home'?! I came here because—"

"No one asked you to."

"—because you have been avoiding me like I mean nothing. Are you embarrassed by what happened during our trip? It's better to talk it out—"

"There's nothing to talk about." He cut you off again, refusing to even listen.

"There is!" You shouted again, but he refused to stop and talk about it. He was inches closer to opening his door and shutting it close to your face. But you spoke again, yelled, tears pouring down from your eyes. "I love you!"

Vinny froze, his hand stopped right above his door handle. For a moment, you thought he'd just leave you here, but he slowly turned to face you, and his…disgusted expression managed to shatter your heart completely.

"Stop that." He murmured. "Stop that shit—Gosh." He took a deep breath, his jaw muscle tensing up, as if he was barely restraining himself from lashing out.

"Did that kiss…" you started hesitantly, because you were afraid of what answer he'd give you. "really mean nothing to you?"

His eyes darted at you, like sizing up his prey, but it softened—just a bit, just a little. Yet his response was mercilessly cruel, cutting all the hope you ever had for the two of you. "I was drunk. It didn't mean anything."

His words whistled in your ears, like a mocking joke that was meant to break your heart. But it wasn't a joke. You knew he meant what he just said.

Your eyes burned with tears, your nose barely inhaling air anymore. It's not like you didn't suspect that he'd give such answer—you just hoped he wouldn't.

And he ripped all your hopes himself, threw them aside and stepped on them.

"Then…Why didn't you say anything?" Your voice broke despite your attempts to stay strong, you didn't want to seem more pathetic than you already were. Pathetic for falling in love with him.

Him, who just stared at you like you were some kind of joke, an embarrassment that he wanted to get away from. "What was I supposed to say?" He grumbled. "That I don't love you?"

"Yes?!" You raised your voice, unable to stop it from shaking. "You were supposed to tell me that you didn't love me, so I wouldn't foolishly chase you, thinking maybe we could be something more." Your hand clunched you shirt, tears pouring down your cheeks uncontrollably. "If you…could tell that I loved you…then why did you let me think that it was alright to do so? When you were going to break my heart in the end?!"

Vinny remained quiet, his breath slightly uneven. His hands twitched by his side but he didn't make any move, he didn't say anything else. With unheard mumble, he returned to home, shutting the door for you.

He shut the door for everything you thought could work. Maybe you should have listened to Dom, maybe you shouldn't have fallen in love with him at all. Maybe, that way, you could protect your heart.

He was the only boy you really loved, really felt something for. You were ready to give up on everything just to be with him but turned out, your feelings didn't even mean anything for him to even warn you, that he didn't like you. No, he just let it all happen. Knowing so well that you'd end up getting hurt, just because he refused to communicate.

Just because he didn't care.

You stood there, in front of his house, tears pouring down your face while your hands clunched your shirt, as if trying to rip your heart out, so it'd hurt less.

But nothing, nothing could make this hurt less. Nothing could make up for the loss and ache you feel right now.

Just because for the boy, who stole your heart, and tore it apart.

[ilyviolent]

Random boyfriend texts from Dom Kang

masterlist

[ilyviolent]

💝💝💝

HOGWARTS X WINDBREAKER

chapter: 1

houses: slytherin, gryffindor, hufflepuff, ravenclaw taglist: @levifiance, @osariin, @shintaru(sorry king), @dzvelinaskebiyars, @yuriaxx(your goat is here), @pantheonofbeauty, @nixruniii, @i-nssomniia, @wthphe1n, @bfwooin, @erisawrites, @thetreegeo456, @zyart-jpg, @hyukwwn, @kittsyspaw, @r31rara, @wooinslut, @wh0ish4jun,@thaliasnicket, @ilyviolent masterlist

September 1,⋆｡°✩

The clock face over the station flickered with pale morning light, its long black hand ticking forward until it cut across the Roman numeral XI. Eleven sharp. You exhaled, a breath curling in the cool air, and adjusted the strap of your suitcase. Right on time, the deep whistle of the train rolled through the platform, and in the next moment, scarlet blur and gleaming brass swallowed the space before you—the Hogwarts Express had arrived. You could see your wavy reflection from the windows as you stepped closer. It wasn’t like you hadn’t taken magical trains before. Your own school had its own way of sending students between continents. But this was different—an exchange, a year abroad, a chance to stand in the heart of a place everyone whispered about. Hogwarts.

The doors clattered open with a hiss of steam. You gripped your ticket tighter, moved forward with the wave of students, and the first thing you did after stepping on was collide shoulder-first into someone. "Ah—Sorry!", you hear a voice come out almost at the same time as you. You look up to see a girl, lean and laid back. She had white hair with some black streaks and striking purple eyes, one hand lifting to steady the broomstick case slung across her shoulder. Beside her was a tall boy—dark, long hair and a scar across his face. “Kaneshiro,” the first introduced quickly, brushing off the bump like it was nothing. “This is Ryohei. You good?” “Yeah,” you managed, giving a small nod, clutching your suitcase a little closer to your side. They didn’t linger; the current of students pulled them along toward a nearly full compartment. As you stepped up the stairs into the train. The heat immediately embraces you as you start walking towards finding a suitable seat. You let yourself drift the opposite way until you found an empty one near the back. The corridor chatter dulled the moment you slid the door shut, sealing yourself in with only the faint hum of wheels beneath the floor.

Your suitcase clicked softly as you set it down. You slipped your headphones over your ears and leaned back against the cushioned seat, letting the rhythm of the train lull your thoughts. The steady rumble beneath your feet and the faint echo of laughter from the corridor outside made it almost easy to imagine you were alone, just a traveler passing through.

That illusion broke the moment your compartment door slid open with a sharp clatter. A tall boy stepped in without hesitation, his dark hair falling to his shoulders, a thin moustache catching the light when he grinned. His voice boomed, though muffled by your music, until he noticed you weren’t reacting. He paused, waiting until you tugged one side of your headphones down.

“Hey—uh, is there somebody else sitting here? Everywhere else is packed, and we haven’t found a seat yet,” he said, still speaking louder than necessary. “Um, no,” you answered, setting your headphones in your lap. “I’m the only one here. You can sit if you want.” “Awesome!” His smile widened, and he straightened, already leaning halfway out the door. “I’ll bring my friends as well, if that’s alright?” You gave him a small nod. That was all the permission he needed. “Oi, in here!” he shouted down the hall, his voice carrying easily over the chatter. One by one, more students spilled into your quiet space. Four in total—first a lean boy with sharp, composed features, his dark eyes flicking around the compartment before settling on you with a polite incline of his head. Then a girl followed, confident and striking, her long blonde hair smooth as glass and her posture effortlessly elegant. Behind her came another boy, his round face warm with an easy smile as he murmured a quick thanks. The last was wheeled in—a boy with brown eyes bright beneath his fringe, maneuvering his chair with practiced ease as he offered you a cheerful nod.

They settled quickly, filling the space with the scrape of trunks, the shuffle of cloaks, the low hum of introductions murmured between them. The tall boy—the first one—flopped down opposite you with the ease of someone who belonged everywhere.

“Dom, by the way,” he said simply, flashing you a grin like you’d already agreed to be friends.

And just like that, your quiet compartment was no longer yours.The compartment didn’t stay quiet for long. Once the first introductions were out of the way, it grew lively—snatches of laughter bouncing off the walls, playful arguments sparking between Dom and the others, the occasional thud of a Chocolate Frog hitting the window when it escaped its box. Wrappers crinkled, Bertie Bott’s beans were passed around with exaggerated dares, and someone’s owl hooted indignantly from its cage overhead.

Hours passed in a blur of chatter and scenery rushing by outside. The countryside stretched from rolling green to shadowed forest, and by the time the sky had changed into late afternoon, you decided it was time to change.

Sliding the door closed behind you, you returned a few minutes later dressed in your new uniform—black robes falling neatly over your shoulders, the fabric still stiff from never being worn before. The others glanced up from their seats as you entered. Dom let out a whistle.

“Oi, look at that—proper Hogwarts gear,” he said, tugging on the lapel of his own robes. Only then did you notice the details: the inner lining of his robe was deep crimson, matching the loose tie at around his neck. June’s shimmered golden-yellow, while Shelly’s and Minu's shone with a Ravenclaw blue. Even Jay’s robe carried that same blue mark of his House.

