Cryptic and Machiavelian

The moon continued to turn in the aftermath of King’s Landing’s fall to Rhaenyra.  All the while the remaining Green faction continued their march on the Riverlands.  Aemond and his dragon control the skies all while Criston and the meager host he was able to muster slowly but readily descended on Harrenhal.  Criston’s gaze falls on the burnt castle. His skin prickling as unease settles in his gut.  The torches are unlit.  The holding appears eerily quiet.  “It may be an ambush.” Criston warns.  Criston enters with a small retinue of men. Each empty room draws his ire forth.  Each missing person, every empty coffer, burns him worse than dragonfire. “It’s fucking empty.” Criston mutters to himself.  He looks up to Aemond still circling the sky.  Vhagar and the one-eyed prince wait for Daemon and Caraxes, an opponent that would never come.  “Fire the flare!” Criston angrily orders. He takes off his helmet and throws it toward the ground.  As the green smoke billows higher and higher, Vhagar’s roar splits the air as she starts to descend.  “My uncle has turned tail it would seem.” Aemond says smugly.  “I wouldn’t be too sure, my prince.” Criston says with malcontent settling into his chest further like a lead weight.  “What more is there to be said?” Aemond scoffs. “The biggest castle in Westeros now sits under our command once more.”  “Ensure our men set up camp. We need to be prepared for what may come.” He adds, walking into the castle. 

Aemond smirks, self-satisfied as he takes it all in. 

Harrenhal empty and in his hand.

His uncle had already sent two would-be assassins to kill him, and now it seems Daemon is much too scared to face him in battle.

Aemond’s smile gets wider, crueler. 

“I am but a stone’s throw…I stand at the precipice…my sweet brother, (Y/n), you’ll not be in their hands for much longer.” He claims. 

All Aemond can think of is slaying the strong bastard where he stands, and wrestling (Y/n) away from his hands.   

Aemond feels his blood stir at the thought of doing away with the alleged babe in your belly, and replacing it with his own. 

“Where is the castellan?” Aemond’s voice echoes.

Aemond’s smugness becomes heavier as his voice bounces around the broken castle. 

“Gone, my Prince.” A woman’s voice calls out. 

“Who goes there?” Aemond snarls, drawing his sword immediately. 

“Just me, my prince.” She comes out of hiding. 

“And who are you?” Aemond’s voice wavers, he can feel divine flames licking at his being.

Taking aim at his very soul. 

“Alys Rivers, my prince.” She introduces herself with a small curtsey. 

Aemond’s eye lands on the ring on her hand.

A ruby of sorts that seems to glow and pulse as if in tune with a heartbeat.

“Bastard, are you?” Aemond says with disgust, he sheathes his sword. 

He can’t stop  himself from drawing closer to her. 

“Aye, my prince.” She snickers walking right up to him. 

Every bone in his body screams at him to strike her down. 

The hairs on his neck stand on end, his hand twitches before going to the pommel of his blade. 

“Relax, Prince Aemond.” Alys coos.

Her words are soft, warm, loving almost, entirely wrong. 

Alys lifts her hand.

The red hue from the ring seems to bathe over Aemond.

He feels himself stiffen, almost freezing in place, as though time has slowed to a crawl for Aemond. 

“Do not let her hand touch you.” Aemond’s alpha roars inside as he struggles and fails to move away. 

Her hand makes a small clap sound, as she cups Aemond’s cheek.

“With this…your path is ensured.” Alys thinks.

Aemond blinks once.

Then again.

Then faster. 

Alys slowly fades from his vision.

Her features and voice all slowly changing to match your appearance when he last saw you in Rook’s Rest.

His hand falls away from his blade. 

His hand goes up to Alys’ your cheek, before falling away just short of touching her you. 

 “(Y/n)?” His voice shakes. 

“Yes, dear brother.” Alys responds softly.

Her face a mixture of pain and resignation. 

“I have much I wish to tell you, but I need to secure your throne.” Aemond says softly. 

Alys cocks her head to the side. 

“Aegon is a broken man, and has never been worthy. Not like you.” Aemond stresses. “I have a war to win. Then I’ll free you from that loathsome Strong bastard who thought to touch what was mine.” Aemond’s hands tremble as he touches Alys’ face. 

Aemond’s eyes unfocus and constrict once more. 

Before his one-eyed gaze, the edges of his view seem to curl in and blacken, like a piece of parchment held to flame.

“Where is he?” He asks staring at Alys, before looking around. 

“Answer me, or I will have your head.” Aemond snarls, hand going to the hilt of his blade. 

“Tend to your tasks my prince, and you’ll see him again.” Alys’ voice shifts to a lower register, seeming to become an amalgamation of yours and hers.  

Aemond’s eyes are wild and crazed.

His top lip twitches, alpha fangs displayed. 

He looks her up and down, grinding his teeth before continuing down his path. 

Aemond finds no Black loyalists, he strikes down Rhaenyra’s standard quarter, before raising Aegon’s. 

The men move about cutting down livestock and starting a fire for their feast.

Criston still feels unsettled.

The air is stagnant. 

Heavy.

Oppressive. 

 The Lord Commander’s armor feels too cold and too hot. 

“Lord Commander.” A knight whispers.

“What is it?” Criston curtly asks, helmet off and resting against his hip. 

“A raven has arrived.” He reveals handing the parchment over. 

Criston eyes the knight.

His fingers don’t shake as he unfurls it.

Criston’s eyes scanning the paper. 

They widen, his breathing hitches. “Seven Hells!” 

 He walks over to Aemond, about to slam the paper down in front of him.

He freezes, remembering who Aemond is. 

Remembering who the prince is becoming. 

“My prince.” Criston says through grit teeth. 

“Ser Criston.” Aemond happily greets. 

Aemond’s cruel smile slowly fades as Criston looks between him and Alys. 

“Have you gone blind?” He says annoyed. “Why have you not greeted Prince (Y/n) yet?” 

Criston almost makes an amused sound, choking it down as he looks to the woman in Aemond’s lap. 

It’s not you.

It couldn’t be. 

A chill rushes down Criston’s spine. 

“Has the Prince Regent fallen so far?” Criston wonders. 

It’s not how Aemond sees her. 

“My prince…?” He says confused, even as the woman laughs in his face. 

“Why have you interrupted us.” Aemond demands. 

“Read this, my prince.” Criston says handing off the parchment. 

Aemond spreads the parchment taut. 

King’s Landing has fallen. Rhaenyra is Queen. Your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, sits locked away.

Aemond’s face scrunches up in anger. He stands up, forcing Alys away from him.

“I’ll kill them! I will rain fire and blood on every last Black holding!” Aemond roars.

“Aemond.” Alys’ voice echoes.

Aemond’s eyes snap to her.

She still wears your face in his eye. 

“Bring me every last Strong!” He shouts, crumpling the paper, letting it fall to the ground. 

The soldiers move quickly, refusing to draw Aemond’s ire.

Men, knights and squires, scurried about Harrenhal’s dilapidated and scorched walls. 

The longer their search took the more irate the one-eyed prince became. 

“My prince.” one knight finally spoke. 

“Where are the men and boys of house strong?” He snarls. 

The knight swallows harshly. “We found none, my Prince. It would seem they’ve abandoned their castle.”

“Found none?” Aemond parrots back. 

“It is likely House Strong joined with Princess Rhaenyra and her cause, given her sons are Strong bastards.” Criston supplies. 

Aemond gives one cruel chuckle. 

The sound of Valyrian steel being drawn from its scabbard echoes. 

A man’s screams extinguished before they even began in earnest. 

The knight topples over, blood gushing out. 

Aemond sheathes his sword again. 

“Perhaps we should retire, for the night.” Alys whispers. 

“Yes, (Y/n).” Aemond smiles. “We should.” 

No one spoke. 

No one uttered a single syllable. 

Not a single Green soldier.

They all retire to their tents, watching as Aemond prattles on about this or that, calling the woman leading him up to the lord’s chamber, by your name. 

“(Y/n)…we do not need to consummate our bond tonight.” Aemond murmurs against Alys’ neck. “Allow me the joy of killing Jacaerys first, then I will take you.”

“As you wish my prince.” She responds, letting Aemond rest his head against her chest. 

“Call me Aemond, (Y/n)…” He whispered like a prayer. “Or call me yours…but do not keep me at arm’s length.”

His eyes narrow, they unfocus, before constricting again. 

The delusion seeming to break as he comes back from the haze. 

“Where is he?!” Aemond screams, hands wrapping around Alys’ throat. 

He tries to constrict, tries to crush her larynx, shatter the cartilage of her throat but his hands wouldn’t tighten further. 

“If you wish to see him again, keep doing as you have.” She says coldly. 

 “What…?” Aemond asks hurt, his eyes turning glossy. 

“Follow your heart,” Alys pulls Aemond down, cradling his head, holding him against her chest, “and you’ll always see him here, by your side. It’s the only solace you’ll be afforded.”

Aemond looks up, smiling as he’s face to face with you again. 

“(Y/n), you are to warn me when you need to step away.” Aemond commands. “You keep leaving your maid with me.”

“I wish I could brother.” Alys says softly, running her hands gingerly through Aemond’s long locks. “I ask you bear with it and treat her kindly when she takes my place.”

“For you, (Y/n), I’ll do it.” He says, before his eyes flutter shut. 

His nostrils open wider when your scent hits him. 

“Sweet dreams, Aemond.” Alys whispers as she falls asleep with the One-Eyed Prince. 

The next morning no one dares to meet Aemond’s gaze. 

They all eat looking down to their plates, hands shaking when Aemond’s footsteps walk past them. 

“Prince Aemond.” Criston says pulling him aside. 

“Yes, Ser Criston?” He asks unimpressed. 

“What are we to do about King’s Landing?” He asks. “We need to strategize so we may free His Grace, and your mother.”

“It’s simple.” Aemond says annoyed. “I will draw Caraxes here, kill him and Daemon, then rout the host he managed to amass.” Aemond shakes his head. “When that’s been done, and Rhaenyra sits defenseless we lay waste to the city.”

Criston huffs nervously. “Prince Aemond…they are King Aegon’s citizens, your citizens as Prince Regent.” 

“That matters little and less, so long as we secure the throne.” Aemond dismisses Criston. 

“My prince, a better thought out plan is needed.” He stresses. “Why do we not instead join the Lannister-Hightower host?”

“We should join with them, and Prince Daeron and his dragon.” He reminds Aemond. “Two are better than one.” 

“Do as you wish then.” Aemond rolls his eye. “I will do as I must, as will you.” 

Criston’s breath leaves him silently. 

He can no longer recognize Aemond. 

“Let’s see whose scheme ends up bearing fruit.” Aemond drawls as if this is a game. 

Aemond heads back into the thick of it, grabbing a plate and sitting down with his men. 

He doesn’t notice how they all stiffen when he sits down. 

He doesn’t notice how none of them make any noise. 

Criston grimaces, witnessing how far Aemond has fallen. 

He shakes his head before going and sitting down with his men. 

“Is the Prince well?” One of them whispers to Criston. 

“I could not say…were you to ask him, he’d say the gods have blessed him with (Y/n).” Criston says resigned. 

“But (Y/n) is dead…” The knight responds.

“Not to Aemond.” Criston corrects, hoping the knight’s words don’t reach Aemond. “Not while he’s enthralled by whatever he found in this castle.”

They all finish eating in silence before packing their camp up. 

“Can I convince you to join us Prince Aemond?” Criston gives it one last try.

“No, Ser Criston.” He responds. “I pray for your good fortune in the battles to come.”  

“I know we will come out on top when the last embers lose their spark.” Aemond says, shaking Criston’s hand. 

He watches as Aemond mounts Vhagar, taking that same woman with him. 

Criston puts a hand over his eyes as the aged green dragon disappears far above the clouds. 

“Forward march!” Criston commands, riding his horse ahead as he unknowingly leads his men deeper into the belly of the beast.

You slowly wake up feeling Jacaerys’ mouth at your neck. 

“Mmm…” You moan softly, moving your head to give him more room. 

His hands gently grope you, his fingers pressing delicately and deliciously into your flesh. 

“Ah—” You gasp softly, feeling Jacaerys paw at your chest. 

“I mean no offense when I ask,” Jacaerys’ warm breath ghosts against the shell of your ear, “has your chest swelled recently?”

He drags his body closer, you can feel his clothed, barely contained, excitement poking into your thigh. 

“I don’t know…” You murmur. 

Your voice breaks into a soft groan as Jacaerys’ hands make their way down to your thighs. 

“You’re so tense, my love.” Jacaerys drawls, before taking your ear lobe into his mouth. 

He giggles softly at how squirmy you are. 

“That can’t be good for the babe.” He whispers, his hand going to rest above your cock. 

He gently squeezes around your shaft, groaning in sympathy feeling you start to harden. 

“I suppose…”, You breathily laugh, turning around to look at him, “I have been on edge as of late.” 

“Exactly darling…” He agrees instantly. “Allow me the honor and pleasure of aiding your relaxation.” 

“Jacaerys~” You laugh softly. 

“We shouldn’t.” You say, biting your bottom lip and looking to the door. “We’ve a council meeting to attend.” 

“And I would very much like for them to smell my claim on you, as it leaks down your thigh.” Jacaerys rasps, getting closer, until he’s pressed right up against your bump. 

“We shouldn’t.” You say, dragging a finger up his swollen length. 

“Ngh—“ Jacaerys groans, squeezing his eyes shut. 

His body trembles, his abs flex, he manages to hold it together. 

“Already, my love?” You ask half-shocked. 

“I hold back for you…” He says breathlessly, face dusted with blush. “Nothing feels as heavenly as you do anymore.”

“My sweet alpha.” You coo. “I…suppose…I could indulge you…just this once.” You shyly say. 

Jacaerys is already perched over you. “Truly?”

“Let me hear how much you desire me.” He begs, lips attaching to your neck again.

His eyes always seem hungry, but focused on you like it’s all he was made for. 

“I ache for you, Jacaerys.” You shakily exhale. 

“Where, my love?” He asks, already slicking his fingers with his saliva. 

“Here…” You beg, spreading your legs, revealing the mess of slick under you. 

“Gods you’re already so wet.” He groans, gently teasing a finger inside you. 

“Ngh~” You moan softly. 

“Shh…lay back. Allow me to please you.” Jacaerys begs, guiding you to lay back, as he slowly pushes in to his knuckle before drawing his hand back. 

“Ah—“ You gasp, eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again, as Jacaerys’ thick, rough, calloused finger hastily stretches you open. 

Jacaerys moves back lying down against the bed. 

His hand never stops working his finger in and out of you. 

Even as he adds a second, cooing to get you through the stretch. 

His other hand slowly wraps around the base of your cock, dragging up and down in slow almost calculated strokes. 

“Uhngh!” You groan, back arching, as much as it can, off the bed. 

“Gods…you’re perfect. From your scent…to your taste.” Jacaerys drags his tongue from the base of your cock all the way to your tip, flicking at your frenulum. 

He groans softly, rutting his own hard cock against the bed as your precum blooms across his palate. 

“You’re everything to me (Y/n).” Jacaerys whispers against your thigh like a prayer. 

He leaves love bites, smirking against your soft flesh, before kissing the area and moving back up. 

Jacaerys’ soft lips kiss your tip. 

He wraps them around your cock again, slow and greedy like he’s eating honey straight from the source. 

“Fuck~” You moan softly, your fingers tangling in Jacaerys’ brown locks. 

He groans around your girth, as you absentmindedly tug his head down and up faster.

The vibrations dance up your shaft, a jolt of pleasure coursing through you. 

“Jace—“ You draw a sharp breath, your peak nearly there, your hand drags Jacaerys’ head down until his nose presses against your groin. 

“Add— add a finger…” You say desperately, a choked wet sound, as you fight against your orgasm.

You gasp, muscles flexing, legs drawing back as you try to brace yourself against the bed. 

Jacaerys’ third finger works its way in. 

All three of his digits spreading you obscenely wide, before they caress and push against your prostate in a wide stroke. 

“Fuck~” You cum with a shout, your hips weakly bucking into Jacaerys’ mouth as you ride out your high. 

When you settle against the bed, catching your breath, still twitching from the aftershocks, Jacaerys starts to pull off. 

He hollows his cheeks, making sure he leaves your cock spotless. 

He swallows immediately without a second thought. 

He still scissors his fingers, making sure you’re nice and pliant, making sure your hole soft and wet, ready to receive him. 

“I didn’t think you could get sweeter…but you have.” Jacaerys giggles deliriously. 

“Must be because you’re expectant.” He wagers, before lying on his side, body pressed against yours. 

He kisses you passionately, his tongue swiping across your top lip begging to be let in. 

You do, sniffling softly, lost in the tenderness he has for you. 

You let Jacaerys lead like he always does. 

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “I hope you’re ready.”

You palm Jacaerys through his pants. 

You can feel the sticky mess he’s made in his undergarments. 

You smile softly, but shake your head. 

“I can stretch you more, if you’d like.”

Jacaerys whispers. “I’ll use my tongue, if you’d rather that.”

“Not yet, my King.” You drawl. You try to get up, rocking back and forth before letting Jacaerys help you up. 

You move Jacaerys to stand in front of you beside the bed, his hands magnetically attaching to your hips. 

You kiss his cheek before trailing down to his neck, your hand groping and pressing against his cock. 

You leave love bites against his built muscles as you drop to your knees. 

“Wait.” Jacaerys says, helping you back up. 

He grabs a few pillows, the softest ones, and places them on the ground where you were kneeled before. 

“If you’d please…you know…” Jacaerys says shyly. 

“I don’t, my King. Enlighten me.” You drawl, dropping to your knees again, your hands toying with his waistband. “What is it you’d like? What did you expect I was going to do?” 

Jacaerys laughs softly, his hand going down to cup your cheek. 

His thumb drags your bottom lip down softly, before he pushes in, pressing down on your tongue with the pad of it. 

“Please pleasure me with this warm wet mouth of yours.” Jacaerys asks, a coat of blush dashing across his face. 

You can see his cock throb and flex as he asks. “Who am I to deny Your Grace’s command?” You say softly.

Your warm breath making Jacaerys groan, he feels a rush of excitement, of lust pooling in his loins. 

You nuzzle against his prick, mouthing up and down his aching length. 

You lave his cloth covered cock with your tongue. 

Your fingers pull the waist band down slowly, watching as Jacaerys’ head gets caught in the fabric. 

You pull them down far enough Jacaerys’ hard leaking cock springs back up. 

You let it rest on your face, closing the eye it’s closest to. “I worry my king won’t last long.” 

You’re just as pent up.

You keep slicking onto the pillows below. 

“Gods the king’s consort is so vulgar.” Jacaerys rasps, gripping the base of his cock, lightly slapping it against your face. 

“I bet you’d let me send you out there like this.” He huskily says. “Covered in my essence. Letting everyone in the Red Keep know you’re mine.” 

“If His Grace would ask it of me.” You say, dragging your tongue up the base of Jacaerys’ cock, kissing his leaking head. 

You pull back slowly, letting Jacaerys see the way the sticky strands of his precum cling to your bottom lip.

 Jacaerys hisses rubbing the slit of his cock, coating his fingers in his precum, before slowly rubbing them across your lips. 

Your mouth slowly drops open, your tongue lolls out, letting Jacaerys push his fingers in slowly. 

He gingerly drags them back and forth, like he’s making sure every part of you is his. 

As if you weren’t already. 

“May I?” Jacaerys asks, taking a step closer. 

You nod eagerly, lips still parted, tongue wide and inviting. 

Jacaerys smirks, his hand gently cupping your face, his thumb swiping in a gentle arc across your face. 

Jacaerys grips his cock by his base, he slaps it against your tongue, watching with hungrier eyes as you jolt and shiver with each slap. 

“Well…go on then.” Jacaerys says, letting his hands gently caress your face and cradle your head. 

You kiss his tip once more, before slowly taking him in. 

Your lips stretch wide, obscenely so, as you bury him in your throat. 

You cough and gag a little but keep it together as you continue. 

Tears in your eyes, slowly streaming down. 

You swear you feel his head brush against your Adam’s apple as your nose touches his bush. 

You brace yourself against the floor with your hands, as your head bobs back and forth across his cock. 

“Gods-“ Jacaerys groans, “just like that.” He says desperately as you keep that fast pace. 

Your face slams into his groin again, your nose buried in his pubic hair, as you swallow around his sensitive head. 

You pull back, one of your hands wrapping around Jacaerys’ shaft. 

You stroke him out of tempo with your head. “(Y/n)— fuck! Not like that—“ Jacaerys bites his hand, a tremor rushing through his body as he staves off his orgasm. 

Jacaerys’ fingers tangle in your hair, you squeak as he yanks you off. 

Jacaerys’ eyes widen, he drops to his knees. 

“Are you alright love? I pulled too hard, didn’t I?” He asks softly, scenting you and kissing your head. 

“I’m fine Jace.” You giggle, kissing his lips. “Merely surprised me is all.”

“Are you still close?” You ask looking away. 

“….I….am….” Jacaerys answers, eyes darkening with lust. 

You lean in, licking a stripe up his neck through his sweat. 

“Then why don’t you take your royal cock,”, Jacaerys hisses feeling your hand tighten around his girth, “and fuck my regal throat?” 

Jacaerys groans softly. “If my consort knows what he’s asking for,” Jacaerys stands up, smacking his cock against your cheek, “then who am I to deny him?” 

He lines his cock up with your mouth again, smirking as you open up and let your tongue out to receive him. 

He traces your lips with his sticky tip, as if he’s glossing them. 

“Let me know if it’s too much, my love.” He whispers, one hand supporting your chin, the other holding the back of your head. 

You move your hands to brace yourself against Jacaerys’ thigh. 

You nod eagerly, before coughing lightly and suppressing your gag reflex as Jacaerys thrusts in and out. 

You feel your eyes water, tear streaks renewing every time Jacaerys’ groin snaps against your nose. 

You moan softly, swallowing around the whole of him. 

“(Y/n)—“ Jacaerys says clipped, his hips stutter, but power through. 

“I’m close—“ He says breathing heavy. “Can I…?” He holds your head against his pelvis, grinding into your throat. 

Your hands squeeze his thighs, but he knows the difference between ‘stop’ and ‘do as you please’. 

“Gods you’re perfect (Y/n).” Jacaerys groans as he gets rougher. “I love you with my whole fucking being.” 

“Not just because your throat is spasming around my cock, but because you’re you.” He manages to get out. “Let me feed this hole first, then I’ll stuff the other.”

Jacaerys growls, picking up his erratic pacing, until he thrusts once, twice, and buries himself to the root. 

Unloading rope after rope of his heavy white seed into your willing throat. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cock twitching uselessly between your legs, as your seed further sullies the pillows beneath you, landing in milky splotches across the top of Jacaerys’ foot. 

“Fuck— Seven Above…” Jacaerys groans in sympathy feeling your hot seed cool against his sweat-slick skin. 

Jacaerys catches his breath, smiling softly and looking down at you, taking in the way your lips stretch around his shaft. 

He gently pats your cheek, his thumb swiping across to smear your tears against your skin. 

“Don’t swallow yet.” He says, before starting to slowly pull out. 

He hisses, feeling you hollow your cheeks to leave him spotless. 

“Ahhh…” You hold your tongue out, letting Jacaerys see himself cooling in little white puddles on your wet muscle. 

“God you’re perfect…do you realize what you do to me (Y/n)?” He asks, leaning down to kiss you passionately, savoring the taste of himself on your tongue. 

He doesn’t have to tell, or even ask, when he pulls away you swallow the mess he’s made in your mouth. 

“Jace—“ You whine, “I need you.” 

You can feel your rim clench and relax around nothing. 

“My greedy little omega.” Jacaerys coos, lifting you up off the floor. “Cumming untouched from my cock in your throat.” 

He sets you onto the bed, knees and elbows propping you up, your belly hanging, low and heavy, full and waiting. 

Jacaerys quickly moves another soft pillow below your chest, before his calloused hand brushes down your spine, making you arch. 

Jacaerys strokes his cock to full mast once more, that tell-tale ache at the base of his cock becoming more prominent. 

“I love you (Y/n).” Jacaerys whispers. 

“I love you too, Jace.” You say breathlessly, trying to arch further to entice him. 

“Don’t keep me in suspense.” You whine. 

Jacaerys giggles, his hands kneading and spreading your cheeks. 

He lets his tongue hang out of his mouth, flat and wide, letting his saliva drip onto your hole. 

He holds his cock, smacking it against your waiting warmth. “I could never deny you.” 

His hands go to your waist as he slowly pushes in. 

His hands always teeter at the edge.

Always pressing, always almost bruising, especially now. 

His fingers twitch, he slowly exhales as his digits swipe gently across your sweat-slicked skin. 

He’s fighting against his instinct to drive into you. 

Hard and harsh. 

How he knows you like it. 

His alpha wants nothing more than to assert his claim over you, before all the courtiers, regardless of their presentation. 

Jacaerys will not suffer— rather refuses to— one more day of an alpha staring at you as if they have a chance. 

Beta or omega, it matters little and less, he stands above them, with you at his side, and he wants them to know.

“Gods….” Jacaerys hisses bottoming out inside you. 

“Fuck…“ You moan softly, body shivering in delight. 

One of his hands rubs soothing circles into your waist, while the other runs up and down the expanse of your back. 

“Jace— move please—“ You beg, trying to fight against his grip and push back quicker, harder. 

“I know, love. I know.” Jacaerys says breathlessly. 

He slowly draws his hips back, before pushing forward persistently. 

Not quickly, just insistently. 

“I don’t want to hurt our babe.” He admits, as his hips make a small clap sound as they meet yours. 

You bite your bottom lip, hands fisting the bedding.  

He’s driving you crazy. 

He’s thick and longer still, and your rim reddens as you stretch to take every single inch of him. 

He’s stretching you wide, demanding you accommodate him.

You do. 

Beautifully. 

Eagerly. 

It’s too much, and somehow not enough.

“Did he get larger?” You think to yourself feeling him breech even deeper, than last time. 

Stretch you even wider, than last time. 

Jacaerys changes his angle with each thrust. 

It feels exploratory. 

Like he’s looking for something. 

“Anh!” You gasp, tightening up around him, milking his cock. 

“There we go.” Jacaerys coos. 

His hips keep chasing that angle to torment your prostate deliciously. 

“Fuck— fuck— fuck~” You moan deliciously, your walls convulsing and clutching around Jacaerys’ girth. 

“Is this better, Your Grace?” Jacaerys whispers, smirking when you respond with a choked wet moan.

 “Was that ‘yes’?” He teases, burying himself to the hilt in your warmth, and grinding into you. 

The head of his cock rubbing in languid circles against your prostate. 

“Ngh! Angh— fuck~” You sob into the bedding, unable to do anything other than take it. 

“Jace—“ You whine. 

Jacaerys’ hand goes around your neck, helping you up. 

He holds you against his body, your neck sitting comfortably in the crux of his elbow. 

His thrusts still lazy, but precise. 

“I’ve got you.” Jacaerys whispers, his hand moving from your hip, to smack your ass. “You’re alright.” 

“Ah!” You gasp loudly, eyes fluttering, your velvet heat convulsing around him.

Jacaerys’ hand soothes the area before 

trailing up to your chest. 

“I’m going to knot you so deep our babe will have a sibling growing right beside him.” Jacaerys says softly, hand tweaking your nipple. 

He freezes, even as your cries of ecstasy echo in his ears and make his cock throb. 

His fingertips are wet. 

You’re sniffling, eyes closed, tears flowing as the pleasure is nearly overwhelming. 

Jacaerys brings his fingertips to his face. 

The scent hits him first. 

It’s you. 

Intimately. 

Without thinking he licks his fingers. 

His pupils blow wide open, as your breastmilk blooms across his tongue. 

It’s the best drink he’s ever tasted.

Better than any honeyed wine or draught made. 

He shudders through a breath, face buried in the crook of your neck. 

His hand trails down to your swollen stomach. 

His palm nestles over the curve, large and warm. 

His eyes soften as it hits him all over again. 

He’s to be a sire in a few more moons. 

“Let me take care of you.” Jacaerys whispers, waiting for you to nod then pulling out. 

Before you even realize you’re straddling him, his cock hard and throbbing against the clef of your ass. 

“Indulge me a bit?” He asks warmly, caressing your sides. “Ride me? Make a mess of me?” 

You sniffle, before biting your lips as you roll your hips. 

Jacaerys groans softly, throwing his head back. 

He smirks, feeling your cock and stomach smack against his abs and groin. 

“M’I making you feel good?” You ask debauched, bouncing up and down Jacaerys’ thick cock. 

“Gods…yes.” Jacaerys’ eyes meets yours, he smiles brightly. 

“M’not too heavy?” You ask, bucking your hips forward and quicker. 

“Of course not.” He whispers. 

Jacaerys’ hands go to your hips, forcing you to slow down. 

“Shhh, shhh.” Jacaerys coos, as you make a ragged frustrated sound. 

“You know we cannot go faster. We could hurt the babe.” He says remorsefully. 

Jacaerys leans up, kissing your cheek. 

“How does this feel?” He asks, thrusting up into you as you make your way down. 

“Ngh! Gods~” You babble, nodding desperately. 

Jacaerys watches your pecs jump with each and every needy bounce on his cock. 

“Here.” Jacaerys whispers moving your hands to his shoulders.

He lets you brace yourself before his hips jerk upward into your needy hole. 

“Fuck— right there— Jace don’t stop~” You sob, forcing yourself up and down quicker. 

Rather, as quickly as Jacaerys will allow.

Jacaerys’ mouth latches onto your nipple, he sucks harshly, tugging at the bud with his teeth, before dragging his tongue across it in a flat wide stripe. 

“Angh!” Your eyes roll back as you grind down into Jacaerys’ groin, feeling his tongue work your chest. 

“Your taste is divine, (Y/n).” Jacaerys says dazed as your breastmilk dribbles down the corner of his mouth.  

“Ngh! Fuck! Am I— ngh~ leaking?” You ask worried, feeling something beading and rolling down your chest. 

“It’s your milk.” Jacaerys says hungrily, his free hand going to your other nipple, pinching and tugging greedily. 

He groans and moans against your skin as your breastmilk continues to bead into his fingertips and dripping down his arm, warm and sticky, sweet. 

“Jace—“ You squeal, walls and rim convulsing around his cock. 

Jacaerys feels your prick throb against his abs before your seed shoots out in strands across his body. 

Jacaerys smirks as one of the ropes paints his top lip and cheek. 

“Good boy (Y/n).” Jacaerys rasps as his tongue stretches to collect your taste. 

His hands go back to your hips, as he starts to quickly but shallowly thrust up into you. 

“Gods! Fuck—“ You moan, your nails leaving indents into Jacaerys’ shoulders. 

“Jace— knot me! I can’t— anymore!” You sob, leaning forward. 

Your arms wrap around Jacaerys neck, as you bury your face in the side his neck. 

Jacaerys can hear your soft sniffles and broken moans. 

He can feel your body trembling and jolting with every push into you. 

“As you wish, my love.” Jacaerys whispers, gently helping you off of him, cooing as you whined about feeling empty.

He holds your hand as he gingerly lays you on your side. 

Jacaerys puts a pillow under your belly, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles into your hip. 

The other’s fingers slowly curl around your neck, pulling you even closer, applying gentle constant pressure. 

He kisses the nape of your neck, before thrusting all the way back in. 

He smiles against your soft, plush, flesh, leaving mottled skin as he nips softly. 

“You’re perfect.” Jacaerys whispers, each word followed by a slow deep roll of his hips. 

“My omega.” He says breathily. “So pretty when you cry on my cock.” 

He snaps his hips against yours quicker, groaning as your walls flutter around him. 

You gasp and moan whorishly, your hand going to Jacaerys’ thigh, trying to push him deeper. 

Jacaerys bites his bottom lip, cursing himself for almost losing control.

He goes back to that constant languid pace. 

“So handsome, so regal, with or without our babe growing inside you.” He whispers right against your ear, giggling softly as you whine, clenching around his girth. 

“Jace—“ You say breathlessly, “deeper…please~” 

“Where, Your Grace?” Jacaerys whispers, hand leaving your hip. 

He grabs your leg by the crook of your knee, and pulls your leg up. 

Jacaerys angles his hips as best he can, looking for that soft sweet spot that makes your cries higher and back arch deeper. 

“Fuck—!” You gasp, a wet choked moan ripping from your throat. “Ah! Nnngh! Right there-!” 

You sob, unable to speak anymore, too lost in the pleasure, in the overwhelming wholeness of him.

 “Gods…” Jacaerys’ tongue drags up your cheek right through your tear streak. 

“Just keep slicking and cuming on my cock.” Jacaerys growls. “Whose are you?”

“Yours!” You gasp loudly. 

“Whose?” He asks again. 

“Yours—“ Your voice breaks again as he wrings another orgasm from your soft body. 

“Ngh— good fucking boy…” Jacaerys drawls his hips never stopping, his knot smacking against your rim in constant thrusts. 

“Jace— I—“ You manage to get out, the overstimulation mounting. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I cannot stop.” Jacaerys says clipped, eyes screwed shut as he focuses on your wet velvet warmth clutching around his cock like a vice wrapped in satin. 

Jacaerys grits his teeth as he forces his knot in. 

A single long persistent thrust has his apex halfway in, your rim stretching even wider as he forces his way. 

With another quick snap of Jacaerys’ hip, he sinks all the way in. 

Groaning loudly in your ear as he feels your rim contract around the base of his cock. 

“Fuck!” Jacaerys growls, his fangs popping out. 

He licks at your claimed scent gland, kissing the muscle before sinking his teeth in, reinforcing his claim. 

You cry out again, your orgasm crashing into you, too soon, too quick following the last. 

Jacaerys’ knot throbs as his cock pulses painting your warmth in his essence. 

Your own cock dribbling another pathetic spurt of your watery spend. 

Jacaerys grunts and groans into the soft flesh of your neck.

His eyes screw shut, rolling to the back of his head. 

Jacaerys rides out his high and draws yours out as far as it can go, then further.

