#teentvimagines

The carriage was moving impossibly slow.

Trees passing by at a snail’s pace as you watched the light of your aunt’s estate grow closer in the distance.

The desire to run to your bedroom and bathe in the excitement of the night intensifying as each moment passed.

“A lovely opening ball, was it not y/n?”

You snapped your head from leaning on the window to where your mother and aunt sat across from you.

“Yes, quite lovely indeed,” you remarked.

You had grown up coming to your aunt’s estate in the summers.

As a child, you remembered begging your mother to take you to London for the social season as your older sisters were being presented to society.

You wondered if your sisters ever had a night as magical as you did tonight.

And it was all because of him.

Benedict Bridgerton.

You liked the name Benedict; you had never met another one before.

The blood rushed to your cheeks, so scarlet, at the memory of dancing the night away with him.

“Oh y/n, you are looking quite ill. You have had such a busy night; it would do you well to get a good night’s sleep and think on the many gentlemen who will call on you tomorrow.”

You could not help but lay awake that night, the moonlight shining through the curtains, as you thought about the entire night. Replaying it in its entirety, from start to finish.

The conversation was effortless, no lulls or awkward pauses you experienced with others.

What would you do if he had not called upon you the next day?

Would you be forced to entertain the other prospects in hope of waiting and biding time for his affection.

Was there someone else in the picture?

Why had you not thought to ask his intentions?

Was the chemistry enough to guide you through this season?

Your endless thoughts were torture.

Finally dozing off, the moonlight soon disappeared as the darkness of the night sky was replaced by the bright and glistening rays of the sun.

A subtle knock came from the other side of the door, your lady maid calling out.

“Miss Y/N, we must start getting you ready.”

With one final powdering of your nose, you made your way towards the parlor room.

As you walked in you spotted Benedict sitting on the settee near the large portrait of your family.

He stood up immediately once he noticed your presence.

As your eyes met the memories of the night before came flooding back.

******

You stood with your mother and aunt at the edge of the dance floor, running your hands down your dress, doing your best to smooth out the ruffles from where you sat.

“Miss y/l/n, what a pleasure to have you join us this season.”

“Thank you, Lady Danbury,” you smiled politely.

“Let us hope that she is as lucky as her sisters in finding a great companion,” your mother said.

You nodded your head as you took in the scene around you.

Girls and their mamas circling like vultures, while still maintaining the perfect amount of poise to be considered elegant and respectful.

It was much more overwhelming than you were anticipating.

 The magic of what you imagined as a little girl was slowly fading the more you felt the pressure of finding a husband by the end of the season.

If forcing laughter and faking smiles is what it took to get through the night, then so be it.

You had evaded a few gentlemen by writing down the name of poets on your dance card, smiling shyly as you quickly waved the ‘full’ dance card as a polite dismissal.

It was a pity really, you loved to dance.

The small talk and inquiring about your pianoforte on the other hand was quite detestable.

You had just gotten done pity laughing at Lord Hardy’s ‘humble’ comment about his many properties, when above his shoulder your eyes met a couple of cool blue ones across the room.

Your insincerity dropped, curiosity taking over as you excused yourself from Lord Hardy.

The man had done the same with whatever company had previously occupied him, gently patting the man in front of him as he maneuvered his way towards you.

As he approached you bowed your head slightly.

“Miss--?”

“Y/N”

“Miss Y/N, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I suppose we have not. I have just come to London for the season.”

“Ah, the marriage mart? Believer of love, are we?”

“Are you not?” you challenged back.

“In an artists’ sense, yes. Not in the way that I must bow, and you curtsy while we skate around each for months to appease our families What is it truly to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration? To delight in her beauty, so much so that all your defenses crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her.”

You were shocked by his seemingly earnest words. Perhaps the shallow nature of society was not present in everyone.

“Well, we seem to have that in common Mr.—”

“Bridgerton, but you may call me Benedict.”

“Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, the artist or a poet?” you teased.

“This doesn’t really seem like the company you would choose to surround yourself with,” you remarked.

“Quite true Miss Y/N. I fear I am rather trapped among the duties of my family to attend tonight’s ball. You see, my sister Eloise is in her debut season as well.”

You followed his gaze to where a young lady stood next to an older woman. From afar their relationship was quite clear, a mama instructing her daughter on all the dos and don’ts of the night.

“Might you join me in a dance Miss Y/N?”

You looked down to your dance card, the spots filled with fake names.

Benedict grabbed your wrist, bringing the cards towards him for a closer examination.

He laughed as he looked at the names written, scratching out the last two to write his own.

“I do hope Lord Keats and Lord Wordsworth don’t mind me taking their spots.”

“They’ll live, I hear they have greater things to attend to.”

“Greater than you miss? I have high doubts.”

You took Benedict’s hand as the music began to play.

Your hand felt so right in his, as natural as breathing.

You could not help the fluttering in your heart as he whisked you across the dance floor.

This moment, this is the moment you imagined as a young girl.

The playful conversation, perfectly countering his quick remarks. Is this what it was like to meet someone at your level?

Your insincerity and vacancy from earlier replaced by a fulfilling excitement.

“It seems highly improper to have danced continuously with you Benedict.”

“I suppose it is a bit suggestive, do you regret it?” he asked seriously.

You thought for a long second before you looked at him properly.

“No, I do not regret it. Your company is quite refreshing and enjoyable.”

“Coming from someone with your elegance, I take that as the highest compliment.”

You had spent the rest of the evening walking around with your mother and aunt, engaging in superficial conversations, your eyes constantly peeled for a certain Bridgerton.

Your stolen glances and playful smirks across the ballroom went seemingly unnoticed by most.

However, after a brief encounter with Benedict at the drinks table, you felt the wandering eyes of a young lady wearing a lovely yellow dress.

You smiled sweetly at her before returning to your mother’s side.

******

“Miss Y/N, I hope it is not a surprise for me to have called on you so early this morning?”

“On the contrary, I would have been quite disappointed if you had not.”

“Would you care to join me for a promenade?”

“I would be delighted Mr. Bridgerton.”

As the second eldest Bridgerton boy, Benedict never found himself extremely pressured by the standards and expectations of society. Those responsibilities were entrusted upon his brother, Anthony, the Viscount.

Benedict reserved himself to a more romantic life, preoccupied by his love and interest for art.

Attending every event of the season was merely a ploy to keep his mother happy and distracted from the fact that he had no true intention of courting any ladies.

He would drink, laugh, and dance the season away without ever calling on anyone.

Benedict believed that this season wouldn’t be any different.

******

When you first agreed to join your family friends across the Atlantic in London, you didn’t expect that you would be taking part in the ton’s social season.

As the youngest daughter, your brothers married with children and sisters off tending to their new husbands, your father didn’t feel the need to arrange a marriage for social or monetary gain.

Your family was well off in the states, your parents often described as ‘free spirits.’ They had always impressed upon you the importance of appreciating the beauty around you and romanticizing life.

With your mother’s passing, you decided to stay at home with your father, choosing to enjoy a quiet life in the country studying English literature.

Staying with Sir Henry Granville was beyond exciting and allowed you to interact and mingle with the more eclectic members of British society.

You had lasted all but a week before you were called upon by a Miss Lady Danbury.