Yours was plain. Just black.

Dom squinted at you for a moment, then leaned forward. “Are you not sorted?”

You shifted slightly, clutching the fabric at your side. “Oh—I’m an exchange student.”

The whole group blinked in unison before the realization lit across their faces. Dom grinned wide, his elbow hitting Minu’s chair playfully.

“Well then, that makes sense,” he said, nodding with such exaggerated wisdom you had to bite back a laugh. “If that’s the case, ask me any questions you’ve got. I’ll help you. These guys will, too.”

The others nodded—June with eager warmth, Shelly with a small but genuine smile, Jay with a quiet dip of his chin, Minu adding a bright “Of course.” For the first time since stepping onto the platform, you didn’t feel completely out of place.

The train whistle echoed, long and low, as the landscape outside darkened. Lanterns flickered to life in the corridor. The rumble slowed to a crawl until, finally, the train screeched to a stop at a shadowed station.

You were herded with the upper-years toward the waiting carriages—dark, ornate, and drawn by creatures with skeletal wings, invisible to some but very real to others. The ride jolted forward, wheels crunching gravel, the night air sharp against your face. Then, over the rise of the hill, the castle came into view.

Hogwarts. Its towers clawed at the night sky, windows glittering gold against the darkness.

The Great Hall doors swung open to reveal an expanse lit by floating candles and a ceiling enchanted to mirror the stars. Long tables stretched into the distance, House banners draping from the walls, golden plates glinting in the candlelight.

While the others broke off toward their tables, you were steered to the side, near the staff tables. A professor—Mahon Jo, who introduced himself to you— rested a hand on your shoulder as the Sorting Hat ceremony began. One by one, the first-years stepped forward, the Hat shouting their House for the hall to cheer. You remained where you were, an observer, apart.

When the last cheer faded, the feast appeared. Platters gleamed with roast chicken, steaming potatoes, golden puddings, and flagons of pumpkin juice. Dom, seated nearby at the Gryffindor table, was already piling food high, waving a chicken leg at you with an unbothered grin. “Oi, don’t just stand there! Eat something!”

You also notice the two you bumped into earlier—Kaneshiro and Ryohei, at the Gryffindor's table, staring at you occasionally curiously. Probably wondering why you were not sorted.

Shelly inspected her plate with a delicate critique before sampling the treacle tart. Minu’s hands reached for the potatoes as dishes refilled themselves the moment they were emptied, June happily piling his plate while talking to everyone within reach.

And you, still on the edge of it all—felt both very far away, and closer than you’d expected. By the time the last golden plates cleared themselves away and the candles floated higher toward the enchanted ceiling, the Great Hall buzzed with sleepy contentment. Conversations dimmed to murmurs, the scrape of benches echoing as students began filing out in clusters behind their prefects. Robes swished, laughter bounced off the stone walls, and little by little, the room emptied until only a few professors lingered by the staff table, some you learned their name were Professors' Mario Nam, Bale Armstrong, Sangho Choi, Mark Scott, and Michele Doss.

You stayed where you were until a firm but gentle voice drew you back.

“Come along, then,” Professor Mahon said, his sharp eyes softening slightly when they landed on you. “The others will be led to their common rooms. You’ll be shown to your quarters.”

A small flick of his wand lit the sconces along a narrow side corridor. You followed his footsteps, the echo of your shoes stark against the stone while muffled laughter from distant staircases reminded you how different your night would be from theirs.

The path wound past portraits who craned curiously from their frames—witches with books half-open, knights tipping helmets as you passed, a few whispering behind gloved hands as though trying to place your face.

Finally, Mahon Jo stopped at a modest wooden door tucked between two tall windows. He opened it with another flick of her wand. Inside waited a small, tidy room: a single bed tucked neatly against the wall, a wardrobe, a desk stacked with parchment and ink. A lantern glowed faintly in the corner, casting warm light that softened the otherwise space.

“Your quarters,” he said, voice warm but welcoming. “The faculty wing is quiet, but you’ll be close enough to classes. The Potion Class is nearby, as well as the Slytherin House Dorm, which is closest to you out of the rest. Breakfast is served in the Great Hall at eight. I trust you’ll settle in.”

With that, he gave you a short nod and departed, his footsteps fading down the corridor.

You stood alone in the silence, suitcase still heavy in your hand. Beyond the window, the castle grounds stretched in shadow—the Black Lake glittering faintly, the outline of the Forbidden Forest looming against the horizon. Somewhere deep in the stonework, muffled cheers and chatter carried from the dormitories where the other students were still laughing, still meeting new friends under House banners.

You set your suitcase down with a soft click. The lantern flickered once, steadying. For the first time all day, you were truly alone.

And though the bed looked inviting, you weren’t sure yet if you’d be able to sleep in a castle that still felt like it was holding its breath around you.

dividers by: @mycupoffanfiction

[ilyviolent]

HOGWARTS X WINDBREAKER⋆｡°✩

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, will always find their kind…⋆｡°✩

Owen Knight

Yun Minu

Jo Jaehyun

Shelly Scott

Clover ???

COMING SOON...⋆｡°✩

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

[ilyviolent]

SABBATH CREW GROUPCHAT PT2

[ilyviolent]

PART ONE

Oliver (Windbreaker Manhwa/Webtoon) x Mermaid!Reader Insert

Genre; Fluff, Angst/Comfort & General Relationship

Mentions of; violence, xenophobia, sexism & sexual intimacy, readers engage with caution

A/N; I hope you like crazy women & murder, because she is devious and a mermaid with predator instinct, hope Oliver is not too OOC, our couple doesn't meet until WELL into the fic (oops)

Total word count; 5361

The Gold Rush Crew had made port last week after countless months faring the seas aboard the Irresistible Crusade, Captain Reynolds newest ship - mere seconds after making land, Clover had hopped the stern of the rowboat and took off into the town. 

She was hoping to see glimpses of what rumors made New Providence Island so fun to her. She heard her brother’s voice behind her trail off as she clamoured through the crowd. She kept her face concealed under her cap and made way for the witch doctors and mystics who might have caught wind of mermaids nearby…

Sailors have made countless claims of seeing the infamous scaled women in the waters below and more have brought scraps of pointless evidence that they’ve actually snagged one and seen it up close, but in her efforts, Clover has seen few solid cases of actual mermaid-human interactions. 

You make sure of that.

Known around the New World for heading the fiercest of mermaid pods, you and your sisters have been armed to the teeth since Gold Rush Crew had gained their influence on New Providence and taken over most of the illicit trade of sugar, rum, gold and tobacco along with whispers of magical artifacts and treasures of myth. Mermaids defended themselves stalwartly and without mercy due to the common belief in harvesting scales, blood, tears, and other mementos of flesh people thought cured illness or brought safety or luck. Clover has been discouraged from seeking you out or chasing ideas of mermaid’s powerful magic.

Silly. Clover didn’t believe in magic, per se, but she knew medicine and science. Your species was incredibly unique in the ability to adapt to the environment, navigate the oceans, treat injuries and ailments, cultivate new species, and communicate with humans. With cooperation and alliance, maybe you’d change your mind about the human presence in your waters and offer some insight into Clover’s research. 

Not if her brother had anything to say about it.

—---------- 

You spent countless hours patrolling the territory around Skullbreaker Wrecks to train younger mer how to set traps, follow prey, and observe from afar. Sailors from both pirate crews and the Royal Navy have gotten too cocky for your leader’s liking and messing with currents, chumming the waters, and calling storms has only gotten you so far.

It’s irritating to say the least. At your age, your species is generally solitary and occupies deeper water but the pod has to adapt to protect the breeding grounds of your forebearers. The unit you’ve created here has struck fear into the humans nearby, and any inch you concede could mean the end of all your leader has worked for. Matriarchal and intelligent, she’s spent many seasons raising mer here and developing new species of domesticated prey for you all. The ability to create society under the water seems shocking to humans apparently, as if all life didn’t originate down here. 

Powerful muscles and tiny twitches of your tail speed you forward in the water and let you maneuver with deadly grace. Sharp protrusions on your hands (claws you think they’re called,) and over your spine, tail and arms are akin to armor like you’ve observed in sunken wrecks from ages long past.