He continues to rut into you, pulling back as far as he can before pushing in again, making sure to fuck his cum deeper into you as if you’re not already expectant with his child. 

He hisses feeling his knot throb and shoot the last he has to offer. 

He pushes in all the way, holding you tightly against him, pressed impossibly close to your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

He kisses your mated scent gland, pressing his forehead against the back of your head, his breath hot and heavy ghosting against your neck. 

“Thank you, my love.” Jacaerys whispers reverently, kissing the nape of your neck. “For indulging me.”

“You—“ You gasp softly, trying to catch your breath, “treat me so well.” 

“I treat you as you deserve.” He whispers. “And I still do not think I measure up.” 

“I awake every day, asking myself how I can better deserve you.” He says lowly. 

“You already do.” You say warmly. “I love you, Jacaerys… I hope that is enough.” 

“More than you’ll ever know.” He assures you. “If anyone should be the arbiter of if I deserve you, I suppose there is no one more apt for it than you.” 

Your lips curl into a smile, your hand moves to gently cup Jacaerys’ cheek, before caressing his slick skin.

Jacaerys sighs contentedly, his hand trailing down to your belly. 

He gently caresses your bump. 

Your hand goes to rest over his. “How late do you think we are?”

“Beyond.” Jacaerys laughs. “I’m sure they waited for us.”

“Or they would’ve sent for us.” He wagers. 

“I hope Rhaenyra isn’t too upset if we did miss it.” You hope. 

“I am her heir.” Jacaerys assures you. 

“How could I forget, Prince of Dragonstone?” You tease. 

“Invoking titles while I’m still knot deep inside you?” Jacaerys deadpans as he rolls his hips forward. 

“Ngh~ gods…Jace you don’t play fair.” You whine softly. 

“I would never win against you if I did.” He says gingerly. “I would give in to your every whim and wiles.”

“You already do.” You snort. 

“I suppose so. But it is a worthy venture if it means your happiness.” He says lovingly. 

You smile to yourself, snuggling closer to him. 

You try to stifle a yawn, but it manages to eke out. 

“Rest up. When I can withdraw I’ll have the maids draw a bath for us.” Jacaerys kisses the back of your head. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, eyes already half lidded. 

“Yes.” He kisses your nape again. 

Your eyes flutter shut, as Jacaerys manages to pull the blanket back over the two of you. 

He snuggles into your back, arm around your swollen belly, before he lets himself fall asleep. 

Jacaerys wakes first, getting everything ready. 

He gently wakes you, when the bath is already prepared and warmed. 

The maids scurrying about as they finish cleaning the room, making their way out as Jacaerys helps you sit up. 

The last one bows as she shuts the door behind herself. 

“Shall we?” He asks softly, taking your hand into his. 

“Yes, we’re late enough as is.” You giggle, rocking yourself upright with Jacaerys’ help. 

He quietly helps you bathe, scrubbing every inch of you like you’re made of glass. 

With a feather light touch.

As if you could break. 

“Are your feet swelling? Does your back ache?” Jacaerys asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on your shoulder. 

“I’m a little sore between the legs…but that’s to be expected with you.” You say fondly. 

You feel Jacaerys tense.

“Did I hurt you?” Jacaerys asks, voice thick with worry. 

“Of course not.” You say leaning back into him, kissing his cheek. “I rather enjoy how you ravish me.” 

“(Y/n), my love,” Jacaerys buries his face in the crux of your neck, he drags his teeth across your claimed scent gland, “please measure your words. I’ll take you here again in the tub.” 

“We’re late enough as is.” You snort leaning back against him. 

“I know.” Jacaerys chortles. “Let’s get dressed.” 

He helps you to your feet, getting out first,  and handing you a towel. 

Jacaerys takes your hand and leads you back into your shared chambers. 

The moment the two of you are presentable you head to the small council. 

“The Princes (Y/n) Targaryen and Jacaerys Velaryon.” The Queensguard knight announces, as the doors open. 

The room is suspiciously silent as you both enter.

Rhaenyra clears her throat.

“I did not know ‘at dawn’s first light’ meant when the sun is already high in the sky.” Rhaenyra says first, her smile betrays the bite in her voice. 

“Apologies, Your Grace.” You say first, hands going to support your stomach as you give a short bow. 

Jacaerys’ hand is already close to help you if need be.

“It is not on you to apologize (Y/n),” Rhaenyra smiles, “you are expectant. 

She leans back in her seat with an eyebrow raised. “I suspect, my son and heir, Prince Jacaerys is the cause of this tardiness.”

“Your Grace.” Jacaerys bows. “We were….preoccupied.” 

“We are well aware.” Rhaenyra laughs. 

“We can smell it on the two of you.” Daemon adds. 

You open your mouth to say something before closing it. 

“Your Grace…” Jacaerys sheepishly starts. 

“No matter, sit. We’ve much to discuss.” Rhaenyra leans forward, fingers laced together. 

You and Jacaerys nod, taking your seats next to her. 

“What is our standing?” Rhaenyra prompts. 

“Your Grace,” Bartimos stands, “we’ve received the one-fourth of gold from the Iron Bank, Tyland promised us. I’ve consulted with the ledgers prior to its movements and it is fully accounted.”

“Excellent.” Rhaenyra states. “Prince (Y/n), Prince Jacaerys ensure Aegon does as he’s promised.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Jacaerys answers. 

“My Queen,” you take a deep breath as you stand, “we must inform the realm I still live and breathe.”

“We send ravens across the realm— to ally and foe alike— informing them of Otto’s plot to assassinate me.” You suggest. “We can then— gods forgive me— lay Prince Jaehaerys’ murder at his feet.” 

Silence falls across the council room. 

“It will be believable, he’s already attempted to murder one of his grandchildren, and no one will rise to defend his name.” You strategize. 

“None,” Daemon chimes in, “save for Ormund Hightower.” 

“The truth is seldom clean.” Rhaenyra says placing a hand on yours. “But the realm needs a story it will believe.” 

“The Greens will be routed.” You remind. 

“Our rightful Queen sits the throne. The few remaining Green Houses are in open rebellion to the Crown.” Corlys interjects. “If we wish to turn them to our cause, or bring them to heel we need offer mercy as was discussed.”

“We may send ravens with the news of Prince (Y/n)’s survival. Green Lords may be spared if they lay down their weapons, swear fealty, and provide a ward.” Simon suggests. 

“Or we meet them with fire and blood.” Jacaerys says strongly, scent nearly flaring with age old wroth. “The Baratheons have a debt to pay for their ilk attempting to kill my mate.”

“And they will my love.” You whisper, placing a hand on his thigh. 

Jacaerys softens, placing his hand on yours. 

“What threats to my reign remain?” Rhaenyra asks. 

“The Lannister-Hightower host remains.” Simon says. 

“Prince Aemond Targaryen terrorizes the Riverlands.” Mysaria’s voice cut through. “He rains fire down on your citizens, on the castles and keeps that raise your standard quarter, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw clenches. “Yes, I would rather we be rid of the One-Eyed Prince sooner than late.”

“Whether he sits in chains, takes the black, or falls in battle I care not.” She declares. 

“Your Grace, I believe it would be in our best interest that Aemond be killed.” You say strongly. 

She tilts her head, eyes widening in surprise. 

“I would not argue against your decision, the injury was done to you, to your sweet son, to my sweet nephew.” You swallow. “But Vhagar cannot remain under his control.” 

Jacaerys’ hand goes to your knee. “Prince (Y/n) is right.” 

“The one-eyed Prince cannot be trusted. He cannot be brought to heel. He cannot be turned to our cause.” Corlys adds. 

“Nor can he die by any of our hands.” Rhaenyra gestures to Daemon, Jacaerys, and you. “We will not stain ourselves with kinslaying as he has already done.” 

“If I may, Your Grace?” Lorent chimes in. 

Rhaenyra looks toward him, nodding. 

“I could do the deed if he were brought to court.” He suggests. “Bring him the Queen’s justice for his crimes.”

Rhaenyra mulls it over, deep in thought. 

“I believe our best course of action is to confront Aemond in the Riverlands.” She says lowly. 

“He cannot be allowed to continue to put my people to the torch.” She commands. 

“Let us begin, then.” She says regally. “Grand Maester Gerardys, send ravens to every keep, castle, and holding.” 

“At once, Your Grace.” He bows. 

“Our message is clear.” She states. “Prince (Y/n) Targaryen lives. He is healthy and hale, mated to my son and heir, Prince of Dragonstone, Jacaerys Velaryon. Prince (Y/n) will receive sworn envoys, should any lord require proof of his survival.” She pauses. 

“Is that alright?” She asks you.

You nod immediately. “Allow me to sign the parchment before it goes out.” 

She smiles. “Of course.”

She turns back to Gerardys. “Ser Otto Hightower has been put to death for crimes against the crown, for attempting to assassinate Prince (Y/n). Additionally, correspondence bearing Otto Hightower’s hand implicates him in the murder of my sweet nephew Jaehaerys Targaryen. To the remaining Green faction: lay down your weapons, come to the Red Keep with sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, or kin suitable to serve as wards, reaffirm your loyalty to me, to my crown, to my heir and his mate, leave a ward, and you will be spared.” 

“I shall send it at once, Your Grace.” Gerardys bows. 

“My Queen, if I may?” Jacaerys asks. 

Rhaenyra looks to him, nodding. 

“Grand Maester Gerardys, in addition to Queen Rhaenyra’s missive, send an extra raven north.” Jacaerys requests. 

“Of course, My Prince. What shall I send?” 

“Send the following: Lord Cregan Stark, you have surely by now seen Her Grace’s message. I request you send out ravens as well, telling of your time with myself and Prince (Y/n).”  

“I shall send it at once, my Prince.” Gerardys bows. 

“You have my leave to do so.” Rhaenyra says watching as he stands.

Gerardys bows before taking his leave. 

The sound of the doors closing echo in the chamber. 

“Do we have more to discuss?” Rhaenyra asks. 

Bartimos clears his throat. “I would request a second and third count of the gold, Your Grace, for proper verification.”

“You will have Prince Jacaerys and Prince (Y/n) to oversee it.” She offers immediately. 

“At once, My Queen.” You and Jacaerys answer. 

“We await further naval commands, Your Grace.” Corlys speaks. “The blockade holds. Hightower-Lannister ships are being sunk in Blackwater Bay, but we mustn’t forget the Triarchy.” 

“We need not worry about the Triarchy.” You wave him off. “They’re too broken to muster men and ships.” 

Corlys tilts his head. “Too broken, My Prince?”

Your eyes widen. 

You sit up straighter. 

“We’ve more than enough on our plates.” Rhaenyra interrupts seeing the shift in demeanor. “Let us focus on Westeros before we turn elsewhere.” 

“Further more, the Red Kraken has sent ships. Once they arrive we assert our control over the seas.” Rhaenyra adds. 

“I have my birds watching the Reach, roads, and trade routes, My Queen.” Mysaria bows. “Should anything that requires your attention happen, you will hear from me at once.” 

Rhaenyra nods. “Thank you, Lady Mysaria.” 

Rhaenyra stands up, prompting her council to join her. 

“I am Queen.” She says strongly. 

There’s no undeserved smugness in her voice. 

There’s no entitlement. 

Her voice carries a heavy weight of responsibility. 

“We hold King’s Landing.” She continues. “The war is not won. Not yet.” 

Her gaze meets Daemon’s, Jacaerys’, yours, everyone else’s. 

“But it is almost over, and we stand closer to victory now, than a moon ago.” She concludes. 

“Ensure you’re rested. Ensure you’re fed. Ensure you do your duty as required and requested by the crown.” She says regally. “I will be holding open court with Daemon, should anyone have need of us.” 

“Your Grace.” You bow your head. 

Everyone follows. 

You all look up as she exits the council room, Daemon close as if an extension of her shadow.  

As you all trickle out you can almost feel the change in the air. 

That same day, hours later you signed each parchment Gerardys put before you. 

You watch, resolve stronger than ever, as those black feathery wings take flight, spreading through every single corner of the realm. 

The scent of death is heavy.

The smoke and ash in the air even heavier. 

The sound of Aegon II’s army celebrating drowns out the last death rattles from the routed Black host. 

Daeron dismounts Tessarion. 

He holds his hands up.

His throat works as he notices the slight tremor. 

He squeezes his hands into fists.

“Prince Daeron.” Ormund calls out proudly. 

“Y-yes, Uncle?” He responds.

“We’ve won.” Ormund says proudly. “Thanks to you.” 

“Thanks to Tessarion you mean.” Daeron whispers. 

“To you. Her rider.” Ormund presses. “Kneel, Prince Daeron.” 

Daeron slowly drops to one knee. 

Ormund draws his sword. 

He knights the young prince. 

“Daeron the Daring.” Ormund christens.“Rise. You’ve—“

“M’lord!” A knight interrupts. 

Ormund’s jaw tightens. “Yes?” 

“Ravens.” The knight says. “From King’s Landing and The North.” 

Ormund’s eyes widen.

He reads the message from King’s Landing aloud. 

Daeron’s eyes widen. 

His mouth dries. 

“Lies! Treasonous lies! The Whore of Dragonstone uses our blood— your brother, to justify the theft of your brother’s throne!” Ormund nearly crumples the missive.

He reads out the message from the north. 

“He’s alive?” Daeron asks. 

“It’s lies.” Ormund snaps. 

“The Starks are known for their honor.” Daeron says. “They would not risk it, for a blatant lie.” 

Ormund swings around. 

He stomps closer to Daeron. 

Ormund’s scent sharpens.

The pressure in the air gets heavier. 

Daeron almost lets himself shrink. 

He stands his ground, meeting his uncle eye to eye. 

“It is a lie.” He stresses. “Do not let that whore’s lies corrupt your mind.” 

Daeron grits his teeth. 

“We have— not once— fought for Prince (Y/n).” Daeron managed to get out. “We have slain, slaughtered, and sacked… I have burned for our king, for my nephew Prince Jaehaerys… I have tried for my brother… but he has never been a priority…”

Daeron snatches the parchment out of ormund’s hand. 

His eyes scan over the page, seeming to burn every word into his mind. 

“Is this why?!” He growls. “Because my grandsire was so depraved he tainted himself with kinslaying?!” 

Ormund’s hand shoots out. 

Daeron’s head jerks to the side.

Claws drag against the ground, a low growl getting louder. 

Ormund tenses keeping himself planted into position despite everything in him screaming to cower away. 

“You will remember who I am, nephew.” Ormund grits out. 

Daeron’s hand goes to his reddening cheek. “And you will remember who I am. You, Lord Hightower, are speaking to Prince Daeron Targaryen.” 

“As you wish.” Ormund snarls. “Ensure you’re rested. Ensure Tessarion is battle ready. We march on Tumbleton in the morrow.” 

Ormund turns leaving before Daeron can truly respond. 

Daeron’s lips tremble. 

He turns abruptly, walking towards Tessarion. 

*”Be calm Tessarion…” Daeron whispers. *”My uncle is…compromised… I am…”

Daeron huffs. *”I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not truly. I will do my part as is demanded of me.” 

Daeron retires to his tent, listening to Tessarion’s soft cooing as he falls asleep.

In the weeks after Grand Maester Gerardys put quill to ink and parchment,

In the weeks after you signed each and every single one of them as your queen commanded,

In the days after Cregan Stark had read the parchment and dispatched ravens of his own,

The first responses started flying in. 

“None from Oldtown nor Casterly Rock.” Gerardys reports. “But that was to be expected.”

“Indeed.” Rhaenyra says. “We need to rout the Hightower host in the Reach.” 

“Aye.” Mysaria agrees. “The Battle of the Honeywine should have gone to our favor… yet the Blue Queen and Prince Daeron have nearly crippled our foothold.”

“Prince Daemon has taken Caraxes back to the fighting. He will regroup our host in the Reach— or what remains of it— ensure they can continue onward, then resume his journey to the Riverlands where he will hunt Aemond down.” Rhaenyra says. 

“Has he sent a raven?” Mysaria asks.

“He has.” Rhaenyra looks to the table. “The parchment said to trust his judgment, and I believe that is… to our benefit.” 

Mysaria nods.

Gerardys clears his throat softly. “Lady Dorea Tyrell is due any day now.”

“I will admit, I was rather shocked to see her response.” Rhaenyra says with a small smirk. “How… convenient it is that her memory of King Viserys’ chosen heir, returns once she holds the throne.”  

“I agree, Your Grace.” Mysaria slyly says. “The rats play when the cat is gone.” 

Rhaenyra’s lip twitches. “They certainly do.”

“She is due to arrive soon.” Gerardys answers. “Any time today, Your Grace.”

A knock at the council doors draws their attention. 

“Your Grace, Grand Maester, Lady Mysaria.” The knight of the Queensguard greets. “The Lady Dorea Tyrell has arrived.”

“Ah.” Gerardys hums. 

“Well then.” Rhaenyra stands. “Mysaria, keep an eye on things for now, Grand Maester Gerardys, with me.” 

Rhaenyra’s boots click against the stone of the Red Keep.

Each step that echoes seems louder than the last. 

Each step reminds her she’s home. 

As Viserys’ named heir. 

As the rightful Queen. 

“Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen.” The guards announce. “Grand Maester Gerardys.” 

Both of them walk through, heading for the throne. 

Gerardys stops at the base of the seat, holding out a hand to Rhaenyra. 

She does not take it as she ascends the throne once more. 

Rhaenyra crosses her leg over the other, leaning back, steeling her face for what’s to come. 

“Bring her forth.” Rhaenyra projects.

“Lady Dorea Tyrell.” The guards announce. 

She walks in, her babe in her arms. 

The green and gold of her dress glint. 

Tyrell silk and colors.

Yet, it still reminds her of the enemy.

Rhaenyra purses her lips at the color combination. 

Her eyes go down to the sleeping bundle in Dorea’s arms.

Rhaenyra’s eyes go back up, meeting the Lady’s.

“Your Grace.” Dorea curtseys. 

“My Lady.” Rhaenyra answers. 

“Pray tell, to what do I owe the pleasure of your House’s memory returning?” Rhaenyra asks. “I thought neutrality was Highgarden’s official stance.”

Dorea’s face tightens. “It was, Your Grace.”

“Then?” Rhaenyra leans forward. “Please, do enlighten me.”

Dorea’s jaw clenches. “As you very well know, Your Grace, the Reach is torn down the middle.”

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow. 

“Half of my vassals have declared for Prince Aegon, the other half for you.” Dorea adds. 

“And so you chose cowardice?” Rhaenyra asks. 

“I chose what I thought would best preserve my son.” Dorea snaps. 

Rhaenyra makes a startled sound half gasp, half amusement. 

The babe gurgles, fussing a bit, before settling once he catches his mother’s scent. 

Dorea’s eyes soften as she holds him higher. 

“This is Lord Lyonel Tyrell.” She says gingerly. “He is to be lord of Highgarden when he comes of age.” 

Her gaze hardens as she looks back to Rhaenyra. 

“I am not so blind I do not know what is spoken about regarding me, regarding him.” She states. “A lordling still wet-nursing, a Lady acting as regent.”

Rhaenyra softens a touch. 

“Men often think women weak or unable to rule.” Rhaenyra offers. “Some even go as far as to take what is hers by birthright.” 

“As you know, Your Grace.” Dorea agrees. 

“I understand how neutrality made my House, his House, look… I make no apologies for my decision.” She asserts.

“Well, at least you’ve no delusions regarding it.” Rhaenyra murmurs. “And so now you’ve come to declare for me? For the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms?” 

“Yes.” Dorea says plainly. 

“I have watched the board change time and time again.” She continues. “With the latest raven you sent, I would be remiss— foolish even— to continue conducting my House in the manner that I have.” 

“And I take it you won’t simply honor the vow your House made to King Viserys and myself?”

“I will honor it.” Dorea states. “In exchange for a request, Your Grace.” 

Rhaenyra huffs. “Very well. You’ve traveled far, I will— at the very least—indulge hearing it.”

“I require a dragon.” Dorea’s voice is small.

No longer like a Lady.

Like a mother begging for a shield between her, her son, and the countless blades pointed at them. 

“I—I would feel more assured declaring for you, Your Grace, knowing any of my vassal houses would face dragonfire should they attempt to harm me or my son for this.” She adds. 

Rhaenyra’s face softens a bit further. 

She thinks of Joffrey. 

Of Visenya.  

A small smile tugs at her lips. 

“You will have one.” Rhaenyra answers. 

“You will honor your vow.” Rhaenyra stands. 

“You will send ravens to your vassal houses and inform them they are in open rebellion against the crown, and against House Tyrell.” She descends from the throne. 

“And you will pay a sum of gold for the  delay in honoring the commitments of your house and you will provide a ward.” Rhaenyra’s eyes drop down to Lyonel. 

“I have no interest in taking a babe from his mother.” Rhaenyra’s eyes meet Dorea’s again. “A cousin, an uncle, a niece, or a nephew, will be sent as proof of Highgarden’s fealty.”

Dorea nearly lets out a sigh of relief. 

She clears her throat recovering quickly. 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Dorea curtseys once more. “You honor me.” 

“I am Queen. It is upon me to dispense mercy when advisable.” Rhaenyra answers. 

“If I may, Your Grace?” Dorea starts. 

“Careful.” Rhaenyra says. 

“I thought I might see Prince (Y/n).” She responds. 

“As you did not think to include his name in your response, he is not presently prepared to receive you.” Rhaenyra looks her over. “He can be made ready, on the morrow, if you’d like.”

“I would like that.” Dorea assures her. 

“Very well then.” Rhaenyra states. “You may return to your chambers.”

Dorea bows, a small smile quickly flashing before she exits. 

“A word my Lady?” Rhaenyra calls. 

Dorea turns back to face her. 

“When you begin your return to Highgarden, please inform me.” She requests. “I will send Lady Nettles and her dragon Sheepstealer to guard your keep.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Dorea says as the door closes behind her. 

“Your Grace?” Gerardys says softly. 

“Yes, Grand Maester?” She answers. 

“We’ve received a response from House Frey.” Gerardys says measured. 

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow. “And?” 

“It is… rather odd, Your Grace.” Gerardys whispers handing over the parchment. 

“Your Grace, House Frey has not forgotten its vow. Nor has it forgotten the bargain struck with the Prince of Dragonstone Jacaerys Velaryon. The Twins are yours, House Frey is yours, we await the protection and boon the Prince has promised.” 

Rhaenyra makes a face. 

“Jacaerys struck a bargain?” She asks. 

“So it would seem, Your Grace.” Gerardys responds. 

“Bring him.” Rhaenyra requests putting the parchment down. 

“At once, Your Grace.” Gerardys bows before leaving to do as she asked. 

Rhaenyra paces, taking a sip of wine from her goblet and running her hand through her hair. 

The candle flickers, burning lower with each passing breath. 

The door creaks as it swings open. 

“Mother.” Jacaerys greets. 

“Your Grace.” Gerardys bows. 

“Jacaerys.” Rhaenyra says measured. 

Jacaerys stiffens. “Have… have I done something?” 

Rhaenyra takes a small breath. 

Even now when her son is man-grown, she still sees the small boy she raised.

The child who clung to her and hid behind her skirts. 

She closes her eyes.

“It would seem so.” She answers. “What did you promise the Freys?” 

Jacaerys’ mouth drops open. 

He stutters, closing his mouth.

His jaw tightens. 

“I— I meant to inform you sooner.” He sheepishly admits. 

“And the moment has come and gone, hasn’t it?” Rhaenyra laughs. “Well?” 

Jacaerys stands straighter. 

“In exchange for the Freys opening the Twins and bending the knee… I promised my protection…”

“That is… not terrible.” Rhaenyra starts. 

“And Syndorax’s protection…” Jacaerys winces. “And Harrenhal…”

Rhaenyra’s hands drop to her side. 

“You promised them Harrenhal?” Rhaenyra asks quietly. “You promised them your mate’s dragon?”

“I did.” Jacaerys responds looking away. 

Rhaenyra sighs, pressing her hands against her table as she steadies herself. 

“I am… impressed.” Rhaenyra says. “Begrudgingly.”

Jacaerys’ posture relaxes. 

“It shows tact… instinct… true makings of a king.” Rhaenyra sighs. “However, Harrenhal was not yours to grant.”

Jacaerys looks to the ground. “I am aware.” 

“Then why offer it?” Rhaenyra counters. 

“I assumed we would take it from Larys Strong for his treason.” Jacaerys argues. 

“You were not wrong in that assumption.” Rhaenyra states. “But it was not yours to give them. It was the crown’s. I could have given it to another House. To one of the dragonseeds. Instead, I must now honor the agreement you’ve made.” 

“And Prince (Y/n)’s dragon was not yours to promise them.” She adds. 

Jacaerys’ lips purse. 

“He is your mate. Your beloved. He carries your child.” Rhaenyra starts. “Do you expect him to fly to the Twins? Do you want him to be far from your reach?”

“No!” Jacaerys snaps. 

Jacaerys looks away. “I apologize.” 

Rhaenyra steps closer.

Her hand goes to Jacaerys’ cheek. 

“You’re learning.” Rhaenyra whispers. “I see the King you could be.” 

Jacaerys’ eyes meet hers.

“I will honor this agreement, but for the future, you will include your Queen in the discussions.” She says softly. 

“I will.” Jacaerys’ eyes glisten. “I will include my mother when I bargain with her Realm.”

“And you will ask Prince (Y/n) if he will honor the agreement.” Rhaenyra adds. 

Jacaerys looks to her, the fear evident and stretched across his features. 

“He is your mate. Your better half. He is not coin to spend at your leisure.”

Jacaerys’ jaw tightens. “That is not what I intended.” 

“No, I know it isn’t. That is how it appears, however.” Rhaenyra smiles softly. 

“No, mother.” Jacaerys’ lip trembles before he stills it. “I mean that where Prince (Y/n) goes, I follow. Where Syndorax goes, Vermax follows. I named Syndorax, but I was a part of that… even if I did not name myself.” 

Rhaenyra softens even further. “That is better. Not by much. But it is.”

“But, as you are my heir, I cannot allow it.” She adds. “As (Y/n) carries my grandchild, I wish to not allow it, but he will have to decide.” 

Jacaerys’ hands clench into fists. 

“I wish to forbid it as well.” He grits out. 

He blows a stream of air, as though decompressing. “Though… I suppose he’s suffered enough alphas lording over him, hasn’t he?” 

Rhaenyra takes Jacaerys’ hands. “He has.” 

Jacaerys nods. “Well then… I should retire.”

“Yes, you should.” Rhaenyra smiles. “And I’ll have your funeral pyre prepared for when you inform (Y/n).” 

Jacaerys hangs his head. “I do not think he’ll kill me.” 

“Oh he won’t have to.” Rhaenyra teases. “He’ll make you sleep in another room, and you’ll do the rest.” 

Jacaerys pales. “He wouldn’t.” 

Rhaenyra snickers. “Well, we shall see.”

Jacaerys tersely nods. “Your Grace.” 

He bows, before taking his leave.

Jacaerys quietly enters your shared chambers.

He catches you staring out the windows looking out over the city. 

He silently walks up behind you.

His hands go around your waist.

One resting over the curve of your stomach, the other gently resting at your hip. 

Jacaerys kisses your cheek. 

“It is ours.” He whispers.

“It is your mother’s.” You correct with a smile. “Then it will be yours.”

“Ours.” Jacaerys counters. “It will be ours.”

“You’re much too generous.” You kiss his cheek. 

“No such thing when it comes to you, my beloved.” Jacaerys rubs his cheek against yours. 

You purr under his affection. “Is something troubling you, my prince?”

Jacaerys tenses. “… No.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It is unbecoming for a prince to lie.” 

Jacaerys’ arms tighten a fraction. 

He buries his face in your neck. 

“…I may have promised a Lord something that was not mine to promise.” Jacaerys murmurs.

“Oh?” Your hand goes to his curls, gently playing with his hair. “And what was promised?”

“To bend the Freys to our cause… to my mother’s cause…” Jacaerys continues. 

“That isn’t exactly trouble, Jace.” You giggle. 

“I promised them protection.” He adds. 

You make a face. “The Twins? In the Riverlands?” 

Jacaerys’ throat feels dry. 

He can only muster a nod. 

“I suppose they do need… a deterrent of sorts… given Vhagar terrorizes the skies.” You shrug. 

“Exactly.” Jacaerys clings to your words. 

“And what exactly was promised?” You probe. “‘Protection’ can mean a myriad of things. Swords. A host…. Dragons.” 

You feel Jacaerys tense again. 

“You promised them a dragon?” You ask measured. 

“Yes.” Jacaerys softly admits. “And Harrenhal.” 

Your eyes widen. “And Harrenhal.” 

Your mouth drops open, before shutting closed. 

“That was… not a deal I would make.” You gently speak. “However I trust your kingly foresight.” 

“It was not just any dragon.” Jacaerys adds. 

You don’t respond. 

“It was Syndorax.” He finishes. 

You slowly turn around, arms going around Jacaerys, as he tries his best to keep his face buried in your neck. 

“You promised them Syndorax?” You ask again, words stuttering as though you might laugh. 

“Yes.” Jacaerys admits, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Jace, have you seen the Twins?” You ask. “It is not Dragonstone. It is not the Red Keep.”

Jacaerys’ eyes meet yours, despite the gleam and red rims. 

He nods. 

“It is the Riverlands.” You shudder. “Damp… not exactly hospitable for myself, much less you.” 

Jacaerys’ face cracks, he chortles before clearing his throat. “I beg your pardon?” 

“I am sure House Frey tends to their holding with the respect and frequency one would expect… however, Jacaerys we are rather well acclimated to a very specific form of living. One I do not trust them to provide for the duration of our stay.”

Jacaerys’ eyes widen. “Our stay?” 

You scoff. “Yes. Our. Or did you expect me, swollen and all, to travel by my lonesome and protect the Twins?” 

Jacaerys looks down, his hand goes to yours, his thumb gingerly brushes against your knuckles. “No. I did not. We would have gone together.”

“We would have.” You agree. “However, please do not make it a habit to offer my dragon without having so much as a conversation with me regarding it.”

Jacaerys’ eyes meet yours again. “I will not make it a habit, and I will always ask, or consult prior.” 

“Thank you.” You press your lips against his.

“I did not mean…” Jacaerys trails off.

“I know.” You say gently. “You did not intend to offer me as tribute or spend me as a resource… even so, please ask me Jacaerys.” 

“I will.” Jacaerys kisses you. “I promise I will.”

Your lips curl into a smirk.

Your hands fall to your side. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready.” 

Jacaerys’ brow furrows. “For?” 

“For my flight.” You say softly. “I am expected at the Twins. Or rather have been since gods know when.”

“You cannot—“

“Cannot what?” You ask earnestly. “You are heir to the Iron Throne, you cannot go.  My name was promised, my dragon was promised, and we must keep our promises.” 

“You are right.” Jacaerys’ teeth grind. “I will not be another to command you to do as I please.”

Jacaerys drops to one knee. “So I will beg.” 

He takes both your hands, pressing them against his forehead. “Please. Please do not go yourself. Send another in your name, such that the promise is fulfilled without further intervention on your end.” 

You smile softly, hand going to cup Jacaerys cheek. “And who would I send instead?”

“Meleys is one of our largest dragons, Princess Rhaenys and her dragon are guarding Dragonstone, but they could be brought here to King’s Landing at a moment’s notice if needed.” You remind. 

Jacaerys’ jaw tightens. 

“Lady Nettles and Sheepstealer have been promised to Highgarden.” You add. “Daemon and Caraxes have been dispatched to the Reach and the Riverlands, Ulf and Addam are needed here in King’s Landing. And Illyn—“

Jacaerys’ eyes widen. “Send Illyn.” 

You tilt your head. “Illyn?” 

Jacaerys nods eagerly. “Yes. You can send Illyn and Grey Ghost.” 

“That would not fulfill the promise.” You argue. 

“The nature of the promise has changed.” Jacaerys counters. “When that promise was made, you were not expectant.” 

You scoff. “I most likely was, only I hadn’t realized it or I was hiding it.”

“And now you are not hiding it.” Jacaerys reminds.

You cross your arms. “And they’ll accept that?” 

Jacaerys’ eyes darken. “They are already getting Harrenhal. They shall receive Ser Illyn Waters and Grey Ghost with the utmost grace, or they will in turn learn the same lesson Harren the Black did when he thought to trifle with King Aegon I.”

“Illyn is sworn to me.” You warn. “If anyone shall remind them why Harrenhal has scorch marks, it will be me.”

Jacaerys’ lips curl into a smile. “I do love when you speak like that.” 

You huff, hand going down to the swell of your abdomen. “I mislike this.”

“What?” Jacaerys asks softly. 

“Appearing weak.” You quickly answer. 

Jacaerys’ face softens. 

“Or feeble… I mislike feeling as though I suddenly cannot act as I have been.” You admit. 

“I cannot claim to understand.” Jacaerys offers. “I will not insult you by pretending I do.” 

You laugh softly. “Thank you.” 

“But I have never thought of you as weak.” Jacaerys says gently. “Or feeble. I’ve always thought you to be stronger than most. Especially now when our child grows larger by the day inside you.” 

You sniffle softly. “It is a paltry excuse. They would say it is unbecoming to hide behind a babe.”

“Not to me.” Jacaerys retorts. “Never to me. It is a high honor.” 

You laugh wetly. 

You shake your head, sniffling. “I shall send Illyn on the morrow, such that the bargain will be fulfilled.”

Jacaerys takes a deep breath, sighing like he can finally breathe again. 

“Thank you.” Jacaerys kisses the back of your hand. “Thank you, (Y/n).” 

“Do not thank me.” You cup Jacaerys’ face again. “You’ll be sleeping in the guest chambers until further notice.”

Jacaerys pales immediately. “My love— I— please— you— you mustn’t—“

You laugh, laughing even harder when Jacaerys turns bright red. 

“‘Twas only a jest.” You say. “I do sleep better with you by my side.”

“Oh thank the Seven.” Jacaerys murmurs. “As do I.” 

You stretch your arms as you yawn. 