She had stressed the importance of participating in the social season and the impending judgment of the ton and Queen if you did not participate.

While you never cared much for the opinion of others, you didn’t fancy the idea of being ogled every time you ventured into town.

******

“I heard she was rejected by every suitor.”

“She’s so ugly and unpleasant, a dowry wouldn’t even be worth it.”

“Apparently she’s slightly deformed.”

You couldn’t begin to believe the rumors circulating about you, the American.

You swore that the descriptions were ripped out of a storybook, describing some gremlin crawling from the depths of the earth.

Men and women alike had no problem spreading stories about the young lady joining them for the season.

Worst of all, none of them had even seen you yet. The modiste had made personal house calls, as requested by Lady Danbury.

Now you stood, in front of the carriage, at the first ball of the season, your debut.

You followed behind Sir Henry and Mary Granville, head held high and eyes straight forward as you waded through the ballroom towards Lady Danbury and the Queen.

You heard the whispers and felt the stares as you stood before the queen.

With one leg behind the other and your arms laid at your side, you gently bent your knee and curtsied before her.

She gave you a once over before bowing her head back, a silent approval.

Moving out of the way, you stood at the edge of the dance floor as Lady Danbury approached.

“Miss y/l/n, I do hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of securing you a few gentlemen to fill out your dance card.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Lady Danbury” you smiled back, a teasing tone in your voice.

Your sarcasm and apprehension towards the season had not gone unnoticed by Lady Danbury.

She quite admired your wit and sharp mind, and more than anything, enjoyed the challenge.

******

You were now on your 4th dance of the night; your feet were hurting, and you wanted nothing more than to be curled up with a book.

Fortunately, your current dance partner was not completely awful and was actually quite charming.

Colin Bridgerton.

You had met him once before, in passing, when Lady Danbury had brought you to meet his mother, Violet, and sister, Daphne.

 Apparently, Daphne had been named the Diamond of the season in her first season out on society and married a Duke.

His younger sister, Eloise, was preparing for her first season as well.

However, through your brief encounter with Eloise she did not seem as happy with the matter as her sister and mother were.

You had a feeling she would be a good person to befriend.

“Tell me about yourself Miss y/l/n” Colin inquired.

“Y/N,” you quickly corrected.

“Just Y/N is fine,” you smiled slightly.

“Well Y/N, how are you finding London and the beginning of the season?”

“London, well its quite beautiful. There is so much art, and history, and the architecture is amazing. Truly, I wouldn’t mind getting lost here. And well…this—” you paused, glancing around the ball at all the young women around you.

“May I be frank?” you asked, Colin’s eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Of course, Miss Y/N”

“I slightly detest all of this, my feet hurt, and I’ve been dancing for quite too long. Why would I want to marry someone I’ve met one time?”

Colin was slightly taken aback before grinning wildly.

“You remind me of my sister Eloise,” he stated.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I quite liked her,” you grinned back.

As the dance ended you curtsied before Colin as he bowed before you.

“I hope you find the person you’re looking for Y/N, but I have a feeling you don’t need all of this to do so.”

You smiled widely and slightly nodded before following him off the dance floor.

“I’ll grab us a drink,” he said before walking away. Your eyes followed his back for a few seconds before scanning the room.

They quickly landed on two men whispering in the corner.

The slightly shorter one had massive sideburns and a quizzical look that seemed as if it must be permanently etched onto his face. The other man had a certain air about him.

Even from across the room his light-colored eyes had a shine in them.

Colin returned; you thanked him before looking to the corner again. This time the slightly taller one had caught your gaze and lifted his eyes to meet yours. You felt your face flush and quickly turned your head.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“Who are those two men in the corner?”

Colin looked up to see his brothers in the corner looking at him inquisitively.

“Oh, those two? You don’t want to be near the likes of them. Poorly mannered and when they were younger, they would wet the bed for years well beyond what was normal.”

You were following along for a while until that last part.

You gave Colin a quick look to see if he was being serious.

His mouth remained flat and tight-lipped for a few mere seconds before letting through a boisterous laugh.

“My apologies Y/N, those are my brothers.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“Your brothers?”

“Yes, lets introduce you,” he stated, beginning to pull you across the ballroom.

“Colin, No I—"

“Brothers, this is Miss y/l/n, Anthony, Benedict,” he pointed out.

You curtsied before both of them before speaking up.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine Colin.”

You weren’t sure what his brothers would say about your slight improperness. It was clear that the Bridgerton’s were a well-respected family in the ton.

You glanced at the eldest brother who you learned was named Anthony who gave you a curt nod before excusing himself to sneak off from an inquiring Lady Danbury.

You smiled at him before turning your gaze to the second eldest Bridgerton.

“Y/N here was telling me about her studies in the states. She is well-read and well-traveled.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing Colin slightly.

“You flatter me, Colin. Unfortunately, I am not perfect. For example, I am about done with all of this and was just about to call a carriage.”

“Oh, but you must stay for one more dance Y/N. Poor Benedict here has not waltzed once.”

Benedict tried to sneakily hit his brother for his clear meddling.

“While that may be true, I do not need my younger brother imposing on such a lovely lady.” Benedict states.

“Nonsense, everyone must waltz at least once,” you laughed, pulling Benedict towards the center of the room.

His eyes widened at your forwardness as he shot Colin a disapproving brotherly look, to which Colin gave him a grin and thumbs up.

As the music began you moved around the room with Benedict.

“So, Mr. Bridgerton, tell me what exactly it is you do.”

“Just Benedict is fine,” he stated, mirroring your words from earlier.

“Besides, aren’t I the one who should be questioning you about your skills?”

“That’s awfully backwards thinking, I hope you don’t get stuck that way” you replied sarcastically before being spun around.

When you returned facing Benedict, a knowing grin was stuck on his face. You were witty. He liked witty.

“I suppose that is fair. I’m an artist, well…I’m trying to be an artist. It’s a little complicated.”

You nodded understandingly, while the arts were enjoyed by many, it wasn’t exactly a noble pursuit, especially for you as a woman.

“You should come by Sir Granville’s studio, it’s quite…”

You couldn’t think of a proper word to describe the soirees Granville hosted. It was taboo and scandalous to most respectable members of society. However, if Benedict was an artist as he was claiming, he should fit right in.

“…inspiring,” you finished.

Benedict gave you an interesting look.

Little did you know, he had been to Granville’s studio, several times.

He hadn’t been in a while since his family had just returned from Aubrey Hall and the preparation for Eloise’s season had been quite hectic for his mother.

But you, picturing you at Granville’s studio was not something Benedict had imagined.

Women who were married or of low social standing was something else, but you, a young lady in her first official season stalking down the halls in such a disreputable manner. It didn’t fit the picture of the beautiful woman before him.

Benedict was quickly learning not to try and categorize you into one box.

“What do you know of Granville’s studio?” he asked seriously.

“Well, for one, I’m staying there. Two, I feel more comfortable among that community than here, if you understand what I mean…” you trail off.

Benedict gives you a small smile of understanding.

As the song ends Benedict lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before sightly lowering it back down, fingers brushing softly as he pulls away.

“Until next time Y/N”

“I look forward to it Benedict.”