While hardly the vain creatures humans believe you to be, you’re faster and more powerful in the water - boasting the upper body strength to sit above water on the sheer rocks and drag nets from ships, a wickedly sharp wit, and the gleaming silver tail like polished coins that captures attention in direct sunlight.

Few sailors have seen the sight and lived to tell about it.

Communicating underwater is more nuanced than imitating human speech, so you dismiss the other mer with the movement of your fins, hand signs and the expression of your face. Another day you’ll take them deeper and ride the North Equatorial current up the coast to check the pod’s largest shoal of herring before going after higher-ticket fish like tuna or sailfish, although you also favor squid.

Stupid merchant ships and pirate involvement means more shivers of sharks and large fish crossing the oceans to follow the steady stream of food scraps and bodies overboard. It’ll be soon that you can chum the water with a sailor or two, and drown your frustrations. 

Not that humans are all bad… you know they have uses.

—-------------

Oliver cringes silently as Poel scans the galley for Clover so he can detail more inventory in the ship log, having questions on the reading material and charts she’d insisted on bringing. 

Clover hasn’t stayed where she was meant to since joining the crew, and Oliver knew all too well how likely she would end up in trouble. Nassau, New Orleans, Barbados, every city had a story of Clover’s meddling and wandering into a tight spot only to be rescued by himself or the captain. 

Although clever and cherished by the whole crew, damn, Clover raised his blood pressure sometimes. She’s too clever for her own good, and too curious about the biology potential of mermaids.

Wretched devious creatures like those have captivated the whole crew as of late. Poel had supposedly secured the safe passage of their ship, the Irresistible Crusade, by mysterious dealings with mermaids back before their missions got important.

Kept in Poel’s personal quarters is the sleek scabbard of a sword he obtained from a mermaid, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and green sea glass in the shape of a fierce shark on the handle, wicked sharp damascus steel and ridges of the back of the blade like shark’s teeth. When crew mates had asked, Poel said it was the only material thing he was offered during the negotiation. 

Oliver is confused as to why mermaids needed Poel’s cooperation so badly. Plenty of other crews had tried the patience of the local mermaids and paid the ultimate price in less than a fortnight - completely wiped out, ships sunk, bodies left floating face-down in the bay in chunks displayed by your sisters. Or worse, ships burnt while crews were still screaming - indicating that mermaids, or their on-shore human allies, were mastering the ability of gunpowder and ignition.

While the loyalty of Oliver was no question, Poel had taken him and Clover from a bad spot, Oliver wonders back to Bale - and in turn, Bale’s odd ramblings on mermaid culture, mythology from the sea, and the origins of sailing. What the hell could the old man have meant about the vital nature of mermaids?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Poel shuts the ship log and strokes the red spine of the book before grinning.

“Nothing so cheap, Captain. I’ll collect Clover shortly and be back to the tavern so we can reconvene.” 

“You never fail to succeed Oliver. Cut loose for a few hours before finding Clover, she’s not guaranteed to have gone too far.”

“We both know trouble finds her,” he purses his lips and resists a smile. “If only we could keep her under wraps.”

—--------------

Drunken sailors had started a bonfire on your beach. They pulled their sloop out of the water for the cleaning of the hull underneath and the ropes criss-crossed the whole area, securing the vessel upright by the palm trees and rocks.

Their warbling voices made your head spin. With the limited exposure to human song, you understood that this - this was not adequate - or appealing. The masts were down, but you recognized the uniforms of buccaneers and the discarded flag nearby.

Fucking sure of it. These pirate wannabes had caught a handful of mermaids in the past month and left behind the pieces after marketing the rest to flesh traders, fish mongers and curiosity collectors for you to find in the water below. The behavior of nearby sharks had alerted you to the massacre too late. 

Pulling your precious knife from its sheath, you run your tongue across your teeth while submerged in the shallows. Approaching slowly and under the cover of dusk, you drag up the beach behind the rocks and assess the ropes.

Time to make havoc. 

You saw carefully at two ropes on opposite sides, ensuring your knife doesn’t cut through completely. Slipping back into the water, you do the same on the far side of the beach to the other end. A few choice ropes are weakened. 

With a satisfied smile you sink in the waves, and let the leaning ship do the rest. Lazy, drunken men on the shore have neglected to realize they’re pitching camp under the wrong side of the sloop, not checking the state of their ropes, and ignoring the way birds go silent when predators close in from the water onto the beach.

You do some collecting of fish, mollusks and other bits while you wait in the lagoon nearby. You examine the health of the reefs, stroke the backs of turtles and chase sharks until dawn. The life you lead down here below the surface is unmatched by any experience you could imagine. Quite full of life, noise, and movement. What you wouldn’t do to protect it. With a hum, you return to the surface in minutes, to examine the results of your work.

The entire night had passed since you cut into the network of ropes securing the sloop. In the soft light of dawn, the ropes creak louder and louder, and the sloop groans terribly. The palms are coming up at the root, strained under the weight of the ship. Men shout and grab at the oversized rope and pulleys with desperation.

The back and forth of the water on the shore goes red as the sand absorbs the blood. Under the fractured hull of their ship, overturned and enormous, is nearly the whole crew of buccaneers. Crushed in one fell swoop by their own hubris and ignorance.

What a pleasant way to start your day.

—-------------

New Providence’s taverns line the dirty streets in a maze of shutters and half-painted doors, under vibrant signs or unmarked establishments. Oliver has wandered for hours, and under Poel’s advice, not looking for Clover.

But he has met with appraisers for the goods they smuggled, agreed to terms of resale, forgery of documentation, purchased new supplies for their trip, organized the hazard pay for their crew, sent the second round of men home from their brothel adventures back to the ship so the next could come ashore.

All in all, quite productive. But gods, where ever is Clover?

Her quarters on the ship are full to the brim with maps, anatomy diagrams, glass beakers and jars of specimens from every port out there. Her passion for science is something he admires, although it had involved them in shady deals in the past. She has a room on the island at the inn, standing fee to hold it provided by Poel. 

He can’t see any trace of her here either. Papers scattered on the desk, multiple languages she’d pieced translations of - equal parts mythology or tall tales depicted on the page’s illustrations and equal parts science and concrete observation through published journals and stolen ship logs. Her bed is made, the closet closed haphazardly as always. No muddy boots, discarded jacket, footprints, or hint of where she’d be.

Damn. 

Poel might be disappointed.

—------------

At the tavern, the celebrations are in full swing now that the Gold Rush Crew has returned to port. Compared to other crews, they’ve had the best track record for securing scores, taking combat at the high seas, and making serious profit this side of the Atlantic. Among the pirates in the community, Poel, as captain, and Oliver, as quartermaster, have become an authority on the Island. No one else has resisted colonial rule and Navy influence the same since the loss of Bale and the disbandment of the Scavenger fleet, but it’s not over yet.

“Oliver, my dear! Come sit and I’ll warm your lap while you warm your stomach with good food.” 

“Pretty eyed pirates at every turn. What a tavern.” 

The comments never cease. Poel encourages him to get company often when they land, and Oliver’s face never ceases to amuse him. As nice as it would be to have the embrace of someone else, Oliver has always had his heart set on long-term companionship, not just a tumble in the sheets.

Regardless of how he needs the release.

Over the course of dinner, the tavern whispers become less rambunctious and joyous. An air of tension creeps closer to Oliver’s table, and glances to Poel look like they have news he wouldn’t like. Something bad looms in the air, and without knowing what specifically makes Oliver’s skin crawl.

“Fetch me the barmaid. She can ask for us why everyone looks like the Navy just pissed in their bed.”

“Of course Captain.” 

Oliver slinks out of his seat and gestures for the barmaid to bring another round, a ruse for closing the distance and enacting the plan. While at the taverns, Poel has made good use of the chatter and loose lips to collect information and make spies of the civilians to funnel influence his way. Oliver’s idea.

“What are they speaking of? Something happened?” His voice is low enough to remain private to the table only.

“A sloop accident, sir. On a beach across the island. The crew was crushed underneath, they found them at dawn when their whores came for business.” She keeps her expression neutral, but the fear is there.

“Fucking hell.”