“Am I boring you?” Jacaerys asks. 

“Perhaps.” You tease. 

“Come on then. To bed.” Jacaerys whispers, helping you get into bed. 

Without fanfare he slides in next to you, arm draped over your stomach, fingers laced together. 

The moment your breathing evens out, Jacaerys follows suit. 

“Lord Forrest Frey, the delay in fulfilling Prince Jacaerys’ promise was not born of forgetfulness. As I am expectant and swelling larger by the day, I cannot presently fly to the Twins myself. 

That does not mean I have forgotten the word of my house or husband. In my name, under my banner, I send Ser Illyn Waters, and his dragon Grey Ghost. I ask that you gracefully accept him, and welcome him. 

Harrenhal is yours, and you now have a dragon en-route. Do not forget the war is not yet won.

—Prince (Y/n) Targaryen.”

The maester finishes reading the missive. 

“Bah.” Forrest snaps.

He snatches and almost crumples the parchment. 

Sabitha’s hand clasps over his. 

Forrest meets his wife’s eyes. “Does he think we will just accept a lesser dragon?”

“The board has changed.” Sabitha answers. “Prince (Y/n) is expectant, and mated to Queen Rhaenyra’s heir. They will not risk him.”

“He is a dragonrider.” Forrest asserts. 

“He is an expectant omega.” Sabitha adds. “He is sending someone he trusts.”

“Listen, Lord Husband.” She takes his hands. “The Crown has filled both of your hands. Do not make the mistake of acting as though you’ve been cheated.”

Forrest’s eyes meet Sabitha’s.

He takes a deep breath. “I suppose you may be right.”

“Thank you—“

Sabitha’s sentence is cut off by a dragon’s roar.

Both of their eyes widen.

“Well.” Forrest murmurs. 

Sabitha and her lord husband immediately make way to their courtyard. 

As they look to the sky a pale-grey dragon beats his wings, flying lower and lower. 

*”Down, Grey Ghost.” Illyn commands. 

The dragon trills, neck spines rippling as he finally touches down. 

Sabitha and Forrest draw closer. 

“My lord, my lady.” Illyn bows. 

“Ser Illyn.” Sabitha greets. 

“I take it you’ve come under Prince (Y/n)’s orders?” Forrest asks. 

“That… that is what my prince’s missive said, is it not?” Illyn counters. 

Forrest’s eyes widen, before he can answer—

“Yes.” Sabitha cuts in. “It is. We are most grateful Prince (Y/n) has upheld his promise.”

“It gladdens me to hear that.” Illyn says. 

“Congratulations to the Prince of Dragonstone Jacaerys Velaryon, and Prince (Y/n) Targaryen. We pray for their health and the health of their babe.” Sabitha adds. 

“As one should, thank you my lady.” Illyn bows. “I’ll be sure to convey that to my prince.” 

“Thank you.” Sabitha smiles. 

“I will say,” Forrest clears his throat, “it was a tad insulting to have received that raven from Her Grace.”

Sabitha turns to Forrest. 

Illyn raises an eyebrow. 

“We’ve been loyal to her cause before she took King’s Landing.” Forrest continues. “It was unexpected.”

“Forgive my lord husband.” Sabitha cuts in. “He is more offended with his own actions, that his loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra was not apparent enough.” 

Illyn slowly nods. “Yes well, as I understand it Prince Jacaerys struck this accord before the Battle of the Gullet. He was injured gravely and fell into a deep slumber after.” 

Forrest pales. 

Sabitha’s smile tightens. 

“As such, please do not assume inaction on the part of Prince Jacaerys, Prince (Y/n), or Her Grace. In wartime, my lord, even solemn promises may be delayed by battle, wounds, and mourning.” Illyn concludes. 

Forrest’s jaw tightens, he hums in agreement.

“Prince Jacaerys’ accord has been fulfilled now with my presence here.” Illyn says. “Open the Twins.” 

“At once.” Forrest says without delay.

Illyn follows, watching as the men and servants of house Frey open the crossing. 

“I will say, Ser Illyn, we have not received any host as of late.” Sabitha reveals. 

“Prince Jacaerys and Prince (Y/n) secured the North well before King’s Landing fell and our Queen sat her throne.” Illyn answers. “They are nearer than you think.”

A knight from the Twins comes running, nearly winded. 

“M’lord.” He gasps. “A host is approaching.” 

“What?” Forrest looks to Illyn, before back to the main road. 

Their marching is heard well before the first of them are seen. 

“Near two thousand men.” Illyn reveals. “I sighted them on my descent.”  “Lord Forrest Frey?” One of them call out.  “Yes, and you are?” Forrest answers.  “I am Roderick Dustin, Lord of Barrowtown.” He answers.  Two thousand men.  Each older.  Experienced.  Wearing ragged animal skins.  Aged chainmail. Their horses just as weathered.  “We are the Greybeards Lord Stark sent.” He announces proudly. “We are the Winter Wolves.”  “We welcome you.” Forrest says. “Should you need any supplies, let us know.”  “It is an ancient custom for older men, such as us, to leave home in the winter and preserve supplies for our younger kin.” Roderick responds. “We will not take more than is necessary.”  “My Lord, the Twins are open. Thanks in part to the Freys and Prince Jacaerys and Prince (Y/n).” Illyn bows.  “Come then.” Roderick starts marching towards the crossing. “We have come to die for the Dragon Queen!”  Roderick’s war cry echoes out, rallying his host. 

Theo stood perfectly still and waited for you to fix his tie. For some reason, Theo asked you to fix his tie today, instead of doing it himself. He watched you in the mirror, not at himself.

There was something about seeing you adjust his uniform, the same way you had for years, that made his chest tighten. You were always so careful with it, like it mattered to fix him just right.

And then there was how easily you could walk into a room full of strangers and come out with three new friends by dinner’s end, effortless charm that Theo both admired and relied on without shame. He doesn’t bother going to make friends himself, if you gained yourself a new friend, they are now his too, automatically.

“Have you studied the notes?” you asked. And Theo blinked, just once before remembering.

Right…Potion quizzes.

Of course. He'd studied all afternoon, trying to memorize every potion name, its purpose and other ingredients. But he hadn’t mentioned it. Why would he? Boasting wasn't his style.

He turned slightly toward you, hands tucked into his pockets now that the tie was fixed and perfect.

"I... yeah." he admitted quietly after a beat too long, a subtle sign of nervousness only you could read so easily. "I went over them last night, just in case."

His blue eyes flickered to yours briefly before dropping again, not out of shame or fear exactly… but because impressing you mattered more than anything and failing wasn't an option for someone like him who rarely tried at all outside schoolwork or dueling practice. And you, only hum in return, a way of showing your approval.

Well, he knew that small “Mhmm” of yours, low and warm like a contented sigh and it settled something in him. Approval from you wasn't given lightly. If Theo had studied hard enough to satisfy that quiet nod of yours? Then yes…he'd done good. It’s not anyone's fault your type is a nerdy dude with pretty eyes. He must keep up.

The halls were already filling with students chatting excitedly or nervously about the quiz, a mix of nervous energy buzzing through Slytherin green robes but Theo walked through it all quietly focused. He can’t afford to panic. Right now? He is thinking only about acing this damn test so you could be proud later without even having to say it.

By noon, students had gathered in the dining hall. Theo sat at the long Slytherin table like a shadow given form, still, silent, and utterly unapproachable. The seat beside him? Empty. Not because no one dared sit there, but because he’d claimed it. Always had. For years now, ever since you two share dorms and started choosing each other everywhere by habit. He didn’t speak. Didn’t glare harshly either, just that cool stare as if silently saying That seat is taken.

And everyone knew who for.

It wasn't possessive in an ugly way, it was routine by now, a quiet ritual between you both where he secured your place without being asked while pretending he wasn't doing anything special at all.

“How was it? Pretty easy right?” You entered the dining hall and immediately knew where to go…sitting down next to Theo and that’s the first thing that came to your mind. Just checking in post-quiz.

Theo looked up the moment you approached.

A flicker of concern passed through him before he masked it behind a nonchalant expression.

"It was... manageable" Theo said carefully, lying because if he admitted how hard those final questions were? You might worry you'd failed them all and been doomed since question five. Instead, he reached for one of the untouched bread rolls on his plate and pushed it toward you without comment. You just hummed and muttered something about being starving.

And Theo just watched you dive into the food with quiet satisfaction.

He hadn't missed that you'd skipped breakfast again. You always did it before tests, claiming a full stomach muddled your focus. It drives him mad, knowing you probably pushed through the hunger to do the test with your best performance.

Now here you were: finally eating like a normal person after hours of starvation during exams. He could practically see the tension in your shoulders melt away as you tore into the bread roll and reached for soup from one of the steaming bowls.

Without saying anything, Theo nudged his own shredded roast chicken closer to your side of the table, the plumpest piece and kept eating slowly beside you, occasionally sipping water but mostly just... observing how quickly hunger had taken over you.

With years of being next to you, Theo has noticed the pattern by now.

The way you ate, happy, relaxed bites, not rushed or nervous, meant one thing: you thought you’d done well. That quiet satisfaction in your chewing was all the confirmation he needed. However, if you didn’t do well on the test, you would throw a half-ass excuse to return to your shared dorm and sleep off.

Theo kept refilling your plate quietly. Another slice of roast beef here. A spoonful of mashed potatoes there. Then a buttered roll, placed gently on your plate while you’re busy yapping his ears off, like an offering.

“Is that Anastasia?” you smirked, and looked at the girl approaching their table side. Theo followed your gaze and immediately stiffened, just slightly.

Anastasia was walking toward them, her Slytherin robes perfectly pressed, a book tucked under one arm. She smiled brightly, always did and it reached her eyes in that warm way people had when they genuinely liked someone.

Anastasia…what’s to say about her? She’s almost perfect in every way: pretty face, good grade, pureblood, plays violin. Also the first one Theo talked to when he arrived at Hogwarts. They became friends in the first year when Anastasia decided to stick around because she found Theo’s company…comforting. When there’s heavy rain or loud thunder, she would come by the dorm and knock on it, seeking comfort because of her fear. And you don’t seem to mind, you let Anastasia have your bed while you sleep on the common room’s couch. Because you learned that she doesn’t get along well with her roommate. If not hanging with her perfect little friend group, she would be sticking close to you and Theo. You think she has the fattest crush on your roommate Theo and it never fades as the three of you grow older. But there’s something in your guts that believes Theo only lets her follow out of pity. He thinks Anastasia doesn’t have any real friends.

“Hey there Theo! How was the quiz?” She beamed, greeting in that soft voice of hers.

He swallowed hard, fingers tightening slightly around his fork before setting it down slowly. Anastasia’s crush has been growing stronger and stronger, not subtle anymore it makes Theo sort of…uncomfortable.

"Um." he muttered, trying not to sound too dry or dismissive. "It... went well."

That was all? That's what he gave after years of this girl being kind and thoughtful and perfect?

Meanwhile inside panic was settling in. Because how could he possibly give her attention when every time she smiled at him, all Theodore could think about was whether you would notice.

“Oh...I’m glad...there's a book event this afternoon and...uhm I have a spare ticket! Would you like to go with me?” Damn…girl pulled all of her bravery to say that.

Then Anastasia held out the spare ticket like it was a fragile thing, her fingers trembling just slightly, her cheeks flushed with courage. The book event was one of those rare ones hosted by one of the professors at school, rare first editions, signed copies from famous wizards, even a small exhibit on ancient artifacts. Most nerdy students would kill for an invite.

And she’d saved one…just for Theo.

She smiled nervously now, eyes wide and hopeful as they locked onto his face, the boy who never seemed to look at anyone twice… but always looked at you with that soft gaze when he thought no one noticed.

A beat passed. Then another. Theo’s throat went dry. His mind was calculating how to use his words correctly to reject her with respect until…

“YES... yes he would loveeee to go with you, Anastasia. It will be so fun” your yes was so loud, even some students turned their heads. And you dragged your love at the word love to calm the girl’s nerves. But…

The second you spoke, Theo’s head snapped toward you. What.

His eyes, ocean blue and usually so composed, widened. Not in anger, not quite… but in pure shock.

You had agreed for him. Without hesitation. Without even glancing at Theo first to check if he wanted to go.

Anastasia lit up instantly, her nervousness melting into radiant joy. "Really? Oh! That's wonderful!" She beamed between the two of you like she’d just won the lottery or better yet: secured a date with Theodore Nott himself.

Theo stayed frozen though, fork halfway back to his plate after being abruptly abandoned mid-bite by your sudden intervention. He wanted to beat your ass up so bad.

The moment Anastasia turned and rejoined her group of equally striking Slytherin girls, their laughter carrying over in a melodic hum, he felt something cold settle in his chest.

The feeling was more like... disorientation. Like reality had shifted without warning and now everything felt slightly off.

You, meanwhile, kept eating cheerfully, as if you hadn't just decided Theo’s social plans for him. “What's with your face? There's a date with a so-hot-and-gorgeous girl waiting for you and you’re sulking?” You snorted.

Theo blinked, once, twice like he’d just seen a ghost. The words so-hot-and-gorgeous bounced around his skull like they were in another language. Anastasia was… objectively beautiful. Intelligent, kind, popular, the kind of girl every Slytherin guy dreamed about asking to an event. And yet…

Yet here he was: staring at your careless hand-waving gesture instead of reacting with excitement or gratitude toward the date that had literally just fallen into his lap.

His jaw worked slightly before he finally spoke and when it came out? It wasn’t enthusiasm. It wasn't even polite.

"It's not a date." Theo said quietly, not harshly but firmly as if correcting someone who'd gotten something terribly wrong.

“It’s soooo like a date” you can’t help but push his button one more time.

Theo's expression darkened, not anger, but something quieter and more complicated.

You smirked like this was all some big joke, a fun little setup where Theo got to go on an adorable date with the prettiest girl in Slytherin. And honestly? Anyone else would’ve been thrilled.

But Theo wasn’t anyone else. "It's not." he repeated, voice low but steady and there was weight behind it this time

“Why are you upset? It's an opportunity to widen your social circle” you huffed and finish the rest of the stew in one big gulp. You had your point, Theo rarely engages in outdoor activities unless you were coming with him, other than you, he doesn’t bother hanging out with anyone else who can’t handle socialising like you do.

He watched you chew the last bite of bread like this was all so simple. Social circle. Right. As if he hadn’t spent years being perfectly fine with his current one, small, controlled, consisting of you, Draco’s group and a few library fellas. That’s it.

And now you wanted him to suddenly expand it? To go on a date-like outing with Anastasia just because she’d been nice for years?

It wasn't that he disliked her. She was lovely, smart, kind-hearted but Theo had never looked at her that way.

"I don't need to widen my social circle." he said evenly.

“It’ll be fun. Theo, I promise” you nudge him with your elbow. In your eyes, Theo is like a black cat. Never put effort in making new friends and just settle for what he has in hand now. Theo leaned back slightly from the nudge, avoiding physical contact like it burned. The word fun echoed in his ears, but it didn’t sit right. Not with this situation.

Fun was Quidditch matches where he’d stand in the Slytherin row and yell insults, trash talk at the opposing team when you’re on your broom chasing for your life. Fun was sneaking into the kitchens after curfew to steal treacle tart with you. Fun was quiet nights studying together by firelight with a cigarette in mouth.

Not… going on a pre-planned event with someone who clearly liked him romantically when his heart stupidly, hopelessly wasn’t even looking that way. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his plate mindlessly before muttering:

"I don't want fun if I'm not actually interested.”

The silence between you two turned thick, charged like the air before a storm. Theo didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t snap or argue further. He just…turned away.

That glare? Brief but sharp as shattered glass—and it wasn't anger at Anastasia, not really.

It was hurt. The kind that stung quietly because you, the person whose opinion mattered more than anyone’s hadn't considered how Theo might actually feel about this. Instead of asking him first, you'd handed him over to someone else without hesitation… like Theo's feelings were irrelevant compared to social expectations. Like you were no longer possessive about others trying to be Theo’s friend in the first year because it’s just you and him against the world.

The afternoon passed quietly between classes, History of Magic and Transfiguration. Theo walked through the halls in silence beside you, not speaking unless necessary. The usual comfortable companionship was gone, replaced by a tense sort of distance. He answered when spoken to but didn’t initiate conversation.

And then came the book event.

Tables lined with rare books from various magical schools were set up around the vast open air space. A few professors stood near their displays explaining enchanted editions or historical texts, and students from Hogwarts as well as visiting schools wandered around browsing.

Theo stood near the back of the room, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

The limited ticket section was roped off, an exclusive area where students could meet their favorite authors. Theo knew every name on that guest list. And right now? He should’ve been excited.

This was his kind of thing, rare books, intellectual discussions, meeting people who shaped spells he studied every day. But instead… all he felt was hollow tension. Because in five minutes or so? Anastasia would arrive expecting him and you had basically forced this on him.

Theo’s gaze drifted automatically, habitually to you. He always sensed and quickly spotted you the next second you entered the room. Or anywhere.

And there you were: surrounded by people. Laughing. Talking with Draco Malfoy of all people, plus a few other Slytherins. Merlin, you even talk to students from other schools.

You fit right in everywhere, the effortless charm, the bright smile that drew others like moths to flame. You looked happy too. Completely unbothered by anything… including Theo’s absence.

Meanwhile Anastasia had just arrived, spotting him immediately and she started weaving through the crowd toward him with her ticket held up slightly.

“Hey Theo…I’m sorry you have to wait...these heels won't behave” She chuckled. So angel like.

Theo forced a small, polite smile. She was adorable. Truly. The way she apologized for being late because of her heels, so sweetly embarrassed about it and how effortlessly kind she seemed.

"Hi." he said back quietly, his tone softer than usual to compensate for the fact that he hadn’t been waiting eagerly.

He glanced down at her feet briefly, the elegant but clearly uncomfortable-looking heels and then away again before meeting her eyes properly.

"It's fine. I just got here."

Theo didn’t pull away when Anastasia took his hand boldly. She was enthusiastic…so excited about every book they passed. She’d squeeze his fingers and tug him toward displays with giddy little noises, like “Oh! Theo, look at this one!” and honestly? It wasn't so awful.

The famous author he admired spoke briefly on stage, a dry lecture about the evolution of wand core but Theo listened intently anyway. And for a few moments… he almost forgot to glance around for you in the crowd.

Anastasia bought him a first edition copy of Magical Theory: Foundations, something rare and expensive she clearly saved up for. When she handed it to him with that shy smile? He actually felt… touched.

Theo hesitated only a second before spotting the perfect book, a first edition of Ancient Magic: A Comprehensive History, signed too.

It wasn’t cheap. Not even close. But Anastasia had just given him something incredibly valuable, both financially and personally and he wanted to return the gesture.

Without saying anything, he paid for it discreetly at a private counter and waited until they were near a quieter corner away from crowds. Then, holding out the wrapped package with both hands, an unusual level of formality from someone usually so reserved, he offered it to her.

The walk back to the Slytherin girls' dorm was slow, mostly because Anastasia kept pausing to adjust her sore feet, wincing every few steps.

"Ugh, these heels are murder…" she groaned dramatically, not unkindly but Theo didn’t offer his arm or suggest carrying her like a gentleman in love might.

He just nodded quietly. "We're almost there."

And it wasn't cold. It wasn't rude either, just distant in that way he got when his heart belonged to someone else already.

Every word out of his mouth had been polite all evening. Pleasant smiles during author talks, soft thanks for gifts… but nothing beyond what basic dates demanded.

Because no matter how sweet Anastasia was or how nice this event technically went, his thoughts kept circling back to you.

Theo paused under the dim glow of the torchlight near her dorm entrance. Anastasia stood facing him, still smiling that warm, grateful smile, the kind that made most guys melt. Her eyes sparkled with genuine appreciation for spending time with him today.

"Thank you…" she says softly "for coming with me."

It was a simple sentence but sincere. She wasn’t asking for anything more than this moment of gratitude.

And Theo? He felt… guilty again

Not because he’d had a bad time, but because she clearly hoped this might lead to something romantic… and he knew deep down that it wouldn't.

The dorm was quiet when Theo returned, just the soft crackle of the fireplace and the rustle of pages turning.

Theo stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. The sight that greeted him: you sprawled on your bed, barefoot, one dangling off the bed, absorbed in a book you just bought from the book event.

You didn’t look up right away. Didn’t react to Theo’s return like usual. Instead? Just… reading. Peacefully ignoring everything else.

And suddenly it hit Theo again: This was where he belonged, right here with you, not walking another girl back to her dorm. This.

Then, you finally spoke up when Theo slips off his dark robe. “How was it? The cutest date with the most perfect lady in Slytherin?” You smirked

Theo kicked off his shoes by the door, thud, before walking over to his own bed.

He didn’t answer right away. Just sat down on the edge, loosening his tie with slow fingers while eyeing your smug, teasing expression.

Instead of biting back like he usually would when annoyed… Theo exhaled through his nose and said flatly.

"It was fine."

“Fine? Tell me something interesting” You rolled your eyes at his boring response.

Theo glanced at you, really looked at you for the first time since returning.

That eye roll. That impatient, spill it tone. Typical you when you wanted details but wasn’t gonna ask nicely.

Fine? Theo could’ve left it there… but something in him, maybe irritation, maybe the need to prove this date meant nothing made him actually respond.

"Anastasia bought me a rare book." he said casually, hanging his robe on a hook by their shared wardrobe.

Then added: "I got her one too. Signed by the author."

“Well, that’s real cute, nerd” you chuckled

Theo frowned slightly at the word cute.

It wasn’t at least, he didn’t think so. Buying books? Giving gifts? That was just… normal for people who liked literature. Not "cute" like some cheesy romance novel.

He shot you a look, half annoyance, half something else he wouldn't name.

But you kept chuckling, still curled up with your own book like Theo’s evening hadn't mattered at all. And suddenly it annoyed him more than Anastasia ever could have.

“You’re being hard to get. The girl practically spent years chasing you. She’s perfect in every way, too, why are you declining any of this?”

Theo’s jaw tightened.

Hard to get?

He wasn’t hard to get, he was selective. There is a difference. One implied he had no standards and just pushed everyone away, the other meant he actually cared about who he spent time with.

And "perfect in every way"? That sounded like you hadn't even seen Anastasia properly, just assumed she was flawless because she smiled a lot and gave gifts.

Without thinking, Theo snapped:

"She's not perfect." Too harsh? Maybe. But it burst out before he could stop it. Maybe she has been sticking around both of them because she can’t make a friend among the slytherin girls long enough, doesn’t mean you know her that much to be glazing her.

Theo's fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his bed sheet. That smirk…that stupid, knowing smirk. Was what made it worse. Like you found this whole situation amusing instead of serious.

He didn’t want Anastasia because she was pretty and popular, he wanted someone whose presence didn’t feel like a performance.

And that person… had been sitting right across from him for years without realizing it.

“I’m going to shower, damn. Walking through that crowd is torturous” You grabs

a pair of clothes and go to the communal bath. Usually, Theo would follow. They stick together in every activity.

Theo watched you leave, clothes in hand, heading for the communal baths. And just like that… he was alone again.

Normally, Theo would’ve followed without hesitation. You two always do things together: studying, eating meals, walking to class but tonight? After the whole Anastasia thing?

He didn’t move right away. Just sat there on his bed as the door clicked shut behind you. The silence felt heavier than usual. Not tense exactly… but strange No footsteps trailing after you down the hall.

The next morning, Theo woke up feeling... off.

Not sick, just wrong. Like his skin was too tight or something under it had shifted overnight. He couldn’t pinpoint the discomfort exactly, but he knew why.

You were pushing him away subtly. Giving him opportunities to socialize with others like Anastasia because you thought Theo needed a "wider circle." Except that wasn't what Theo wanted at all

He wanted you. Badly. Not new friends. Not dates arranged by well-meaning roommates who didn't understand anything.

And now this distance? This one-day break in their usual routine? It itched worse than any spell gone wrong. Feels like something is crawling under his skin, he feels uncomfortable.

The morning routine was the same, brushing teeth, changing into uniform, gathering books but everything doesn’t feel the same.

Theo moved quietly beside you like always: same pace down the hall to class, same silent walk through corridors crowded with students. But where he used to match your steps effortlessly…almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Now they were half a step apart. And it wasn’t just physical distance.

It was how Theo kept glancing at you when you weren't looking. How his fingers tapped restlessly against his book cover during Charms class nervously, something he never did because he feels at ease next to you. How could a man who lives by routine like him survive this?

But you? Oblivious. Still chatting lightly with Draco or other classmates without noticing Theo's tension.

Not to mention the other day, Theo froze halfway down the corridor. The Quidditch pitch was just behind and you, still sweaty from practice, hair damp at the temples had caught someone’s attention. Happens everyday.

A Hufflepuff girl rushed over with a water bottle and a towel. She smiled brightly as she handed them to you, clearly excited about seeing you up close after practice.

And you? Ever the polite social butterfly? took it all with that easy grin of yours, the one Theo knew too well and thanked her warmly

“That’s so thoughtful…thank you. What’s your name?”

Something hot flared in Theo's chest. Not anger exactly... but discomfort. A tightness he couldn't name when she handles you a bag of dessert.

Theo’s eyes locked onto the bag of cookies.

Chocolate chips. Still warm, probably fresh from the Hufflepuff kitchens. The girl had baked them herself, you could tell by how carefully she’d wrapped them in parchment paper tied with a yellow ribbon.

And she handed them to you like an offering, a sweet, thoughtful gesture that was so very Hufflepuff. You got her name, Marie, cute.

"Oh wow you baked these yourself?…this smells amazing. I can already tell you’re a great baker, Marie" you said brightly. Your words? Are heaven to the girl.

Theo’s face burned. Not from anger exactly but something far more. A possessive heat surged through him, hot and irrational, making his eyes twitch his jaw lock tight.

There were you: sweaty, smiling, accepting gifts like chocolate chips cookies baked with affection… from some Hufflepuff girl who clearly liked you. And Theo? Standing there. Saying nothing. Just watching as another person handed you something sweet, a love language he didn’t even speak. His hands curled into fists at his sides without meaning to.

Draco leaned against the common room’s armchair, watching Theo storm in with that murderous frown on his face.

It was almost comical…Theo Nott? The usually cool-headed and aloof nerd? Looking like he wanted to set someone on fire.

"Damn…" Draco drawled sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "Who ate your owl?"

The jab was light, typical Malfoy teasing but there was genuine curiosity underneath. Even he could tell something had upsetted Theo badly. Theo didn’t even glance at Draco. He kept walking, past the couches, past the torches and headed straight for his shared dorm without a word. Draco blinked. That was… cold. Even for Theo. Most days, he’d at least grunt in response to a comment like that, but today? Nothing. Just silence and an expression so dark it could’ve cursed someone on sight.

"Bloody hell…" Draco muttered under his breath before turning back to Crabbe and Goyle who were lounging nearby.

Whatever happened… it must’ve been bad. Really bad.

Hogwarts glowed with Christmas magic, red and green fabrics wrapped around staircases, enchanted snowflakes drifting through the halls, and twinkling lights strung across every corridor.

It was you two’s favorite time of year.

Every winter before break, you and Theo had a quiet little tradition: you’d exchange secret gifts, nothing extravagant…just thoughtful things, wear matching pajamas for movie night with hot chocolate where Theo would fight you to pick his favourite muggle show, then go back to whichever house you two were staying at over winter break.

Last year? You both went to your manor. The year before that, the Nott manor. This routine wasn’t announced or planned publicly… just something you two did. Quality time.

The whispers started subtly, then exploded.

Girls in the Slytherin dorms began to spread things about you being a womanizer, and boast about how you speak so lowly of women among the campus.

Anastasia had been friendly with you up until now, grateful even for your help setting her up with other guys but when she overheard two Slytherin girls gossiping about “He totally said girls are pathetic and hopeless! He really thought all we care about is boys!" during breakfast…Her face went pale. Then red. Then furious. Anastasia has a strong sense of feminism so…She stopped speaking to you entirely. As well as your female friends.

The tension in the Slytherin common room thickened like frost on glass.

You didn’t understand why Anastasia suddenly avoided you, no smiles, no greetings, not even a glance your way during meals. She used to laugh with you about boys she liked, now she walked right past as if you were invisible.

And Theo? He was volcanic. You were walking on thin ice 24/7. Literally

Every time you tried to casually ask what was going on,Theo snapped or went silent. His moods swung wildly: cold when someone mentioned her name, irritable during study hours. Eventually, you had enough.

Theo woke up in the middle of the night. The dorm was quiet, bathed in the soft blue glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains. He blinked before his eyes landed on your empty bed. But something felt off. Theo sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair before standing and sleeping in his shoes.

Without thinking much, other than assuming you had gone to meet someone, Theo slipped out of the room and followed silently down the halls.

The castle was hushed at this hour, only the faint hum of enchanted decorations and the occasional creak of old stone floors.

Theo moved quietly, his steps light as he followed your silhouette. He didn’t know why exactly, maybe just habit, or maybe something deeper nagging him to check.

Up the stairs… past portraits that snored softly… toward the astronomy tower, their usual spot when either wanted space but not loneliness. When Theo reached the top door, it wasn't fully shut. A thin gap remained and through it: a sliver of pale moonlight... and you are leaning back against the marble rail, not fully sitting, alone with a cigarette in mouth.

“I know you're following me, Theo” you snorted.

Theo paused just outside the door. He didn't mean to get caught, wasn’t even sure why he’d come up here in the first place but you called him out so casually, like it was obvious. And then… that pat-pat on the empty space beside you. An invitation.

For a second, Theo hesitated. He wasn't mad at you, not really but everything between them felt tangled lately: Anastasia's coldness, unspoken tensions over girls and gifts and whatever stupid rumor was going around. But still... he stepped inside.

“Are you going to go all cold shoulder on me this time or are we gonna talk?” you say calmly.

Theo took the cigarette without a word, plucking it straight from your fingers and brought it to his lips. A sharp inhale. The tobacco burned slightly, grounding. He exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the cold night air between them before glancing sideways at you.

The "cold shoulder" comment stung because… yeah. He had been distant lately, not on purpose or maybe he was… but still.

Instead of answering with some dramatic speech about feelings? Theo just passed the cigarette back silently.

“Talk, Theo. Tell me what's going on.” you say, taking a puff yourself.

Theo stared at the sky, stars scattered like dust across the velvet black. The silence stretched, heavy with everything he hadn’t said. He took another slow drag of the cigarette before passing it back. Sharing a muggle cigarette was one of his favourite activities with you.

Then, finally: "Anastasia hates you now."

He didn’t look at you when he said it, just kept his gaze upward but his voice was quieter than usual, almost... tired. He knew how that affected you. You have a load of female friends, you’re a people person and cherish every friend you have. So, naturally, you almost collapse when they suddenly turn their back against you.

“Woop. That's unavoidable when there's an unsolved misunderstanding. But I don't want to talk about Anastasia.” you huffed, shrugging. “Tell me about you.”

Theo exhaled slowly, the smoke dissipating into the winter air. About him.

That was… complicated. Theo wasn’t one for opening up, never had been. He kept things close to his chest, especially feelings.

He hesitated before speaking again, voice low and measured like he was choosing each word carefully:

"I don't like seeing you with other girls.” he tried. Wondering if the message gets through your head. He is in love with you. For Merlin’s sake.

“Huh…I’m with girls all the time. You never said a thing before”

Theo’s jaw tightened. Swimming in girls’ attention. Yeah. You had always been like that: popular, easygoing, effortlessly charming without even trying. Girls liked you from day one. Some became your best friends because of your humor.

And Theo? He never cared before because it was just… you. His best friend since first year. It didn’t bother him when random girls flirted with you, he’d roll his eyes and joke about it.

But lately…Lately something shifted

He turned his head slightly to look at you properly for the first time that night, the moonlight catching on his features and muttered:

"It started bothering me recently.”

“Why?” You asked.

Theo’s breath hitched. The question hung there and for the first time in his life, he felt completely exposed.

He couldn’t lie. Not to you. Never to you.

So instead of deflecting or changing the subject like he usually would… Theo turned fully toward you and said it plainly:

"I think I'm in love with you."

No dramatic buildup. No poetic metaphors or romantic gestures…just quiet honesty under a winter sky. And then? He waited, heart pounding harder than any Quidditch match ever made it. He never thought he would ever say his feelings out loud. But it has been making it hard to breathe for Theo, carrying such an ugly feeling in his chest.

The cigarette wobbled dangerously between your fingers, almost slipping into the snow below but you caught it just in time.

Your eyes were wide. Really wide. Not shocked in a bad way, more like… stunned silent. Like your brain had short-circuited and couldn’t process what Theo just said. For someone who always had a quick joke or sarcastic remark ready, this? This was new territory. You didn't move for several seconds, just stared at Theo like he'd grown a second head or maybe like you yourself were dreaming.

“...I’ve never noticed.”

Theo watched your face, every flicker of emotion crossing it. That quiet confession hit Theo harder than he expected. Not rejection, not yet but disbelief? Realization dawning?

Maybe you had been too busy being you, the popular, effortlessly-liked guy to ever consider that your best friend could feel this way about you. Merlin, you thought…

And now here they were: two idiots who’d spent years sharing everything… except romantic feelings. Theo swallowed hard before speaking again, his throat feels like hundred of thorns are stuck in it, voice softer:

"Yeah... I know.”

Not from the cigarette, no, this was different. This was nerves. The kind that came when your entire world hinged on one person’s next words. And Theo? He couldn't read you at all. So instead of explaining feelings which always felt messy, he just admitted the raw truth:

"The feelings are... uncomfortable." Because loving someone who might not love you back? That sucked. Losing a dear friend…and a crush. Theo’s chest tightened. The question wasn’t harsh, just quiet, careful. Like you were stepping on thin ice.

“Do you want them to go away?”

No. Hell no.

Theo didn't want his feelings gone, even if they made everything complicated now. Even if he had to watch you flirt with other girls or see Anastasia glare at his best friend from across the Great Hall.

He shook his head slowly before answering:

"No…I never want that feeling to ever go away."