******

Two months had passed since Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. In that time you had befriended Eloise and Colin Bridgerton, often sitting in the parlor room of their home during the daytime, chatting the day away.

As such, you had also grown closer to Penelope Featherington who also came over often. You always considered yourself to be quite perceptive, so it was evidently clear that Penelope was fond of Colin. You thought about mentioning something, but it didn’t seem like your place.

Throughout your time at the Bridgerton’s household you had seen Benedict a handful of times. Unfortunately, your encounters were reduced to small greetings, stolen glances and light brushes as you walked past each other.

Until today.

You were sitting in the empty parlor room as Eloise ran to her room to fetch some ‘evidence’ and ‘clues’ about Lady Whistledown.

“Good Afternoon Y/N” Benedict greeted as he walked in, taking a quick look around the room to find the two of you alone.

“Afternoon Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted back, a slight teasing tone to contrast your seemingly formality.

He gave you a knowing look before continuing.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but I plan on attending Sir Granville’s tonight, I was wondering if I would see you there?”

You gave him a teasing smile before your face fell into a serious and hurt look.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m appalled, would a respectable young woman such as myself be caught there? Imagine the horror if the rest of the ton were to find out.”

He let out a loud laugh at your remark, in the short time that he had known you, you never failed to make him laugh.

“Yes Benedict, I’ll see you there,” you smiled.

“Good,” he replied.

******

That night you had a few drinks to help you take the edge off before guests started coming over. There was something about interacting with Benedict that made you nervous.

 You were walking around the art studio observing the nude model and the artists renditions when you felt someone lay their hand on your shoulder.

“OH! Oh my, Benedict, you scared me.”

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to startle you.”

You continued walking around the circle, admiring the art around you.

“She’s stunning, is she not?” you questioned.

“She is,” he answered quickly.

However, when you turned to look at him his eyes were already trained on yours.

You smiled widely, walking out of the studio as Benedict followed like a lost puppy.

“Will I ever get to see your art?” you asked him.

He smiled sheepishly as his arm reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

“I certainly would let you, if there was any.”

“Practicing here for a few months and you still have nothing to show?” you teased.

Benedict gave you a look.

“I may have asked around about you,” you confessed.

“And?” he asks.

From what you have heard, both from his siblings and other people around you. Benedict was a kind and creative soul, with a great appreciation for the beauty around him.

“Your family and friends speak highly of you, that’s important.”

“What about you? What do you speak of me?”

“Besides being a tortured artist? I think highly of you.”

He nodded his head again, before responding.

“I think highly of you as well,” he whispered quietly, leaning down slightly so he was more at eye level.

You blamed the alcohol in your system for what you did next.

Yanking him down by his collar, you pulled him close and reached up until your lips were flush against his, pushing with all your might as if you would never kiss him again.

“Y/N—” he pulled away, his senses flooding back.

“This is…no, I’ve dishonored you I—”

“Oh hush Benedict, I do not care about those rules. I want you.”

He looked down at you, holding your face in his hands as he searched your eyes for confirmation.

Biting your lip and grinning up at him, Benedict couldn’t help but pull you back in, one hand sinking to your waist to pull you closer, the other rested on your cheek.

“You know this means we have to get married now?” Benedict teases.

“That means you presume I would say yes,” you teased back.

His smile grew impossibly bigger as he pulled you back in for a tender kiss.

“Let’s just see how you perform tonight before we think about marriage” you joked.

Benedict pulled back with a smirk and look in his eye you haven’t seen yet as he looked you over.

“Art is all about practicing and perfecting, we might need to practice a few times before you make your final judgement” he teased back.

You threw your head back in surprise, a large laugh leaving your lips before you smiled sweetly at him.

This was not how you imagined the social season going.

You knew it. As soon as you woke up you knew that you had started your period. If the cramps from the day before didn’t tip you off already, they were making their presence known now.

You didn’t always have terrible cramps, but when you did…there wasn’t anything you wanted more than to curl up into a little ball under your sheets.

Alas, the world is unforgiving to women, and you couldn’t skip all your lessons without drawing some attention. Having to explain the inner workings of the female body to Professor Snape wasn’t exactly at the top of your priorities. So, you mustered up all the energy you could and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

******

In hindsight, coming to breakfast may not have been the best idea. You were in pain and feeling quite nauseous, barely chewing on your toast as you poked at the food on your plate.

“You alright Y/N?” Pansy asked.

You gave her a weak smile as you shook your head no, gesturing to your stomach in the process. She gave you a knowing look, instantly understanding your frustration and pain.

You hoped that you would see Theo in here, he usually woke up later than you did so you knew it would be pointless to wait for him in the common room. Yet the lightly curly-headed and blue-eyed boy was nowhere in sight.

Malfoy and Mattheo whispering and giggling brought your attention back to the table.

“Look at Potter with that know-it-all mudblood, we’re going to wipe the floor with Gryffindor at tonight’s match.”

Now you weren’t exactly friends with Hermione Granger. She seemed nice enough from the lessons that you had shared with her, being a know-it-all was a pretty accurate description of her. But Malfoy was always a complete minger.

“Don’t use that word,” you spoke up, surprising the boys whose giggles and large smirks turned into sharp stares.

“What was that Y/L/N?” Mattheo spoke up.

“I said not to call her that,” you spoke again, more strongly.

Malfoy smirked before speaking again.

“What, are you friends with the mudblood? Why didn’t you just say so Y/N.”

“SHUT UP MALFOY!” you exclaimed.

“Jesus Christ you’re no fun,” Mattheo stated under his breath.

“What’s wrong with you, are you on your period or something?” Malfoy teased.

That caused both boys to laugh, along with a few first years seated a few feet down.

You got up quickly, storming out of the Great Hall. You could barely hear Malfoy doubled over in pain after Pansy had elbowed him in the stomach.

As you made your quick exit you bumped into a large figure.

“Love—”

It was Theodore. His bright smile dropping as he took in your state. Your face had reddened from the embarrassment and light tears filled your eyes.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just want to get to class early.”

“Ok, I’ll come wi—”

“NO!” you said, a little quicker and aggressively than you intended.

“You have a game today; you need to eat. I’ll see you in class," you smiled softly, reaching on your tiptoes to place a small kiss on the edge of his mouth.

Theodore watched as you left, a sad frown gracing his lips as he continued into the Great Hall.

******

Your lessons went by as smoothly as they could, despite the stabbing pain in your abdomen.

Theo was as supportive as he could be, you hadn’t exactly told him much. He knew something was wrong, but he knew better than to pry. You would tell him when you were ready.

As you walked back to towards the common room Theo swayed your hands back and forth. You looked up at him, giving a soft smile before your eyes dropped to the ground again.

“I’m going to grab my robes then stop at the great hall for a quick snack before heading to the pitch,” he told you.

FUCK…you forgot he had a match tonight.

“You know, I’m not feeling too well. Would you mind if I just stayed here?”

Of course it would be ok, Theo would never make you do anything that you didn’t want to.

 You loved going to his games and supporting him. He’d give you your favorite quidditch hoodie of his and look to the stands to see you cheering and screaming louder than anyone.

“I—Yeah…Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just not feeling too hot,” you smiled weakly.