“That’s not the worst of it. The sailors who did escape met their end in the trees beyond, cut down by some machete and hung in the trees,” she whispers. “They’re saying half-breed mers have come to the island to help the cause and kill on land.”

“Has anyone been found yet? Half-mermaid offspring are a myth without evidence.”

Poel gives Oliver a tense look, and Oliver shuts his mouth quickly. 

That changes things entirely. The township on the island is dependent on scoring illegal goods and reselling them in American colonies with “proper” documentation, passing the smuggling across the ocean and up the coast through mermaid-controlled waters while avoiding the Royal Navy. If mermaids have allies outside the water, the influence they have grows to dangerous heights. Allowing mermaids to kill crews and make examples of sailors in retaliation has been limited to the sea…. If they’re not safe on land now, citizens will demand harsher treatment of the mermaid craze on New Providence. 

Gold Rush Crew has the best chance at opposing a full force of mermaid assailants. The ship is stocked with cannons, ammunition and firearms on every crewman, deadly with a blade, precise in their combat skills.

—-----------

It was less than a full day later, and Oliver’s prediction rang true.

Mid-morning, three other captains had written a petition to address the mermaid issue at hand, and nominated Gold Rush Crew to provide the solution. Either the mermaids agreed to peace, or would be put to death by Captain Poel Reynolds on behalf of the whole island. Oliver could barely stomach the thought of the blood shed on both sides.

There would be heavy losses on both sides, and Oliver’s captain never liked hurting mermaids anyhow. In fact, the longer he went between voyages, the more temperamental and violent Poel got. His innate ability to navigate, strong swimming, and increased capacity to hold his breath was something Poel had noticed in Oliver too. That’s why they got along so well. Clover had similar traits, her wicked blue eyes, love for sailing, and thirst for more knowledge on mermaids. 

If Gold Rush needed peace with the mermaids, they needed it now. With little time to waste, Oliver gathered the crew back on board.

“While Poel gathers his negotiation, whatever that means, the rest of you will split. Anne, Bon-bon, and Skully will stay on the ship and double-check every inch of ammunition stores, cannons, and weapons aboard. Maka, Kidd, and Livio come with me to search for Clover.”

—------------ Clover’s POV

Idiot girl! Clover cursed herself silently.

What the hell had she gotten herself into, taking a dingy rowboat past the safety of the gentle water lagoons and towards Skullbreaker Wrecks - tailing the mermaid she spotted from afar with a wild mane of hair and gleaming silver tail. The weather was quickly turning, and while the sun was still out, the clouds above were humid with the potential rain. 

In the air, one could smell the storm about to burst. A peal of thunder rang out in the sky right above Clover’s stupid little vessel. How the hell would she get all the way out here only to have no energy to turn back, right when she was at the cusp of a brilliant discovery!

She looked back over the water and tried spotting your tail again. No luck.

Was it typical for mermaids to swim close to the surface? Your species had no issue with the pressure or temperature of the depths, and with all the mermaid poaching recently, why stay in sight so long?

New Providence was a speck in the distance as Clover stood in her boat with a spyglass. Oliver was gonna kill her for being reckless. 

Better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission.

—----------- 

Whatever young human was following you was not as subtle as she thought she was. Nor did her precarious situation improve as she found herself further and further from civilization. Idiot girl. Following one of your kind with no regard for the coming storm, her lack of preparation, or the dangers lurking below the surface.

You didn’t recognize her scent, nor her face but she held your attention all the same. Didn’t she know the reputation of mermaids here? Actively hunting sailors and any stupid enough to wander too far into the sea, and here she was, following you home, as if you couldn’t tip her boat and eat her right up.

Her spyglass swinging wildly, you figured she didn’t spot you again, and you kept watch from afar. Unbothered by the rain or howling winds, you observed the girl shriek at the lightning and shiver in her thin clothes. 

What possesses someone to try this?

She slips something out of her pocket, kisses it and throws it overboard with a murmur aimed at the sky. 

Speeding to the underside of the boat underwater, your tail is disguised well enough by the darkened water churning up with the storm and the low light. With your superior eyesight and the minute rhythm of the water around you, it’s easy to snatch the prize she tossed.

A coin. You scoff to yourself but find yourself smiling regardless. 

Old sailor superstition that offering something to the sea could ensure safe passage in storms, navigation when lost or luck finding fish in the net - so was she an experienced sailor? Or knows one well?

Silly as she was, best not to add her to the body count. Innocent till proven otherwise, at least for today. You thought it a bit heavy-handed, but with the storm tossing her about up there, you could pull her to the sandbar so she’d ride out the worst of it by one of the dangling ropes on the side. One little thing like her was hardly a match for your strength or ferocity, and you found yourself enjoying the opportunity to people-watch someone you didn’t want dead and floating.

With a firm grip on the rope, you steer the dingy haphazardly towards the sandbar ahead and tow the girl from below, yanking your own body up through the few inches of water above the sand. No way she hasn’t spotted you if she’s still awake. Or upright.

The storm will carry your words away instantly, but it feels right to warn her all the same. Speaking in what you think she can understand, you shout in her direction. 

“Stay in the boat! Keep on the sandbar until this passes - don’t be stupid! Silly things like you don’t swim well enough. You’ll get swallowed up!”

With the storm darkening the skies and the rain coming down in heavy sheets, you can barely see if she’s facing you. Huffing again, you dive to the depths - you’ll check on the poor thing afterwards.

—----------

The sun bakes the sandbar, feeling hot enough to turn the sand to glass under your palms and belly as you watch the girl pacing ahead. She didn’t notice you approach from behind the boat, busying herself instead with collecting the ropes that came loose earlier when you landlocked her.

Among other things, you notice she has no working oars. Figures the young thing didn’t secure them while trying not to capsize, missing one entirely - dragging the half-busted remaining oar with her by the handle. Useless to her now.

As she paces the small portion of the sandbar, she’s fishing torn pieces of paper off the sand - either shredded by the squalor before or soaked through and crumbling to pieces from water damage. Where did she get paper?

A journal? Map?

You can’t reach any yourself to investigate without revealing yourself.

“You there! Let me see what you have,” you hope it’s the language she speaks. “You aren’t able to row this thing, and I’ll cut you a deal.”

Another shriek from the little thing as she notices you. What a joke. Had you been any other predator, she’d have been long dead and digested.

“What- You’re a-”

“How long have you been there?” she exclaims.

“Good grief. You could afford to be more grateful. Plenty of us would have killed first, asked questions never…” 

You think to yourself, ‘Well, I would have killed first plenty yesterday.’ 

“You’re a long way from help, girl child. Why come out here?”

She gulps. 

“Well, I followed some intel. Mermaids make their habitat in these waters, and I’m looking to understand them better.” 

“Not all of us want to hurt mermaids, so if science can bridge the gap between what we think about mermaids and what we actually observe… Maybe there wouldn’t need to be so much bloodshed.”

You give her a withering glare as you size her up once more. Maybe not so silly.

“You suppose you’ll be the one to uncover the solution? All in one day, huh?” you continue. 

“Tell me about your papers and the city, more about the crew that landed on the new ship. Crusade something or other.” 

“I’ll pull you back to the island if you satisfy me. No harm from my sisters or I, on the condition you speak not a word to anyone else about what you saw or where you went. Understand?”

Clover nods slowly, realizing your kindness was not given carelessly and claws on the hand that you extended were sharp - capable of shredding her in a moment. Landlocked or not, face to face with you, she’s met the scariest thing out here.

“I’m Clover. I sail with the Gold Rush Crew that came to New Providence Island on that ship, the Irresistible Crusade. We’re pirates and smugglers by trade, but our captain never deals in the flesh trade of mermaids or slaves - he’s known for being ruthless but fair."

“Your captain?”

“Captain Poel Reynolds. Also known as the Phantom Ship, he took my brother and I on his crew a few years back. As far as New Providence’s pirates, we’re the best of the best.”

That explains her lack of self-preservation. 

“Clover, are you the only one looking out here with that same goal? Brokering a peace between merfolk and humans, I mean.”

“Can’t imagine anyone else has the balls to follow one out this far. You’re stranded with a formidable opponent without so much as a single weapon, you silly girl.”

She gives you a nervous laugh. 

