𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔

First Time

hello my lovelies! it's been quite a while and i am so so so sorry that i've not updated in a while, a lot has been going on and i've not had the time to write as much as i would have liked to. this isn't my best but it's a start, i will probably make a part 2 if you guys like it so lemme know!

Such a pretty boy. Eyes like rivers of caramel and chocolate, how y/n longed to devour his sugar sweet laughter. Hair like spirals of spun sugar and lips sweeter than any delicacy to be crafted. He was divine, delicious. In a town where nothing ever seemed to happen, he was an anomaly, something so spectacular y/n couldn't seem to tear her eyes off him.

Growing up in a small town made boredom inevitable, long days of nothing followed by sleepless nights filled with too much undispensed energy. But the moment she saw him, more angel than boy, with hickory curls and aurelian eyes, y/n knew her nights would consist of thoughts of him and his precious smile. Curled up in her flower print bed sheets that had been the same since she moved there, the same creaky single bed with a broken spring that poked her in the ribs every time she lay in it. Yet for the first time in years her mind wasn't plagued with the longing to escape, all she could think about was the pretty boy she could see through her window.

Y/n had always complained her bed was too high, always suddenly appearing to bash her straight in the knee caps every time she was in a bad mood, but ever since he moved in, it couldn't be more perfect. Sure, it was alright when the sun peaked through the trees, igniting the sky in bright shades of vermillion and rose. But nothing could compare to the eclipse that shone right before her, something so beautiful, so addicting, but something she knew she shouldn't be looking at. A slender frame, draped in freckles like a divine cloak. Fine, intricate muscles that shone in the gentle golden light of the lamp across his room, y/n could see the science posters that painted his walls, the ceiling-high bookcases that covered any glimmer of paint that may be on the walls. She wouldn't mind slamming him against them, count each freckle upon his pretty face, listen to the gentle breaths he took.

She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the vulgar thoughts that possessed it. A gentle breeze brushing against her face as she stepped onto the small balcony across her room, a cigarette slowly burning between her fingers. Y/n admired the boy from afar, watching as he slowly paced his room, unpacking boxes. Her mind wandering to places she knew she shouldn't, and yet they felt so good. At least until his eyes met hers, flicking up from his book, their gentle yet intimidating golden gaze boring at her through the glass. Despite the distance, y/n could see the scarlet rivers that flooded his pale cheeks. It was addicting, knowing that she could make him flustered with only a look, a gentle wink would probably kill him. And so, she did, a simple flutter of her lashes and a casual wink, his hand shot up to rub the back of his neck and a smile creeped upon his cheeks as he quickly threw a jumper on and jumped into bed.

Days passed, and with each day y/n's desperation to talk to the mystery boy grew stronger and stronger. She had always been able to talk to boys, so why was it suddenly so hard, why did he make her heart flutter in ways she never imagined were possible. Why did she find his childish, innocent demeanour so delightful, why did she want to watch as he indulged in sin and pleasure for what would most likely be the first time? She was the snake, and he was the poor, helpless little boy that walked through the garden of Eden. Tempting him with the knowledge of true divinity, what it felt like to really enter nirvana. Y/n just needed to get close enough in order to make him bite.

It seemed as though fate was on her side when it came to her desires, well maybe not fate, instead just courteous Neighbours that insisted on having her family over for dinner. It was a quaint, cosy home that they lived in. Deep burgundy walls and chestnut oak furnishings, books scattered across each available surface. It was organised in a chaotic way, much like how y/n imagined the boy she had been admiring's mind to be, especially with how much he read, where the hell did he keep it all? The boy's mother, whom y/n had learned was called Diana, a skittish yet kind-hearted woman, her hair fell in short gentle locks of white gold and eyes had the same glimmer within them that y/n had become infatuated with from across the street.