“Good luck tonight, I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You hugged him tightly before giving him a soft kiss and walking up the stairs to your dorm room.

******

Hours had passed and you could assume that the match was over and Slytherin had won from the cheering and chanting that echoed up the stairs from the common room.

Your cramps were relentless. You took a steaming hot shower, and while the pain had subdued for a short moment, it had returned.

You were currently in the fetal position, clutching your stomach as tears fell from your eyes, your transfiguration textbook thrown aside as your homework was long forgotten.

Too caught up in your pain, you hadn’t heard when someone entered your room.

Theodore was terrified to find you curled up on the bed, soft whimpers leaving your lips.

“Darling!” he exclaimed, dropping his bag at the door and hurrying to your bed.

Your eyes shot open at the noise, turning your head to face him as he made his way over to you, your gaze softened.

“How was your game?” you asked.

“Y/N, enough. Please love, what’s wrong.”

There was no more hiding the pain, you were literally curled up in front of him.

“I’ve had the worst cramps all day and the pain just won’t go away. I tried to do McGonagall’s assigned reading, but I just couldn’t focus,” you said as the tears began to fall.

Theodore moved your books to the floor before moving you slightly so he could sit next to you.

“Why didn’t you just say so love? You know my mom makes that special tea.”

“I—I was embarrassed. Malfoy and Mattheo were being mean, and I just overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“What?”

“You didn’t overreact. You have every right to feel how you do right now. I’d like to see Malfoy have cramps. I’m sure he’d be even more insufferable than he is now.”

You chuckled softly at his statement.

Theodore always had a way of making you feel seen. He was your boyfriend of course, but he was also so much more than that. He was your best friend. Everything between you too was effortless, he never made you feel like a burden. You felt silly thinking that you were.

“What do you need from me?” he asked gently.

“Just want to be close to you,” you whispered softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Now that I can do,” he said as he stood up.

“Theo, no, where are you going?”

Without answering you, he walked across your room and pulled his hoodie from his bag.

As he returned, you sat up slowly. Reaching for the hoodie he shook his head.

“Arms up.”

You happily complied and let him put the hoodie on you, pulling it on completely before leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

He shifted you away from him so he could cuddle up behind you. Pulling you close, he rested his hand on your stomach, drawing soft circles with his fingers.

You pushed your body back slightly, wanting to be as close as you could to him. He inhaled slightly at the friction before tightening his arm around you.

“You know, I remember reading some muggle article that says sex supposedly helps with cramps.”

“Oh shut up” you laughed.

“I’m serious,” he laughed with you.

Turning your head slightly so your lips could meet with his, you gave him a quick kiss before pulling back.

“I love you Theo.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

The floors vibrated as the music coming from the common room travelled up the stairs. You could only assume that the party was in full swing as you could hear cheering and chanting from housemates and groups of friends alike.

Normally you would have already been downstairs chugging odgen’s old firewhisky from the bottle with Pansy and jumping on the coffee table when your favorite song came on. But for some reason you told her to go ahead as you continued to pace around your bedroom trying to convince yourself to just go downstairs and enjoy the party. But you couldn’t go downstairs.

He would be there. Mattheo was always there. Even when you didn’t expect him to be or want him to be…he was there.

You still remember the first time your relationship with him changed.

******

“Y/L/N” you heard a deep voice from behind you say.

Your head whipped around quickly, eyes meeting with Mattheo.

“Jesus Theo, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, you’re just standing in the corner” he countered, a smirk present on his face.

“I asked you first, you told Pansy you weren’t coming when she asked you at dinner.”

“Do you remember everything I say?” he teased, reaching to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

Swatting his hand, you rolled your eyes before answering, “Oh please, get over yourself.”

He just chuckled as he watched you scan the common room, taking note of all the groups of students gathered together. Every house was represented, your eyes linking with Fred Weasley who shot you a shy smile before looking away.

Mattheo didn’t miss the interaction, but you were praying that he didn’t mention it.

“You and Freddy huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you answered quickly.

“Right…well if you want to stay here and be antisocial while you pine after weaselbee be my guest, but I’m going to go enjoy the party.”

Mattheo began making his way through the crowd before you grabbed his hand.

“No wait, I’m coming.”

He turned to look at you, a knowing look on his face before his eyes glanced to where your hands met, a blush rising to his cheeks.

You pulled your hand away quickly, shoving it into your pocket before smiling shyly at him.

“Sorry”

“It’s all good darling,” he smiled, leading you to your group of friends.

You spent the rest of the night dancing with Pansy, constantly finding yourself looking for Mattheo.

You couldn’t exactly explain what you were feeling. You had one conversation with him, one that wasn’t particularly interesting either, and yet…you wanted to talk to him again.

******

From that moment on things with Mattheo had changed. You were always looking out for each other, mentally and physically. When Mattheo had caught an underclassmen making an inappropriate comment about you, he had hexed him into the next century.

Pansy was giddy with excitement, begging you to tell her what was going on between the two of you. But there wasn’t anything to tell, not yet at least. If any of the boys noticed something between you and Theo they didn’t say anything, but you’re sure you could guess that Mattheo had something to do with that.

What started as little glances here and there turned into longing stares and shy smiles that were mutually returned. Hanging out with friends became secret meetings in the corridors at night.

They started out innocently enough. You would both stay up for hours, talking to no end about the most random topics. Everything from your favorite colors, foods, and muggle movies to Mattheo’s emotional burden of living up to his family name.

You knew that you were done for after the first time that you kissed.

Slytherin had just lost to Gryffindor and Mattheo was pacing back and forth in front of you as you both stood at the top of the astronomy tower.

“Malfoy has some fucking audacity to blame me, his head is so far up Potter’s ass he cant even think straight. I just I—"

“Theo, will you please just stop for a second.”

“I don’t know what to do, the team is so upset that it’s my fault we lost. It’s a fucking team sport, how is it one person’s fault?”

As he continued to ramble on you couldn’t help but to grab his face as he walked past you again.

“Y/N what ar—”

“Oh will you shut up,” you whispered, pulling his face to yours as your lips met in the middle.

Your lips instantly synced together, moving as one as Mattheo pulled you closer to him with his hands on your waist, your hand pulling on the curls at the nape of his neck.

You pulled away breathlessly, your eyes meeting his.

“That was…” he started.

“Yeah” you finished.

That kiss was just the first of many over the next few years.

As time went by your relationship with Mattheo continued to grow and strengthen. He wasn’t what you expected when you thought about the “Dark Lord’s Son” as everyone called him. To you he was Mattheo, he had always just been Theo. He was smart and charming, charismatic to no end.

But as you guys grew you could tell that he was starting to feel the pressure of living up to his parent’s reputation, and it was taking its effect on your relationship. You guys had already been very private and secretive about your intimate relationship, only your closest friends knowing. You already knew what your parents would say about it, despite being a pure blood family, they weren’t exactly the biggest fans of Mattheo’s parents.

Hours together became minutes. Conversations became arguments. Love became indifference. Things were no longer the same and you couldn’t seem to stop him from going down the path he was.

You wished that things didn’t end the way that they did. That you weren’t the same people, that things could’ve worked out. Of course this was all wishful thinking.

******

Pull yourself together Y/N you thought.