“Let me get into it quickly. I’m a scholar of science - not magic or myth. Basically…”

—-----------

After Clover talks your ear off for about an hour, you dip back into the water with rope in hand. Eager to escape your curious new friend before she’s comfortable enough to touch your tail or examine your face.

“I’ll get you close to the island, in the bay - I can’t swim too close to the docks or the other ships, in case the crews spot me.”

“You’re really a strong swimmer. Do mermaids always carry weapons or chase sharks? How about your migratory patterns? I can write-”

“Clover. I won’t hear you that well under the surface.”

“Questions another day. Let me get us back. Save your brainpower for the lie you’ll tell everyone.”

She looks bright at the prospect of meeting again, but her face drops at the mention of lying.

It takes the better part of the day to get Clover’s boat around the west side of the island back to the main ports without detection from idle fishermen and onlookers from the shore. As she points out the Irresistible Crusade, you peek your head above the surface to see and *plunk* back down immediately.

What you’d give to leave this junkyard of floating oversized driftwood. More scowling on your part. 

Clover is close to the astern of the ship, in the blindspot behind the very end - you pop up once to give her a stern look but extend your hand again.

“Safe and sound. Not a word of this to any living soul, or I can always find you again - you won’t escape the consequence silly girl.”

“Do me a favour, Clover. No more following mermaids out past where you can turn back.”

She beams as she takes your hand. Her excitement and relief is palpable.

“Not a word. I’ll be so careful.”

Without a moment of fanfare, you’ve descended into the deep again. Clover shivers as she sees your speed and maneuverability, using the powerful tail of yours to clear the distance without effort.

Truly a terrifying creature.

Voices from the deck above shock Clover out of her stupor.

They might have just spotted the infamous Silver Devil of Skullbreaker Wreck shake hands with their Quartermaster’s sister.

—---------- Oliver’s POV

Oliver is seething. Two whole days since she’d departed the boat and took off on the beach and she turned up in a battered rowboat fifteen feet from the back end of their ship. Not a word of an excuse. Sunburnt, bruised and missing the oars to the boat she’d been floating in. 

Poel had been “at a loss for words,” and so was Oliver, yet he gave her the verbal lashing of her life for almost twenty minutes with his barely-contained anger and worry.

Silly girl. She had no idea the whole island was up in arms, abuzz with the death of the recently smushed crew on the eastern beach. At the hands of mermaids no less, or their sympathizers who’d burn the island for revolution sooner than seek peace.

As for her story, she squeaked and shut her mouth tight before explaining anything. Captain Poel had let her retreat to his quarters to look over his ship log before Oliver blew a gasket. Her lack of fight indicated that whatever happened was serious enough to keep from even him…

“Clover didn’t visit any of her usual contacts here, and not a whisper of her from the taverns nearby. She wasn’t anywhere close to the port docks or the neighboring lagoons.”

“Oliver, she’s in one piece. She’ll remain here while we negotiate so there’s no risk involved.”

“Negotiate with who, Reynolds? No one has stepped forward with demands, so we’re no closer to brokering a fucking treaty with mermaids here - the whole island is fucking mad for this.” Oliver feels his blood pressure rising with all this. 

Deep breath. Collect yourself.

“Is there something I’m missing? You’ve seen them before - actually spoken with merfolk.” Oliver shakes his head in disbelief. 

“What’s the secret here?”

Poel gives Oliver an obnoxious smile.

“You might want to sit down for this.” 

Oliver’s heart drops. Whatever Poel is about to say hangs in the air above them like a sword dangling from a frayed string.

“You and your sister remind me of myself. The reason we all came together like this is because merfolk group together… the three of us in the Gold Rush Crew are all half-merfolk.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid it’s true. Typically half-breeds don’t need a push to develop certain traits that out them but with suppression from childhood can make you a late bloomer.” Poel is trying to make it easier to hear, but Oliver’s head is pounding.

“Your eyes aren’t just blue, Oliver. In certain lights, I can see the pupil change like other merfolk - you’ve ignored these things for so long it’s not on your radar. I suspected as much when we met, but your sister is drawn to her kin now.”

“It’s more than either of us can change now. We’re in the position to ruin everything and lose everyone if we fail - or make the miracle happen, and get out of this clean of blame and score the win for all sides.” 

He’s finally lost his goddamn mind. His captain has been a madman the whole time.

What the fuck is Poel saying?

The entire galley feels like it’s closing in on Oliver. His throat stops allowing breath, and his vision is spinning.

Him? Half-merfolk?

How could that go unnoticed this long? 

And Clover. Clover too, if anyone found out, they could all be suspected of the ship-burning in town, aiding the merfolk attacks like the east beach sloop that crushed an entire crew.

No one has confirmed who killed the men left in the trees. 

Clover and Poel on the gallows with him, each neck in a noose by dawn. Snuffed out in an awful sequence in front of a crowd before their corpses would be diced into pieces small enough for specimen jars. His sister, gone - 

He stumbles up, bench clattering to the floor as he spins around to get to Clover. The low lights of the galley lanterns wink before everything goes black.

—-----------

He awakens to a chill. His skin is clammy with sweat and the scent of salt in the air. 

His window is open to let the stale air circulate. The dusk outside has darkened the sky above, but the sun hasn’t set entirely.

Oliver had passed out? Fuck. 

With the way his heart picks up in his chest, and his body aches with panic, he concludes that his captain’s bold claim wasn’t a load of shit after all. 

Pulling on a loose shirt and his boots, Oliver dips his hands into a basin to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. About time for him to face the crew, and make a plan for tomorrow. Poel’s voice carries from his room, singing some fucking shanty as if he didn’t turn Oliver’s life to cannon fodder mere hours ago with the revelation.

Half-merfolk. Gods, Oliver needs some fucking air.

The deck above is quiet, and Oliver climbs the bird’s nest to dismiss Livio and take over watch. Livio passes his cigar to Oliver and lets him settle in for the watch shift.

Good thing too. After Livio goes below deck, three heads peak up in the water in plain view. Oliver can’t believe any of you would dare show your faces this close to port.

The world holds its breath as Oliver examines the merfolk in front of him, motionless but bobbing in the water. 

What on earth is happening? 

—--------- Your POV

The water’s gentle embrace around you is the sole comfort you feel after your leader informs the pod that someone will come from the land to join you in the following days. 

Your reaction to the news is visibly upsetting - teeth bared, claws flexed, and tail thrashing back and forth in the water. The way your body language screams ‘unwelcome, upsetting, and total eel-sucking shit.’

Who the fuck could be important enough to warrant your leader’s respect? Someone important from up there, on land?

What in the wide blue sphere is happening?

A/N; see if y'all can catch the character easter egg (the sword with a shark... who could it be?) hope you enjoyed! Also notice, I used very generic names for the extra crew from pirate history and... anime I watch lol. Thank you for reading & being extra patient... our couple takes their time I guess!

dividers by @uzmacchiato & @cafeskitsune & @muerdida & @anitalenia &

[ilyviolent]

my only girl - Ft. Kwon Hyuk

A/N: I forgot how hard making smau are hksdfghkdf i think the posts themselves are GN??? but the title is girl because everybody at school keeps singing that Khalil Fong song and it's stuck in my head now also the windbreaker fandom seems to be mainly fempov anyway

[ilyviolent]

My Boy

soft smut. established rs. making out. tiddies. @yuriaxx this is for you babe

your parents thought the two of you were bent over textbooks, preparing for another exam.

in truth, the books were abandoned halfway across the desk, you and jay had somehow ended up tangled together on your bed, lips pressed so close you barely remembered how the kiss had even started.

jay wasn’t usually like this.

he was the quiet one—the one with his glasses always sliding down his nose, neat handwriting across every page, never a step out of place.

but now? he was needy in a way that caught you off guard.

his hands trembled a little where they held your waist, not confident but clinging, and when you tilted your head to kiss him deeper, he let out a whimper that barely sounded like him. it was soft, high, muffled against your mouth, and it only made him kiss you harder.

he pulled back for air, his glasses skewed, pupils blown wide.

“can i—” he didn’t even finish the question, because his lips trailed down your neck on their own, pressing open-mouthed kisses until he reached the neckline of your shirt.

you could feel how nervous he was, the hesitation in his breath, the way his hand lingered before tugging your shirt up just enough. and when your chest was bared to him, his face went crimson, but he still bent forward, mouth parting against your skin.

the first suck was tentative, shaky. his tongue darted out like he was testing the taste of you, and then he let out this tiny, broken sound as though it was too much. his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer, and his lips fastened clumsily around you.