So you decided to listen to your heart for once. The kiss was feather-light, just the brush of lips against the corner of Theo’s mouth but it electrified him. He froze.

For a second, he didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Couldn't process that you, the person he'd loved for Merlin knows how long without realizing it himself…had just kissed him.

And not on the cheek … but there. Close to his actual mouth.

Then Theo turned into it instinctively, chasing your lips with sudden urgency and pressing their mouths together properly this time.

The kiss deepened slowly, naturally. One second he was hesitating at the edge of something new… and the next, their lips parted against each other properly. Theo kissed you with years’ worth of pent-up longing, gentle but hungry, his hands lifting to cradle your face like you were something precious. And you? You kissed back just as eagerly, like you’d been waiting too without knowing it. The cold night air didn't matter anymore.

Theo kisses you harder, almost desperate as he pins you gently against the cold stone pillar behind.

The contrast was there: freezing marble at their backs versus the heat of their mouths meeting over and over. No space between them now. You gasped into the kiss when Theo crowded closer, one hand sliding into his hair while the other gripped his back to keep him there. He leaves you no space to breathe until he pulls back.

Theo’s hands stayed cupping your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones as he asked the question that mattered most…His voice was low, steady, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that betrayed how much this answer meant to him.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

Not "Will you be mine" bullshit or some vague romantic lines. Theo wanted clarity. A label. Permission to be yours properly now. And he waited, heart hammering for your response.

“Yes…yes you can” you gasped for air with a cocky smirk.

Theo’s entire face lit up.

That smirk…your stupid, perfect, heart-stopping smirk coupled with the "yes" hit Theo like a rough Bludger to the chest.

For someone who usually stayed composed even when nervous, his expression melted into pure relief and joy. Without another word, he kissed you again, this time softer but no less intense. A proper boyfriend kiss now. No confusion left between them.

The common room was dimly lit, just the low glow of the dying fire casting shadows. Theo had expected it to be empty like when he left. Most Slytherins were in bed by now, especially after curfew. But as he carried a half-asleep you on his back, your arms loosely around his shoulders, face nuzzled into Theo, two pairs of eyes locked onto them instantly.

Draco and Blaise sat across from each other near the fireplace, both frozen mid-conversation upon seeing them enter like this. Blaise raised an eyebrow slowly. Draco? His mouth actually dropped open, followed by a huge smirk “I told you, it’s about time”

Blaise just nodded, slowly like this explained everything he’d ever wondered about Theo and you.

Draco looked way too smug. He leaned back in his armchair with that trademark Malfoy smirk, the one that screamed I called it first.

"Took you two long enough though…congrats" he drawled, glancing between them like the walking proof of his earlier teasing. No need for Theo to announce, they can already tell by that blush and kiss swollen lips. Theo ignored Draco’s smirk, mostly because he was too busy focusing on the fact that you are his boyfriend now and not worrying about what anyone thought.

Winter at the manor was a blur of magic and warmth. Theo and you spent days rolling through powdery snow like kids, building clumsy snowmen, having snowball fights that usually ended in breathless laughter, then warming up inside.

Evenings were cozy: massive fireplaces roaring in the dining hall, hearty meals served by house-elves: roast meats, vegetable stew, years-old wines, buttery breads, etc. The family dinners were lively with conversation. Followed by hot sex in the shower, trying to be quiet so no one would know, as skin clapping noise echoes softly in your bathroom laced with breathless gasp in pleasure.

The stargazing room was Theo’s favorite spot in the manor. High up, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows that showed a perfect night sky. It was quiet here. Private. No servants patrolling, no family members interrupting, not like they pay attention. Just them and the soft glow of constellations above. Theo would die to keep this close to himself.

Theo had pulled you into this room after dinner under some excuse about "needing air" but really? He just wanted to kiss you without an audience. A Leg pressed between yours as he let you dry humps, hot kisses shared under the stars. His hand clumsily tries to zip your pants down without looking as his mouth crashes on yours.

The cold marble pillar bit into your back, but Theo crowded closer anyway, kissing you like he hadn't in days even though it had only been hours. Your thick sweater hits the floor with a soft thud as you complain “It’s cold, asshole.”

And when he felt that shiver run through you? Theo kissed you harder. His lips moved from your mouth to the jaw, then down to that sensitive spot on your neck. He sucked lightly, leaving faint marks against warm skin. Body heat will work, eventually. So no more complaints.

Theo always looks forward to Halloween.

While others celebrated with extravagant decorations and feasts, Slytherins turned the common room into a party, mischievous, rowdy. Alcohol was smuggled in, mostly firewhisky or cocktails and the music got louder as the night went on. Everyone wears their own unique costume. And Theo? He’d usually sit back with a drink… until you showed up.

“You didn’t wait for me” you scolded in annoyance.

There you are: you in a perfect Aziraphale costume. Perfectly tailored trenchcoat, trousers and waistcoat share the same cream white color, blue buttoned up shirt and a bow tie, even that signature cute curls styled just right.

Meanwhile Theo? Crowley. Black blazer, trousers and waistband paired with a grey necktie. The black sunglasses are the cherry on top, making him look so like Crowley.

"I waited!" Theo protested, but it wasn't true. He'd gotten bored and wandered down an hour ago. Now he stared at you like an idiot.

“I WaItEd” you mocked him. Theo narrowed his eyes at the ridiculous tone. so childish. but he couldn’t stay mad. Not when you looked like that.

“Black always looks sooo good on you though. It’s unfair” you huffed playfully, admiring his Crowley outfit.

Theo smirked. Yeah, he knew. The dark blazer hugged his frame perfectly, and the whole bad demon vibe worked for him. He reached up slowly and pushed the sunglasses down just enough to peer over them at you with a lazy grin.

"Says the walking cloud of holy light" Theo shot back, voice dripping with playful sarcasm before leaning in for a kiss.

The group of friends drag them to the side of the room to play spin the bottle. Pansy kept toying with the digital camera she got from the old market, snapping pictures of everyone until “I need more drinksss” she whined. She nudged you to go get some and you agreed. Theo quickly follows after.

Pansy’s loud, teasing shout echoed across the common room, earning a chorus of laughter from the rest of the group.

"Enjoy your cocktail... heavy on the cock!" She yells, grinning like an idiot.

You flipped her off, middle finger held at Pansy and Theo snorted at that before following you toward the drinks table.

The party dies down by 12 AM, most people are too drunk or tired to keep going.

Spin the bottle had been chaotic, Theo only kissed you, ignoring whoever else the bottle pointed at, and now they were both buzzing with leftover energy.

When Theo finally tugged you toward their dorm, no one stopped them. Draco just raised an eyebrow but said nothing, already half-asleep on a couch talking to Blaise. The halls were quiet as they walked back together, still in costume: Aziraphale and Crowley wandering Hogwarts like a misplaced angel and devil.

Theo didn’t hesitate. The second the door shut behind them, he is on you, hands cradling your face as he kisses you deeply, pressing him gently against the door. Fueled by drinks and dancing and hours of wanting to do this all night.

Theo kisses you between every layer of clothing he removes, first the cream trench coat, then the waistcoat underneath, buttons undone with impatient fingers.

Each piece hit the floor quietly. A steady stream of kisses: on the collarbone when shirt came off, shoulder as he slipped it down your arms.

The soft patter of rain against the dorm window created a quiet, private world, muffling sounds, blurring reality

Theo shed his own Crowley costume fast, blazer tossed over a chair, necktie pulled off in one smooth motion. No patience left after hours of waiting and teasing glances all night.

He was eager. Really eager.

Theo’s mouth crashed into yours again, hot, hungry as his hands mapped every inch of exposed skin..

One hand slid up your bare back while the other gripped your hip possessively pulling their bodies flush together. The rain outside grew heavier, a steady rhythm against the glass like nature itself was keeping their secrets.

Thunder booming, lightning flashing across the sky. Anastasia would’ve normally shown up at their dorm by now, knocking frantically for comfort. It’s been like that for years since the first. But not tonight.

Tonight? Theo didn’t even think about her. His focus was entirely on you, on the way you spread your legs slightly in anticipation after Theo fingered you with lube, breath hitching as Theo fumbled with the condom packet between his lips.

Theo’s fingers tremble as he rips the condom, too. drunk, aroused, nervous excitement making him clumsy. It took way longer than it should’ve: tearing the wrapper with his hand, then carefully rolling it down. His hands shook slightly, not from fear, but from sheer anticipation.

You watched him through half-lidded eyes? patient despite their shared heat between them. The storm outside thundered louder now. Not like Theo minded.

Theo moves carefully, slow, deliberate as he pushes his cock into you. Every inch was measured, giving you time to adjust. No rush despite their shared arousal and the storm’s chaos outside. His hands stayed gentle on your inner thighs, warm strokes meant to soothe any tension or nerves.

“Don’t be gentle.” You muttered, breath filled with alcohol. Too much alcohol you drank earlier. “Fuck me ‘til I can’t breathe”

Theo’s breath hitched at your words. No gentleness, just fucking and something sparked in him. The smirk on your face? That challenge? Yeah. Theo could do that.

Without another second of hesitation, he shifted his grip, one hand bracing beside your head while the other hooked under your thigh and picked up the pace instantly.

The bed creaked with each movement, Theo’s thrusts deep and relentless, fueled by the alcohol coursing through them.

Every snap of his hips was sharp, uncoordinated but hard, only pure physical need. You arched beneath him, breath coming in short gasps, the storm outside drowned out by their shared sounds: skin against skin, the rustle of sheets, rough moans. Neither cared about anything else right now.

Theo groaned at the sting of your nails raking down his back…good, grounding him.

Every time he pulled back almost all the way, it was just to slam into you again completely, over and over. A relentless rhythm that made the headboard knock softly against the wall. Your moans were music, soft but desperate and Theo chased them like they were his new addiction.

Theo locked onto that sweet spot like he’d been aiming for it all night, relentless, brutal in the best way. You can’t help but clench tight around him every time he thrusts deep into you, punching another breathy moan out of your lungs.

One hand gripped your hip hard to hold you steady with every deep thrust, while the other braced beside your head for balance. He pounds into your hole like a man possessed, sweats rolling on his forehead now. Your whimpers were muffled by Theo's lips when they crashed together again, messy, open-mouthed kisses between ragged breaths as your thighs began to tremble. You only breathe out “Don’t stop-!” And that’s all Theo needs to know.

Draco took a swig from his bottle, shivering slightly in the common room’s chill, his words lazy and half-drunk as he leaned back on the soft couch.

"Bet Theo is still going at it" he snickered to Blaise, nodding toward the dorm staircase with a smirk. "Might get to see Y/N walking funny tomorow" he snorted

Right then, Anastasia crept past them, pillow clutched to her chest. Her eyes were red-rimmed, thunder had woken her again. She hated storms. Hearing Draco’s comment? It hit like lightning itself. Anastasia froze mid-step.

Draco’s joke, casual, playful about Theo and you still fucking hit her like a physical blow. Her chest tightened. The thunder outside was deafening now, but it wasn’t just that noise making her hands tremble. She stood there in pajamas, pillow crushed to her chest… and suddenly had nowhere safe to go. Not even her friends understand her fear of thunder and storm. Usually? She'd run to Theo for comfort during storms. But tonight? He clearly wasn't coming out.

Draco’s drunken grin faded the second he saw Anastasia standing there: pale, tear-streaked, clutching that pillow like a lifeline.

Shit.

His joke hung in the air, ugly, sexual and unfiltered. He hadn’t meant for her to hear it… but now she had.

Blaise tensed beside him, shooting Draco a you idiot look as silence stretched between them all. Anastasia just stood frozen, heartbroken by Theo’s absence and by what she'd overheard.

Her grip on the pillow turned white-knuckled. Every ounce of jealousy and resentment she’d been quietly nursing toward you exploded at that moment.

You weren't just Theo’s boyfriend now…no, you’d taken her safe space too. The one person who used to comfort her during storms was occupied. By you.

And worse? Draco's joke implied they were…. Not just holding hands or talking, something far more intimate. Her lip trembled…not from fear of thunder anymore, but from fury. You were the one who tried to set her up with Theo and now?

Theo collapsed beside you, both of them sprawled out like wrecked starfish, limbs heavy with exhaustion. You were breathless by now, thighs slowly stretch forward to relax your tensed body.

The storm still raged outside, thunder rumbling but neither cared now. The adrenaline had burned off into something peaceful.

Your chest rose and fell slowly, Theo turned his head slightly to glance at you, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“Fuckk…” you whined, gasping for air. The burn of pleasure in your lower stomach slowly fades. But still very present.

Theo exhaled a quiet laugh…same.

The heavy limbs, the faint soreness… all signs of what they’d just done. No regrets. He shifted slightly onto his side to face you properly, propping himself up on one elbow. Their eyes met, no teasing now. Just soft exhaustion and something warmer beneath it. Without thinking too hard about it, Theo reached out and brushed damp hair from your forehead.

Then Theo reached for the small portable CD player on his nightstand, the one he’d snuck from Doyo Alley’s Muggle music section months ago.

He slipped in a Cigarettes After Sex CD and pressed play. The first track “K.” drifted into the room: soft guitars, warm vocals, meaningful lyrics. The storm outside had gentled to a peaceful rain now, pattering against the window like background lullaby. Perfect timing. The music wrapped around them as they lay there, no rush to move.

“You don’t know how much I want to kiss you stupid right now” you muttered. The soft melody makes you weak, your heart swells a little at the lyrics. Theo bought the CD the moment he laid his eyes on it. Perfect for their shared night like this.

Theo paused mid-motion, lighter flickering as he lit the cigarette, then looked over at you. That huff of his was so familiar. So fond, even when complaining. And Theo? He hadn’t known either. Not fully. But now… here they were. After months of pining, after finally being together…He took a slow drag before leaning in to kiss you anyway, the smoke faintly bitter from the tobacco.

Theo let you take the cigarette without protest, watching as his boyfriend brought it to his lips for a slow drag. The act felt intimate somehow. Sharing something so simple, yet meaningful after what they’d just done.

Smoke curled between them in the dim light from the CD player’s soft glow. The music still played “K.” by Cigarettes After Sex filling their quiet dorm with warmth. The band has become one of his favourites now.

Theo didn’t reach to steal it back. He just… looked at you with admiration and love. He feels…enough.

Theo’s chest tightened, bloomed, like a flower cracking through concrete.

It wasn’t just attraction or physical closeness anymore. It was love, real, overwhelming love for the idiot currently holding his cigarette and looking at him with sleepy eyes. The music played on. The rain kept falling softly outside.

“I love you so much, Theo” you muttered, smoke curls around you like fog. So beautiful.

Theo’s breath caught. Hearing those words…so raw, so honest makes his heart stops a beat. His eyes searched your face, the smoke drifting from your lips, the way you looked wrecked in the best possible way. Loved and loving back.

Without a word, Theo leaned in and kissed you again, slowly this time. Deeply. Pouring everything into it. He’s ready to give you his soul if you ask nicely and promise a kiss after.

Theo had spent years, years feeling nothing. Just numbness. His childhood home was cold, emotionally barren. His mother died too soon, his father absent even when physically present. He’d built walls around himself out of necessity, not to be cruel, just to survive.

But here? With you… love wasn’t some distant concept anymore. It was alive. A living thing between them.

And for the first time since he was a little boy? Theodore Nott felt whole.

Theo didn’t hesitate. When the moment came, right after their kiss, with smoke still lingering in the air between them, he simply said it back. Honestly. Not because he was pressured to say it back.

"I love you too."

For days now, there was an old ache in your chest. A familiar sink in your heart of bygone memories. You missed the old way of life. More so you missed a specific person. He had been a part of your life for so long that, for years now, it left you bitter and empty. Yet, you yearned for that time all the same.

Walter ‘Lion’ Kaminski.

That was his name.

The man who you had grown up with. Together, side by side as childhood friends.

Your mother knew his and scheduled playdates. Sometimes Lion’s brother, Stan, would tag along. But it was usually just the two of you. You got along swimmingly—two peas in a pod. Having the same interests. The love of rough housing. Getting dirty in the mud and grass. Of throwing your weight around in fun that left the two of you sporting matching bruises. Laughing them off as if they were nothing.

It was all good fun. Then in your teens, your father took the two of you to your first boxing match. Some tough heavyweights pitted against each other. It was then you knew. Seeing them fighting and the roar of the crowd lit Lion’s eyes up so brightly. He wanted to be just like them. A professional boxer.

And you were more than happy to be his sparring partner.

You helped him perfect his craft. Almost every day you would be off somewhere—running to increase stamina, going to abandoned warehouses and trying to lift the heavy equipment, sneaking into the local gyms to punch a bag or two. Anything that would help him achieve his dream.

Late into your teenage years you started to get into trouble. Trespassing, vandalism, and sometimes even theft. All in the name of building a space that you transformed into a makeshift gym. Sure, you both stole pieces to fill the space, but you saw it only as a necessity.

Curating a space and spending hours there. Thinking of things to add while also continuing a training regimen.

The locals always saw the two of you together. Inseparable, even those times you got into trouble.

One day you were in your ‘gym’ training with Lion as he worked on his punches. The stolen punching bag barely held with how hard his fist slammed into the leather. His punches had grown stronger in a short amount of time. In one hit you lose your grip on the bag, and he hits you square in the face. Eye instantly swelling shut.

The amount of apologies Lion sent your way—even when you told him you were alright—he felt bad for hurting you. And something in his eyes ran deeper than you understood.

The two of you formed a bond. Seeing it as a very tight knit friendship.

For Lion, however, he saw it as something more. Something brewing that he hadn’t come to terms with just yet. The level at which he was upset at hurting you was more than just him hurting a friend. And as time went on, he realized that he had feelings for you. Never quite sure how to express them or if you even felt the same.

As always, even when separated, were never apart for long. The older he got he managed to get his career started. Having had a few fights under his belt, with some help from his brother, curating opportunities. He never traveled far and usually you went to support him.

One night, years later, it was just you and Lion in your apartment. Both adults now. Still hanging around each other. 

He was over at your place, watching the championships of two well-known boxers. Excitable and energetic, you were bouncing on your toes, jabbing in the air along with the fighters. 

It was the final round, and the match was a close one. The two boxers had exchanged blows so much you were sure one–if not both–would collapse.

Lion and you were both engrossed in the fight. Both root for the opposite fighter. Of course, the fighter you sided with lost. KO’d at the last minute of the round. Lion was elated and gave your shoulder a few victory punches. They weren’t hard, but somehow the act led to an all-out wrestling match on the living room floor. All in good fun. A way to blow off excess energy. 

Limbs entangled, trying to get the upper hand on the other. 

Lion was a bit more agile and had you wrapped in his limbs. 

As you struggle you do manage to wriggle free with a grunted chuckle. Immediately you pounced on him and tried to overpower him.

The two of you went at it until he managed to pin you on your back, arms above your head holding you there. 

His muscles were tight, showing off as he gripped you. Hovering above you, legs on either side of yours, hands on your forearms, neither of you took a breath. Both of your chests rising and falling hard, pants escaping out of your mouth filling the air between you with heat. 

You gaze at him, eyes flicking all over his face as you lay there. Confusion rose to your mind because the expression Lion had was not one of triumph for besting you. Not a victorious smile–one that you were used to. Instead, there was something soft. A small lust filled hunger lay behind those beautiful blue eyes. 

You had never seen Lion look at you this way. Sure, you saw the occasional smile sent your way, but nothing so intimate.

It wasn’t an unwelcome look. Far from it. As your eyes drift slower now across his features–aged from that boy you knew. Rough stubble lined that angular jaw–a few scrapes and bruises from his fights as well. 

He kept staring down at you as if deciding what came next. Those eyes constantly observing, unable to look away made your cheeks blush in embarrassment. A light shade of pink that was noticed right away.

Then Lion leaned in. Face getting closer. 

You could feel your heart pick up speed. 

What…what is he doing? 

The question rose to the front of your mind, stalling as his warm lips met yours. 

Your eyes shot open wide from shock.

Did he just…kiss me? The voice in your head exclaimed. 

Lion’s lips were soft as they pressed firmly to yours. 

There was no attempt to stop him. Perhaps, you were stuck in a state of shock. Or perhaps, deep down, this was something you wanted. Lion just happened to be the first one bold enough to take the chance. 

There was a tight apprehensive tension in your body. Wound like a coil. Nervousness and a newly found desire fought for attention. As the kiss lingered the tension washed away, slowly letting go. Eyelids fluttering half-lidded, draining from the initial shock, replaced by acceptance. You wished you were the one to have thought of doing this first. Gradually, you leaned back into the kiss. A silent answer to a question Lion’s kiss asked. 

The kiss stole your breath away as it swept you up. As his lips pulled away, your head slightly followed longing to stay—still connected to the very last second before they parted. 

Lion’s face was only mere inches away. Cheeks and neck were bright red. Flushed with excitement and disbelief that he did that. Weathered hands slide down our forearms, planting on either side of your head. 

You were unsure what to do next. Stuck floating, the warm touch of his lips still lingering. The expression on your face must have solidified something for him. 

With no words shared, all Lion gave you was another smile. Cute teeth flashing wide. 

Leaning down again, another kiss was coming your way, when he paused at the whisper of his name. 

“Lion,” the word barely left your lips. It came out breathless. Your heart was hammering under your ribs.

“Yeah?” he asks, lips brushing yours, feather-light, giving you a chance to speak.

Whatever question you had meant to ask got lost. Hot breath hitting your lips, skin touching, made it slip from your thoughts. Until “I feel the same way.” You finally told him. 

That was enough. He recaptured your lips in a more passionate embrace. 

From then on, the friendship you had transformed into a full relationship. Shy about it at first until it took on a mind of its own. 

Just like the sport of boxing, it was destructive and consuming. 

You couldn’t get enough of each other. Anywhere and everywhere became a playground. Whenever the mood struck. Both of you indulged. 

Nothing was off limits as you explored one another. No part remained untouched. Intimately growing familiar. Especially when it comes to your body. 

Lion always found it easy to get you going. And it didn’t matter where. If the mood took him, he would in turn take you. 

In the gym–shower risking discovery. In a parking lot–as he had you bent over the hood of a car. In a hallway–hand covering over your mouth to hide the sounds you made. 

When people saw the pair of you coming, they would go the other way. Or walk on the other side of the road. You two now had a reputation. And after proving that Lion was no pushover, people tended to leave you alone.

You may not have been as strong as Lion–not to mention his status carried more weight. There were times when going out some took advantage. 

Picking fights with you–seeing you as weaker. 

And you were for the most part.

You were by no means helpless. Fighting back when it happened. Having trained alongside Lion taught you a few things. 

However, often outnumbered, you put up a good fight. It was a losing battle that you made them earn. 

Time after time, Lion would come to your aid. Single handedly chasing and beating down the attackers. Walking away as if it were nothing. Though, he would be sporting fresh bruises or cuts to show for it. But he was always there. 

Until he wasn’t.

Coming back to your apartment expecting him to be there waiting for you. 

He wasn’t.

No note. No text. Nothing to tell you where he was. How long he’d be gone. When he might come back. It wasn’t like him.

A few days went by and still nothing. You text him and get no reply. Beginning to think the worst, that something bad must have happened. It broke your heart. You mourned the loss. All the time and love had broken you. And you never were the same. 

Months went by without a word. 

A friend of yours told you that Lion was alive. Off somewhere, even showing you a picture of him in passing on their phone. 

That made the hurt worse.

Not only did he leave without so much as a word, but he couldn’t be bothered to let you know. Tears of sorrow turned into tears of hatred. 

You shut down after that and slowly start to move on with your life. 

And now, years later, you were living your life. Having a good steady job. Living a normal life. It mellowed you out from the chaos you had grown accustomed to partaking in. Though the ache was still there for that life. The thrill, the love, and him. 

It was your day off and you were kicked back on the couch, TV on, but not paying attention to it. It was just on for background noise. 

Then a knock rapped the front door. 

Twisting your head you made out an outline of someone standing on the doorstep. Rummaging in your brain you thought; you didn’t order any food and if it was the postman they wouldn’t bother knocking. And you for sure knew you weren’t expecting any visitors. 

Another knock and reluctantly you got up.

Opening the door, he was the last person you expected to see. 

Lion.

There he was, on the front doorstep. A little older–just like you now. Thinner, yet still toned and muscular. Old shirt, worn jeans, tussled hair, and scraggly beard.

Your hand was frozen on the handle. The hell was he doing here?

Lion greets you with a smile. As if he had just left for the store and come straight back. A soft greeting of old friends and lovers.

Meanwhile, you returned a narrowed glare with a scrunched nose. Immediately you took up a defensive posture. Arms crossed leaning on the doorframe. 

Lion’s face dropped as soon as he saw the look on your face. For some reason he got the impression you would be happy to see him. 

In truth you were a little happy to see him. That he was ok. However, the animosity and hurt towards him outweighed the leap of joy in your heart.

He saw it beneath the anger, buried deep in your eyes, that sorrow. One that he caused.

“The hell you doing here, Lion?” You snapped at him. Posture straightening, tension heavy in your shoulders. 

“I came to see you.” The reply was timid. 

“And you thought you could drop in, just like that? Not a fucking word for years and you think it’s ok to ‘stop on by’.” You growled at him. The hatred that you felt. 

He had a lot of nerve coming here. All this time acting like he had the right.

“Look I wanted to. Really, I did.” Lion said defensively. “Stan…”

“Don’t put this on Stan!” You yelled, cutting him off. You didn’t want to hear the excuse. “You were more than capable…” 

A sigh of frustration.

“You could have text me. Could have called. Could have said anything. But no! You ran off. Silent. Without so much as a note. Without a word.”

“I’m sorry,” Lion hung his head in defeat. “I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn’t. I can’t imagine how you feel.”

“You’re right! You can’t. Now get the hell off my porch!” You glared daggers at him. It broke your heart all over again having to stand your ground. But you didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to start to feel things all over again. Your chest grew tight as you pointed for emphasis.

Lion quickly shot back. “Now that isn’t fair.”

“Isn’t it?! You left me high and dry all alone. And I’m just supposed to what? Welcome you back?” You shrugged angrily while asking. As if it were just some simple misunderstanding. “You broke my heart, Walter.”

Saying his name–his actual name–and not the nickname snapped something in him.

It was instant. Pain seared before you realized it. Rough knuckles smashed into your face, crushing your nose with a sick crunch. 

Stumbling back a few feet, with a bloody nose, you cup your face. 

“Did…did you just fucking punch me?!” With a raised voice, blood boiling at the audacity. 

“Told you never to call me that.”

“Fuck you!”

Lion crossed the threshold grabbing you by the shirt–partially lifting you up. 

Standing on your tippy toes you smacked at his hand, shoving it away, as he started pushing you back into the living room. 

With a rough shove back, you flung him off. 

Lion growled and lunged.

The two of you started fighting. Not holding back punches. Throwing fists with anger behind them, landing hard. You slammed yours into his shoulder as he tried to bob.

With a sucker punch he retaliated, hitting you in the gut. 

You doubled over, wind temporarily knocked out of you. It was a few years at best since you fought. So, it made you a little rusty. 

Lion, however, was in his prime. Boxing stance—as if he were in the ring.

You weren’t going to let him win. Not with this. No, this was payback. All that hearache and anger poured into the punches. A deep growl and you tackled his midsection, toppling him to the ground. 

Lion’s back landed hard, smashing the coffee table with such force it shattered. 

Straddling him, you began failing punches, landing wherever they could. Knuckles slam into ribs. The wind knocked out of him before he reacted.

Again, he shoves you off. 

Growling at each other like two primed animals in a heated battle for dominance. 

No matter how much anger it didn’t seem enough to match his raw talent. You swung wild. 

He ducked, moving out of the way only to quickly jab you in the kidney with a sharp strike. 

Hissing you shot him a glare. 

Lion was locked in, fists at the ready. Waiting.

Putting a foot forward you threw a punch.

His arms went up taking the blow, blocking it.

This went on for several minutes. Punches exchanged. Bodies littered with fresh forming bruises. Then the fight spilled into the kitchen. 

Panting you decide that fists weren’t cutting it anymore.

Lion stalked closer.

You dart your head back and forth, then the perfect weapon appears. Quickly your hand shot out grabbing a mug and you hurled it towards him.

Barely missing Lion’s head, smashing against a wall breaking into several pieces. Grabbing another you chuck it his way. The porcelain ricochets off the counter when he smacked it away. It crashes to the floor breaking on impact. 

Lion yelled rushing forward, limbs entangled as a struggled ensued. Wrestling, arms tight, squeezing where they could. 

Wriggling your body, squirming to get free. From all the movement you fell to the floor taking Lion with you. The struggle continued, using the kitchen as a fighting ring. 

Within a few minutes, the fight was slowly draining from you both. Lion had a strong grip, yet you continued to put up a fight. He could feel you getting weaker as the anger started to leave you.

Just like in the past Lion made a swift move pinning you to the kitchen floor. 

Pinned on your back, his body on yours holding you down. Hands vice gripped, tight on your wrists. He was panting just as hard as you were. Eyes locked. 

His filled with fight–softening as you stopped fighting under his grip. 

Yours filled with anger–lightening the longer you looked at him. Tearing up as the years of hurt finally allowed to show. 

The grip on your wrists loosened. Lion never meant to hurt you. Never meant to leave you on your own. 

“I never…” he said, softening his tone. 

You half-heartedly growl, “oh fuck off!” As you weakly kick your legs, trying to get free. “I don’t want to hear it.” When you spoke, your voice cracked as you desperately tried to hold back tears. 

Lion’s brow furrowed hearing you close to breaking. It broke him. Even though he was forced to leave, he tried not to. But circumstances happened the way they did. He loved you fiercely. Thinking about you all the time while he was gone. The way he wanted to run back to you the first chance he got. 

Being here with you again, he understood the hatred. The sorrow. The pain. He caused it–felt it too. Not being able to make up for lost time, he could at least show you how much he still cared. That he loved you. 

When Lion leaned down you protested. “Don’t you dare… you have no right! You ca-can’t… just come back into my life…” Tears flow, streaming down your cheeks. You struggle under him, not truly trying to get away, but wanting to hide. To bury the hurt and emotion. To not have to admit that you still had feelings for him. That you loved him.

“I know…” Lion quietly said. “There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about you.”

Watery eyes searched his. Those same blue eyes attached to that handsome face that you fell in love with.

“Why then?” You asked, lip quivering.

Lion’s voice choked up as he spoke. “It’s a long story. I protested even going. I never wanted to leave in the first place. I know how badly I hurt you. Just…Just give me the chance to make up for it.”.

He was devastated; you could see that. Could hear the guilt. See the way that love filled his eyes. Your mind was a mix; still bitter from being left behind but also filled with an ache that nothing was able to soothe. A hole in the heart that was only meant for him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lion whispered, forehead tapping forlornly against yours. 

That bond that formed years ago, the connection, bloomed strong once again. In sync, you both close your eyes and live in the moment. Sharing soft quiet breaths. 

Letting silence be your answer. Then you brought your lips to his. 

Lion’s body jerked to the touch, shocked, but that was quickly replaced by happiness. Body melting flush to yours, lips pressing firmer to show you just how much he missed you. How much he needed you. 

Just like old times, hands were all over you. Sliding down your arms, over your chest, and down to the hem of your shirt. Wasting no time, he tugged at it, breaking the kiss–only long enough to slide it over your head–before his lips were right back to yours. 

A fierce hungry kiss. Eating away at your lips, tongue sliding into your warm mouth. Hands all over skin, just how it should have always been. 

And…oh how…your body missed that touch. Rough hands trailing across your body. Chest arching to meet his hands. That ache for him only grew. 

You need more. Missing him too damn much to stay angry. So, you leaned more into him. Hands going down his sides to his hips. 

The kiss became harder as Lion sucked on your tongue, swallowing the groan that rose. He purred into your mouth as your hand slid between to cup at his clothed dick. Hips rolling as you palmed him.

You heard him whimper as you palmed him faster.

Pulling back from the kiss to let you breathe. “I’m… I’m going to make it up to you.” 

“Show me then,” you encouraged breathless.

He expressed kissing you again. Showing that he wasn’t just talking. In a light growl he sat up on your hips stripping himself out of his shirt. Red bruises are bright and shining on his skin. The ones you gave him from your punches. 

You sat up petting over the raised skin, soothing the sting of the damage.

Lion purred at the touch. Going to unbutton his jeans, you were already ahead of him. Falling back into habit–just like riding a bike. The button popped free, slowly you pulled the zipper down. 

He held his breath as his pants came down. He eagerly kicked them the rest of the way off. 

“Your turn.” Lion growled lowly, voice dripping with renewed hunger. 

Thoughts in his head saying he was going to make up for lost time and fuck you until you forgot he even left. There was a burning need inside him like a fire–wild and scorching. 

He grabbed your waistband and wrenched the denim right off you in one go. 

Now both of you were naked. Both of you turned on. 

Lion’s large cock standing erect against his stomach, veins pulsing, leaking with want.

You bit your lip with the look he gave you. 

Lustful. Hungry–dark like a predator who found its next meal. No warning, rough hands grabbed your hips flipping you over. 

You flopped chest first on the kitchen floor. It wasn’t hard to know what came next. 

Already having a hard grip on your battered body, he hoists your ass upwards raising it off the floor. Propping it how he wanted. How he liked. And this was one position that he loved having you in. 

Chest flush with the cold tie, ass up as an offering. Body shivering in anticipation. Just like old times your body relaxed for him. Your dick was leaking–dripping pre-cum like a woman’s vagina.

“Here, you were all mad at me,” Lion states gazing at your ass and leaking dick. “And now look at you.” Lion didn’t need to finish that train of thought, knowing how you had wanted it. “I missed you too.”

After that the head of his dick prodded your hole. The same hole that was molded years ago. Thumbs spread your ass cheeks, cool air hitting the loose rim making it clench. 

Shivering as he spat right onto your entrance, using a finger to smear it around. Then he pressed in, hard thrust from his hips and he buried to the hilt. 

The sudden stretch had you whining. It may have been years, but that dick slotted so perfectly. Your hole had grown tighter from the absence, but that would soon be taken care of. 