Grabbing the bottle of firewhisky that Pansy left on the dresser you made your way down the stairs.

“Y/L/N! you’re here," Lorenzo exclaimed, stumbling over to you before throwing his arm over your shoulder.

“Yeah, I live here Enzo,” you smiled. You knew that’s not what he meant but you didn’t really feel like explaining yourself.

When things got weird between Mattheo and you, you had begun to pull back, choosing to skip certain events and Irish goodbyeing at others. It was easier this way, or at least that’s what you thought.

You took a look at your group of friends, smiling as you witnessed their drunken states, celebration was in order. Slytherin had won the quidditch house cup, what else was there to do.

As you looked from Pansy to Draco your eyes met with his.

“Y/N” Mattheo greeted.

“Mattheo…good job today. You guys did well all season, you deserve it.”

“Well thanks for coming.”

“I’ll always come to your games; you know that.” You smiled softly.

“Right”

Silence faded over the two of you as Pansy interrupted, grabbing your hand to drag you to the middle of the common room. You gave Mattheo a small smile as you passed.

You didn’t know it, but it pained him to hear you call him by his name, and not Theo. He had always been Theo to you, but I guess things had changed. Because nothing lasts forever, and nothing stays the same.

“And where exactly is your usual partner in crime Ms. Y/L/N?” Filch asked accusingly.

“Sorry sir, I’m not sure who you’re referring to,” you answered cheekily.

“Don’t play dumb girl, I know he’s around here somewhere.”

As Filch began to walk away, following Mrs. Norris who meowed as she sniffed along the corridor, you turned to see where Mattheo was hidden.

With the top of his head slowly peaking behind a pillar, he sent you a dazzling wink to which you rolled your eyes.

Nodding your head slightly you took a small step back, doing your best not to alert Filch and his snitch of a pet.

When you deemed it to be the right timed you turned quickly on your heel and sprinted down the corridor, opposite of where Filch was headed.

Mattheo caught up in no time and sprinted alongside you as Mrs. Norris took off after the both of you.

Looking back, you gasped in shock to see her gaining speed and closing the distance.

Mattheo took your hand his and yanked you down another corridor, pulling you behind him as he navigated the way towards the dungeons.

As you stood in front of the large stone walls of the dungeon you dropped your hand from his, bracing them on your knees as you tried to catch your breath.

Mattheo assumed a similar state before standing largely.

“Pure-blood” he spoke.

The passage opened, and he extended his arm forward, motioning for you to enter first.

As you walked into the common room you couldn’t help but break into a fit of giggles.

“I can’t believe we got caught,” you exclaimed, a slight amusement in your voice as you plopped yourself down on the couch.

“Uh, I believe you got caught. Filch never saw me so it doesn’t count.”

“Hey!” you protested, throwing a pillow in his direction.

“It was your idea to sneak out after curfew because you wanted a snack from the kitchen."

“I stand by that decision,” he stated happily, popping the rest of the treacle tart into his mouth.

You gave him a stern look before breaking out into a large smile, he mirrored you with a similar one.

******

If only you knew, Mattheo thought to himself

If only you knew what your smile did to him.

Mattheo always saw you as a close friend.

Right, that’s what you were…a friend?

He wasn’t so sure anymore.

I mean sure, his friends teased him all the time about how he was in love with you, but that didn’t mean it was true.

He told you everything that he told Theodore and Lorenzo.

But he didn’t think about kissing them like he thought about kissing you.

There had been so many times over the last few months where he felt like he should just reach for you and do it, but he never did.

He didn’t know if you felt the same way, and he refused to ruin the friendship because he had a crush on you.

That’s right.

That’s all it was…

A crush.

******

“I’m going to head up to bed, I’ll—" you started.

“Yeah, it’s getting late” Mattheo spoke up.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you finished, standing up from the couch at the same time Mattheo did.

Walking towards the stairs your arm bumped against his, you looked up at him delicately.

“Good night, Y/N” he spoke softly.

"Good night, Mattheo,” you returned.

As you lay in bed you couldn’t help but think about how deep you were falling into him.

You wish that you could just throw all caution to the wind and just tell Mattheo how you feel.

You found yourself always lowering your guard around him. You weren’t sure if you were just being reckless or if it was actually more.

There were times where it felt like more, like someone was going to make the first move.

Until then, you would wait patiently. For some reason, you believe that being with Mattheo, truly being with him would be even better than you imagined.

Getting out of bed this morning was rough.

Head rushing and pounding with the adrenaline from the night before.

It couldn’t be, right?

Everything you experienced last night wasn’t real, or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

You couldn’t explain how you ended up in the woods in the middle of the night.

Hearing voices in your head, it was almost as if you had been summoned there.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

This was the second time in your life that you couldn’t push the voices away.

It had only happened once before this, right before your grandmother passed.

She had been in hospice for the last few months and hadn’t been doing well.

You begged your mom to let you skip school that day to visit her, but she insisted that the last time she had spoken to the nurse, everything was fine.

You got called out of class early that day, your mother rushing you over to the nursing home so that your grandmother would be surrounded by family in her last moments.

Neither of you had brought up how you somehow knew you needed to be there, but the coincidence never left your mind.

Tonight felt like that day from a few months ago.

As you sat at your desk doing homework you could hear distant muffled voices, the words weren’t clear, but they started getting louder.

You huffed, pushing your chair back as you got up.

Walking down the hallway you expected to turn the corner and see your younger brother blasting the tv at the highest volume, but you were met with the deafening silence of the dark and empty living room.

The voices continued as you wandered around the house, growing louder as you followed them outside into the back yard.

You looked back at your house before sneaking out the side gate.

The streets were empty as you walked down the sidewalk, making left and right turns when they felt right.

It wasn’t until you reached the entrance to the Beacon Hills Preserve that you snapped back to reality and truly took in your surroundings.

You barely enjoyed running through here when it was cross country season, you certainly wouldn’t have chosen to come here in the middle of the night.                                                

Walking further into the woods, you reached a small clearing.

A large wood trunk sat in the middle of the clearing, a sizeable figure laying on top of it.

As you got closer you began to make out shapes; an arm, a leg, it was a body.

You stopped a few feet short of the stump, your eyes widening in horror as they focused in on the lifeless eyes of the body before you.

It was a dead body.

You couldn’t do anything but scream at the top of your lungs.

The murmured voices quickly stopped and were soon replaced by a different set of voices.

They grew louder as did the footsteps as they approached.

 “Y/N!” Scott and Lydia exclaimed at the same time.

You turned around quickly, fear painted on your features as you attempted to speak.

“I—I don’t…”

Lydia stepped forward, wrapping her arm around your shoulder as she walked you away from the body.

“Y/L/N?” you heard another voice arise.

 It was the first time you really noticed that he was there.

“Stilinski,” you greeted back.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“You know the usual, finding dead bodies in the woods, you?”

 Hearing his scoff, you smirked to yourself, it was so easy to rile him up.

It didn’t seem like the appropriate time to be making jokes, but with Stiles the sarcasm and witty comebacks were hard to swallow back.

It was almost refreshing to be joking with him in that moment.

Whispering among themselves, you stood quietly looking around, of course your attention still drawn to the body splayed on the trunk a few feet behind them.