“jay…” you whispered, brushing his black hair back from his forehead.

his only answer was a muffled whine against your chest. he sucked harder, messy and wet, not knowing how to pace himself but desperate to keep going.

his glasses slipped lower until they nearly fell, but he didn’t care—he only pushed closer, burying his face, nursing on you like he couldn’t stop.

every time you shifted or stroked his hair, he made these tiny noises, half-gasps, half-moans, hips jerking unconsciously against your thigh.

he was inexperienced, you both were, but the way he clung to you, the way he lost himself against your chest—it felt overwhelming.

“good boy,” you whispered before you could even think, the words slipping out on instinct.

jay’s whole body jolted.

he whined into you, soft and shaky, like praise was too much, like it made his chest ache. he pulled you tighter against his mouth, sucking harder, almost greedily, like he couldn’t get enough.

the room was warm, the air thick with your breaths, and the sound of him nursing on you filled the space in a way that made you dizzy. his stoic mask was gone completely, replaced by something messy, vulnerable, and unbearably sweet.

he didn’t look like the perfect honor student anymore.

he looked like your boy, needy and shy, whimpering against your skin while holding onto you like you were the only thing that could quiet the hunger inside him.

[ilyviolent]

[ilyviolent]

<33

MY SNOWMAN

I got this idea while reading HTGMHOMS new chapter! No warnings, just fluff and comedy! @shintaru @bfwooin @zyart-jpg @wthphe1n @sylith @wh0ish4jun @nixruniii @bunnygirlgonewild @i-nssomniia

Snow painted the ground white, freezing cold nestled into the air, snowflakes kept falling, some getting on your eyelashes despite the hat and scarf.

You were outside of your fiance's house, building a small snowman with smile on your lips.

You were happy.

It's not everyday that you get to play in the snow, especially due to climate changes and your weak immunity. To have such heavy snow in Korea—it feels like the prayers being finally heard.

You didn't even bother to put on gloves, too occupied with building a snowman, finally sticking the rocks on it. Eyes, nose, frown—it honestly looked like certain someone. Just the small scar, on the jaw, was left and it'd be done.

But you got startled by the sound of footsteps.

"Love?"

You recognized his voice before you even glanced at him. He was dressed in warm, baggy clothes, hat protecting his ears from the cold, his nose was red because of freezing weather.

He looked too adorable, like a puppy craving some warmth.

"Hajun!" You exclaimed, abandoning the snowman to greet your fiance.

He stretched his arms forward, as you immediately embraced him. His hands sneaked around your waist, lifting you from the ground effortlessly.

"What are you doing here alone?" He asked, his cold lips meeting your cheeks. "It's freezing outside."

"I was bored." You eased your grip around him to break the hug and Hajun immediately let you down, but his hands slid down to yours, furrowing his eyebrows when seeing your hands bare.

"You aren't even wearing gloves." He let out a sigh and immediately grabbed his own gloves, processing to take them off his hands.

"Won't you get cold?" You asked him, but he took your hands in his and put them in his gloves.

"I'll be fine." He answered, tagging the gloves down to your hands.

When he was done, he held both of your hands in his, staring down at how funny his gloves looked on you. They were much bigger than your size, but at least they could keep you warm.

"Oh, by the way!" You suddenly remembered about the little guy you abandoned. You stepped aside so Hajun could see the snowman you made. "This is the snowman I made, he looks like you!"

Hajun crouched down to get better look. The snowman had frown on its lips, eyebrows furrowed—in short, it looked like it wanted to start a fight.

"Do I really look that mean?" He tilted his head to the side.

"Impressive work, big sis." The sudden voice of unexpected guest, caught you both guard. It was Hajun's middle brother, his hair falling to his forehead as he eagerly stared at your snowman, like it was sacred work of art.

"The—?? When did you get here?" You questioned the little guy, but he grinned in return.

"Just now! I woke up early and saw snow, so I wanted to play outside!"

"And you decided coming outside in freaking pajamas was good idea?" Hajun declared, frowning at the clothes his little brother was wearing.

"Well, I ran here the moment I realized it was a snowy day." The child scratched his head awkwardly, avoiding looking into Hajun's eyes.

"Well, what do you think of my masterpiece?!" You pointed at the snowman that, according to you, looked like Hajun.

Hajun's brother chuckled to himself. "I can't even tell which one's my real brother."

"The hell are you talking about?" Hajun threw a look at his sibling, but got ignored instead.

"We should name him Hajun number 2!" The child exclaimed, earning approving nod from you.

"That's great idea. Let's tell your brother when he wakes up!"

"Sure! I'm sure he'll add something on Hajun nr. 2!"

"A scarf, maybe?"

"Nah, we should get him small boxing gloves."

Hajun's eye kept twitching upon hearing each sentence from you and his brother. He couldn't help but find this situation ridiculous. I mean, c'mon, it didn't even look like him!

"Stupid." He interrupted. "He doesn't even look like me."

"How so?" You asked him.

Hajun crouched down again, before pointing at the sticks of the snowman, that were supposed to be arms. "He has no muscles."

"Pft—" laughter escaped past your lips, earning a look from Hajun but you chose to ignore it.

"Wow, look at you flexing." His brother spoke up.

"I'm not flexing." Hajun grumbled.

"Dude, you are, in a way, flexing."

"You're just saying that because you don't have muscles."

"See?!" His brother gasped. "And mind you, I have muscles from working in construction site. You're flexing your strength but I've never seen you lift 50 bricks together?!"

That made you laugh harder. Watching them two bicker with each other, despite the argument they had not too long ago, was refreshing.

It felt only yesterday when they didn't even talked to each other.

"You shouldn't have worked there in the first place." Hajun grumbled again.

Suddenly, new footsteps paddled in the snow, small hand rubbing his eye from the sleep, still wearing his purple pajamas with puppy in his hand, his brown hair getting wet. "What are y'all doing?"

All the three of you turned around to see Hajun's youngest brother, half-awake, half-asleep.

Hajun immediately took his coat off and wrapped it around the child, while you gave him your scarf. "Why are awake so early?" Hajun asked, kneeling down to scoop his brother on his lap, since he was barefoot.

"I had a bad dream." The child whined. "Big, mean, snowman swallowed the big sis and hyung went to help her but never returned." He leaned closer to Hajun. "I wanted to check if you two disappeared."

"Aww, baby," you pinched his cheek. "We aren't going anywhere, we promise. We aren't gonna disappear."

"Speaking of snowman," Hajun's middle brother spoke up. "Big sis built a snowman that looks like Hajun—"

"He doesn't look like me." Hajun glared once again.

"Wow!" The child exclaimed in surprise. "He looks exactly like hyung!"

Hajun muttered something under his breath, but it was drown out by the the laughter of you and his middle brother.

"Let's just go inside and eat." Hajun mumbled again after the laughter died down, holding his youngest brother in his arm. But, even so, his hand still found yours to hold.

"Shouldn't we give boxing gloves to Hajun number two?" You looked back while asking, the snowman looked as grumpy as ever.

Hajun sighed in return, as if deeply stressed by this situation. "Stop that. Or I'll pinch your cheeks."

