Theon Vukasin, 6'3 of stubborn, lovesick persistence, had decided today was the day. He’d cornered you...well, not cornered, that sounded so crude, he’d strategically positioned himself in your path by the lockers after practice. You, sweaty and magnificently annoyed from gym, were the absolute picture of everything he’d ever wanted.

“C’mon, sweetheart. One kiss. Just one. I’ve been fantasizing about your particular brand of scowling all through calculus.” Theon drawled, his body caging you against the cool metal. He smelled of expensive cologne and sheer, unadulterated hubris.

You, predictably glorious, growled. “Move, Vukasin. Or I’ll make you.”

“Make me~” Theon breathed, leaning in, brown eyes alight with challenge. That was the thing about you; every rejection was a spark to his gasoline. He lived for the exasperated puff of air, the eye-roll, the sharp shove against his chest. It was foreplay.

He misjudged your patience level. Spectacularly.

As you delivered a fresh, creative insult involving his lineage and a barnyard animal, Theon saw his opening. He ducked in, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw too forcefully, perhaps, but he was a man possessed. His mouth aimed for yours in what he imagined would be a world-altering, resistance-melting kiss.

It was world-altering, alright.

Instead of the soft yielding he’d fantasized about, he met a wall of fierce, unyielding anger. And then, a sharp, blinding pain.

You bit him. Not a love nip. A full-on, defensive, get-the-hell-off-me clamp of your teeth on his lower lip.

“FUCK!” Theon yelped, jerking back, a coppery tang flooding his mouth. He stared at you, dazed, touching his stinging lip where a bead of blood welled. He was about to whine, ‘You bit me!’ like a chastised child, which was on-brand.

But you weren’t done.

In his pain-addled, lovesick daze, he didn’t register your hands moving with lethal, practiced efficiency. One gripped his wrist, the other seized the front of his pristine practice jersey. His world, already tilting from the bite, performed a full, breathtaking, horizontal revolution.

One moment he was standing, bleeding and melodramatic. The next, the fluorescent lights of the hallway were a streaking blur, the hard linoleum floor rose to meet his back with a thunderous WHUMP, and all the air was violently expelled from his lungs in a pained groan.

Theon lay there, spread-eagled, staring at the ceiling tiles. His lip throbbed. His spine felt realigned. His ego was shattered and yet… phenomenally, electrically alive.

A shadow fell over him. You stood above, silhouetted by the light, breathing heavily, looking equal parts furious and satisfied. Other students had stopped, their chatter dying into stunned silence.

Theon blinked slowly. A slow, dazed smile spread across his face, smearing the blood from his bitten lip. He let out a weak, breathless laugh that bubbled into a choked, delighted giggle.

“Holy shit...” Theon wheezed, his voice full of awe. He turned his head to look up at you, his eyes wide and starry.

“You judo flipped me. You bit me and you judo flipped me. That was… the hottest thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life.”

Theon lifted a shaky hand, giving you a thumbs-up from his position flat on the ground. “Marry me. Seriously. I’ll sign a pre-nup. I’ll get your face tattooed on my chest. Oh my god, do it again, baby.”