Their whispering soon came to an end and Lydia and Stiles stepped forward.

Taking your arm again, Lydia turned you around so that you were now walking in the direction that you came from.

“Y/N, did you walk here?” Lydia asked concernedly.

“Yeah, I—” you were about to explain how you felt drawn here.

“…yeah” you answered quietly.

She turned her head to give Scott and Stiles a worried look.

You know what this might have looked like to your classmates.

Standing over a dead body in the middle of the woods, late at night.

“C’mon, Stiles will take us home. It’s probably not the safest idea to be out now.”

 “What about Scott?” you asked unsurely.

 “Believe me, Scott knows how to handle his own,” Stiles replied while slightly increasing his speed so that he was now walking in front of you and Lydia.

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but you chose not to ask too many questions.

As you crawled into the back of Stiles’s Jeep you didn’t know what to think.

You were terrified about the discovery you made in the woods and the unexplainable feeling that you had that could have possibly led you there.

Terrified at the thought of your classmates, also walking around the woods at the same time and seemingly not as concerned about a body as you were.

The low hum of the radio filled the awkward silence as they drove you home, only speaking up when you had to direct Stiles.

As he pulled up in front of your driveway, you quickly thanked them and got out, trying your best to get to the front door.

Stiles was quick to shut off the car and follow you.

“Y/LN!” he called.

You brushed it off as if you had not heard him, quickening your steps as you got closer.

“Y/N!” he called again.

You rounded on your feet quickly, Stiles stopping abruptly as he almost ran into you.

“What?” you exhaled tiredly, your eyes watering slightly as they met with his.

“What could you possibly say right now?” you asked.

“I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he spoke up.

“No Stiles, I am not okay. None of this is okay.”

He nodded understandingly.

He reached up slightly, so that his hand was barely hovering above your elbow.

You swore you could feel the heat radiating from his body being so close.

As you glanced down, he quickly dropped his hand back down to his side.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he stated matter of factly.

You looked back up to give him a small nod.           

He waited for you to go inside and only turned to leave when he heard the lock click.

You did not see it, but Lydia gave him a pointed look as he walked back to the car.

“Shut up,” he said as he started the jeep.

“I didn’t say anything,” Lydia smiled back.

That night you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Every time you closed your eyes you saw the lifeless eyes of the body staring back at you.

Before you knew it, sleep had consumed your whole body and your thoughts and fears of the night slowly melted away.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

You quickly awoke to the sound of your alarm clock blaring.

Immediately hitting snooze, you debated skipping school all together.

It’s not like you didn’t like school, it was quite the opposite.

You were doing extremely well in all your classes, involved in every club and team you thought would make your college application stand out, and you had a great group of supportive friends.

Thinking about the possible run in with Scott or Lydia and the inevitable run in with Stiles, since you shared so many classes, was more than your anxiety allowed you to handle.

Grabbing your bag, you headed to the kitchen, grabbing a granola bar and your keys from the counter as you said goodbye to your mom.

Walking to the driver’s door you were startled when a car horn honking caught your attention.

Looking up you were shocked to see Stiles and his infamous jeep, windows down as he blocked your driveway.

 “Stilinski, get the hell out of the way. You’re going to make me late for school.”

 “Yup, that’s the plan. Get in Y/L/N,” he replied.

Rolling your eyes, you walked over to his car. He nodded at you to get in.

You stood, looking unamused.

He huffed before getting out the driver’s side and walking around the front of the car.

He brushed past you, opening the passenger door, his eyes silently pleading with you to get in.

“Okay, okay!” you exclaimed, climbing into the passenger seat.

The radio was low, and you quietly hummed along as you passed the houses on your street.

After a few wrong turns you had finally turned to Stiles,

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“I thought you were taking me to school,” you huffed, annoyance clear in your voice.

“I never said that, I said I was going to make you late,” Stiles replied, an attitude in his voice similar to yours.

Rolling your eyes, you turned in your seat, resuming the activity of watching the world outside the car window quickly pass.

After about another 10 minutes you had pulled into a driveway of a cute looking house.

“Is this your house?” you asked confused.

“Yeah, now c’mon,” he answered, quickly turning off the car and getting out.

You followed him into the house and to his room.

Your eyes scanned his room, blue walls littered with posters and clothes thrown on the floor with little regard.

Typical, you thought to yourself.

If you looked under the bed you were sure you would probably find playboy magazines covered in some sort of body fluid.

You shivered at the thought.

What was strange was the wall by his desk.

Red yarn creating a maze as it led from one photo to another. Confusing words and maps printed alongside.

You watched as Stiles threw his backpack onto the chair.

“Don’t worry my dad isn’t home, so no one will interrupt us.”

You gave him a surprised and teasing look, insinuating that his words were some sort of innuendo, before he quickly spoke again.

 “Jesus Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that.”

 You chuckled softly, before letting your eyes roam around some more.

“I just meant, there’s some things I need to ask you about, you know, about last night?” he continued.

Stiles noticed you visibly harden at the mention of last night.

He knew why Scott and them were there.

But you?

That was a question still left unanswered.

 Taking a seat on his bed, you sighed.

“What were you doing in the woods Y/N?” he asked more directly.

“I honestly don’t know,” you said unconvincingly.

 “I mean, I could be asking you the same thing. Your dad’s the Sheriff, right? I wonder what he would have to say about you and your friends hanging around dead bodies in the woods.”

This caught Stiles’s attention.

“Ok, let’s not get crazy. And don’t forget, we found you over the dead body,” he reminded you.

“And what exactly were the three of you doing out there? Taking a late-night stroll in the moonlight,” you remarked accusingly.

 “Listen Y/N. This is serious, there’s a lot going on in Beacon Hills. A lot that I can’t really explain right now. So please, let’s try and be honest with one another.”

“I don’t know how to be honest without sounding absolutely crazy,” you confessed.

“I promise you, nothing that you say to me right now will sound crazy. Just try me,” he smiled reassuringly.

He kneeled in front of you, now at eye level as you slowly nodded.

“Well, like you said, there’s a lot that can’t be explained, and I can’t really explain what happened. I was at home all night when I started hearing these voices—I.”

Stiles grabbed your hand as you stuttered, a silent comfort urging you to continue.

“It was like they were calling me. I mean I’ve heard voices before, they’re always different. Most of the time I can convince myself that I’m just imagining things, but this time was different. This time they wouldn’t stop. So, I just walked and walked, and next thing I knew I was in the woods and the voices had stopped. And that’s when I ran into you guys,” you said, finishing your account of events.

Stiles seemed less surprised and confused than you had thought he would.

“Y/N, do you know what this means!” he said, realization settling in his eyes as he started piecing things together.

You got up quickly, dropping his hand as you began pacing his room, the fear and confusion of the night before flooding back.

“No, Stiles, not really. I have no idea what any of this means,” you exclaimed, the fear evident in your voice.

His eyes softened as he took in your state.

“Okay, hey! It’s ok. We’re going to figure this out. I’m going to help you figure this out.”

“Figure out what? Stiles, this really isn’t making sense,” you exclaimed as you stopped pacing to face him.

“You said you’ve heard these voices before, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, once…”

“When?”

“What?” you looked at him confusedly.

“When did you hear these voices?” he pressed.