One hand on your hip, the other pressed into the small of your back, between the shoulder blades. Lion held you down, keeping your chest flush to the floor. As soon as his hips started moving, he groaned. Tight walls squeeze him as they remember the shape of him.

Your arms were outstretched in front of you as he pounds your ass. Balls slapping each thrust. Making sure his dick sunk deep as he pressed forward. 

He thrusts so hard your body jolted forward. He didn’t last long. Balls tightening, tight ass squeezing just right, and he dumped his first load into you. How cum filled your ass, but he wasn’t done yet. 

Readjusting your hips he raised your ass higher, back arching while he spread your thighs.

Rearing your head in a moan when his dick punched our prostate.

Lion’s hand stayed in the middle of your back pressing firmly. Forcing you to stay flat to the tile as his dick drives slow and deep. The thickness stretches your hole. His cum slicks his dick making it slide in and out faster, as the pace picks up. A tight grip bruised your hips. Adding more to your already littered skin.

Each thrust plunges so deep that the shaft disappears, balls slam against soft flesh. 

Lion’s rip tightens, pace getting rougher. Hips crashing relentlessly without mercy. It’s not long before his dick pulses shooting another hot load straight into your ass mixing with the first one. Dick burying deep pushing the overload of cum out, pushing past the shaft. It trickles down over your balls and thighs. 

With a soft moan Lion stills his hips down to a sow roll. Grinding as his dick stays buried. Wet squelching sounds of it moving fill the kitchen alongside your moans. 

Your dick is hot and needy, flared red at the tip, leaking like a faucet adding to the mess beneath you. 

Years of being separated amplifies the familiar dominance he has over you. Lion uses your body in the way he used to. Every movement fuels the burning lust and love. 

Strong arms slide under your torso lifting you up and against his chest. Hips still grinding slowly, sloshing the cum around. 

You let out a panting whine. Dick buried so deep thoughts are lost. Any remaining anger has long since been fucked straight out of you.

Pleasure builds and you moan his name. “Lion.”

The way you say it makes him moan. He gives a few sharp thrusts. 

You arch your back in his arms. 

His lips brush your ear. “I wat to fuck you properly.” He mutters low at a whisper. 

The vibrations of his voice rattle your eardrum. 

“I’m going to take you to your bedroom…”

You shudder, dick flopping against your stomach, twitching with need, still leaking. The voice. The words. They are accentuated by his grinding, scattering your thoughts.

“Just like before. You remember?” Another sharp thrust.

A loud whine tears from your throat. 

“Yeah, you remember. Fucking you until you can’t even remember what day it was.”

Suddenly he pulls free with a nasty squish. Cum spills to the floor. The sudden emptiness has you on the verge of tears. 

Lion gets to his feet while helping you to yours. 

Spinning you smash your lips hungrily to his in a hard kiss. 

His hands got for your hips and yours around his neck. His tongue delves past your lips diving deep back into your wet mouth. Tongue exploring freely. Tasting.

Hands slide to your ass lifting you into his arms–with a strength that was effortless–he didn’t even break the kiss. Lion carries you out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the bedroom. In his mind, he plans to split you open, spread you wide, and pound into you over and over again. 

Kissing you back just as hard, messy, tongue twisting yours as he makes his way down the hall. 

You cling to him keeping your lips connected as his hands dig into your soft ass cheeks. 

Distracted by the kiss and unable to see past you he accidentally knocks your body against a wall. Over correcting a bit too much and your back hits the opposite wall. The sudden jolts press you flush to his chest as he staggers on. 

With some effort the bedroom door flies open. Once inside the kiss broke and your thrown onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress as Lion follows on top of you instantly. 

Legs already spreading wide inciting him as he lines his dick up shoving back inside your stretched hole. Immediately the shaft is buried all the way to the hilt. Lion snaps his hips, smacking loudly with every thrust.

When you moan, he’s there to capture it in a hard kiss. 

The kiss lingers as you make out with him, arms slung around his neck holding him close. 

This is what he missed. The needy way you love him back. The way your body softly welcomes him in. Teeth scrape together lost in passion. 

You always knew your place was with him. Giving yourself over to him. It was rewarded with days like this. 

Lion pulls back slightly trailing down your chin, neck, until his lips reach your chest. Lips brushing over the pebbled nipples. 

You cry out, they were the most sensitive spots. 

And he knew it. 

His teeth bite down, then his lips seal around the pebble peaks, and he sucks. Tongue licking the sensitive bud causing you to whine beneath him. His dick pounds into that sweet spot non-stop.

Your legs wrap around his waist locking him in, pushing him deeper. A light mewl escapes. 

Lion’s tongue darts and flicks rapidly, swirling for added flavor. 

A loud moan rips from your throat. Chest arching.

He growls in satisfaction when you yell out his name. 

“Say it again,” the demand comes out muffled. “I want you to say my name while I fuck you raw.” His voice was rough with lust. “Before this night’s over that’s the only thing you’ll be able to say.” His tongue swirls again and he sucks hard.

Tears come to your eyes, back rising off the bed, nails digging into his neck. 

He lifts his head with a wet pop before going back and biting down. Licking and sucking until you cry. 

Every thrust hits hard against your prostate. Your back bends. The way he’s fucking you is rough, just how you like it. Voice breaking as you yell out. Lion has never taken you this way before. That thick dick bullies your tight walls. Reclaiming your body with force. 

An orgasm hits, walls clamping down without warning. Cum shoots from your tip, splattering both of you.

Hips still pound into you; you can hear a low hum reverberate from his chest. Skin slaps loudly against skin.

By now you both are covered in sweat, slick and shiny. Stomachs painted with smeared cum.

Lion seemingly has never ending stamina, tireless–just like he uses in fights in the ring. He’s hell bent on drawing out every drop of pleasure he can. Eventually he comes back up for another kiss. 

The kiss only adds to pushing you further into bliss. 

Your body demands more. Demanding to be consumed. Your legs tremble.

He’s already fucked you through your first orgasm, powerful body grinding against yours. He’s buried so deliciously, cockhead hitting that perfect spot as you try to hold on.

Before the first orgasm has finished another one rapidly crashes in making your eyes roll back into your skull. You moan like a slut, mouth parted, head thrown back. 

His tongue slides back into your open mouth swallowing the noise, sucking air from your lungs. Hips crash into yours, moving faster as he cums again.

He eases up to let you breathe while he pants like a dog. 

Under him you are a mess. Whining and moaning. 

He pulls out quickly. You are insatiable and he can’t get enough. Roughly he flips you to your stomach. Before he dives back in, he looks at your hole. Stretched wide from use, overflowing with cum as it pours out. He growls proudly at the sight. 

Spreading your cheeks watching as the puckered entrance contracts on air. Lining back up as he lays flat over your back, his dick slides so easily back into your open hole. Slotting back into place–as if your body was finally remembering who it was made for. 

You whimper into the bedding.

Solid arms wrap around your torso again, sliding firmly holding you in place. He lifts his hips, dick almost sliding all the way out before snapping back in. 

You choke loudly on a moan.

He does it again. And again. Sharp hard snaps from his hips until you’re a drooling overstimulated mess. Under him you are pinned as he roughly uses your ass. 

All you can manage is a pitiful whimper. Lost in a haze of his making. All you feel is that thick cock dragging over sensitive walls. Pulling out then slamming in.

Mouth parted, tongue sticking out, you moan like a desperate slut. The sound is loud and shameless. Vision grows blurry as your eyes glaze over. On your tongue you feel two of Lion’s fingers curl into your mouth. You are already far gone to register anything. Drooling over the digits before your mouth closes around them. Sucking them like you would his dick. 

Lion moans above you. You weren’t the only one overstimulated. His dick was sore and sensitive, but it kept up its brutal pace. Fingers slide deeper into your mouth. 

You groan tilting your head to the side to accommodate. Drool drops off your lips as he thrusts his fingers in and out. The dual sensation pushes you further into a haze. Body loosening, melting into the mattress, ass muscles relax, making his dick able to slide even faster. Your ass swallows his dick whole. You swear you can feel it in your stomach.

Your mouth loses tension dropping open–you are nothing but a panting hole for his dick now. 

Lion’s fingers hook the inside of your cheek keeping your head up. 

The mattress creaks from the force. 

The skin on your cheeks are red from how hard he’s been pounding you. Tears streak in lines down your face. Used and sensitive to the point pleasure stings. 

Lion is reaching his end; he can feel it. Dick throbbing, balls tightening. He moans next to your ear, arms tightening to hold you tight. 

“I’ll make sure to never leave you again.” He says panting hot and heavy. “I’m going to stay right here.”

A promise intended to be kept. 

“And I can promise you that I’ll keep you like this. Filled and used. By my side until we grow old. Just as it was meant to be.” He says softly nuzzling your head. 

“Li-Lion…” You slur. 

He hums to his name. “Say it again.”.

It took your muddled brain a moment to catch up.

“Lion…”.

Lion growls with one final slam of his hips spilling whatever he had left. Hips flush against your ass sealing our hole as a smaller load milks itself using your fluttering walls. 

In unison you groan loudly. 

His head dips next to yours as he lays on you. The sound of him panting never reaches your ears.

You couldn’t think straight. It felt as though he was thrusting–even though it was just his body jerking in the aftermath. All that was on your mind was him. 

His warmth. His weight. His dick. The way he took charge and reclaimed every inch of you.

You didn’t even feel when Lion rolled the two of you over onto your sides. Arms still holding tight. You did, however, whine from the movement. 

author’s notes: This has been rotting in my drafts for so long, omg. Ugh. Like, fly free, you stupid thing.

This is Jinu/Reader focused. The reader’s pronouns are he/him and his stylist name is Phantom; otherwise, no physical descriptors are used and race is ambiguous. I do my best to avoid naming the reader in my fics, but it was kind of necessary for this one. Plus, it’s a stage name anyway.

This will be canon divergent and non-compliant. No warnings I can think of, aside from allusions to the movie.

YouTube

sajaboys

Saja Boys (사자 보이즈) Soda Pop - Official MV

Most recent comments: robabyshipper: who’s in class rn → abbyshowabs: me → mysteryabbyagenda: meeeee → babypancakez: me me me meeeee

jinutoyou: guys… am i allowed to say something → maamchloeee: the outfits ? → abbyshowabs: girl YES thank you… they’re awful 😭

sajaboys2783924: stan saja boys!! 🥤🎉

pastelbarbie: let’s get this to 20m streams, guys!!! → mylilsodapopop: we’re more than halfway there and it’s only been a few days. WE GOT THIS.

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Twitter

Trending Saja Boys Related tags: SodaPop, SodaFlop

thekoreatimes K-Pop rookie Saja Boys rack up 25M Spotify streams on new single [link] → user29181: in less than two weeks is insane for a new group → kingkeonhee: wait ok where did these guys come from lol (and why is the song kinda catchy…) → ghostfacesgf: Soda Pop is all over my fyp → delululemon: i love them and im not sorry abt it → swimmingwithdafishes: they’re gonna make it big, i have a feeling. like really big. the song’s huge in the U.S. and South America rn too

sajaboys Soda Pop (사자 보이즈) is out now!

Most recent comments: stephenstrangely: y’all are gonna be so popular and i can’t wait → user91758: literally… WE WERE HEREEEE 

zoeywatersmycrops: i’m too busy with huntrix… huntrix keeps me too busy… busy… saja… → packinmybags: but that’s why bisexuality exists → zoeywatersmycrops: ur so right actually 

lunaluvs: SAJA BOYS 🦁💜

boiyoubetter: it’s pride month and not just for the gays 😏🏳️‍🌈🦁💜 → inthapride: omg true it’s double pride month atp

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Twitter

Trending Saja Boys Related tags: SodaPop, SodaFlop

babyabby9 lmfao i can’t believe #SodaFlop is a tag. y’all are funny. → househusbandw.othehouse: my little soda pop my little soda poppp → abbysrightpec: i have a feeling the tag was started by antis lol → babyabby9: ohhh i didn’t realize that. makes sense ig :( 

ergocoffeeb1tch #SodaPop sang this in my dreams last night supposedly (sorry, wifey) → ergofcku: sigh, i’ll allow it wifey

babysbonedrypacifier the only #SodaFlop about #SodaPop is the outfits → sjbysaao: yeah i think that’s what the tag is for tbh → s4j4b0y3: they’re so bad… looks like the easter bunny threw up all over them → mysterythevisual: plsssss 💀 → sportsboy178: ur username is crazy 😭 → babysbonedrypacifier: tyyy <3 → sportsboy178: wasn’t a compliment tbh but yw

abbysleftpec #SajaBoys new stylist when??? → mandywritesgarbage: do they even have one??? looks like they just raided an H&M → tralalaskippingsong: what H&M has clothing without stupid taglines??? where r u ???? can i come??? → abbysrightpec: LOLLL u right (also changed my user so we’re matching bestie) → abbysleftpec: reunited and it feels so gooood

hazbinahater#SajaBoyscharisma: 10 choreography: 10 vocals: 10 style: 

hannigrams: you forgot style → hazbinahater: that was the point → hannigrams: oh LMFAOOOO

gwimarmalade when are you going to feed us some good fucking food #SodaFlop → cabbytats: i mean they can look good in anything but damn 💀💀

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Twitter

Trending Met Gala Related tags: Sung-Min

vogue Sung-Min has arrived! ✨#MetGala[sungmin.jpg: A photo of the popular actor known by the moniker Sung-Min. He’s wearing a white-cream double-breasted suit that extends into a cape at the back, the fabric flowing down his shoulders, and wide black trousers. There’s a black flower-like decoration on the left lapel of the suit, and Sung-Min wears smokey eye shadow and green contacts.] → sumgninluvr: ARF ARFARF ARF RUH RUHRU ARF ARF → kpoppiephz: GIVE ME A CHANCE SIR PLEASEEEEE → user017952: omfg this outfit eats

g1rlfa1lure SUNG-MINNNN SIRRRRRR [sungminsmile.jpg: A candid photo of Sung-Min smiling on the red carpet.] → minsbeingsung: bro the designer/stylist did him so well holy shit

rahtahtahtah Who, who, WHO is sung-min’s stylist and how can i put him in my pocket #MetGala

flatlinedflop the #MetGala is my favorite time of year because i get to tell people about Phantom → lollipoppedoff: who is phantom → flatlinedflop: oh do i have something for you. pull up a chair, friend

scurvy New video out now!! 👇👇 [metgala.yt: A YouTube video with the title ‘Phantom: The Hidden Gem of the Met Gala’ with a thumbnail of the commentator with their eyes wide, overlaid on a snapshot of Sung-Min’s recent look.] → user88811: my favorite youtuber talking abt my favorite designer??? PINCH ME I MUST BE DREAMING 😩😩😩 → scurvyoranged: SCURVYYY thank god i was waiting for a vid from u abt this → orangeinstory: i may have to stan this phantom guy lowkey

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Twitter 

vogue You asked, we answered. Learn more about Phantom, the up-and-coming designer whose work has taken the entertainment industry by storm! [link]

Comments: phatazzz: the audacity to call him an up-and-coming designer 🤦 → wolvpool4eva: RIGHT he’s been in the game for years, y’all just hate to give queer artists credit🙄 → phatazzz: EXACTLYYY

kingkongkinggg: my boy finally getting some credit!!! → thurtytuwo: ok let’s not get too parasocial → user45111: no. get more parasocial. always. → kingkonginggg: feels like i have the angel on one shoulder and the devil on another lol

chchchcherry: ooooh the callout to upcoming projects…. i’m excited → trippedandstillserved: praying it’s another k-pop group, he always knows how to treat em 😩

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Twitter 

kingjinu JINU SPOTTED AT THE NY FASHION SHOW,,, I’M SCREAMING [jinufashion.jpg: A few pictures of Jinu sitting at the front row on one edge of the runway, one leg crossed over the other as he looks ahead in interest.]

Comments: abbyshowabs: why was he even there??? → kingjinu: for funsies, i guess! → babygotpancakes: isn’t that one designer in it?the one who styled sung-min for the met gala? I think he’s worked with kpop groups before too, maybe he was scouting him out or something → floptropica: i mean, i think that’s the agency’s job. maybe he just wanted to see. or he’s there for someone else, or he just likes fashion, idfk. 

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Instagram

jinu Great show. @phantom [runwaypic.jpg: A picture of the runway.]

Most recent comments: demoniajinuu: it’s nice that he’s tagging the designer 

pinterestbfaesthetic: did he really use the caption to shoot his shot 😭 → onmyputer584: i mean yeah → marksinsonoccasion: THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEE

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Instagram

You | phantom thank you! [bow.mp4: A short clip of you bowing at the end of the runway, as models wearing your work walk past and audience members applaud you enthusiastically.]

Most recent comments: xxevelynxx: thank YOU sir

trishamartelle: where was jinu sitting → freighttrainfall: uhhh it’s not in this pic i don’t think → trishamartelle: god dammit → freighttrainfall: lmfaooo

phantamsagore: killed it as always 🤘🤘

skiingenthusiast: i want the lavender outfit PLSSSSS → user19716: yeah i’m sure he’ll give a random fan a thousand dollar outfit → skiingenthusiast: stfu have some whimsy → user19716: my b i had a shit day → skiingenthusiast: aw hope it gets better → user19716: aw ty, ur too nice. sorry again, hope u have a good day too → trixiesbleachedwig: i love the internet sometimes

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YouTubesajaboys

Saja Boys (사자 보이즈) - Your Idol - Official MV

Most recent comments: sajatrixxx: who’s the stylist and does he have venmo → demonboyjinu: LOLLL → mysteryabbyagenda: he ATE → romancesu: assuming he’s a man??? → mysteryabbyagenda: nah his name’s listed in the caption → romancesu: ah my b! → mysteryabbyagenda: np

s4j4b0y3: FINALLY SOME GOOD FUCKING FOOD 

keepinuobsessed9: the boys look so goodddd 😭 this is all we wanted for them

user0120975: play me on repeat 끝없이 in your headddd → jinjinjniuuuu: anytime it hurts play another verse → kingromance3: i can be your sanctuaryyyyyy

gruhhhh: YOOO IT’S PHANTOM I FUCKING KNEW ITTTTTT → user94726: fellow phantom stan spotted!!

mothermothermother: yeah yeah the song is amazing but KEEP THE DESIGNER/STYLIST/wHOeVer the FUCK → love2deathx: FRRRRRR → phantasma: his name’s phantom! he has some great work :3 you may know him from Sung-Min’s recent met gala outfit → mothermothermother: o sht that was him??? Purrrrrr

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Twitter

Saja Boys Watch | sjwatch The Saja Boys are confirmed to be performing Your Idol at the Melon Music Awards!

Comments: romancesleftfoot: OH THANK GAWD

user14071: confirmed by who tho → parasocialityyyy: ur mom → flapjacked: wow ok then → user14071: i don’t think she knows kpop like that unfortunately

sajajajajajja: i wonder if phantom will be designing for them again → arsonist13: probably? i feel like he was a large part of the aesthetics of the MV, at least when it comes to their outfits :) → ajassajsa: seconded

jinusolosurfaves: if jinu has an open collar again i’m blowing up the capitol → thorgyustay: whoa now lollll → abbyssoakedabs: ok hunger games → babysgotraps: this is why normies don’t take us seriously lol

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INTERIOR – Backstage at the Melon Music Awards. 

You’re once again styling the Saja Boys, after a great reception of their most recent music video. You’re somewhat used to the chaos of the prep, with the guys flitting about as they get into hair and makeup before you’re putting the finishing touches on their outfits. Once you’re finished, you leave them to their final preparations. 

As you’re heading down the hall, you occasionally pass a few artists or backstage crew members. As you turn the corner, you nearly crash into a few familiar figures. You recognize them instantly: Zoey, Mira, and Rumi from Huntr/x. You like their music a lot, actually; you’ve never had the chance to work with them, though you would like to. 

They’re wearing two piece white and black outfits with gold accents, evidently for their performance of their recent single, Golden. Rumi’s vibrant purple hair is braided behind her; Mira’s pink hair cascades down her back, with two small portions tied back and some strands escaping near her face; and Zoey’s black hair is arranged into two buns. 

It’s kind of crazy to see Huntr/x in person like this. They’re so popular, you’ve seen them on the Internet almost countless times. They’re one of the top-ranking K-pop groups in the country right now. And this is one of the moments where you have to remember yourself, remember that even if you know of them, they don’t know you. 

You (managing to recover your wits) Oh, uh, sorry.

Zoey My bad!

Mira (crossing her arms over her chest) No, it was definitely his fault. 

Rumi (chastising) Mira… 

You (amused) I mean, she’s kinda right. 

ZoeyWait, you look familiar!

You Oh, well… I’m a designer.

Zoey Holy shit, no way! I knew it. 

Rumi (blinking at her in confusion) What?

Zoey (excitedly) You’re Phantom, aren’t you?

You Uh, yeah. Why?

Mira Dude. Bobby’s been trying to bag you for months.

Zoey elbows her in the side. 

What? It’s true.

Zoey (huffing) Not bag him!

She turns to you. 

We’ve wanted to work with you for a while. But you’re always busy!

You Wait. Wait. What? You have?

Mira Duh.

YouI had no idea! I mean, I know your contracts can be a nightmare, but if I’d known you guys were interested… 

Rumi We’d love to work with you sometime!

You Yeah, that’d be great! Seriously. 

Mira and Zoey exchange nods. 

Rumi I’m Rumi. This is Mira and Zoey. 

Mira ‘Sup.

Zoey Hi!

You Nice to meet you guys. 

You introduce yourself in return, trying to fight off any nervousness. You’re actually talking to Huntr/x…! Crazy. 

Rumi So, what brings you here?

You Oh, I’m just helping the Saja Boys. 

Immediately, all three of their faces fall into grimaces. 

Zoey You work with those jerks?

You (frowning slightly) …Yeah. Why?

Mira Have they ever tried to take your soul?

You stare at her, waiting for a punchline. It never comes. She’s staring at you sincerely. 

You Uh. What?

Rumi Ohohoh—kay. (laughing awkwardly) She’s just kidding!

Mira (flatly) Ha-ha. 

There’s a dark look on her face as she stares at you. Rumi notices this too and grimaces, throwing a hand over her friend’s face. Mira calmly pushes it aside and continues to study you. 

Rumi (brightly) Anyways. It’s so good to meet you—!

Suddenly the air in the room almost seems to change. Rumi’s eyes widen a bit and she takes a wary step back from you. You blink and turn slightly to find Jinu, leader of the Saja Boys, heading over to you, eyebrows furrowed. 

Jinu Everything all right here?

Rumi (quickly) Yeah, yeah.

Mira (nonchalant as always) Totally. 

Zoey (a little too fast to be genuine) Definitely!

Jinu takes in the picture the three of them make, before turning back to you. His hand falls onto your shoulder. 

Jinu Abby ripped his shirt. And not in the normal way.

You Oh. 

The tone of Jinu’s voice suggests that this constitutes some sort of emergency, and that he expects you to fix it. You turn back to Huntr/x reluctantly. 

Sorry, guys, guess I have to go. But it was great to meet you.

Rumi You too. 

Mira and Zoey echo the sentiment. Before you can speak for any longer, Jinu is turning you around and steering you down the hall. You blink and sneak a glance back at Huntr/x, only to find them immersed in serious conversation. 

Jinu What did they want? 

You Oh, nothing really. 

They just introduced themselves. They were asking if I could work with them soon.

Jinu We keep you pretty busy.

You (frowning) Not that busy.

Jinu Still. Us first.

You scowl and keep quiet, not having the energy for argument.

______

Twitter

snorkula am i the only one who liked the soda pop era fits?

Comments: seokjinuwu: yes you’re the only one koalalala: yes bloopydoop: yes chicosdelsaja: yeah hcemburnspiralperm: def [Expand 71 more comments] snorkula: OKAY DAMN YALL I GET IT JESUS

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INT. – Backstage before a performance, a week later. The Saja Boys are singing Your Idol live on TV. You’re making small adjustments to their outfits before they go out on stage. 

You (watching as Abby teasingly backs away from you) Hey, get back here. I need to fix your collar.

Abby dodges you again. Eventually you lose your patience and just yank him back toward you. Abby obeys with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

You (slightly frustrated) Stay still. 

Abby (smirking) Yes, sir. 

You just roll your eyes and make some adjustments, ensuring that uneven wrinkle on his collar is smoothed out.

Romance (whispering to Mystery) I’ll have what he’s having. 

Mystery lets out an amused exhale. Abby hears him and grins. 

You’ve long grown used to tuning them out as you work, so that’s what you do. You don’t hear these remarks, nor do you notice the mischief gleaming in Romance’s eyes as he turns to you. 

Romance Hey, I think my collar’s messed up too.

Before you can head over, Jinu is interjecting.

Jinu It’s fine. 

______

INTERIOR – The dressing room at an idol variety show, a few minutes before the guys are scheduled to make an appearance. Abby, Mystery, Romance, and Baby are ready to go—and they just left the room to take a peek at the stage and set. Jinu is here with you now, as you make a few last-minute adjustments to his suit. The collar isn’t really cooperating, and you keep having to fix it every few seconds. 

Eventually, you give up on trying to be unobtrusive. The occasional brush of a hand shouldn’t kill Jinu. 

…At least, that’s what you think. But once you reach back and fix the collar at the nape of his neck, he flinches and fidgets a bit. You draw back and look at him expectantly, knowing he’s usually the last one to make things difficult. He has to go on with the group in a few minutes—you don’t have time for games.

Jinu Your hands are freezing. 

Oh. That makes a lot more sense. You would’ve been concerned if he were trying to make things harder for you. He’s not usually the type. As the leader of the Saja Boys, he’s typically the one to reign in everyone else’s chaos. 

You Sorry. I have health issues.

…

Actually, no, I’m not sorry. Deal with it. 

Jinu looks at the wall ahead of him as you finally get his collar looking how you want it. Then you back away, tilting your head and looking at his outfit.

Jinu …I’m sorry. I didn’t know.

You blink up at him, briefly distracted from your scrutiny. 

You It’s fine. 

You crouch down and readjust the taper of his pants, focusing on one awkward bend in the ankle. Jinu seems slightly more restless than usual, as if he’s uncomfortable with your proximity. You make your quick fixes before standing back up.

There. How’s that?

Jinu looks in the mirror, begrudgingly turning and looking at himself with multiple angles. 

Jinu It’s… good. 

You You sure? I can fix it if it’s not comfortable. 

Jinu No. It’s good. 

He looks at himself in the mirror for another moment, before making eye contact with you in the reflection. 

Not sure how we did this without you before. 

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you shoot him a slight smile before reaching your arms over your head to stretch a bit. You can get pretty stiff when you’re fixated on your work, often ignoring muscle aches and pains. 

Jinu noticeably looks away. After a moment, he breaks the silence.

Jinu You have any siblings? 

You Uh… yeah. Why?

Jinu Younger? 

You Yeah. 

He nods as if he expected this. 

Jinu Thought as much. 

You kind of have an older brother aura about you. 

You (amused) Is that a good thing? 

Jinu Yes. 

Kind of a stickler, but… responsible. Like I should’ve been. 

You look over in confusion. He doesn’t give any explanation for this ominous remark, instead jumping down from the small platform and brushing his hands on his pants. 

Jinu Thanks. 

He’s already heading out of the dressing room before you can respond. 

______

Twitter

laterskhaters this dude did not just comment on a 5 month old post 💀 [comment.jpg: A screenshot of the comment section on your Instagram post from 5 months ago. It’s a mirror selfie; in the comments, Jinu commented: ‘Nice.’] → jajajaguar: come onnnn this is pathetic (THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEE) → babysgotback234: lolllll he’s whipped

______

Instagram

huntr.x look who we found! @phantom [huntrx.jpg: A selfie with the idols and you. Rumi is smiling and holding the camera out in front of you all; Zoey is holding up a peace sign, her arm on your shoulder; Mira is on your other side, straight-faced as always; you’re in the middle, a smile on your face.]

Most recent comments: rumzoemir4eva: CUTEEEEE

hunterofthetrix: waittt i love his work, pls tell me yall are gonna collab 🤞🤞

jinussajaboyz: oh jinu’s gonna HATE this → saja5eva: wait why → jinussajaboyz: we think he has a thing for phantom → saja5eva: fr? → jinussajaboyz: yesssss → user19798: i can see it tbh → flirtingwfailure: yah have u seen all the bts content??? jinu seems much more relaxed when phantom’s around, he looks at him more often, literally went to the ny fashion show just to see him, gets quiet and pissy when phantom gets attention from the others, etc etc 

hntrxxxxx: MY GIRLS (and boy haha)

rbrtdispatch: this pic is so damn cuteeeeeee

You: :) → sajaboysforpresidents: quick quick, there are two platforms over lava. One w huntrix and one w saja boys. u can save one group and only one group w a lever. who are u saving → jokersdemons: this is oddly specific → zoeymirarumi3333: what makes u think he’d answer this question lol → sajatrix: i’d save both tbh → user11918: considering ur username is a mashup of both groups, yeah, not surprising

______

Instagram 

sajaboys we had him first @phantom [sajaphantom.jpg: A backstage photo of you sprawled on a couch, looking at something on your phone. A baseball cap hides most of your face.]

Most recent comments: babyabby8: did he even knew this pic was taken… lmfao 

jinusovergrownbangs: wait full stop he’s cuteeeee → phantomforpres: i mean we been knew → jjjinuuu: tru 

huntrix: 🤨 → sajaboys:  🤷‍♂️ → plackbink: not the social media interns beefing → user93413: lolllll

sportsgirl179: the shade!!!

______

Twitter 

Trending Phantom Related tags: Stylist, Jinu

sajajajajajajjaja are saja boys and huntr/x beefing over a stylist LMFAO #Phantom → 80085forhire: designer and yes

jinuunij jinu definitely wrote that caption i just know it #Stylist #Jinu → user190573: yeah right… they have social media people for that → jinuunij: SO???? you really think they’d write something that personal & friendly? → user190573: …u right 

freerealestate OFC JINU TOOK THE FUCKING PIC #Stylist[scrnshts.jpgs: A series of screenshots of the photo Saja Boys posted of you, gradually zoomed in to reveal Jinu’s reflection in a nearby glass.] lollipoppyplaytime: there’s no way… y’all are crazy… → freerealestate: call it what you want, i don’t CARE

trainindayz who is this guy and why is he y/n #Phantom 

______

Weverse

Saja Boys demon diaries, xvi. 

Comments: 

jinubias4L: who was jinu talking to off screen? his voice is too muffled and the subtitle doesn’t say → abbygimmeursweattowel: kinda sounded like he said that phantom designer guy’s name? maybe i’m tripping → allsajaallday: no that’s what i thought too,, not sure why he’d be at their dorm but

______

Instagram 

abbyhomeslice 🍰 [abbyphantom.jpg: A mirror selfie of Abby and you. His free arm is thrown around your shoulders.] 

babysgotbackpain: whoaaaa phantom’s really the sixth member of the group huh → gorillagluegorl: literally

axeismaibuddy: i didn’t realize abby was friends with the stylist…. new ship, methinks? → flagrantfouls: lord pls no, not another one. i have my hands full with jinu & phantom lord PLEASE SPARE ME

______

Instagram 

You | phantom thank you everyone for the bday wishes!!!!! 🖤 [bday.jpgs: A short collection of photos. The first one is a picture of a birthday cake with lit candles; the second is a selfie with you and a friend. The third is a meme of a cat staring at a cake while wearing a birthday hat.] 

Most recent comments: tjlakesss: happy belated bdayyy

craty82: happy birthday to the man who singlehandedly saved saja boys from shitty outfits!!! we love and stan you fr 

flagrantfouls: HBD KING

Romance: 🎂

Baby: 🎂

Mystery: happy birthday! 

Abby: HBDDDD 🤘

sajaboys: our fav stylist → crazyeights: even the social media intern agrees → sajaboys: excuse your mouth i am a full time employee (lying) → crazyeights: LOLLL good for u tbh

Jinu: Happy birthday. → floptinta: say it like u mean it → mrqueennn: lmaooo i didn’t want to be the one to say it → valentinetx: why are we always clowning him lollll → mrqueennn: he’s rich he can take it → valentinetx: factual 

______

Twitter 

You | phantom stop telling everyone i’m dead Jinu

Jinu: then stop showing up to rehearsal late → You: as if i have to be there at all → Jinu: 😐 → Romance: 😐 → Abby: 😐 → Baby: 😐 → Mystery: 😐 → You: WHAT THE FUCK. 

insectsareppltoo: not them fighting on twitter instead of the gc → user04171: right like i don’t mind getting a front seat but xD

______

Instagram 

You | phantom mono [mirror.jpg: A mirror selfie of you in a monochromatic outfit, with a somewhat bulky jacket, a slim-fitted ribbed tank top underneath, and sleek pants complete with a studded belt, platform boots, and silver jewelry.]

dreamconesteam: hi sir can i take ur order i mean uh 

theeebestest: *knees wobbling* uhhh can i um. what am i here for again → thorgystan1: LOLLL 

Abby: ur missing buttons → You: shut up

Romance: 🤘 → You: <3 → ajthedj30: wait why do i ship it → gresin: i hate it here

Jinu: so you do know how to dress nicely. → You: 🖕 → goblinmunchin: LMFAOOO jinu u ain’t slick → cerealchamp: mom is this flirting → mamaiminlovewafag: yes son → cerealchamp: thanks → jinuikurreadingthis: very subtle jinu → idgafbid: lolllll

______

YouTube

vanityfair Lie Detector Test w/ Phantom!

[phantomldt.transcript: 

You can be seen sitting at a table in front of a brick wall, wearing a sweater over a collared shirt, baggy pants, and platform boots. You seem to be looking at someone behind the camera as you smile self-deprecatingly.

You I didn’t think I was this popular. (laughing)

Cheery music plays as the Vanity Fair logo flashes over the screen, on top of a few clips of your reactions throughout the video. Then the logo fades and the screen returns to you, staring at the camera with a reluctant smile. 