[ilyviolent]

“no.. too much” you cry burying your face in the pillow. the fabric is wet soaked with tears running down your cheeks from the strong stimulation

it started not so long ago when you bought a car too good for a price tag too small. one reason - suicide in it, so you were told, under too strange circumstances when the police did not deal with this case, as if someone wanted this case to be forgotten without any investigation

then the strangeness began. the radio in the car was jamming and no matter how many times you went to the dealership, they couldn't fix it. if you accidentally left your bag inside the car, all the items would be scattered on the leather seats.

and then in your apartment. things were out of place, there were occasional fingerprints on the mirror that were still foggy from taking a hot shower, and there was always a squeak of something happening to your headphones when you were listening to music, especially at night.

and then you felt it. the touch. on your skin. you put it down to exhaustion, from tossing and turning too much in your sleep, and your t-shirt was up, and it was cold at night.

until one night you felt like someone was breathing right in your ear. the cold air was too much on your skin. and the touch on your body became more distinct. you felt like invisible hands were sliding over your body, but no matter how much you looked behind you, it was empty. always

and one day it went too far. you couldn't ignore your own fear and the tension of being uncomfortable inside your own apartment. but the arousal haunted you for much longer

and only one evening when you decided to satisfy yourself everything went smoothly and forever was calm. your hand was under the fabric of your underwear, your body was spread out on the pillows and the sheets were crumpled. you almost came

suddenly this push on your shoulder, as if something unknown, invisible, turned you on your stomach. fear enveloped your body. you felt pressure on the top of your head, as if someone's hand was pushing you into your own pillow, and as if someone was lifting your hips

you swear your hands were near your head when you tried to get up, but you felt the fabric of your underwear sliding down your thighs, with a touch too cold on your skin

you were going to scream, call for help, when you felt the penetration of the vault of the pussy, how someone's cock stretched you. abruptly, without any preparation, too quickly, starting to push immediately into you. the body, almost experiencing the first orgasm, shook, legs spread apart

«fuck! what the fuck—" you were horrified when your voice was muffled by the soft down of the pillow, and your hips jerked as if someone's fingers were touching your clit, rubbing against it as something you couldn't see continued to thrust into you, finally finding a rhythm.

you gave up too quickly. if it was a ghost or a poltergeist, you let it use your body and achieve the long-awaited release. but it didn't end after the first orgasm.

you felt cold touches on your neck, like kisses lingering on your skin, and your tits were squeezed by invisible hands.

the second time, you came too quickly, dripping onto the bed before the pressure and support disappeared, causing your body to collapse on the bed, gasping for air.

after that, everything became too quiet. you spent two whole weeks without any otherworldly presence, thinking that it was finally over.

and then it happened again.

and it became frequent.

and tonight was no exception. you remember listening to music in your headphones, getting ready for bed, when you heard that same squeak you had heard before. the music faded away, and you heard a man's voice, "did you buy new lace underwear? It looks good."

a foreign voice made you sit down too quickly, and then there was pressure on your mouth that you couldn't even scream. you felt trapped in someone else's presence, "shh, be more obedient today, and I'll give you more."

the voice coming through your headphones played like a record in your head. you tried to breathe through your nose, watching your shorts slide down, your underwear tightening, and something you couldn't see sliding through your folds, playing with your clit.

your hands were trying to grab onto something, until you found a blanket on the bed. too vulgar. without any shame. your back arched, your hips twitched to get more touch and friction.

if it were a ghost, you could say that it was playing with your pussy with its fingers, finding your hole to insert two fingers at once, "you take me so well, even though I don't have any matter," and a deep laugh in your ears

you feel the pressure on your lips disappear, and he slides under your t-shirt, rolling your nipples. he pushes his fingers into your pussy, stretching you, sliding in, and making a slurping sound every time he enters you.

"More, —please" you say, throwing your head back and feeling the support behind you. He kisses your temple, and his movements become faster as he brings you to orgasm.

but without any break, you're turned over on your stomach, and he's getting into position from behind, entering your trembling pussy slowly, stretching you out, "you're so tight every time...—fuck, you're too tight," and you could swear you heard a heavy sigh coming through your headphones.

The thrusts are shallow and slow, and before he picks up the pace, you're hugging the pillow and propping yourself up on your elbows, looking back to make sure no one is behind you, "fuck, what are you—ah!"

a slap on the ass, you feel it all too clearly, but there's no sound, just his voice, "at least tonight, don't ask questions and just moan like you usually do when I'm fucking you—"

you mumble, burying your face in the soft fuzz, but you don't protest. you moan like a fucking whore every time he thrusts into you.

too stimulated, with no hint of rest, you feel pain in your clit when you come. for how many times? third or fifth? you lost track at the moment when his hands were twisting your nipples under your shirt

"fuck, I can't take it anymore—god please" you could hear his laughter echoing in your ears, the tempo picking up, the pain coursing through your body, your eyes already wet with tears of overstimulation, and the sheets completely soaked beneath your dripping cunt.

you can't take it anymore, feeling yourself squirting, spurting into the void, and his tempo finally becoming unsteady, incoherent words in your headphones before it all calms down

you breathe deeply, trying to raise your eyes, clinging to the large mirror in the room. and clearly see a man's figure. his thighs flush with your ass, the body leaning over you, eyes looking at your common reflection, his fingers slide on your waist, lazily, carelessly stroking

"if you need me again, just call me. I'm Michele"

and again, that feeling of being lost, when you fall onto your bed completely exhausted, shaking, and completely alone

and then again this silence that lasted so long. two weeks without his presence. you hesitated. for a long time and did not dare to say his name out loud. before sitting in front of the mirror with only a t-shirt, putting on headphones and looking at yourself in the mirror, "Michele?"

you see his figure in the reflection, vaguely and blurry before the lines become clear, "yes, darling?" now you saw his hands sliding down your neck, his chest pressing against your back, and his lips sliding along the curve of your neck, his eyes fixed on your face from behind his glasses.

you reach your hand towards his head, feeling the cool air under your fingertips, and it's like you're pressing on the flow of air, and in the reflection, you touch his hair as he rubs his head against your palm, grabbing your hand with his own, leaving a kiss on your knuckles, and never breaking eye contact.

"Fuck me. Again"

His lips stretch into a smile, his eyes close, and the voice in your headphones seems to sound like a thought in your own head.

"If my sweetheart wants it, I'm ready to fulfill it. Again"

[ilyviolent]

✦ ❝ 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭? ❞

𝑆YNO ✦ .ᐟ AcademicRival!Jay Jo makes you do a favor after catching you cheating on an important exam in exchange of him not telling on you

WARNINGS !¡ Blowjob no actual sex scene but its implied, SHELLY AND JAY AREN'T TOGETHER IN THIS, collage au, Exam cheating, degrading, OOC JAY BTW false persona etc, One-shot

Panicked students rushed to their seats, some prayed, others took looks on their notes or books while some practiced with each other for the last but not least exam. Well, except the two smartest students in the class, who sat at the back, one had his attention out of the window while the other sat right beside him, a smile plastered on your 'calm' face.

While in reality, you were panicking, your palms were oily from the sweat emitting from them. You were so busy the past two weeks, you didn't have the time to even grasp any learning material. But...the reason you were nervous wasn't just because you didn't study but because of the small ink writings that covered your whole wrist like tattoos. You have to pass this exam, or your frame will be ruined.

Jay hadn't paid you any mind, he would never confess to it but you angered him, always getting first place, just a few, a little nudge of more points than him. It made him jealous, it made his mother angry and his friends confused. The girl who always sat in the back, people feared to befriend you, hell, they even were too terrified to ask you for homework because you were on a totally different hierarchy level of intelligence.

You were what people registered as a rare breed of genius, many schools, projects and other companies begged to hire you, to meet with you or have you in one of their projects. You were a raw mystery. Nobody really knew you or who you really were, only a speck of an image spat about you from one gossiping ear to another.

Jay didn't care. At first, he didn't. He had ignored all the scandals and warnings, they told him not to compete with you, they challenged his smarts. Right away, the stoic male noticed the sheer difference in your presence, he lost, the person who bet on you winning a huge sum of money when you passed the last exam effortlessly, scoring 0.5 points more, winning the golden podium.

Ever since, he had been concealing the bitter resentment he had for you, why were you better? How come? Why did you have to be exactly in his class like a fucking curse, Jay jo kept up his monotone act, it was hard. You greeted him everyday, only him. As if the others didn't exist or never even did. You didn't even remember their names, or jay thought so.

He had a little... pride, you didn't acknowledge others to the point where people just started treating you like a goddess, one that just serves her brains and beauty, not allowing anyone in her little circle. Classmates feared you. Jay jo didn't, that's what made you start liking him, you just always had an eye on him.

But today, something was off, Jay had scraped off every little detail about you, he learned it by heart now, your whole dialogue started by you greeting him, organizing your books and pencil case, looking out the window before flashing him a smile then sitting up–straight, there was no dirt to dig up on you...always so...perfect. The other jealous people made up rumors that were hard to believe because you never revealed anything about yourself.

'I want to become a skilled surgeon.'