“Right before my grandmother passed,” you confessed smally.

“This is going to sound insane,” Stiles started.

“More insane than a girl who hears voices?” you interrupted.

“I think I know what’s going on.”

He got up from the bed, motioning for you to follow him to the desk, rifling through papers and a big leather-bound book, before stopping on a page.

Across the top you read Banshee.

You had read about Banshees before when you took a dual enrollment literature and folklore class.

You looked at Stiles with an angry and pointed look.

“Stilinski what the fuck is this?”

He was taken aback by your shift in demeanor.

“Is this funny to you?”

“What? No, Y/N, just list—"

“No, this is just too much. I thought you really cared about how I was feeling and if this is just you and your friend’s idea of a twisted joke, I don’t want any part of this.”

“Y/N I CAN EXPLAIN!” he continued.

You grabbed your stuff and ran out of the room, letting your long strides carry you further and further away from Stiles’s house.

As you walked through the school parking lot, you turned to find that stupid blue jeep following behind you.

Pulling up next to you, Stiles rolled his window down.

“Y/N!”

You stopped abruptly, causing him to slam on the brakes.

“Stiles, leave me alone.”

“Please Y/N, if you won’t talk to me just, please talk to Lydia or Scott. They’ll explain everything.”

You shook your head at him before walking away.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You had gone almost the rest of the day, successfully avoiding Stiles and his friends.

There was a close call at lunch when you saw Scott and Stiles standing on opposite sides of you a few feet away. Your friend was a saving grace as she appeared next to you, demanding to know why you were so late as she yanked you away to a table across the cafeteria.

However, as you sat in AP Government, your luck was wearing thin when Stiles chose to sit right next to you.

You glanced over to him, an annoyed look covering your face. To which he gave a cocky smirk and wave.

You angled yourself slightly so that you were facing away from him while still being able to sit forward in your desk.

As your teacher began the lesson you did your best to ignore Stiles’ constant attempts to get your attention.

From excessively tapping his foot and pencil, nudging the edge of your desk with his shoe, and leaning over the aisle so that he was now in your personal space.

“Y/N, c’mon,” he pleaded quietly.

“I’m trying to learn about our constitutional right to contraceptives, shut up,” you angrily whispered back.

“Y/N—” he continued.

“STILES SHUT UP!” you exclaimed.

Your teacher fell silent as she looked up to see you and Stiles sheepishly sinking into your seats.

“Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. Stilinski, am I interrupting your social time?”

“No, Mrs. Thomson,” you answered embarrassedly.

“Right, well if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to teaching. The two of you can catch up in detention.”

You groaned, turning to look at Stiles who had a satisfying grin on his lips.

After a grueling 40 more minutes, class ended, and you were reminded of your unfair punishment as you watched your classmates pack up around you.

Mrs. Thomson wrote an assignment on the board, before packing her bag to leave.

As she walked out of the class, she gave the both of you a pointed look, a silent threat that you would be in more trouble if you did not actually stay to finish the assignment.

You were surprised to find that Stiles remained silent for the first couple minutes of detention.

He seemed preoccupied with whoever he was texting.

Unfortunately, the silence was short-lived when Lydia, quickly followed by Scott and Kira, walked in.

This wasn’t just any detention; this was an ambush.

“This cannot be happening right now,” you sighed, your hands rubbing your face as Stiles chuckled.

“Brought reinforcements this time,” he joked.

Your eyes quickly darted to his, shutting him up instantly.

“Y/N—” Lydia started.

“Look, I’m not sure how you got involved with these two idiots,” you motioned to Scott and Stiles before continuing.

“But I’m not sure what else to say about last night.”

“We understand that this is confusing,” Kira spoke up.

“I really don’t know what you guys keep referring to.”

“Y/N YOU’RE A BANSHEE,” Lydia spoke next.

Your eyes widened at her statement.

“ARE YOU ALL ON DRUGS?” you exclaimed.

“Like me…you’re a banshee like me,” she finished quietly.

They must be on drugs.

“The supernatural, it exists, we exist…” Scott spoke up, looking around the group as he finished.

“We?” you questioned; confusion clearly etched on your face.

“Banshee” Lydia raised her hand, answering with a sense of confidence as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You turned to Kira, her eyes turning a fiery orange as she answered, “Kitsune, it’s from Ja—”

“Japanese culture, I know,” you quickly finished for her. Your eyes softened as you shifted your focus to Scott.

“Werewolf,” Scott answered, his eyes glowing a bright red as he looked at you.

“Okay…so, what are you, a life-sucking vampire?” you asked, turning to Stiles with a mocking grin.

“I’m—I’m nothing,” Stiles replied.

“So, the body in the woods? They were killed by something supernatural?” you questioned.

They all nodded their heads.

“And I was called to it because, I’m a Banshee?” you tried clarifying.

“Pretty much,” Stiles replied smartly.

“And what are you guys, some sort of super squad?” you joked.

“We help people who can’t help themselves,” Scott answered earnestly.

A moment of silence passed over the group as they allowed you to process all the new information you had learned.

“Can I drive you home?” Stiles asked.

You looked around before nodding, a small grin on your face before you spoke up.

“I would hope so, you kind of kidnapped me this morning.”

He rolled his eyes before letting out a genuine laugh.

“C’mon loser,” he said, as he started getting out of his seat.

“What about detention? You are the reason we got it in the first place?”

“Me? You were the one screaming in the middle of class!”

“Because you were bothering me!”

Lydia, Kira, and Scott looked to one another, silently agreeing to leave the two of you to figure it out.

There was a lot you didn’t know about the supernatural world in Beacon Hills, but what you did know was that you now had a group of people committed to helping you figure it out.

It was a busier Saturday night at the Hard Deck with the influx of the spring break crowd in San Diego. A bunch of college-aged kids dying to test their luck and charm on the military men and women.

You understood, just a short 2 years ago you fell into the same category. Now you were studying for your Master’s in Social Work while working at the local bar in your free time.

You had grown close with the regulars, chatting with them while you served and sometimes meeting up during the day for coffee or just a beach hang out. They made it enjoyable. The only downside to working at the Hard Deck was the drunk men who thought being an asshole and making offensive comments would get them anywhere.

Hence your current state. You marched up to the dart board where Coyote and Hangman had been playing round after round for the past hour. Glancing back to the busy bar, you shuddered at the thought of having to deal with all the horny boys alone.

You rapidly tapped on Hangman’s shoulder after watching him hit his third bullseye in a row.

He turned around, a confused look on his face before his lips lifted into a small smirk at the notice of your presence, his eyes glancing down to your figure.

You were just a sight for sore eyes, he thought. Your ripped denim shorts hugging your hips and accentuating your waist in just the right ways, while still being short enough that it looked like your legs were never-ending. And don’t even get him started on the tank top that framed your collarbones in the most unbelievably sexy way.

You stood with your hands on your hips, foot tapping impatiently as you watched Hangman unashamedly look you over.

“Where’s Bradley? I need his help.”

“Snuck off with Phoenix a few minutes ago, pretty sure they left” he replied, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes quickly scanned your figure once more.

“Ugh of course he did,” you whispered under your breath, eyes scanning back behind you to the unattended bar where the unruly patrons whistled and waved over to you. The boys laughing and pushing each other in the process.

God, you really hated college boys.

“But how can I be of service sugar?”

To the untrained eye it may seem like you were having a regular conversation with Hangman, which couldn’t be any further from the truth. Out of the entire dagger squad you barely conversed with Hangman. He was always around, and you would steal glances back and forth, but you rarely ever chatted with him one on one.

Bradley was usually your go-to guy for this type of thing. It happened on accident one night when a guy was just a little to forward and wouldn’t leave you alone. All it took was for Bradley to say “Hey asshat! Leave my girl alone,” while dressed in his service khakis and the guy buggered off. From that point on Bradley would come around and chat you up, pretending to be your boyfriend and watch the guys walk away, pride on the floor and dick tucked away.

Any of the Dagger squad could pull it off really, even sweet-ole Bob who looked like he wouldn’t hurt a fly could be intimidating if he wanted to be, especially when he was in uniform. But Jake, he was intimidating all the time. Something about his icy green eyes pierced your soul and you found it harder than you thought to hold eye contact with him.

“I need you to pretend to bemyboyfriend,” you whispered, rushing and slurring your words at the end.

Hangman was pretty sure he heard you clearly. He knew what routine you and Bradley had going on. He had seen it time and time again while you worked at the Hard Deck. You would leave the bar, bringing Bradley his favorite draft beer and he would follow you back. Chatting you up for a few minutes, give you a wink and wave goodbye to the retreating backs of the men who had tried so hard to take you home.

He always wished it was him who you would’ve asked at the beginning.

And now here you were, looking cuter than ever and asking him for help.

“What was that darling?”

“Hangmannn,” you whined. Hearing you whine out to him did more to him than you would’ve thought. Of course he was going to help you, just wanted to see you get a little flustered first.

Of course he was being difficult right now. You knew he had heard you. You couldn’t believe that you were letting yourself inflate his ego even more. He was gorgeous, you couldn’t deny that, but he was cocky and arrogant. And be knew it, that somehow irritated you the most. He knew what he did to you and just couldn’t help himself.

“Alright, lets go sweets,” he smiled, placing his beer on the table and intertwining his fingers with yours as he led you back to the bar.

But when you went to let go of his hand, Hangman surprised you.

He followed you behind the bar, picking up a dish rag to wipe the spilled drinks that had accumulated during your time away.

“Hangman you don’t ha—”

“Jake,” he corrected, a playful grin reaching his eyes as he admired your confused face.

“Call me Jake.”

“Jake,” you smiled, nodding your head and turning away so he couldn’t catch another look at your flustered state. You enjoyed how his name rolled off your tongue, it felt personal. And little did you know, so did he.

Jake had far surpassed your expectations as a fake boyfriend. He wasn’t overbearing or showboating. He simply just talked, keeping your attention glued to him the entire night as he helped you serve the bar.  And it worked, you felt like you were in your own little world as the two of you continued conversation, the unruly patrons at the back of your memory as all you did was hand them a drink and a half-hearted smile.

From talking about your families and growing up to the most embarrassing moments of your college days, you talked for hours on end. You don’t think you’ve ever laughed so hard in your entire life.

And when your shift ended, Jake had helped you close up. He walked you to your car, hands intertwined, you don’t even remember whose hand reached for whose.

You dropped your hand from his, unlocking your door and giving him one final glance.

“Thanks Jake, I had fun tonight.”

“Anytime darlin” he dipped his head down to yours, pretending to dip a cowboy hat towards you.

You shook your head with a boisterous laugh before climbing into your car and reversing out of the parking lot.

Jake decided from that point on he would do anything and everything he could to make you laugh like that again, and you had a sneaking suspicion that you would let him.

If someone told Jake Seresin that in a few short years he would currently be dancing with the love of his life at their wedding, he would have laughed in their face and politely told them to fuck off.

It’s not like Jake opposed marriage. He adored watching how in love his parents were and was ecstatic when his sisters got married. He just didn’t believe that it was an option for him, not so soon at least.

He was at the height of his career, a career that was mentally and physically demanding and constantly required him to relocate and ship off to unknown locations for an indeterminate amount of time. These conditions were less than agreeable for fostering a relationship.

Then there was you.

As Jake would explain it, you changed everything for him.

The scary feeling of falling in love too fast and recklessly seemed a little more manageable with you by his side.

He could still remember the day he first told you he loved you. He was the first one to say it and that thought alone scared the absolute shit out of him. He was pretty sure you felt the same way. You had gone back and forth for weeks with flirty remarks, lingering touches and glances that were almost unbearable, and yet…taking that next step felt like too much.

You had been frequenting the Hard Deck with your co-workers turned friends for a few months now, often needing some time and space to let loose in a less constructive manner.

In your frequent visits you had befriended many of the locals, including a few of the naval aviators from the base nearby. The Dagger Squad, as they called themselves, turned out to be a great group of friends who proved to be caring and supportive to no end.

As you crowded the pool table and darts in the back of the bar you threw your head back in laughter as Rooster clutched his heart in a mocking and offended manner as you and Phoenix ganged up on his awful pool technique.

“How dare you y/n, to think I was getting ready to share my secrets with you,” he responded.

“You have a secret to how much you suck? I think you’re better keeping that one to yourself little chick,” you smiled, reaching for where you placed your bottle, just to discover it no longer remained in the place you had left it.

Searching around, your eyes scanned the area before landing on a certain blonde making his way towards you with a new bottle in hand.

“Seresin,” you scolded.

“I hadn’t even finished that one yet.”

“I know, but you were talking to Rooster for so long it was warm. No one likes warm beer. I did you a favor.”

“Jake Seresin!” you exclaimed, giving him an excusatory look.

“What?” he responded; confusion clearly etched into his face as the crease between his eyebrows deepened.

“Are you jealous of Rooster?”

“HA WHAT? I—I… I am not jealous of Rooster” he grimaced at his name.

“Let me rephrase that,” you smiled.

“Are you jealous that I was giving Rooster so much attention?”

“Well, he’s not the one that loves you,” he mumbled underneath his breath.

You weren’t even sure you heard him correctly, but the growing redness that spread across his face in a blushed manner confirmed your suspicion.

“You love me?” you asked, your voice quiet and less confident than it had seemed before.

Jake could barely stand to look at you, his chin held up and eyes darting everywhere but you as he slowly nodded in confirmation.

“Jake,” you stated again, your finger trailing up to his cheek.

He leaned into your touch before looking down to meet your eyes again.

“I love you too,” you whispered, pulling his head down to meet your lips in the softest and most loving kiss that you have ever experienced.

You pulled away breathlessly, admiring the loving look on Jake’s face as his cheeks deepened and ever darker shade of pink.

“Finally, now when’s the wedding?” Rooster excitedly mocked as the rest of the squad joined him in a slow clap.

You giggled as Jake pulled you into his side as he flipped off the squad while telling them to fuck off.

Now here you stood, swaying to the beat of the music with your husband as your friends and families gathered around the dance floor in admiration.

As the song played out you couldn’t help but smile and think about the future the two of you were about to embark on.

With the ending notes you had one final spin before returning to Jake’s chest, the largest grin on your faces as you sang to each other…

I love you.