You Hi. I’m Phantom. I’m a designer based in Seoul; I’ve worked with actors, singers, celebrities… Most recently, I’ve designed for Saja Boys and Huntr/x. 

Photos of your work fade in and out on the screen, showcasing the breadth and variety of your work.

I guess I’m here today to take a lie detector test! Yikes. I don’t think I have anything to hide, but I’m getting nervous…

A crew worker can be seen at the edge of the screen, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around your upper arm. They then set up some small cuffs on two of your fingers (a galvanograph, supposedly) and some sort of cardio reader. They look to the administrator before disappearing. 

You Jesus, I’m terrified. Lowkey. Maybe highkey.

A dramatic spotlight is placed on you. You squint for a bit. 

Interviewer Is your designer name Phantom?

You Yes. 

Interviewer Are you here to take a lie detector test?

You Yes. 

You look over to the administrator of the test, who is watching the polygraph. He nods. You then refocus on the camera. 

Interviewer You’ve liked fashion from a young age, right? 

You Ah, yeah! So ever since I was little, I really liked clothing. I couldn’t really articulate why at the time. I just liked feeling the textures of different clothes, I liked looking at all the different colors. 

I actually am remembering now… My mom had to take me to some of her hair salon appointments, because my dad was at work. And while she got her hair dyed or touched up or whatever, I was usually left to my own devices. One Christmas, I got this… I guess it’s sort of a sketchbook? Except it had stenciled outlines for mannequins. I used to love drawing in that. Or I guess ‘coloring’ would be a more accurate word. 

The administrator gives a thumbs-up.

Interviewer What’s one fashion trend or item that you’ve never liked? 

You Ooh, that’s a good one. I’ll say… low-rise jeans. I never liked them, always thought they looked weird. Also, I feel like that’s definitely a trend that was optimized for skinny people. Low-rise pants were popular in the 2000s, and at the time, I remember beauty conventions being very strict. Of course, they still are, but you know what I mean. 

Honestly, I just don’t think they look that great to begin with. There’s nothing wrong with wearing them with a sweatshirt, sweater, whatever. But when you combine low-rise jeans with a crop top, it’s way too much. I don’t want to be seeing that much of someone. Feels weird. 

Interviewer Have you ever styled for someone you didn’t like?

You Yeah.

Interviewer Who was it?

You Yeah, no, not saying that. 

But I will say that it was early on in my career. And, I mean, working with people you don’t like… that’s applicable to pretty much any career. You’re going to run into people you don’t vibe with, and that’s okay. 

I’ve been very fortunate recently, to be able to pick and choose my clients. In the beginning, when no one knew me, I had to take what I could get. But now I get to be more selective. It’s a privilege for sure. But I like to think that I’ve worked hard for it.

Interviewer Have you ever been told that you’re intimidating?

You No. I don’t think so?

Administrator (makes an uncertain face)

You I mean, maybe? I don’t try to come off as intimidating. 

Though I will say I’ve been told I have a resting scowling face. So that could be a contributor. 

The administrator nods. 

Interviewer You once said that you believed fashion has a lot of room to grow. Do you think that’s still true?

You Oh, absolutely. 

Administrator True.

You Fashion reflects social norms. For a long time, people with paler skin, thin forms, and eurocentric features were considered beautiful. As time has passed, and we’ve tried to address many of the different prejudices that influence style, I think we often fall back into that same pitfall. Style these days is still confined to the gender binary. And it’s infinitely more accessible for thinner people. And men. 

I could go on. (waves a hand dismissively)

Interviewer Do you believe beauty is pain?

You Oh, hm… 

Yes. But also no? 

I think it’s hard to find a real answer to that question. A lot of beautiful pieces are uncomfortable. Sleek outfits with leather, for example. Leather looks great, but it’s uncomfortable. High heels are another example: they look incredible and elegant, but they’re not designed to be worn for long periods of time. 

I think beauty can be painful, but beauty shouldn’t necessitate pain, if that makes sense. Like, an outfit can be stylish and comfortable at the same time. 

Interviewer Recently, you’ve been receiving a lot of attention for your work with the Saja Boys. 

You…

Interviewer… 

You Okay. Sorry, was that a question, or…?

Interviewer Do you enjoy working with them?

You Oh! Yeah. 

Administrator …True. 

You Whew. (wiping a hand from your forehead in mock relief)

Interviewer Do you have a favorite member to style? 

You Probably Romance. He tends to be the most easygoing when it comes to trying new things. Plus he dyes his hair pretty frequently, so it’s fun to experiment with color. 

Administrator True. 

You give the camera a relieved grimace. 

Interviewer Do you like the Saja Boys more than Huntr/x?

You Ha… (grimacing)

That’s tough. And kind of a multi-faceted question. 

Interviewer We can go through the different ones. Are you closer to the Saja Boys?

You I—Oh. Uh. Yeah. I’ve been working with them longer. 

The administrator nods in agreement. 

Interviewer In terms of music, do you like the Saja Boys’ better? 

You Ugh, I knew this was coming… 

You rub your hands over your face before taking a deep breath. 

No.

Administrator …He’s telling the truth. 

You Don’t get me wrong, I like them both! But Huntr/x is just… I don’t know. There’s something about them! Their music is really magnetic. They make use of their harmonies really well. They’re versatile, while still having a recognizable sound. I like their music better. 

…Saja Boys, don’t fire me. 

Interviewer Kiss, marry, kill these Saja Boys songs: Soda Pop, Your Idol, and Psyche. 

You (laughing in awkward pain) Oh no…

Administrator He’s getting nervous. 

You (dryly) Wow, thanks. 

Okay. I’ll kiss Your Idol. It’s a great song, but it definitely alludes to some of the dependency and parasocial feelings that can spring up between fans and their idols. Not something you’d want to build a long-term relationship on. I’d marry Psyche, because that song is already about introspection and making peace with your feelings. That makes me think it’d be a good partner. 

Interviewer Then that leaves Soda Pop. You’re killing it?

You …Yeah. 

Administrator Heart rate’s rising. 

You Hey, come on… 

Interviewer What is it about Soda Pop that makes your heart rate go up?

You Ugh, I’m going to get completely dragged for this…

(You bury your head in your hands for a moment, before letting your hands fall to the table with a dull thud and looking at the camera.)

Fine, I’ll tell the truth. I don’t like Soda Pop. 

Administrator…Truth. 

You It’s more than that, actually. I really don’t like it. I kind of hate that song. 

Adminstrator Still true. 

You It’s just too upbeat for my liking. And when you compare it to Idol and Psyche, which both have a lot more symbolism… I don’t know. It doesn’t do it for me. I don’t like that kind of peppy music. 

Plus, it kind of reminds me of my days working in retail… Soda Pop gives off the vibe of a song that would be blasted through a department store for days on end. 

Interviewer Have you worked at a department store?

You Yeah, just as a high school job. 

The nightmares of customer service… I really do think, truly, that everyone should be required to work a customer service job for one full year. That should be the requirement for graduating high school. I think it would make for a much nicer world. 

I’m not trying to be ignorant in saying that minimum wage work is the worst situation a person can be in, or that working in retail or food service automatically makes you a good person or anything. It’s more… I just think it would be a rude awakening for a lot of people. Because you see how these [CENSORED]— whoops, probably can’t say that. You see how demanding and just completely rude people can be. And many of the customers who act like that, they’re used to being catered to. They’re not accustomed to being on the other side of the fence, have probably never even been over there. 

The administrator and interviewer are both silent. 

You (laughing) Went on a tangent there, sorry.

Interviewer Have you ever been in a relationship with a client?

You No. 

The administrator nods in agreement. 

You That would be awkward. I like to keep work and personal life separate. 

Interviewer Have the Saja Boys ever irritated you?

You Oh, of course. 

But I’m sure I’ve irritated them too. It can be kind of stressful—on either side of the equation. If you’re an idol, you want your clothing to be seamless, an extension of yourself that’s still practical enough to perform in. If you’re a designer, you want your clients to look their best. I mean, I said it before, but it’s hard to have both. 

And fashion is tricky sometimes! Some people have smaller comfort zones than others. Sometimes, you have to accept that. Other times, they may need to branch out a bit. 

Interviewer Final question: Did you lie at any point during this interview and get away with it?

You No. I don’t think so. I’m terrible at lying, actually. 

Administrator True. 

You Did I pass?

Administrator (wryly) You passed. 

YouSweet. 

The video ends with the Vanity Fair logo appearing on screen, as other recommended videos pop up.]

Comments: sajamennn: wait he’s got a point → bloopdidoop: he’s an icon, he’s a legend, and he is the moment. now, come on now. (i had to do it)

jmartinese: i actually love that he calls out a lot of the beauty standards. → crabbycakes: yeah he seems like a good guy, genuinely. he’s spoken out before about how women in particular can be objectified or how their bodies (and lives in general) are so often policed. and he tries to keep that in mind when he suggests styles for them. → megthegriffin: awwwww → huntrixareforgays: omg i noticed that!!!! like, mira has spoken about this before, and how she actually prefers outfits with more coverage but she’s always thrown in more revealing ones anyway. and now that i think about it, phantom’s recent designs all have mira in pants or something with more coverage! he really listens to his clients, i think :) 

mirarror RUHURHURHURHUHRUHR → kylorennyren: i want himmmmmm RAHHHHH → lofistudyboy: he’s so foineee

aliciaaa45: there are two types of comments: socially aware or barking like a dog → mirarror: LOLLLLL can’t i be both → aliciaaa45: i mean, live ur truth → mirarror: thank you. (ruf ruf ig)

sajaajas: OOOP not the soda pop shade → saja4saja: i mean, it’s not really shade, it’s just his opinion. and he was reasonable about it. → sajaajas: truuu

jinjinjinu: no wonder jinu’s obsessed w this guy → mysteryunsolved: right? like i’m about to be obsessed w him too 😭

______

Twitter

Trending Phantom Related tags: LieDetector

cassfiles “I think beauty can be painful, but beauty shouldn’t necessitate pain, if that makes sense.” #Phantom→ pshplease: GAWDDD we don’t deserve him

thworrrrrrp #Phantom i’ve never seen someone tell the truth so many times during a lie detector test → breakfast4dinner: frrrr! even the administrator seemed a little less stern-faced than usual :>

31381404 i hate him /j #Phantom #LieDetector[irritation.mp4: A short screen recording of the interview, when you’re asked if the Saja Boys irritate you.] → lawlightapologist: hahahhaa

kimkitsuragistan #LieDetector i had never heard of this #Phantom guy before this video, but damn, he’s cool → scizor64: ikr drhouseisgay #Phantom spitting facts about fashion and the obsession with being rail thin

______

[Saja Boys in Style] Abby: well i for one am offended Baby: ? Mystery: ur always offended… Abby: shaddup Romance: lol Jinu: what are you offended by Abby: our favorite stylist doesn’t even like our music :( You: THAT’S NOT EVEN CLOSE TO WHAT I SAID Romance: yeah… didn’t realize you hated us so much You: bruh Abby: do u even care about us at all 🙁 You: i’m going to jump into a pool fully clothed Romance: that’s… extreme. Baby: 🏊‍♂️ Abby: do it coward Jinu: Everyone, relax. Romance: he’s pulling out the proper punctuation now Mystery: shit’s going deownnnnn You: : ‘ ( Jinu: Stop crying. You: i’m not crying 🙄 Abby: well I AM Romance: lmfaooooo liar Abby: stfu Jinu: @You We’re going to grab ramyeon if you want to join us. You: yeah sure! usual place? Romance: mhmmm You: kk

______

Instagram Story 

baby [ramyeon.mp4: A short video of the Saja Boys and you at a restaurant table. Baby turns the camera to selfie mode, showing Abby and Romance next to him. They throw up peace signs and winks. Then Baby flips the camera and films Mystery, Jinu, and you. Mystery hides in his bangs; Jinu just gives the camera a slightly annoyed look, and you give a helpless smile. When Baby keeps zooming in on you, Jinu blocks it with his hand.]

______

Twitter

jinu Lfjsdafkerretqwthut5e when he 

Mystery: profound

Abby: check which acct ur posting on, oh wise leader of ours

Romance: lmao tweaking on main is crazy

Baby: same 🍼

thesuperkent: who is this ‘he’ you’re talking about, hmmmm??? → jokesonufool: i’m about to freak the fawk out → crscnt: same

billbuttlicker: this is about phantom. because i said so. → gratercheese: thank you, bill buttlicker.

phantasmagoric: PHANTOM X JINU CONFIRMED → jinucomehome: y’all just hearing what u wanna hear at this point → phantasmagoric: and??? 

______

Instagram 

romance w the liar himself [liar.jpg: A photo of you walking ahead of Romance, your back turned as you walk down the sidewalk.]

You: oh come ON i didn’t even lie??!

rawrxdhesaid: god i can’t keep up anymore. I CAN’T KEEP UP someone just write a poly fic and get it overwith → mria4l: omg frrrrr

sajaboystilidie: y’all are cute → huntr.xeats: rightttt???

elbebeebeb: this kinda looks like a date to me ;) → twentyeightreasons: shhhh jinu’s here don’t let him see this

Jinu: so this is why you were 15 min late to rehearsal → abbyromanceagenda: lmao he jealous → mysterylovesmisery: jinu 😭😭😭

______

Twitter

sajaboysat6 Eagle-eyed fans recently spotted Jinu’s comment on a TikTok, where he tagged Romance and Abby. The featured video shows various agitated reaction pictures; a song by The Marías plays in the background, with a text overlay reading “can’t stop thinking abt him” 

Comments: mysterywantsme: the Marías????? jinu bisexual confirmed → batrickpateman: girl mystery don’t want you → mysterywantsme: and he don’t want ur ass either → batrickpateman: AYO??? → mysterywantsme: lolll that was too far u right my bad

______

Twitter

You | phantom i’m tired of being unable to watch tiktoks and being gaslit abt it. do i make a burner account so i can see what ppl send me orrrr

nosferatueats: um YES>??? DUH

qwerkee: i’ll be honest, you aren’t missing much. if anything. → polygloth: yeah tbh it’s all just brainrot → user192173: there are occasional nuggets of gold → kingkongsolos: yeah but does that justify wading through rivers of literal shit to find it? → bvjohnson27: that’s life mama → kingkongsolos: poetic

Jinu: no. → Jinu: suffer and miss out instead. → You: damn, gm to you too → tralalalalatte: lmao loser trying to cover his tracks, we already caught you in 4k bud → smoshinit: catch him doing what??? → tralalalalatte: he commented on an alt account, on a mlm aesthetic tiktok, and tagged romance and abby. lolll → smoshinit: hahahha amateur mistake

Baby: googoo ga ga or whatever the fuck → You: LMFAOOO

Abby: u have friends? → You: u just sent me a tiktok 15 min ago and got mad when i told u i couldn’t view it → You: then complained again when i asked u to save it to ur camera roll and send it → Abby: yeah i’m not cluttering up my storage for ur boomer ass → You: boomer???? i’m gen z and younger than you, tho??? 😭😭 → Abby: ok grandpa → You: bruh 

______

TikTok 

You | phantom bloop [sajatrix.mp4: A video of the Saja Boys speaking amongst themselves, set to “How It’s Done” by Huntr/x.]

Comments:

user01951: phantom has tiktok now?!?!???

sajastansrise: WELCOME TO HELL BRO

hungryhippo: omfg he’s so unserious 😭😭😭 → zoeyiloveupls: ^ right like this is the first tiktok you make on your account ??? funny as fuck 😭😭

Mira: lmao Liked by creator. 

engenezfoiya: uniting fandoms one tiktok at a time → sajatrix: right like why fight when we could just make out → engenezfoiya: whoa idk about all that → miramarryme: shhhh speak for urself → engenezfoiya: LOLLL

______

TikTok

You | phantom [eyeroll.mp4: A short selfie video of Jinu rolling his eyes, with the music set to “Psyche” by Saja Boys. There’s white text near the center of the video that reads: “stream Psyche”.]

Comments: 

8nleftnone: u got it boss Liked by creator.

jinusthirdhusband: awwwwwe stealing his bf’s phone 🥺

tomnookservant: lmao did jinu steal ur phone dude Liked by creator.

drhouseapologist: first (twelve hundredth) Liked by creator. 

phantomxjinuwhen: phantom liking all the comments except the ones abt him dating jinu 😭😭

______

TikTok

You | phantom [recognized.mp4: “Someone came up to me on the street and recognized me for my work. Which is awesome. But also…” You put the phone down on a nearby wall and take a few steps back to get your entire body in view of the camera. Wearing sweatpants, an oversized sweatshirt, and sneakers, you extend your arms in a helpless gesture. “Basically, I don’t really look the part.”]

Comments: 

Jinu: who → Baby: 🙋 → You: lolll i wish tbh → Baby: 😏 → You: 😏

usernameforthcoming: and??? still hot → ghostfaceit: real

dresstodepress: your work speaks for itself! everyone deserves to relax and dress how they want. → monstaxsandohs: preach!

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Weverse

sajaboys [LIVE] A Week of Celebration: Day 1!

Mystery In celebration of the release of our new album Psyche, we’ll be doing a week of streams with different guests.

Baby Go listen to the album if you haven’t already. 

Abby nods. 

Abby And today we’re here with our beloved designer and stylist… Phantom!

Abby promptly pulls you into view of the camera, looping an arm over your shoulders and grinning. 

Say hi to our fans!

You (slightly awkward, with a small wave) …Hi.

Abby Isn’t he adorable?

Mystery (unimpressed) What’s the next game?

Abby Ah, eager to get to it, I see. How about you pick, Romance?

Romance Okay. 

Romance digs his hand into a fishbowl of paper slips, pulling one out and unfolding it. 

‘Agree/disagree standing game.’

Baby Cool.

Jinu Do we have room for this?

Romance Probably. 

There’s some shuffling as you and the Saja Boys clear a space for all of you to stand. 

Director (from off screen) Okay, most of you have probably played this game. I’m going to give you a statement, and you’ll stand where your opinion falls: strongly disagree on the far left—your right—, then disagree, and neutral in the middle. Agree and strongly agree are on the other side.

The members all nod. You shove your hands in your pockets and make sure to join the very back of the line. You all stand in the center and wait for your first round. 

Director Great. First one: ‘I’m a morning person.’

All of you spread out as you contemplate your answers. You end up standing in the “Neutral” line behind Mystery; Jinu is the only one in the “Strongly Agree” category; Romance, Abby, and Baby are all in the negative sections. They proceed to debate with Jinu about early morning dance practices, while you try to stifle a smile. 

Director Next one: ‘I like being the center of attention.’ Go!

You head over to the ‘Disagree’ section, blinking as you watch all five members head to the other side of the room. 

You Oh, I guess that checks out. 

Romance (teasingly) Who’s the center of attention now? 

You Shut up. 

You all return to the center of the room. 

Director ‘I’m the most likely to hold a grudge.’

The members all but shove Jinu into the ‘Strongly Agree’ section. You and Baby are both in the ‘Disagree section’, with Romance, Mystery, and Abby in the neutral middle ground. Baby and you fist bump; Romance and Abby seem intent on airing Jinu’s dirty laundry, as they proceed to list the numerous times in which Jinu got mad at them for something and refused to let it go. 

You all return to the middle of the room again. 

Director ‘I’ve pictured my own wedding.’

And you walk right back to the ‘Strongly Disagree’ area. Staring at the guys, you realize you’re yet again an outlier.

Romance (turning to Mystery next to him) You probably have the venue picked out already, huh?

Mystery promptly hides behind his bangs. 

That’s what I thought. 

Abby I already know what suit I’m wearing. 

Baby I mean… don’t most guys just wear a black suit anyways?

Abby Well, maybe, but I’m not basic. I want it to be a tear-away at least. So I can just rip it off. 

Romance (amused) Not a tear-away… 

Abby (turning to you) Whatcha doin all the way over there? I know you’ve thought about our wedding at least once.

You (rolling your eyes) Shut up. And no, I haven’t.

Romance You’ve never imagined it?

YouI mean, I don’t really believe in marriage. Not for myself, anyway.

Romance Oh, would you look at that. 

Before you can wonder what he’s talking about, Romance is heading across the room and standing behind you. He props his head up on your shoulder. 

Guess I haven’t imagined our wedding either. 

You huff in disbelief. 

You You’re stupid. 

Romance grins and winks at the camera. The other members look begrudgingly amused at his antics, while Jinu looks strangely silent and blank. More so than usual, anyway. He’s staring at Romance rather intently, even as you all reunite in the middle of the room.

______

Weverse

sajaboys[LIVE] A Week of Celebration: Day 5!

Abby Back by popular demand: It’s Phantom, our favorite designer! Don’t tell the others, though. 

You (waving at the camera kind of awkwardly) Hey.

Romance Hey yourself. 

You roll your eyes. 

Mystery Looks like the game for today is… (reaching his hand into the fishbowl of papers, pulling one out and unfolding it) …Truth or Dare. 

Abby Hell yeah. 

Baby No one’s daring you to take your shirt off. 

Abby Aw. 

Maybe Phantom will. 

Jinu No, he won’t.

You (with faux-defeat) Fine, I won’t.

You all gather into a circle and begin the game. The first few rounds go pretty quickly, and you’re fortunate enough not to be called on. But once Mystery answers a tough question from Romance, he’s picking you to take your turn. 

You I guess I’ll do… Dare.

Mystery Okay. I dare you to… read out your ten most recent Google searches. 

You Ten?!

Abby Come on, it can’t be that bad. 

You I mean, let me look… 

Oh God… 

You scroll down, eyes skimming the screen, before you burst out laughing. 

Abby C’mon, dude, you gotta read ‘em!

You Okay, okay. I can explain these. The first one is just ‘community fire’. I was looking for that meme from Community where the apartment’s on fire and everything’s chaotic. 

‘Calm reaction pic’... Self-explanatory. ‘World Cup’, obviously… Oh, ‘Midwest lawnmower tornado’. That’s a classic. 

The guys laugh. 

‘Max Stranger Things’. I’ve never even watched that, so not sure why I looked it up. 

The next one actually has you choking with laughter, as you bury your head in your hands. 

Mystery That bad?

Baby It’s probably something crazy. 

Romance Or inappropriate.

You Okay, well, given the context!

Jinu (amused) What context? You haven’t even given us any. 

You Shut up. Given the context. ‘Why was Nagito tied up’. The context is I was thinking about Danganronpa 2. 

Silence. Then everyone’s laughing. Even Jinu is chuckling, that restrained smile on his face. 

Oh, ‘Book Park Lounge’, I was looking for this place near me… 

Romance Whoa, we can’t just breeze past that. 

You Breeze past what?!

Ugh… it does look crazy out of context. But that does actually happen. Nagito gets tied up after the first trial and I couldn’t remember why. Danganronpa is wild out of context. And in context too. 

‘Free guy all actors’. My mom wanted to know the one actress in the movie… ‘Waterpark simulator lag’, my game was lagging… And ‘scientology history’, because my friends and I were talking about those speedrunning videos.

The guys are all sporting various expressions of amusement. The room is starting to feel warmer. You groan and recline onto the floor, putting your hands over your face in embarrassment. 

You (muffled) I’m never going outside again… 

You sit there for a few moments in embarrassment, until there’s a hand on your ankle.

Jinu (gently) It’s your turn. 

______

Twitter

Trending Saja Boys Related tags: TruthorDare, Phantom

mysterysdestiny mystery having pics of the group as his lock and home screens 😭😭😭 #TruthorDare

user69161 #Phantom is the honorary sixth member idec what anyone says. 

tjctearl baby’s new hair… RUURHURHRUHRUH #SajaBoys

jinustaxes JINU’S HAND ON PHANTOM’S ANKLE?????  UJHHHHHHHHHHHHGIDAKGHDSJKFDBKSF #TruthorDare (handonankle.mp4: A screen recording of the aforementioned moment on stream, where Jinu placed a hand on your ankle to get your attention.) → breakfastlunchclub: omg i noticed this too 

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Weverse

Saja Boysdemon diaries, xxiv. 

[From 01:08:19 to 01:09:33:

There’s a figure in the far back corner of the screen, in the adjoining hall of the space. Jinu is the first to notice their presence, looking at the screen before turning around. Romance is still talking, so whatever Jinu says gets lost. 

A few moments later, the new arrival makes himself known: it’s you. You’re wearing a short-sleeved shirt and baggy jeans, and after a moment’s contemplation, you take your sneakers off as you enter. You’re holding a nondescript bag of groceries, and you head across the screen and out of view again as you evidently put them away. 

Jinu appears distracted, frequently casting a glance over his shoulder as he hears you putting everything away. Romance looks amused by this, but he still holds the chat’s attention for the most part. Then, when your footsteps can be heard getting closer, he addresses you. 

Romance We’re on live. 

You (frowning, pausing at the edge of the hall) Uh… okay. Do I need to leave or something?

Jinu No. 

RomanceNope. Just saying. Just so the room knows. 

You give him a weird look before heading over to them both.]

Most recent comments: user9175816: ok but why would romance warn phantom unless he was expecting something to happen → patternsimashamedof: wdym → user9175816: i’m interpreting it as romance being like ‘we’re on live, so don’t act all lovey dovey’ to the two of them lol → patternsimashamedof: when have they been lovey dovey? → user9175816: idk just let me live in fantasyland 😭😭😭

drlectersdinner: Romance saying “Just so the room knows” while smirking at the camera… meanwhile Jinu is glaring at him… MWHAHHAHA there’s something there fs

jackeloped: Jinu pulling up a chair for Phantom and then immediately including him in convo ;( i’m sobbing

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TikTok kratosaxeme [ranking.mp4: A brief clip from a longer moment on stream where you and Jinu were following along to some food ranking videos. The first food that appears on the screen is pizza. 

You Okay, I love pizza. But you don’t like it, right?

Jinu’s eyes widen for a moment. 

Jinu How do you know that? 

You (blinking) Uh… you told me.

Jinu (thinking for a moment) …Yeah. 

I tell lots of people. They don’t usually remember. 

YouWell, of course I remembered. 

Silence. 

You (smirking) How could I forget that you’re a freak of nature? 

Jinu rolls his eyes. 

You Anyways. We have both sides of the spectrum here, so now I think we’re forced to put pizza somewhere in the middle. Maybe number four? We still have a lot to go.

Jinu doesn’t respond. You look over at him and he blinks as if thrown from a trance. 

Jinu Four’s fine.]

Most recent comments: user97561: this is so cute actually

abbysbaby: jinu looked so soft there… and then phantom had to ruin it by being a demon 😭😭 → kreennaveen: LOLLL he’s not the sentimental type methinks

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Twitter

jinuscakes No way he just said this no way no way no WAYYYYYYY [type.mp4: The members are asked about their ideal romantic ‘type’. Jinu is the last to answer. 

JinuMy type… 

Someone who’s… smart. Creative. And… independent.

Romance exchanges a knowing look with Abby behind Jinu’s back.]

user56516: wait i don’t get it → jinuscakes: he’s literally DESCRIBING PHANTOM 😩😩😩 → user56515: OH SHIT WAIT UR RIGHT

floptinta: notice the gender neutral phrasing → ottooctaviussssss: yeah jinu’s bi! → floptinta: OH SHIT FR>>>??? → ottooctaviussssss: YES he’s posted & talked abt it before :)

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EXTERIOR – Streets of Gwangju, South Korea. 

Romance, Jinu, and you are exploring the city, looking for the coffee shop you want to visit. You’re all decked out in casual clothing, T-shirts and shorts and sneakers. Romance has a bucket hat on to block some of the sun—how he makes it look good, you have no idea. You’re just settling for occasionally throwing a hand over your eyes. 

You’re only about half a kilometer away from the coffee shop, but for whatever reason, the navigation is starting to send you on a strange path. You decide to pause and get your bearings. Romance scrolls on his own phone for a bit, before growing bored and sighing and resting his chin on your shoulder. You two are almost the same height, so it doesn’t make the gesture too awkward. He wraps his arms around your waist. 

Jinu returns to the two of you after consulting a nearby map, eyebrows furrowing. He turns to Romance. 

Jinu Why… are you so close to him?

Romance (with a shit-eating grin) I have separation anxiety.

Jinu (unconvinced) Uh-huh.

And you’re letting this happen. 

You look up from your phone to find him looking at you expectantly. You shrug. Jinu huffs, an uncharacteristic gesture for him. You raise an eyebrow and keep scrolling through your phone. 

You It says it’s… up ahead, to the left. I guess. It took us on a weird path, though. 

Jinu Yeah, the map said that too. Must’ve tried to avoid foot traffic or something. 

You I guess so. 

Romance Well, lead the way. 

You I do have to walk, you know. 

Romance lets out a dramatic sigh before reluctantly letting his arms fall from your waist. Though he then just sneaks a hand down and holds yours. You walk a few steps, only to realize you don’t hear Jinu walking next to you. You turn back around to find him still standing there. 

You Jinu?

Jinu Right. 

You (with a playful smile) I do have another hand, you know. 

You hold out your hand, completely expecting him to laugh it off or scoff and walk away. Instead, he stares at your proffered hand for a long moment, before taking it. The three of you head off hand in hand, before Romance is suddenly dropping your hand and falling back. 

You What—?

You blink and turn, spotting Romance heading back toward Abby, Baby, and Mystery, who have finally arrived. 

Oh. 

______

Twitter

sajajinuuuu guys guys guys guys GUYS ok ok so you’ll just have to believe me bc i didn’t take pics. but i swear on everything i love i just saw phantom and jinu holding hands at the gwangju national museum

Comments: user97511: OMGGGG

shownushot: wait wait bc this would match up… they mentioned wanting to take a gwangju trip a few years ago and it never happened…

illbeuridol: pics or it didn’t happen → sajajinuuu: then ig it didn’t happen 😑 i didn’t want to ruin their day. idols/celebrities deserve privacy and free time!!!!

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Twitter

You | phantom it’s crunch time

Most recent comments: fashionistasister: CONGRATS ON MILAN FASHION WEEKKKKK → usernamenotfound: wait i’m not in the fashion world,,, did it already happen? → fashionistasister: oh, no, but he’s confirmed to be showcasing his designs there, so it’s a big deal :3 → usernamenotfound: got it ty 

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Twitter

missedquot4 I miss phantom, he hasn’t been on the streams in monthssss :( → user17611: he’s prepping for milan fashion week! → missedquot4: ohhhh shit! sometimes i forget that he isn’t a member lol → user17611: lollll

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Twitter

Saja Boys Watch | sajawatch Jinu is sitting front row at Milan Fashion Week! (runway.jpg: A photo of Jinu sitting in the front row and watching the runway.) 

jinununu: omg he’s going for his bf… sobs → bajasoyssss: yall never quit with this huh xD

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EXTERIOR – Spazio Cavallerizze, Milan, Italy. 

After months—no, years—of work, you’ve finally done it. Your designs have walked the Milan Fashion Week runway. The models all did wonderfully, as did the rest of the backstage staff. The fabrics were sleek and elegant, dark greens and blues blending into subtle greys. There were definitely a few mishaps: fitting conundrums moments before a model’s walk; a broken zipper; a missing shoe. But you did it. The hard part is over. All of your designs hit the runway without a hitch; you even made a brief appearance at the end, bowing and clasping your hands in thanks before quickly retreating. 

Now, you can just relax. Right? You’re not sure. Your adrenaline is still pumping; your hands are shaking, you realize as you sort out your various notes and try to tidy up the mess you made of the temporary work station. 

You’re tidying up one of your sewing kits when there’s a hand on your shoulder. You startle a bit, only to realize it’s a very familiar face. It’s Jinu. He’s wearing a well-fitted suit, the dress shirt underneath unbuttoned to show off his collarbones. He’s definitely dressed nicer than you are, that’s for sure. You’re wearing a simple dark grey dress shirt (probably wrinkled), dark wash jeans, and comfortable sneakers. (You had a feeling you would want to wear something decently comfortable to walk around in, and you were right. )

You (breathless) I thought I saw you. I didn’t know you were coming!

Jinu Of course I did. Wouldn’t miss it. 

You gravitate toward each other, as Jinu pulls you into a hug. 

Jinu Congratulations. You did so well. 

You Thanks. 

Jinu All the work this has taken… You should be really proud of yourself. Seriously. 

You Thank you. 

You hug him for a bit longer. This seems to be fine with him, because he isn’t really letting go either. You’ve probably passed the point of socially appropriate, but it’s fine. You just finished Milan Fashion Week! 

It’s clear you’re both reluctant to part, and even as you try to pull away and maintain your composure, your hands are sliding down his arms like you can’t physically let go. Jinu’s hands settle at your waist, your eyes meet, and time seems to stop. He leans in closer, your hand rises to rest beneath his jaw, and you’re kissing. 

When you pull away, there’s a slight smile on Jinu’s face. A real one. 

______

Instagram

jinu Good show. @phantom (runway.jpgs: A series of photos Jinu took of the designs on the runway. They’re all from your collection.) 

Amidst the steady influx of new comments: 

You: 🖤

©2026, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don’t steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

thanks for reading! <3

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The house sat at the dead end of a gravel road, hemmed in by pine trees that swayed black against a bruise-purple sky. One porch light. One window glowing yellow upstairs. Cicadas drilled their summer racket into the dark and somewhere a hound bayed at nothing.

Remmick stood at the tree line with his hands in the pockets of some trousers that didn't quite belong to him.

He tilted his head, listening past the cicadas until he caught two heartbeats inside that house, one thudding slow from slumber, the other quicker.

He smiled and his teeth glinted.

‘Two fer the price o' one, that'll do nicely.’ He thought to himself.

He'd been hungry since dusk, gums aching and jaw twitching while he stalked the highways and the truck stops.

The lock on the back door wasn't even that strong. He pressed his palm against the wood and felt the threshold push back, now just two soft mortal animals breathing inside, ripe and unguarded.

“Kyle! Is tha’ you?” Your voice reached his ears, mild curiosity mixed with a hint of disinterest.

Remmick stayed in silence while listening to your heartbeat across the room, going from a small spike given by a surge of surprise to slowly calming down and reaching a normal rate.

