A story in which Hermione, the school's well known senior Miss Little Perfect, has her morals tempted by an unbearable junior who seems to do nothing but tear up her reputation that she spent years building.
And the unbearable junior seems far too...
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(Y/N) let out a groan, her head pounding like mad. She fluttered her eyes open, the light hitting her harshly, causing her to shut them close as it seemed to intensify her headache. She fluttered them lowly this time, feeling all too warm due to the warm blanket on top of her. She felt confused, where the fuck was she? Whose blanket is this? She never owned any crocheted ones, so it can't be hers. Why doesn't she smell of alcohol? Why does she smell rosy? Did she change her fabric conditioner?
"Hi," addressed a familiar voice, wearing the familiar soft tone. (Y/N) turned her head to the side, seeing the honey brown-eyed girl settled on the carpet, sitting beside the sofa, meaning that there was little distance between the two. "Long night, right?"
"Long night?" repeated (Y/N) slowly, her eyes squinting slightly in concentration, trying to force the knobs in her brain function. Her eyes widened at the subtle smirk etched on the freckled-face. "Oh my god, did we?—"
"You wish, baby." snickered Hermione with an amused smile, her head cocked to the side slightly as she looked at the jock with soft eyes. She couldn't help but let out a giggle as the latter let out an exasperated groan. "I wouldn't have mind, but you seemed to prioritize your sleep more." she shrugged in a taunting manner.
"You're mean." grumbled (Y/N) with a huff.
Hermione reached out her hand to move the strand of hair on the jock's face, her pupils blowing slightly when the latter let out a hum at the feeling of the cheerleader's fingers on her hair. (Y/N)'s eyes fluttered close once more while the honey brown-eyed girl played with her hair.
Hermione was glad that her eyes were shut close, so she wouldn't see how the cheerleader paid so much attention to her features. Observing where she liked to be touched, seeing if she liked a soft massage, or she liked her nails to scratch her scalp.
I could scratch her back when she's fu—
The cheerleader let out a roll of her eyes at the latter's snore. "Ow!" whined the jock, the honey brown-eyed girl pulling her hair in a reprimanding manner. "Get up, you have practice in an hour."
"You know my schedule?" teased (Y/N) with a smirk that made the cheerleader pull her hair even more, despite the pain, she could only feel her grin grow.
"We have the same schedule for today, stupid." chastised Hermione, reprimanding the jock. "You're ego's too big even for your height. Now get up, I'm not gonna wait for you." she spoke in a finalized manner as she stood up. (Y/N) eyed the girl carefully, how she said stuff like this and never waited for a response, as though she was used to getting what she wanted.
"I washed your sweater from last night." informed Hermione. "You can change your clothes."
"Mm, I'll stick to your shirt, matches my aesthetic so well." replied (Y/N) cheekily, although it was clearly evident that she never owned shirts like the one she was wearing as of right now.
Hermione's stomach did backflips at the thought of the jock going to school, showing up with her t-shirt after a long night at a wild party, she knew everyone loved to gossip, people seeing them arrive together at the same time was enough to make the headlines in the school's online daily news-page, let alone (Y/N) wearing one of the cheerleader's favorite shirts that she showed up often with at school.
Although Hermione was desired, she was never the desiring. It was rare for people to get this close to her, not even her ex-boyfriend Ron. She tried to function her brain properly, surely she should scold the jock and force her into her own clothes, so that no one would speculate Miss Little Perfect. But then again, a part of her wanted everyone to see that their beloved (Y/N) was hers— her junior.
And so she let it slid this time, deep down she actually wanted (Y/N) to wear her sweater more than the jock herself, but she didn't need to say that outloud.
"Whatever, loser. I'll make you buy me ten if you do so much as stain it." she scoffed, although her heart fluttered.
The jock gave her a grin and Hermione gave a very obvious roll of her eyes, trying to fake it till she makes it.