You had once told the black haired male and it never left his head since, on repeat like a mantra. The one, minuscule you exposed, you trusted Jay with it and boy did he gatekeep that information. He didn't question you any further, scared that you'll pull out of the small connection you two made because he's too pushy.

Yet...today, it was off, a fraud smile, no look out the window, your pencil case not set in a perfect 180° angle, you water bottle sluggishly standing on your desk and the constant jitters of your clenched palms, your posture shrinking. Your little jump when the teacher placed the last exam paper on your desk. "Eyes on your papers, you have two hours and forty minutes, breaks are not allowed, start."

Jay held his black pen between his thumb, pointer and middle finger, his name drawn on the papers before he viewed over the questions, starting with the hardest before continuing his way to the easiest one. Jay had done the sin to glance over at your desk, his glasses reflected the light on the ceiling as he progressed what he was seeing.

The fury that stirred in the male made his fingers clench around the pen, almost twisting it around. All this time? Fucking 'intellectual' his ass, he was gawking at the cheat sheet on your wrist with a clenched jaw, a vein popping on Jaye forehead. All the arguments he got into with his mother, the days he spent praying that you'll change schools for his own good, all of that frustration came from the fact that you cheated? Did you do this with every exam?

He wanted to yell at you right away, rat you out to the teacher right away instead of that...he was quiet. Jay could use this to his advantage, it was a huge piece of blackmail, a dust that he scratched off, that could ruin your life if you wanted to pass this year. And Jay wasn't an asshole either...but it was a win-win situation.

The time flew past your presence and just as you wrote the last answer, ending it with a period, the end-coming alarm went off and the teacher started collecting the exam sheets, you let out a huge sigh, the previous state of you being nervous finally subsided to a normal flow again. "How did you do?"

You shrank at the question, the guilt from being deceitful made you bite down on your bottom lip, chewing on it. "Good, i think." Jay narrowed his eyes at you, his teeth screeching against each other painfully, how dare you? And now you're lying? Looks like that neat persona of yours was faked too.

"oh I bet you did."

The reply you gave was perplexed but Jay shrugged it off so you copied him, not reasoning much with it, just being glad that you didn't get caught in the middle– "I saw you, you know that, Right?" The whisper in your ear made your bit hunched back straighten up immediately, looking at Jay with horrified eyes.

"What are you talking abou–" you tried brushing it off as a joke, your smile faltering when you caught on, you were unshielded from the comfort of thinking that nobody had an idea you were cheating on the exam, your fists clenching at Jays solid face. "Yeah? Did you?" Your lips puckered out in a whiny, sarcastic way.

The shock rotated to Jay who was buckling up in the change of identity, your bitchy and sassy side was seeping through the cracks of the collapsing walls in the perfect person facade.

Jay readied himself to cool down from your defensive come-back, cold eyes not separating from his distant, black hues. "So what? Ya' gonna rat out on me? Awh! finally you got some tales to tattle about to teachers about me?" he was bewildered, absolutely taken aback, Jay got whiplash from the switch of tone...you had suddenly become someone else.

"And if i do? You can smooch your future of being a surgeon goodbye."

Oh now he did it. He touched the most sensitive and easily angered nerve in your body, pushing you to your limits. "Don't you fuckin' dare." You hissed through your teeth, the little smirk that showed Jays canines made you frustrated, your painted fingernails digging into the wood of your desk, you two were the only ones in the empty classroom that was just filled with conversations, papers being flipped, zippers opened and keys jingled.

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

Your bottom lip trembled, your eyes glossy and when Jay caught sight of that, his ego faded...did he feel good making you almost cry? You trusted him with sour dream job and he used something that wasn't even bad-gossip as a weapon "Don't cry. I'm not an asshole.... we're gonna make a deal, yeah?"

"What...is it?" You stuttered out, afraid to ask for what the agreement was going to be. Jay looked you deep in the eyes, turning his body so it was in your direction before speaking with no hesitation at all.

"Get down on your knees."

The request left you speechless, your mouth agape, scoffing right after. "Excuse me?" The male tilted his head, as if you had said something wrong, you had no right to question this, your future was on the line. "What is it? You don't understand? It's our deal."

The bold letters of humiliation were printing inside your head as you slowly pushed the chair and got down on your legging covered legs, folding your hands in your lap, refusing to look Jay in the eyes. He taunted you by chuckling, placing his veiny hand over your head, patting the hairs enough for his fingers to get between the spaces of your hair.

Pulling harshly, you yelped at the sting, hands clawing at Jays wrist violently, your face scrunching up as he made you look up at him towering over you, the grip withered, he stroked your head again, was this revenge? "Don't act coy, I bet you've done this multiple times before, didn't you, cheater?"

Your ego was hurt by the insult and you were distracted by the sound of a zipper after that, gulping in anticipation...you were gonna do this. For your surgeon future. Well, a hidden part in your tummy was thrilled, finally the eunuch with no desire for any girls touch that you were crushing on was making a move... although this was the wrong situation.

"Go on..."

Batting your lashes a few times, you took out Jays cock...oh it was huge, to your shocker,...it didn't fit in your hand completely, licking your lipglossed lips at the pearly pre-cum collected on his reddish tip. Jays dick was perfect...he was well groomed, two veins on it, one longer than the other and it throbbed teasingly at your cold touch.

Giving it a few kitten licks, Jay groaned, glaring at you through his thick eyelashes, his entire mood changed to a humid one, anyone could walk in at you two and that feeling made his breathing heavier. His hips bucked up after you finally made a 'o' shape, welcoming him in your mouth, only the tip ...your tongue flicking at the slit, licking away the salty drops while your hand twisted up and down his shaft.

Fuck, it definitely wasn't the first time you did this....fucking whore Jays mind was snatched away from him when your real gig started, you bobbed your head up and down, saliva coating up his dick where all the blood in his body had rushed too.

Jay jo was so turned on by you, so painfully. Your alluring eyes that only sirens would behold, your sinful mouth and the way you worked yourself to pleasure him, through his dim vision, Jay caught your wrist sneaking beneath your pencil skirt, rubbing yourself even when a thin layer of leggings covered your heat. You gagged at the penetration against the center of the back of your mouth, Jays hips working together with you.

Did he just get bigger in your mouth or was it your imagination? It was getting harder to breathe with your nose solely, it wasn't going to be any easier with Jay down your throat. Sultriness was pulling Jay in, his mind was turning into mush, the liquid in your mouth, the warmth of your throat and the way your cold hand fisted the rest of his dick.

"F-fuck...you chea– Ahck!" His words were abducted from continuing when you sucked fiercer, moving your head around and your tongue swirling and whipping at him. Just as he was about to cum, you spat him out of your mouth, a bubble of saliva mixed with cum popping with an embarrassingly loud noise that echoed. You coughed a few times before speaking up,

The knot in his stomach was long gone, just seconds before it was gonna go off like fireworks and make his vision darken, eyes roll back as the muscles of his eyebrows pulled them up in pleasure. His glasses almost slid off his nose, they sat crooked there, his cheeks were reddish and it definitely wasn't a fever, the sweat glistened.

"still calling me that? Oh poor baby, couldn't cum?"

You stroked his thigh, resting your head on it as you looked up at the dishevelled Jay who was taking long, big gasps. Your painted pointer finger placed itself on top of his slit, playing with his dick, moving it back and forth, allowing the mess to slide around freely. "Fuckin' Hell... don't do that or I'll cum, yeah?" Jay stared at you with vulnerable, glossy eyes, not even mad that you cut him from his ecstasy.

The male found a grip on your head as you gave him doe eyes, purposefully making him even more feral than he was. "It's okay, i understand....you want to be fucked, right? Fucked so good...you won't even remember your name..." Your puffy, slick lips curled up seductively, running your tongue over them slowly for Jays gaze, you nodded, giving him a pleading look.

His eye twitched, he was gonna fuck that stupid face off, for humiliating him earlier and making him so chaotic at the fact that you were smarter than him. Jay knew that you were anyways, but this time, this was for his own good. He was gonna use this for a while, maybe even have you teach him a few things.

Yay, im kinda on fire lol, but i want the webtoon windbreaker tag to be about the webtoon cuz the anime has taken over lol

The last part was rushed again but im practicing to write smut so yeah