“Come on in, wha’ you’re wait in’ for? Could have swore I spotted some wolves outside this mornin’…” you mumbled the last part wi’ an hint of annoyance.

Could you have really wished tha’ the other person in this house had met said beasts?

The old vampire, who now stepped through the invisible force that would have had him locked outside, had his interest spiked up.

The kitchen smelled like cheap beer and he moved through it without making the floorboards groan, steps silent as cat paws. The living room was dim, old TV still on, throwing blue light over a sagging couch.

He paused at the staircase and listened upward, slow heartbeat was up there in the bedroom, snoring, even.

Pathetic.

Someone steps inside his residence and he doesn’t even have the sense to investigate.

The other quick heartbeat was closer, down the hallway and behind a half-open door, where amber lamplight spilled across the hardwood.

Remmick padded toward it, drawn like a moth to light.

He stopped just outside the doorframe and looked in.

You were sitting on the floor in front of a low bookshelf, knees folded under you, a paperback open in your lap while wearing an old t-shirt soft from a hundred washings, collar stretched out from lots of use and baring one of your collarbones.

Loose sleep shorts and bare feet, hair mussed from running your hand through it while your lips moved a little as you read.

The lamplight caught the side of your throat, vein there pulsing visibly, a pretty blue line under skin Remmick suddenly wanted to taste more than anything he'd wanted in a hundred years.

He went very still as the hunger didn't go away but deepened and twisted into something that hadn't been there on century of being alive.

Observing the way your bottom lip dragged between your teeth and how one of your hands rested on your thigh, fingers idly stroking the skin there without you even noticing.

"Well, fook me sideways," he breathed.

Killing you would be a waste.

There were better uses for a mouth like that.

His blue eyes turned red as his gaze caught a framed photo on the wall displaying the handsome lad in front of him with another man extremely close.

Claws began to replace the fingers of his hands as he looked back over his shoulder at the dark stairs where your boyfriend was up there, snoring, unaware. Some sour-breathed lump of a man who got to come home to this every night and probably didn't even notice what he had.

Probably rolled over and went to sleep without touching you.

Remmick could smell the loneliness on you from across the room.

You were starved and you didn't even know it.

A slow, mean smile spread over his mouth.

"Oh, lad," he whispered to himself, "we're gonna have ourselves a long night."

He turned and went up the stairs first.

The bedroom door creaked as he spotted a broad-shouldered individual sleeping shirtless.

Remmick stood at the foot of the bed and considered the easy kill by just opening his throat and being done with it.

But he'd already decided to be cruel tonight.

He moved fast, one hand clamping over the man's mouth as the other dragged him bodily out of the bed by the hair.

Sad man came awake thrashing, a muffled roar against Remmick's palm, fists swinging at empty air.

Remmick took a punch to the ribs and laughed.

"Easy now, big fella," he crooned, dragging him toward the door. "Yer in for a treat. Don't go ruinin' it."

The man got an elbow loose and swung and Remmick caught his wrist and twisted, bones popping with ease thanks to his supernatural strength and your boyfriend screamed into Remmick's hand, tears springing up in his eyes.

"There," Remmick said, almost gently. "Now we c'n talk."

He hauled him down the stairs and his feet thudded each step, dragging while kicking weakly.

Remmick was smaller than him by a head and yet handled him like a sack of potatoes as he brought him into the living room, dumped him on the floor and before the man could try to crawl, Remmick was on him again.

A knee in his back, hands at his arms, a length of telephone cord ripped from the wall already in his grip.

He bound the boyfriend's wrists behind him so tight the rope-burn started bleeding right away, then his ankles before hauling him upright by the hair and throwing him into the wooden chair in the corner.

A swipe of his clawed hand left deep marks on the man’s naked chest until the man was a trussed-up roast staring at him with bulging eyes.

Remmick stepped back and admired his work.

"Cozy?" He asked satisfied right before hitting him with a backhand that snapped Kyle's head sideways and split his lip wide open.

The man spat blood and started to shout and Remmick hit him again, harder.

By the time he was done, the boyfriend's nose was crooked and weeping, one eye was swelling shut and his teeth were stained pink.

He sagged in the chair, wheezing.

"Now," Remmick said. He bent down so they were nose to nose and his eyes had fully crimson around the edges. "Yer gonna sit there an' be a good lad. Watch an' when I'm finished, I'll do ye the kindness o' makin' it quick. Y'hear me?"

The addresses man made a noise that wasn't a word.

"Grand," Remmick said. He patted the man's cheek, scooping a bit of iron liquid and licking it with his tongue, grimacing at the stale taste.

He stood up and turned toward the hallway. "Now, where's tha' pretty lad got to."

You'd heard the noise and you'd already stood up, paperback dropped and heart kicking hard against your ribs while halfway to the door where the phone was when the door pushed open and Remmick was right in front of you.

He was lean with a sturdy built behind the blood-soaked shirt, damp dark hair curling against his forehead.

"Hello, darlin'," he smiled at you maliciously and you bolted without even thinking, ducking past him into the hallway. You got three steps before his hand closed around the back of your neck.

One second he was in the doorway, the next he was behind right behind and he lifted you up onto your toes with a single one hand, walking you into the living room like a kitten carried by the scruff.

"Don't be like tha'," he was saying, mouth right at your ear, breath strangely cold and stinky of iron. "I just wanna get to know ye."

He shoved you into the middle of the room and you went sprawling.

When you scrambled up, the first thing you saw was your boyfriend tied to the chair, bleeding, one eye swollen and looking at you with such a desperate animal panic that your stomach dropped clean.

Remmick caught you around the waist and pulled you back against his chest the second you tried to go towards Kyle and free him.

He was cold and strong, an arm across your abdomen that bent you back against him like you weighed nothing.

"Uh-uh," he tutted against the flesh of your cheek and he fought with himself to not take a bite at how delicious you smelled. "He's not the show tonight, sweetheart. You are."

Long pale fingers spread across your throat, thumb under your jaw while tilting your head back against his shoulder so you had to look up at the ceiling.

You felt his nose drag along the line of your neck as he inhaled.

He was making low pleasant rumbles while you were breathing in short, panicky bursts. Across the room your boyfriend was making a muffled, awful sound, kicking his bound feet against the chair legs.

"Please," you got out. "Please don't, please—"

"Shhh, shhh, shhh." Remmick's lips brushed the shell of your ear. "Tha's not the word I wanna hear from ye yet. We'll get there."

His hand on your abdomen slid down, past your navel and over the soft cotton of your sleep shorts. He cupped you through the fabric, palm flat, fingers curling and your whole body locked up in a horrified jolt.

"Oh, would ye look at tha'," he purred right before turning you around in his arms easily and now you were facing him, hands settling on your waist and his face was right there in front of yours.

He was handsome in such a blasphemous way that it made your skin crawl.

High cheekbones, a mouth that turned up at one corner with sharp fangs in sight, up close his eyes were too red.

"Now, sweetheart," he said. "I've a question an' I want ye t' answer me honest. Can ye do tha'?"

You didn't speak, couldn't actually.

"When was the last time," he said, dragging one thumb along your cheekbone, "tha' fella over there made ye feel good?"

You made a small wounded sound.

"Hm?" Remmick tilted his head. "I'll wager it's been a while. I c'n smell it on ye all tha’ sadness." He clicked his tongue. "Sad an’ wasteful."

Your boyfriend was shouting through the gag of his own swollen mouth now, a guttural, rage-soaked howl and Remmick didn't even glance at him.

"It's alright, pet," he murmured. "I'll see to ye proper."

Right after he kissed you, mouth landing on yours and prying it open with the press of his tongue, cold as the rest of him when it slid against your warm one.

He held you up with his hands at your waist, tasting heavily of iron and his teeth scraped your lower lip sharply from the prick of fangs.

When he pulled back you were dizzy, lip bleeding and he licked the smear of red off his own mouth with slow satisfaction.

"Mmm, sweet."

He walked you backward, your bare heels skidded on the rug right before your back hit the wall and his body pressed into yours, all that lean cold weight pinning you. He was hard already, could feel him through his jeans, a thick bulge against your hip that made your stomach flip with a sick, confused heat.

"Look at him," Remmick said.

You shook your head.

"Look at him, sweetheart." His hand came up and gripped your jaw, turning your head until you were facing the chair and your boyfriend's good eye was wide and wet. He was struggling, ropes biting into his arms, chair scraping the floor. "Yer gonna keep yer eyes on him while I do this."

"Please," you whispered.

"Tha's not the word."

His other hand caught the hem of your t-shirt and dragged it up, cotton scraped over your nipples and you shuddered while he made a low pleased sound at the back of his throat. He pulled it over your head and let it drop, air hitting your bare chest and your nipples drew up tight.

"Ahh, would ye look at tha'." His knuckles dragged down your sternum lightly. "So handsome"

His mouth went to your neck open-mouthed, wet thing sucking bruises up under your jaw, dragging fang-tips along the artery without breaking skin and you couldn't help the noise that came out of you that sounded too much like a moan.

Across the room your boyfriend made an absolute strangled noise of fury.

"Oh, he heard tha'," Remmick said, delighted. "Good lad. Make tha' noise again fer me."

He bit down lightly to break enough skin for fat beads of blood to well up and your back arched off the wall into him. He sucked hard and the way he moaned into your skin was obscene.

"Fookin'… y'taste like ye were made fer me." He pulled back and both lips sharp teeth were red almost of the same tone eyes his eyes were, the iris swallowed up in it.

He looked drunk and feral-hungry while looking at you like you were the only thing in the world.

"Down," he said.

“Look… please just let us go—“ He pushed your shoulders and you slid down the wall to your knees, hardwood cold under your kneecaps as he stood over you, undoing his belt with a bit of goofy difficulty from using one clawed hand while his other was still in your hair.

"Yer gonna keep watchin' yer fella," he said. "But yer gonna do this with me first, hm? Open."

The belt clinked, button on his jeans popping and the zipper rasped down.

He shoved his jeans and shorts down over his hips in one motion and his cock sprang up against his abs, slapping your face once free.

He was huge, quite pale and veined heavily, head flushed an angry red that didn't match his color anywhere else. It curved up against his abdomen, longer and thicker around than your boyfriend's. A bead of clear precum hung at the slit from how excited the monster hovering above was.

"Open," he said again, Irish lilt music to your ears as your mouth watered against your will as he made the wet top kiss your sealed lips tauntingly.

When you opened your mouth with shame burning your face and chest painfully, he first dragged the head of his cock across your lips, painting them slick before sliding the head onto your tongue and holding you there.

"Suck."

You closed your mouth around him and sucked and the long, broken Irish swear he let out was almost worth it.

He let you have him slow at first, working just the tip, tongue laving the underside, lips stretched wide around the flare of him as he stroked your hair, almost tender.

"There ye are," he murmured. "There's a good lad. Look at how y'take to it."

You couldn't help the glance you gave the chair where your boyfriend had stopped struggling and staring at you with a look hollowly.

"Aw, he doesn't like seein' tha' mouth wrapped 'round somethin' that ain't his. Tha's fair, I wouldn't either, if it were mine to lose."

Then he pushed deeper, head of him hitting the back of your throat and your eyes welled up immediately, head smacking the wall behind and your hands flying to his thighs to push, but he was solid under your palms and didn’t budge, letting you choke and breathe slightly through your nose so you could adjust.

"Easy, pet. Y'can take it." His thumb traced the bulge of himself in your throat from the outside, marveling.

"Yeah… y'were made fer me."

He pulled back and let you suck in a breath right before pushing in again, deeper this time and holding.

Pulling back and pushing, rhythm patient yet cruel and his cock made your jaw ache around it, every time the head pushed into your throat you felt your eyes water and nose running while your own cock started to swell against the front of your shorts.

You didn't want to be hard but he was hitting some place in your brain that had been hungry for years and the obscene, full feeling of him in your mouth was making your thighs shake.

His eyes had drifted down between your legs and his mouth curled in a slow, knowing grin.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathed. "Would ye look at tha'. Yer gone all hard for me an’ I've barely started."

He pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop and a long string of saliva connected your lip to his cockhead till it broke and dribbled down your chin. He wiped it off with his clawed thumb and pushed the sharp tip into your mouth and you sucked it without thinking.

Delighted, he laughed.

"Up. C'mon." He hauled you to your feet by the arm and walked you to the couch, bending you over the back of it, bare chest pressed into the worn upholstery so that you were facing the chair where your wet faced boyfriend, with tear-tracks cutting through the blood, was restrained.

His good eye fixed on you and unable to look away.

Remmick hooked his fingers in the waistband of your sleep shorts and dragged them down.

He bared one cheek of your ass and made a soft, pleased noise, letting the shorts fall around your ankles and he ran his hand reverently up the back of your thigh, over the curve of your ass before squeezing.

"Beautiful. Fookin' beautiful, lad."

You felt his cool palm part there and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He gather the endless amount of drool that pooled inside his mouth and traveled down his chin.

Some drops splashed on your naked back as his thumb pressed against your hole, slick and cold, circling and rubbing it as he worked the viscous solution into you with his thumb, then with two fingers followed by a third, his other hand stroking up and down your spine.

His fingers were in you now, three long and cold things crooking against a place that made you jolt and let out a noise you immediately hated yourself for.

Your boyfriend's face crumpled.

"There it is," Remmick said. "Tha's what's been goin' untended, eh?"

He pressed it again and again, working his fingers in deep and dragging them out before shoving them back, your hips started to move without your permission, pushing back against his hand and a hot mortifying flush ran up your chest.

"Tha's right, lad. Yer body knows what it wants even if yer head don't." He crooned and pulled his fingers out.

The thick blunt head of him press up against your slick opening.

Before he pushed in, he leaned down over your back and reached out, hand closed on your wrist, guiding it toward his face. He pricked it on his fang and a sharp gasp traveled all over your body.

He smeared the blood thick across his palm, mouth closing around your thumb and sucking with a low rumble in his throat while reaching down between your bodies and slicking himself with it, hand wrapped around his cock.

It was hot now thanks to your blood, almost feverish. It went into you slick and strange, a buzzing, electric warmth that made your insides flutter as he pushed in and the blunt head spread you wide as you cried out, nails clawing at the upholstery.

Your boyfriend lurched in his chair and Remmick groaned, forehead pressing between your shoulder blades.

"Oh fook, lad, yer tight."

He pushed deeper inch by inch, very slick but you still felt every ridge and vein from the thickness of him.

The stretch burned and ached as it went on and on. Just when you thought it had to be all of him, more went in as he kept feeding it into you, hips inching forward and cock splitting your walls as you bit down into the upholstery to keep from screaming.

His hips finally met your ass to indicate he was fully seated, pulsing inside you in a heavy throb that seemed to fill your whole pelvis.

It made you feel both impaled and rearranged.

He held still and let you breathe, kissing and lapping with his tongue the back of your neck.

"Sweetheart, the rest is just fer ye."

He pulled out dragging every inch and sparkling sensation that made you whine, all before pushing back in.

On the third thrust he angled himself and hit your prostate just where his fingers had found, your whole body lit up absurdly.

You sobbed not only from pain, cock throbbing between your stomach and the back of the couch and every drag of him inside you sent a pulse of positive feedbacks through you nerves.

His thrusts deepened and the slap of his hips against your ass got louder as he fucked you slow and deep and he made sure every stroke dragged across that spot, tears were running down your face now but so was something humiliating you couldn't stop.

Your boyfriend, with his split lip and his ruined eye and the ropes biting into his arms, was watching and his face had gone past horror into something blank but you couldn't look away from him because you'd been told not to.

Being observed was making it worse… and better.

It contributed to your cock leaking against the couch in a steady drool that left a wet patch on the fabric.

"He's never had ye like this, pet?" Remmick murmured at your ear, riding your orgasm slowly.

"Stop," you choked. "Stop, please—"

"Stop?" Remmick's voice was a sweet thing. He thrust deep and you sobbed. "Y'sure tha's what y'mean, lad?"

He hit that spot again and ye whined.

"Cause yer prick is sayin' somethin' different. Y'see this?" His long and dangerous hand came around to wrap around your cock and you nearly came right there with the way you leaking thick and steady over his fingers.

So hard it hurt.

He stroked you lazily in time with his harsh thrusts.

"Stop's not the word," he whispered. "C'mon now. Try again, use yer pretty voice."

You couldn't and he fucked you harder and the head of his cock was hammering your prostate with every stroke, your knees were buckling, only his hand on your hip was keeping you up.

Somewhere in the middle of it, in the dazed humiliated dark of your own head, the thought of how this red-eyed monster using you was so much better than your boyfriend.

It crept firmly and got stronger the more he fucked you.

Not like the restrained man who got on and off in five minutes, never asked what you liked. Your boyfriend, who hadn't touched you in two months and didn't seem to notice. Remmick had been inside you for ten minutes and he had already found every nerve you owned and pulled noises out of your system you didn't know you could make.

Some sick part of you was grateful and you hated yourself for it.

He drove into you hard as deep as possible and you cried out.

"Y' just figured out tha' yer fella over there hasn't been doin' his job. Yer just figured out tha' an’ I'm givin' ye what he was supposed to."

"No—"

"Don't lie to me, pet." His hand left your cock and came up to your jaw, turning your face so you had to look at the chair again and meet that hollow staring eye. "Look at him an' tell me I'm wrong."

You couldn't make a sound, your throat had closed up and Remmick made a sound of soft, satisfied wickedness.

"Tha's what I thought."

His mouth found the side of your neck and his fangs went deep, a hot punch of pain that bloomed instantly into more pleasure.

While you felt him drink in avid pulls as he drank, his hips kept moving, large cock always hitting your prostate.

You came untouched, your cock spasming and spilling all over the back of the couch in long thick pulses, your whole body wrung out into one shaking knot. You made a noise that might have been the red-eyed monster drooling on the wound he made on your neck.

Across the room, the chair scraped as your boyfriend was making an awful sound.

Remmick pulled off your neck with a wet gasp, his lips and chin smeared red as he kept pumping himself into you and faster, clawed fingers digging bruises into your hips before he was coming too with a long curse in a language you didn't know, cock pulsing inside you so deep you felt it in your stomach, hot and endless, filling you up until it leaked back out around him.

He stayed in you, bent over your back and panted against your shoulder, his cool body finally a little warm, hair damp against your skin and drool traveling down your back.

"There," he breathed. "Tha's a good lad."

He pressed a kiss to the bite mark on your neck and it throbbed.

"Y' did so well fer me."

You were shaking, tears running into the upholstery and you couldn't tell anymore which part of you was wet from what nor could you look at your boyfriend.

Remmick pulled out and you whimpered at the empty drag of it, cum and blood running out of you down your thighs. He looked down at the mess he'd made and a quiet, pleased sound rumbled in his chest.

Then he turned and looked at the chair, your boyfriend had gone very quiet, head hung and shoulders shook.

Remmick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing red across his jaw while walking over.

"Darlin’," he addressed you without sparing a look at your messy state. "Here's the question."

His thumb traced your bottom lip.

"D'ye come with me, or d'ye stay here?"

You didn't answer but your hands had crept up without permission and curled themselves into the front of his shirt.

"Aye," he murmured. "Tha's what I thought."

He bent his head and kissed you, mouth tasting like iron that you were sure you’ll need to get used to.

Suddenly Remmick full vamp-speeded towards your boyfriend, harshly pulling at his hairs to expose his neck before driving his fangs there, taking a big chunk of flesh and bathing his head in the geyser of artery’s blood for a millisecond.

The other type of hunger that first drove him here took over as he drank everything the body below was spraying at him until said person stopped emanating muffled ugly noises.

Weakly you had turned around to not see the second Remmick’ fangs sank in the flesh and atrocious screams of pain echoed inside your ears.

It took one blink of an eye to see Remmick right in front of ye, clawed hands gripping your waist an’ pullin’ your weak body into his sticky warm one, mouth tinted in crimson liquid engulfing your own and parting your lips for an avid kiss, his tongue immediately breaching in and cradling your own as a purr rumbled from his throat into your open mouth.

The days have been unbearably hot. The lack of rainfall over the past few weeks has caused the temperature to spike to ungodly levels. Usually, that wouldn't have been a problem. If only the air conditioning hadn't died midway through. And if Joel hadn't insisted on trying to fix it himself.

Now, typically? He’s great with his hands. In everything involving working with said hands. But this time, the gods (or whatever entity was looking over his shoulder) decided to screw him over since he just ended up making it much worse. He had somehow managed to break it further, damaging important parts. The worst part was that the repairman would take longer to swing by because the ordered replacements were taking longer than expected to arrive.

“Factory’s been struggling to meet the demand for these parts,” he said, giving Joel a look that would have made you burst out laughing if the situation weren't so dire.

Which brings us to the present moment where you are kneeling by the bed with your upper body lying on it. All the windows in the house are open to let in the slightly cooler evening air. You are doing some sudoku, irritated after a heated argument with Joel about it all.

He hasn't apologized yet. Didn't have enough time to let his pride wear down enough to do so. You sigh at the slight draft cooling your sweaty body. There’s no way you’re wearing more than underwear in this stagnant, humid heat. This is how you spend your time at home now, half-naked in constant, nauseating heat.

“Hey…” Joel steps into the room, leaning against the doorframe. You don't turn to look at him, instead comparing numbers in a column before checking them inside a box. 

“Hi.” You reply, coldly. Colder than most nights have been. 

“Babe, look… I know I messed up. But you know I always try.”

“Mhm. You do.” You manage to find a number that works perfectly in the puzzle and write it down. 

He falls silent and watches you start chewing on the end of the pencil. There’s no way you’re paying attention to him until he apologizes. You're not even giving him the time of day. 

The sound of footsteps getting closer makes your ears burn with rage, but you stay silent. Focus on the sudoku. What could go here? You check it vertically and horizontally. No such luck finding what’s missing.

The bed dips beside you. Joel bows his head to look at your paper and hums.

“What.”

“Found a number you’re missing.” 

You glare at him for a second, then look back down at the paper. “Thanks. Remind me when I asked.”

He scoffs, but nods. “Alright. You’re gonna be like that.” He softly slaps your ass, provoking an eye roll from you. “If you don’t mind, I was thinking of doing something.”

“You can do as you please. I’ll just be doing my sudoku.”

“Sure, babe…” 

He leaves to get a towel from the bathroom and sets it on the bed while you write down a number you just found. You’re suspicious of what he intends to do. Then, without saying a word, he pulls down your underwear. You frown and look back at him. 

“Keep your pretty eyes on the paper. Don’t mind me.” His hot hands caress your skin. Taking a shaky breath, you turn your head back to look at it. He starts off slowly, leaning over to kiss your neck. Your skin tastes salty from sweat, but he doesn’t mind. It's actually doing something for him. So, he starts kneading your cheeks, spreading them to look at your hole.

You attempt to look for the numbers again, writing the possible ones in the corners of the boxes they would go in. There’s still no 1 in the entire grid. And it’s bothering you. 

The feeling of Joel’s lips traveling down to kiss your lower back gets your heart racing. He squeezes your buns together, before pulling them apart and gently pressing kisses to your hole. Your shoulders tense up a little as you feel a tentative lick. Joel lets out a satisfied hum as he licks around the muscle. That cheeky – You feel yourself getting hard, and when his hand slides between your legs, he starts milking you. He goes slow, taking his time to lick into you and spread your anus with his tongue.

“Ahn – ” you moan when you finally find a number and write it down. He's getting to you. The already boiling temperature only gets worse, your body is sweating buckets. You didn't even bother to double-check if it's supposed to go in that spot, but it's getting hard to focus. Your body feels like it’s on fire. Joel’s hand leaves your cock to free his own before getting some lube on his hand. He pulls his face off of you for just a second, breathing heavily. 

“How’s the sudoku going? You gotten any further?”

You shrug, trying to act casual, like this isn't getting to you at all. You hear a chuckle behind you when his lube-smeared hand wraps around your cock. The added moisture is surprisingly refreshing. You sigh contentedly.

Joel’s tongue finds its way back inside you. It licks you as well as it always does, getting you worked up. He strokes himself while stroking you, both in the same rhythm. However, it feels like you’re about to burst with only a few touches. Your grip on the pencil tightens, and there’s no way you can focus anymore. Not when you’re so close. The weight of your head falls onto the bed, and your free hand grips the sheets. A louder moan leaves your lips. Joel smiles as he keeps going.

You gulp, trying to keep quiet. Trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing the noises he loves so much coming from you. His stroking motions change, focusing mostly on the tip of your cock. This quickly sends you over the edge. You don't even come in spurts. It all just flows out of you, covering the floor between your legs with your sticky fluid. Panting heavily, you shake as you lie there. But Joel doesn’t stop stroking. Neither does his tongue stop licking around the rim and dipping inside you. 

You gasp. “J – Joel! Too much!” 

He hums, but he doesn't stop just yet. Only when your legs tremble like a fawn's. The wet sound of him stroking himself brings heat to your ears. He hasn’t come yet. 

“Babe, you need to finish solving your little puzzle.” He mumbles, smearing the lube on his hand over your hole before pushing two fingers inside you. You can almost see your brain from how aggressively your eyes roll back at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers curl into your prostate. He’s gotten too good at finding it so quickly. 

“Come on. I can help you if you want.” He stretches you out a little further before pulling his fingers out and replacing them with his cock. You bite down on the pencil and groan as you feel him push into you inch by inch. The feeling is amazing. You nod at Joel's words and push your head up as much as you can to look at the paper. Eyes lidded, tired from the aftershock of your orgasm.

He groans once he's fully inside you, lying still on top of you with his chin resting on your shoulder to look at the paper. He points his finger at the box where you last scribbled something.

“You wrote down a 5. That’s where the 1 goes, babe.” He whispers low and teasingly. You stop biting down on the pencil. Your teeth have left clear imprints on the yellow lacquer covering the wood. You erase the 5 and change it to a 1. Just as you set the lead to the paper, he draws his hips back to then sharply thrust into you. You close your eyes and sloppily finish writing the number. 

“Fuck… too warm… too hot.” you groan under him.

He chuckles and pushes his body up slightly so that he doesn't stick to you too much. Both your bodies are covered in sweat. Skin easily sticking to skin. Joel’s hips keep snapping into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes louder than usual. You lose what little strength you have left to push your head up, and lie your head down. Pushing the sudoku book aside, you drop the pencil and clutch the bedsheets. Joel leans down to kiss your cheek. Breathing right beside your ear, he whispers, “you’re doing amazing, baby. Feeling so good.”

All the anger and frustration you felt toward him leaves your body when a shock of intense pleasure strikes your core. He’s hit the right spot. And he knows it. Thus, the slow, drawn-out pulling out and sharp thrusting turns into a quick, mind-numbing pounding. You are gasping for air, as each hard blow knocks the wind out of you. There are tears forming in your eyes from how unbelievably good he feels. From how well he fills you. How thick he feels.

You surrender to the pleasure, letting out moans as your body becomes moldable under his touch. 

“That’s it – hah – let me hear you.” He’s out of breath. From the way his voice sounds low and murmured, you know he’s awfully close. But so are you. Once again. With the last bit of strength you have, you slide your hand down to stroke your oversensitive, half-hard cock. 

“Joel. Jesus – that’s it. Right there – !”

With only a few more thrusts, he spills into you, and you add to the sperm already on the floor. Joel collapses on top of you. You're both breathing heavily. He moans close to your ear and pushes his cum into you even further as he slowly but firmly pushes as deep as he can. 

Under his labored breath, and with soft kisses to your shoulder, he quietly asks, “Are you still mad at me…?”

You chuckle, feeling a smile creep onto your face. “Maybe just a little bit.” You open your eyes and turn your head to kiss his lips.  “If you carry me to a nice, cold shower, I might forgive you.”

“Deal.”

“nothing,” you repeat quietly, and you both know it’s a white lie, yet he still holds you, even dips his hand underwater to pull up your thigh against his.

“you don’t mean that.” callahan inches forward, meeting your lips as he grumbles, “you’ve never been genuine in your life.”

you taste the faint traces of an unnameable alcohol on his lips, darted out your tongue to wet his bottom lip, and he reciprocated by nipping at the corner of your lips. callahan’s hand sweeps over your back, sliding his fingers downwards. the water slows his movement enough that you don’t notice until he prods a finger at the muscle.

“water isn’t too great.” he mumbles under his breath, pushing against the resistance until your body lets him in.

he’s impatient, evidently so as he slips a second finger in, curling against tight walls to coax them looser. your small gasps wisp past his ears, and he feels himself twitch. he pulls his fingers out and replaces it with the tip of his cock, rubbing the head along the curve of your ass before nestling it against the hole.

“don’t try to move if you’re tired.” being considerate, maybe.

he pushes in with a bit of encouragement from his hips, sliding home as he fills you, tip pressing just below your prostate. you’re already groaning, breath hitching, walls fluttering and squeezing against his girth.

“you can handle yourself better,” he groans, pushing that little bit upwards until he hits that spongey part. you keen, head now fully planted on his shoulders and your fingers rake faint dents into the muscle. you muster out a curse, only for callahan to promptly shut you up by rolling his hips upwards.

water threatens to spill over even more now as he grinds slowly, pushing his tip against that sweet spot of yours. he grips the curve of your ass roughly, spreading you so he could fuck up a smidge easier. your dick rubs against his pelvis from the proximity, his dark hairs that trail from his navel downwards add a delicate friction to the underside of your cock.

“f—fuck,” you punch out, dick leaking against callahan’s happy trail.

you tilt your pelvis to grind into the coarse hairs while the detective chases that movement with his hips. callahan burrows himself as deep as he could, gripping your body and pushing you down against him as he spurts cum into you in stuttered pulses.

you whine against him, not like you could really fight back since he’s got an arm around your back and his hand grips your nape, effectively holding you down against him. the pressure of your body and his pressing down on your cock short-circuits your brain, and you’re suddenly leaking cum all over callahan stomach.

“no point in taking a bath now,” callahan exhaled through his nose, “‘right, gotta drain the tub and hop in the shower.”

he catches a glimpse of your face that expects more and more of him in the corner of his eye, and he pushes you away with a palm against your cheek.

For days now, there was an old ache in your chest. A familiar sink in your heart of bygone memories. You missed the old way of life. More so you missed a specific person. He had been a part of your life for so long that, for years now, it left you bitter and empty. Yet, you yearned for that time all the same.

Walter ‘Lion’ Kaminski.

That was his name.

The man who you had grown up with. Together, side by side as childhood friends.

Your mother knew his and scheduled playdates. Sometimes Lion’s brother, Stan, would tag along. But it was usually just the two of you. You got along swimmingly—two peas in a pod. Having the same interests. The love of rough housing. Getting dirty in the mud and grass. Of throwing your weight around in fun that left the two of you sporting matching bruises. Laughing them off as if they were nothing.

It was all good fun. Then in your teens, your father took the two of you to your first boxing match. Some tough heavyweights pitted against each other. It was then you knew. Seeing them fighting and the roar of the crowd lit Lion’s eyes up so brightly. He wanted to be just like them. A professional boxer.

And you were more than happy to be his sparring partner.

You helped him perfect his craft. Almost every day you would be off somewhere—running to increase stamina, going to abandoned warehouses and trying to lift the heavy equipment, sneaking into the local gyms to punch a bag or two. Anything that would help him achieve his dream.

Late into your teenage years you started to get into trouble. Trespassing, vandalism, and sometimes even theft. All in the name of building a space that you transformed into a makeshift gym. Sure, you both stole pieces to fill the space, but you saw it only as a necessity.

Curating a space and spending hours there. Thinking of things to add while also continuing a training regimen.

The locals always saw the two of you together. Inseparable, even those times you got into trouble.

One day you were in your ‘gym’ training with Lion as he worked on his punches. The stolen punching bag barely held with how hard his fist slammed into the leather. His punches had grown stronger in a short amount of time. In one hit you lose your grip on the bag, and he hits you square in the face. Eye instantly swelling shut.

The amount of apologies Lion sent your way—even when you told him you were alright—he felt bad for hurting you. And something in his eyes ran deeper than you understood.

The two of you formed a bond. Seeing it as a very tight knit friendship.

For Lion, however, he saw it as something more. Something brewing that he hadn’t come to terms with just yet. The level at which he was upset at hurting you was more than just him hurting a friend. And as time went on, he realized that he had feelings for you. Never quite sure how to express them or if you even felt the same.

As always, even when separated, were never apart for long. The older he got he managed to get his career started. Having had a few fights under his belt, with some help from his brother, curating opportunities. He never traveled far and usually you went to support him.

One night, years later, it was just you and Lion in your apartment. Both adults now. Still hanging around each other. 

He was over at your place, watching the championships of two well-known boxers. Excitable and energetic, you were bouncing on your toes, jabbing in the air along with the fighters. 

It was the final round, and the match was a close one. The two boxers had exchanged blows so much you were sure one–if not both–would collapse.

Lion and you were both engrossed in the fight. Both root for the opposite fighter. Of course, the fighter you sided with lost. KO’d at the last minute of the round. Lion was elated and gave your shoulder a few victory punches. They weren’t hard, but somehow the act led to an all-out wrestling match on the living room floor. All in good fun. A way to blow off excess energy. 

Limbs entangled, trying to get the upper hand on the other. 

Lion was a bit more agile and had you wrapped in his limbs. 

As you struggle you do manage to wriggle free with a grunted chuckle. Immediately you pounced on him and tried to overpower him.

The two of you went at it until he managed to pin you on your back, arms above your head holding you there. 

His muscles were tight, showing off as he gripped you. Hovering above you, legs on either side of yours, hands on your forearms, neither of you took a breath. Both of your chests rising and falling hard, pants escaping out of your mouth filling the air between you with heat. 

You gaze at him, eyes flicking all over his face as you lay there. Confusion rose to your mind because the expression Lion had was not one of triumph for besting you. Not a victorious smile–one that you were used to. Instead, there was something soft. A small lust filled hunger lay behind those beautiful blue eyes. 

You had never seen Lion look at you this way. Sure, you saw the occasional smile sent your way, but nothing so intimate.

It wasn’t an unwelcome look. Far from it. As your eyes drift slower now across his features–aged from that boy you knew. Rough stubble lined that angular jaw–a few scrapes and bruises from his fights as well. 

He kept staring down at you as if deciding what came next. Those eyes constantly observing, unable to look away made your cheeks blush in embarrassment. A light shade of pink that was noticed right away.

Then Lion leaned in. Face getting closer. 

You could feel your heart pick up speed. 

What…what is he doing? 

The question rose to the front of your mind, stalling as his warm lips met yours. 

Your eyes shot open wide from shock.

Did he just…kiss me? The voice in your head exclaimed. 

Lion’s lips were soft as they pressed firmly to yours. 

There was no attempt to stop him. Perhaps, you were stuck in a state of shock. Or perhaps, deep down, this was something you wanted. Lion just happened to be the first one bold enough to take the chance. 

There was a tight apprehensive tension in your body. Wound like a coil. Nervousness and a newly found desire fought for attention. As the kiss lingered the tension washed away, slowly letting go. Eyelids fluttering half-lidded, draining from the initial shock, replaced by acceptance. You wished you were the one to have thought of doing this first. Gradually, you leaned back into the kiss. A silent answer to a question Lion’s kiss asked. 

The kiss stole your breath away as it swept you up. As his lips pulled away, your head slightly followed longing to stay—still connected to the very last second before they parted. 

Lion’s face was only mere inches away. Cheeks and neck were bright red. Flushed with excitement and disbelief that he did that. Weathered hands slide down our forearms, planting on either side of your head. 

You were unsure what to do next. Stuck floating, the warm touch of his lips still lingering. The expression on your face must have solidified something for him. 

With no words shared, all Lion gave you was another smile. Cute teeth flashing wide. 

Leaning down again, another kiss was coming your way, when he paused at the whisper of his name. 

“Lion,” the word barely left your lips. It came out breathless. Your heart was hammering under your ribs.

“Yeah?” he asks, lips brushing yours, feather-light, giving you a chance to speak.

Whatever question you had meant to ask got lost. Hot breath hitting your lips, skin touching, made it slip from your thoughts. Until “I feel the same way.” You finally told him. 

That was enough. He recaptured your lips in a more passionate embrace. 

From then on, the friendship you had transformed into a full relationship. Shy about it at first until it took on a mind of its own. 

Just like the sport of boxing, it was destructive and consuming. 

You couldn’t get enough of each other. Anywhere and everywhere became a playground. Whenever the mood struck. Both of you indulged. 

Nothing was off limits as you explored one another. No part remained untouched. Intimately growing familiar. Especially when it comes to your body. 

Lion always found it easy to get you going. And it didn’t matter where. If the mood took him, he would in turn take you. 

In the gym–shower risking discovery. In a parking lot–as he had you bent over the hood of a car. In a hallway–hand covering over your mouth to hide the sounds you made. 

When people saw the pair of you coming, they would go the other way. Or walk on the other side of the road. You two now had a reputation. And after proving that Lion was no pushover, people tended to leave you alone.

You may not have been as strong as Lion–not to mention his status carried more weight. There were times when going out some took advantage. 

Picking fights with you–seeing you as weaker. 

And you were for the most part.

You were by no means helpless. Fighting back when it happened. Having trained alongside Lion taught you a few things. 

However, often outnumbered, you put up a good fight. It was a losing battle that you made them earn. 

Time after time, Lion would come to your aid. Single handedly chasing and beating down the attackers. Walking away as if it were nothing. Though, he would be sporting fresh bruises or cuts to show for it. But he was always there. 

Until he wasn’t.

Coming back to your apartment expecting him to be there waiting for you. 

He wasn’t.

No note. No text. Nothing to tell you where he was. How long he’d be gone. When he might come back. It wasn’t like him.

A few days went by and still nothing. You text him and get no reply. Beginning to think the worst, that something bad must have happened. It broke your heart. You mourned the loss. All the time and love had broken you. And you never were the same. 

Months went by without a word. 

A friend of yours told you that Lion was alive. Off somewhere, even showing you a picture of him in passing on their phone. 

That made the hurt worse.

Not only did he leave without so much as a word, but he couldn’t be bothered to let you know. Tears of sorrow turned into tears of hatred. 

You shut down after that and slowly start to move on with your life. 

And now, years later, you were living your life. Having a good steady job. Living a normal life. It mellowed you out from the chaos you had grown accustomed to partaking in. Though the ache was still there for that life. The thrill, the love, and him. 

It was your day off and you were kicked back on the couch, TV on, but not paying attention to it. It was just on for background noise. 

Then a knock rapped the front door. 

Twisting your head you made out an outline of someone standing on the doorstep. Rummaging in your brain you thought; you didn’t order any food and if it was the postman they wouldn’t bother knocking. And you for sure knew you weren’t expecting any visitors. 

Another knock and reluctantly you got up.

Opening the door, he was the last person you expected to see. 

Lion.

There he was, on the front doorstep. A little older–just like you now. Thinner, yet still toned and muscular. Old shirt, worn jeans, tussled hair, and scraggly beard.

Your hand was frozen on the handle. The hell was he doing here?

Lion greets you with a smile. As if he had just left for the store and come straight back. A soft greeting of old friends and lovers.

Meanwhile, you returned a narrowed glare with a scrunched nose. Immediately you took up a defensive posture. Arms crossed leaning on the doorframe. 

Lion’s face dropped as soon as he saw the look on your face. For some reason he got the impression you would be happy to see him. 

In truth you were a little happy to see him. That he was ok. However, the animosity and hurt towards him outweighed the leap of joy in your heart.

He saw it beneath the anger, buried deep in your eyes, that sorrow. One that he caused.

“The hell you doing here, Lion?” You snapped at him. Posture straightening, tension heavy in your shoulders. 

“I came to see you.” The reply was timid. 

“And you thought you could drop in, just like that? Not a fucking word for years and you think it’s ok to ‘stop on by’.” You growled at him. The hatred that you felt. 

He had a lot of nerve coming here. All this time acting like he had the right.

“Look I wanted to. Really, I did.” Lion said defensively. “Stan…”

“Don’t put this on Stan!” You yelled, cutting him off. You didn’t want to hear the excuse. “You were more than capable…” 

A sigh of frustration.

“You could have text me. Could have called. Could have said anything. But no! You ran off. Silent. Without so much as a note. Without a word.”

“I’m sorry,” Lion hung his head in defeat. “I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn’t. I can’t imagine how you feel.”

“You’re right! You can’t. Now get the hell off my porch!” You glared daggers at him. It broke your heart all over again having to stand your ground. But you didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to start to feel things all over again. Your chest grew tight as you pointed for emphasis.

Lion quickly shot back. “Now that isn’t fair.”

“Isn’t it?! You left me high and dry all alone. And I’m just supposed to what? Welcome you back?” You shrugged angrily while asking. As if it were just some simple misunderstanding. “You broke my heart, Walter.”

Saying his name–his actual name–and not the nickname snapped something in him.

It was instant. Pain seared before you realized it. Rough knuckles smashed into your face, crushing your nose with a sick crunch. 

Stumbling back a few feet, with a bloody nose, you cup your face. 

“Did…did you just fucking punch me?!” With a raised voice, blood boiling at the audacity. 

“Told you never to call me that.”

“Fuck you!”

Lion crossed the threshold grabbing you by the shirt–partially lifting you up. 

Standing on your tippy toes you smacked at his hand, shoving it away, as he started pushing you back into the living room. 

With a rough shove back, you flung him off. 

Lion growled and lunged.

The two of you started fighting. Not holding back punches. Throwing fists with anger behind them, landing hard. You slammed yours into his shoulder as he tried to bob.

With a sucker punch he retaliated, hitting you in the gut. 

You doubled over, wind temporarily knocked out of you. It was a few years at best since you fought. So, it made you a little rusty. 

Lion, however, was in his prime. Boxing stance—as if he were in the ring.

You weren’t going to let him win. Not with this. No, this was payback. All that hearache and anger poured into the punches. A deep growl and you tackled his midsection, toppling him to the ground. 

Lion’s back landed hard, smashing the coffee table with such force it shattered. 

Straddling him, you began failing punches, landing wherever they could. Knuckles slam into ribs. The wind knocked out of him before he reacted.

Again, he shoves you off. 

Growling at each other like two primed animals in a heated battle for dominance. 

No matter how much anger it didn’t seem enough to match his raw talent. You swung wild. 

He ducked, moving out of the way only to quickly jab you in the kidney with a sharp strike. 

Hissing you shot him a glare. 

Lion was locked in, fists at the ready. Waiting.

Putting a foot forward you threw a punch.

His arms went up taking the blow, blocking it.

This went on for several minutes. Punches exchanged. Bodies littered with fresh forming bruises. Then the fight spilled into the kitchen. 

Panting you decide that fists weren’t cutting it anymore.

Lion stalked closer.

You dart your head back and forth, then the perfect weapon appears. Quickly your hand shot out grabbing a mug and you hurled it towards him.

Barely missing Lion’s head, smashing against a wall breaking into several pieces. Grabbing another you chuck it his way. The porcelain ricochets off the counter when he smacked it away. It crashes to the floor breaking on impact. 

Lion yelled rushing forward, limbs entangled as a struggled ensued. Wrestling, arms tight, squeezing where they could. 

Wriggling your body, squirming to get free. From all the movement you fell to the floor taking Lion with you. The struggle continued, using the kitchen as a fighting ring. 

Within a few minutes, the fight was slowly draining from you both. Lion had a strong grip, yet you continued to put up a fight. He could feel you getting weaker as the anger started to leave you.

Just like in the past Lion made a swift move pinning you to the kitchen floor. 

Pinned on your back, his body on yours holding you down. Hands vice gripped, tight on your wrists. He was panting just as hard as you were. Eyes locked. 

His filled with fight–softening as you stopped fighting under his grip. 

Yours filled with anger–lightening the longer you looked at him. Tearing up as the years of hurt finally allowed to show. 

The grip on your wrists loosened. Lion never meant to hurt you. Never meant to leave you on your own. 

“I never…” he said, softening his tone. 

You half-heartedly growl, “oh fuck off!” As you weakly kick your legs, trying to get free. “I don’t want to hear it.” When you spoke, your voice cracked as you desperately tried to hold back tears. 

Lion’s brow furrowed hearing you close to breaking. It broke him. Even though he was forced to leave, he tried not to. But circumstances happened the way they did. He loved you fiercely. Thinking about you all the time while he was gone. The way he wanted to run back to you the first chance he got. 

Being here with you again, he understood the hatred. The sorrow. The pain. He caused it–felt it too. Not being able to make up for lost time, he could at least show you how much he still cared. That he loved you. 

When Lion leaned down you protested. “Don’t you dare… you have no right! You ca-can’t… just come back into my life…” Tears flow, streaming down your cheeks. You struggle under him, not truly trying to get away, but wanting to hide. To bury the hurt and emotion. To not have to admit that you still had feelings for him. That you loved him.

“I know…” Lion quietly said. “There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about you.”

Watery eyes searched his. Those same blue eyes attached to that handsome face that you fell in love with.

“Why then?” You asked, lip quivering.

Lion’s voice choked up as he spoke. “It’s a long story. I protested even going. I never wanted to leave in the first place. I know how badly I hurt you. Just…Just give me the chance to make up for it.”.

He was devastated; you could see that. Could hear the guilt. See the way that love filled his eyes. Your mind was a mix; still bitter from being left behind but also filled with an ache that nothing was able to soothe. A hole in the heart that was only meant for him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lion whispered, forehead tapping forlornly against yours. 

That bond that formed years ago, the connection, bloomed strong once again. In sync, you both close your eyes and live in the moment. Sharing soft quiet breaths. 

Letting silence be your answer. Then you brought your lips to his. 

Lion’s body jerked to the touch, shocked, but that was quickly replaced by happiness. Body melting flush to yours, lips pressing firmer to show you just how much he missed you. How much he needed you. 

Just like old times, hands were all over you. Sliding down your arms, over your chest, and down to the hem of your shirt. Wasting no time, he tugged at it, breaking the kiss–only long enough to slide it over your head–before his lips were right back to yours. 

A fierce hungry kiss. Eating away at your lips, tongue sliding into your warm mouth. Hands all over skin, just how it should have always been. 

And…oh how…your body missed that touch. Rough hands trailing across your body. Chest arching to meet his hands. That ache for him only grew. 

You need more. Missing him too damn much to stay angry. So, you leaned more into him. Hands going down his sides to his hips. 

The kiss became harder as Lion sucked on your tongue, swallowing the groan that rose. He purred into your mouth as your hand slid between to cup at his clothed dick. Hips rolling as you palmed him.

You heard him whimper as you palmed him faster.

Pulling back from the kiss to let you breathe. “I’m… I’m going to make it up to you.” 

“Show me then,” you encouraged breathless.

He expressed kissing you again. Showing that he wasn’t just talking. In a light growl he sat up on your hips stripping himself out of his shirt. Red bruises are bright and shining on his skin. The ones you gave him from your punches. 

You sat up petting over the raised skin, soothing the sting of the damage.

Lion purred at the touch. Going to unbutton his jeans, you were already ahead of him. Falling back into habit–just like riding a bike. The button popped free, slowly you pulled the zipper down. 

He held his breath as his pants came down. He eagerly kicked them the rest of the way off. 

“Your turn.” Lion growled lowly, voice dripping with renewed hunger. 

Thoughts in his head saying he was going to make up for lost time and fuck you until you forgot he even left. There was a burning need inside him like a fire–wild and scorching. 

He grabbed your waistband and wrenched the denim right off you in one go. 

Now both of you were naked. Both of you turned on. 

Lion’s large cock standing erect against his stomach, veins pulsing, leaking with want.

You bit your lip with the look he gave you. 

Lustful. Hungry–dark like a predator who found its next meal. No warning, rough hands grabbed your hips flipping you over. 

You flopped chest first on the kitchen floor. It wasn’t hard to know what came next. 

Already having a hard grip on your battered body, he hoists your ass upwards raising it off the floor. Propping it how he wanted. How he liked. And this was one position that he loved having you in. 

Chest flush with the cold tie, ass up as an offering. Body shivering in anticipation. Just like old times your body relaxed for him. Your dick was leaking–dripping pre-cum like a woman’s vagina.

“Here, you were all mad at me,” Lion states gazing at your ass and leaking dick. “And now look at you.” Lion didn’t need to finish that train of thought, knowing how you had wanted it. “I missed you too.”

After that the head of his dick prodded your hole. The same hole that was molded years ago. Thumbs spread your ass cheeks, cool air hitting the loose rim making it clench. 

Shivering as he spat right onto your entrance, using a finger to smear it around. Then he pressed in, hard thrust from his hips and he buried to the hilt. 

The sudden stretch had you whining. It may have been years, but that dick slotted so perfectly. Your hole had grown tighter from the absence, but that would soon be taken care of. 

One hand on your hip, the other pressed into the small of your back, between the shoulder blades. Lion held you down, keeping your chest flush to the floor. As soon as his hips started moving, he groaned. Tight walls squeeze him as they remember the shape of him.

Your arms were outstretched in front of you as he pounds your ass. Balls slapping each thrust. Making sure his dick sunk deep as he pressed forward. 

He thrusts so hard your body jolted forward. He didn’t last long. Balls tightening, tight ass squeezing just right, and he dumped his first load into you. How cum filled your ass, but he wasn’t done yet. 

Readjusting your hips he raised your ass higher, back arching while he spread your thighs.

Rearing your head in a moan when his dick punched our prostate.

Lion’s hand stayed in the middle of your back pressing firmly. Forcing you to stay flat to the tile as his dick drives slow and deep. The thickness stretches your hole. His cum slicks his dick making it slide in and out faster, as the pace picks up. A tight grip bruised your hips. Adding more to your already littered skin.

Each thrust plunges so deep that the shaft disappears, balls slam against soft flesh. 

Lion’s rip tightens, pace getting rougher. Hips crashing relentlessly without mercy. It’s not long before his dick pulses shooting another hot load straight into your ass mixing with the first one. Dick burying deep pushing the overload of cum out, pushing past the shaft. It trickles down over your balls and thighs. 

With a soft moan Lion stills his hips down to a sow roll. Grinding as his dick stays buried. Wet squelching sounds of it moving fill the kitchen alongside your moans. 

Your dick is hot and needy, flared red at the tip, leaking like a faucet adding to the mess beneath you. 

Years of being separated amplifies the familiar dominance he has over you. Lion uses your body in the way he used to. Every movement fuels the burning lust and love. 

Strong arms slide under your torso lifting you up and against his chest. Hips still grinding slowly, sloshing the cum around. 

You let out a panting whine. Dick buried so deep thoughts are lost. Any remaining anger has long since been fucked straight out of you.

Pleasure builds and you moan his name. “Lion.”

The way you say it makes him moan. He gives a few sharp thrusts. 

You arch your back in his arms. 

His lips brush your ear. “I wat to fuck you properly.” He mutters low at a whisper. 

The vibrations of his voice rattle your eardrum. 

“I’m going to take you to your bedroom…”

You shudder, dick flopping against your stomach, twitching with need, still leaking. The voice. The words. They are accentuated by his grinding, scattering your thoughts.

“Just like before. You remember?” Another sharp thrust.

A loud whine tears from your throat. 

“Yeah, you remember. Fucking you until you can’t even remember what day it was.”

Suddenly he pulls free with a nasty squish. Cum spills to the floor. The sudden emptiness has you on the verge of tears. 

Lion gets to his feet while helping you to yours. 

Spinning you smash your lips hungrily to his in a hard kiss. 

His hands got for your hips and yours around his neck. His tongue delves past your lips diving deep back into your wet mouth. Tongue exploring freely. Tasting.

Hands slide to your ass lifting you into his arms–with a strength that was effortless–he didn’t even break the kiss. Lion carries you out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the bedroom. In his mind, he plans to split you open, spread you wide, and pound into you over and over again. 

Kissing you back just as hard, messy, tongue twisting yours as he makes his way down the hall. 

You cling to him keeping your lips connected as his hands dig into your soft ass cheeks. 

Distracted by the kiss and unable to see past you he accidentally knocks your body against a wall. Over correcting a bit too much and your back hits the opposite wall. The sudden jolts press you flush to his chest as he staggers on. 

With some effort the bedroom door flies open. Once inside the kiss broke and your thrown onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress as Lion follows on top of you instantly. 

Legs already spreading wide inciting him as he lines his dick up shoving back inside your stretched hole. Immediately the shaft is buried all the way to the hilt. Lion snaps his hips, smacking loudly with every thrust.

When you moan, he’s there to capture it in a hard kiss. 

The kiss lingers as you make out with him, arms slung around his neck holding him close. 

This is what he missed. The needy way you love him back. The way your body softly welcomes him in. Teeth scrape together lost in passion. 

You always knew your place was with him. Giving yourself over to him. It was rewarded with days like this. 

Lion pulls back slightly trailing down your chin, neck, until his lips reach your chest. Lips brushing over the pebbled nipples. 

You cry out, they were the most sensitive spots. 

And he knew it. 

His teeth bite down, then his lips seal around the pebble peaks, and he sucks. Tongue licking the sensitive bud causing you to whine beneath him. His dick pounds into that sweet spot non-stop.

Your legs wrap around his waist locking him in, pushing him deeper. A light mewl escapes. 

Lion’s tongue darts and flicks rapidly, swirling for added flavor. 

A loud moan rips from your throat. Chest arching.

He growls in satisfaction when you yell out his name. 

“Say it again,” the demand comes out muffled. “I want you to say my name while I fuck you raw.” His voice was rough with lust. “Before this night’s over that’s the only thing you’ll be able to say.” His tongue swirls again and he sucks hard.

Tears come to your eyes, back rising off the bed, nails digging into his neck. 

He lifts his head with a wet pop before going back and biting down. Licking and sucking until you cry. 

Every thrust hits hard against your prostate. Your back bends. The way he’s fucking you is rough, just how you like it. Voice breaking as you yell out. Lion has never taken you this way before. That thick dick bullies your tight walls. Reclaiming your body with force. 

An orgasm hits, walls clamping down without warning. Cum shoots from your tip, splattering both of you.

Hips still pound into you; you can hear a low hum reverberate from his chest. Skin slaps loudly against skin.

By now you both are covered in sweat, slick and shiny. Stomachs painted with smeared cum.

Lion seemingly has never ending stamina, tireless–just like he uses in fights in the ring. He’s hell bent on drawing out every drop of pleasure he can. Eventually he comes back up for another kiss. 

The kiss only adds to pushing you further into bliss. 

Your body demands more. Demanding to be consumed. Your legs tremble.

He’s already fucked you through your first orgasm, powerful body grinding against yours. He’s buried so deliciously, cockhead hitting that perfect spot as you try to hold on.

Before the first orgasm has finished another one rapidly crashes in making your eyes roll back into your skull. You moan like a slut, mouth parted, head thrown back. 

His tongue slides back into your open mouth swallowing the noise, sucking air from your lungs. Hips crash into yours, moving faster as he cums again.

He eases up to let you breathe while he pants like a dog. 

Under him you are a mess. Whining and moaning. 

He pulls out quickly. You are insatiable and he can’t get enough. Roughly he flips you to your stomach. Before he dives back in, he looks at your hole. Stretched wide from use, overflowing with cum as it pours out. He growls proudly at the sight. 

Spreading your cheeks watching as the puckered entrance contracts on air. Lining back up as he lays flat over your back, his dick slides so easily back into your open hole. Slotting back into place–as if your body was finally remembering who it was made for. 

You whimper into the bedding.

Solid arms wrap around your torso again, sliding firmly holding you in place. He lifts his hips, dick almost sliding all the way out before snapping back in. 

You choke loudly on a moan.

He does it again. And again. Sharp hard snaps from his hips until you’re a drooling overstimulated mess. Under him you are pinned as he roughly uses your ass. 

All you can manage is a pitiful whimper. Lost in a haze of his making. All you feel is that thick cock dragging over sensitive walls. Pulling out then slamming in.

Mouth parted, tongue sticking out, you moan like a desperate slut. The sound is loud and shameless. Vision grows blurry as your eyes glaze over. On your tongue you feel two of Lion’s fingers curl into your mouth. You are already far gone to register anything. Drooling over the digits before your mouth closes around them. Sucking them like you would his dick. 

Lion moans above you. You weren’t the only one overstimulated. His dick was sore and sensitive, but it kept up its brutal pace. Fingers slide deeper into your mouth. 

You groan tilting your head to the side to accommodate. Drool drops off your lips as he thrusts his fingers in and out. The dual sensation pushes you further into a haze. Body loosening, melting into the mattress, ass muscles relax, making his dick able to slide even faster. Your ass swallows his dick whole. You swear you can feel it in your stomach.

Your mouth loses tension dropping open–you are nothing but a panting hole for his dick now. 

Lion’s fingers hook the inside of your cheek keeping your head up. 

The mattress creaks from the force. 

The skin on your cheeks are red from how hard he’s been pounding you. Tears streak in lines down your face. Used and sensitive to the point pleasure stings. 

Lion is reaching his end; he can feel it. Dick throbbing, balls tightening. He moans next to your ear, arms tightening to hold you tight. 

“I’ll make sure to never leave you again.” He says panting hot and heavy. “I’m going to stay right here.”

A promise intended to be kept. 

“And I can promise you that I’ll keep you like this. Filled and used. By my side until we grow old. Just as it was meant to be.” He says softly nuzzling your head. 

“Li-Lion…” You slur. 

He hums to his name. “Say it again.”.

It took your muddled brain a moment to catch up.

“Lion…”.

Lion growls with one final slam of his hips spilling whatever he had left. Hips flush against your ass sealing our hole as a smaller load milks itself using your fluttering walls. 

In unison you groan loudly. 

His head dips next to yours as he lays on you. The sound of him panting never reaches your ears.

You couldn’t think straight. It felt as though he was thrusting–even though it was just his body jerking in the aftermath. All that was on your mind was him. 

His warmth. His weight. His dick. The way he took charge and reclaimed every inch of you.

You didn’t even feel when Lion rolled the two of you over onto your sides. Arms still holding tight. You did, however, whine from the movement. 

wc— 2.2k

"Whha—hng!" You clench your teeth as his dick knocks on the entrance of your stomach, forcibly trying to pop its head in the tiny opening for him to be able to fill you up with his seed in the literal way. "Slow dow—ushi!"

You could do nothing but whine, ass swallowing his cock in its full glory. You can't even move an inch, even if you flinch. He's got you elevated in this position; strong arms hooked under your knees, hands gripping your head that's forcibly making you stare at the way his dick was undoubtedly pounding your poor ass, your legs just stupidly swinging up and down along with your still hard, bite-sized, penis.

He was manhandling you in a way he knows you love.

You were someone who loved a good dicking down every now and often. You loved the feeling of going dumb, body aching with pleasure and your brain a mess, unable to think of anything but just cock. Outside that, though, you were a smart, quick-witted guy who excelled in everything academic related.

So with all the stress piling up due to the upcoming finals, you found yourself in search of dick to cool your jets and to not overload your brain with pressure. Of course, you'd have never expected to find someone like him and be in this kind of relationship with the heart of this university's volleyball star; Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You guess it probably was the alcohol you downed three bottles of during that one senior party that influenced the slut in you to make a move on the famously stoic individual you've ever met. I mean, have you seen the guy? He was every woman's wet dream! Including yours, too. Though, you were never truly expecting anything to happen with all your drunkenly spew you called "flirting." You were wholeheartedly expecting a nonchalant response from him, not a body left with bruises and hickies paired with a gaping hole when you woke up in an extravagant motel room.

You've never left him alone since.

How you managed to convince him to use you as an outlet to release his own stress and basically become his personal cumdump was beyond you. It was a story to tell your nephews and aunties in the near future because fucking a hunk; a volleyball dude; was the first for your entire lineage. For now, you were getting fucked like you were nothing but a breathing fleshlight.

"Fffhuu—hgkk!" Ushijima purposely sent a particularly harsh thrust in your ass. His dick was pressed against your prostate, and by gods, did it feel so deliciously painful. Your hands fumbled about, scratching his firm muscle that was hooked beneath your knees from the mind-numbing pleasure. Your face, contorted in pleasure, reflected on the abandoned bathroom mirror of the uni building you both attend in. Your soft, pink tongue peeked out of your mouth, the upper half of it resting on your teeth as thick globs of tears dripped down your starry eyes. The tears contributed to the shine in them. "Uhg—Ushii—!"

"Plea—hngg" Gulping down the spit before you start choking from being unable to breathe, you throw your head back on his shoulder blades as he slowly grinds his cock against your spot. "S—Slow down for a moment—god... Why're you so suddenly—?"

Ushijima, this fucking dickwad (questionable), didn't even let you finish your complaint before continuing his pace. You can't even look at him through the mirror because your body feels so putty, and you're fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the back of your skull. You don't have the strength to raise your head nor grind back on his cock to tease him. The only thing you can do now is grip on his hand, keen, cry, and be used. In any other time, you would have loved this kind of sex, especially because Ushijima was a bit of a freak himself behind that picture of nonchalance.

But like—aren't you supposed to be breaking off this arrangement in the first place...?

"Angh!" You cried out as your dick spurted clear cum. Ushijima sank his teeth on the slope of your neck. He littered soft kisses all over it all the while destroying your insides. He sucked and nipped on the teeth marks he left, sighing when he felt you clench weakly around him. "Hhhng... Seriously..." Sobbing, you can feel him chuckle on your skin. He wasn't even sorry for you. This bastard...

"Wh—What is wrong with you...?" Taking all the remaining strength you have left, you raise your head to look at him through the mirror. "I already missed my 4th lesson because of you. Wh-What the hell is your deal...?!"

"..." Ushijima didn't say anything. Though, when he directly looked at you with a heavy gaze, you felt your heart jump (and ass clench).

"What? D-Don't look at me like that!" You scream in embarrassment, closing your eyes to save yourself from the shame of seeing Ushijima slut you out in the middle of lecture hours. You don't want to have to suck off your professor just to save you from his unfair grading of your marks again. You remember having to skip dinner from the appalling stink that left a bad taste of his unwashed, uncut, dick on your mouth. Ugh. "Are you upset that I said that I didn't want to have sex with you anymore?! Is my bussy that good?!"

Of course, you just had to crack such a hilarious joke when his dick is still perched snuggly inside your ass. You can't even be rewarded with the embarrassment from committing such an atrocious crime cause his dick was pulsing inside you. You can feel it throbbing, feel every length and ridge of its veins. No other dick can ever compare to this guy's, and it's the reality you've come to terms with.

While you were busy shaking—with your ass gobbling his cock like it was the last supper—you failed to notice the stare that Ushijima had been shooting you darkened even more. You could feel his fingertips scrape against your skull when he curled his fingers to grip your hair in his hands, tilting your head so that you could fully face the mirror in front of you.

"[Name]." The tone in his voice made you curl your toes, dick squirting pre. You came so much that it was beginning to sting. "... Open your eyes."

Well, shit. If he's asking like that, you might just sign off your freedom of choice to this guy. You slowly crack your eyes open, eyesight getting trippy from all the harsh movements of before and from clenching your eyes shut. Once you adjust, you look into the mirror. No, you look into Ushijima.

You cum.

In relflex, your legs buck themselves and try to close, but with Ushijima's firm arms locking them in place, spread eagle style, you don't get to save yourself from the shame of squirting from the intensity of his gaze bore into you. You weren't even allowed to look at your squirting dick when the strands of your hair were being gripped by the hands of someone who passionately spank balls. His amber eyes spoke more languages than humans could not fathom. Hell, you think that it might be speaking to you in ceasar cipher.

In short, he looked fucking annoyed. Frustraded, perchance. Moreover, he has this look on his face whenever his team was at a disadvantage or when he was playing a losing game.

Ushijima Wakatoshi is pissed.

"Hey..." You slowly start realizing the situation you're in. Realizing how much you've been overlooking when you refused to acknowledge your own festering feelings. "You're not actually mad about that, are you?"

Despite the serious atmosphere, the dude's dick was still hard. Talk about commitment.

"Hey... mngh- T-Talk to me, damn it..." You shudder as you feel him slow down, opting to just spread you open on his dick as he straightens his back into a more comfortable position for the both of you. It makes you wonder if his muscles were getting sore for carrying a heavy ass like you while thrusting so wildly into your heat. Christ, the thought itself does things to you that you can't put into words. "Stop moving for a bit- god, you animal-"

"No." Was all that he could say. You felt your stomach twist.

""No" what?" You clenched your teeth as you stared into his amber eyes refusing to look away from your own. "No to slowing down? Oh, c'mon, dude... Just- hng- gimme a break-"

"Why?" Oh my god, "why" what?! Is this bitch seriously asking why I want to take a quick break from this mind-numbing bathroom stall sex?!

"Listen, Ushi, do you really need to ask-"

"Do you want me to stop?"

Now he's asking coherent questions. Gosh, finally. "Well..." You close your eyes, actually pondering the answer. "Not really. It feels good, so no. Just give me a moment to catch myself." You answer with a sigh, grabbing onto his forearms as you relax in his hold (even though your thighs are literally spread in mid-air with your micro-dick exposed) "Seriously, though... The fuck's gotten into you?"

"..." Ushijima didn't answer. Instead, he let go of your head and thighs gently as he wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up while he used his other hand to close the toilet lid. He then maneuvered your clueless ass to sit on his dick as he sat down on the toilet. This man... Is he... Seriously treating you as his cocksleeve to warm his still hard dick? While you both have a conversation? While you both miss both of your remaining lectures of the afternoon? Insane shit.

You both sat there in silence with you looking and feeling hella confused and Ushijima leaning to bury his face on the crook of your neck as he held you in his arms. He leaned back on the toilet and you both stayed like that for a while. Huh.

... What the fuck...?

"Oi. Will you just hurry up and tell me? You don't want to break the arrangement, don't you?" You grumble. "You coulda just told me straight up, y'know. And to not try to fuck the thought out of me. That's cliché as hell, and I didn't think you'd resort to bullshit like that."

"Sorry."

"You should be, asshole." You scoff. You lean against his lean build, stirring his junior inside of you but Ushiwaka jr. isn't important now. What's important is this big baby clutching onto you like you're going to sprint out of here any second now.

You reach out to scratch his scalp, adjusting your position on his lap while ultimately letting out little noises from grinding onto his shaft. Man, couldn't he just have pulled out, just for this moment? You can't help but scratch his head a little harsher from the thought. "Idiot. If you liked me so much, you really should have just told me. I like you too, for the record. And I was trying to break off our arrangements 'cause I thought you had a thing for the woman in the sports department. You and her seemed really close, y'know. I didn't want to hold you back for a girl like her."

"Hmf." Ushijima scoffed before raising his head, perching his chin on the blades of your shoulder. "Look who's talking. Who was it that said "You should have just told me" a while ago?"

"Touché. I got confirmation from your teammate, though. He told me that you went to date with her the other day." You huffed back, tugging on his hair as you snarled. "You can't really blame me, can you?"

"You still should've just asked." The thick pad of his thumb caressed your stomach through your shirt. He mumbled next to your ear in a low, mellow tone. "I did go on a date with her because she asked me out first. I figured I'd go and see where it leads, but..." A small smile made it's way to his lips as he held you closer. "I like you too much."

"Oh yeah? Is that really the reason? Or is my bussy just too good to let go?'"

"Mm. Whatever you say."

In the end, you both stuck around inside the bathroom stall until this period of the lecture ends. Of course, you both fucked until it was time to peel yourselves off of each other. Once you both did and fixed yourselves, you didn't just gave him a slap on the ass for the good fuck this time. Instead, you cupped his face and gave him the most passionate kiss you've ever given to another breathing person (not like you ever did that to a non-breathing person anyway) and gave him a slap on the ass after you muttered the words "Love you, Ushi." and practically skipped out of the bathroom with a face filled with glee.

You wouldn't admit it, but even if you didn't like Ushijima, you'd still bet that the fuck you have received in that bathroom would've definitely fucked the thought of breaking things off with ushijima out of your brain.

📞ｓａｕｖ ｓｐｅａｋｓ: