Exam Season. SFW.

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Summary: Reader is overworking herself due to upcoming exams and Larissa tries to step in — it doesn't go well. (but it ends well.)

Warnings: lack of sleeping / eating / drinking (possible TW), overworking oneself, student (18+) x teacher, angst with some comfort at the end. <3
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Exam season; the few months where you would be cooped up in your room, studying research papers, revising notes and creating ridiculous amounts of flash cards as if your life depended on it. Well, it sort of did.

To be fair, the months passed by extremely rapidly. So much so, that you'd even be inclined to say that you may not have had quite enough time to study.

Larissa would be the first to disagree with that statement.

For the past few weeks, the woman could just about bet her entire life's savings on the idea that every lunch hour, you could most certainly be found lounging on the grass outside of Nevermore, a block of papers stacked in front of you as you twirled a piece of your hair, intensely focusing. And when it came to dinner time, you'd once again be discovered with a pen in between your fingers as you sprawled out onto a surface in your bedroom.

Larissa has found you on your bed, and under it (that was a very tiresome day), behind your door, by the window and upside down on your couch, always reading never-ending books.

It's not that the Principal was complaining. Not at all — you were her star student. However Larissa, your girlfriend, could occasionally be caught complaining. Because although you were always taking exceptional care of your school work, you lacked in taking care of yourself in turn at times. Exam season was one of those times.

Larissa would catch you awake at ungodly hours whenever she was on night duty; she never sensed your presence at extracurricular activities (not if they weren't mandatory or graded) and you were never to be seen in the cafeteria when it called for it. To put it simply, the tall blonde believed you were too hard on yourself, never knowing just when to take a break.

So as the evening rolled around and Larissa strutted through the halls of Nevermore, routinely making her way towards the dinner room, she once again found herself scoping the expanse of the building, searching for your being. She wasn't surprised when, after fifteen minutes, the cafeteria had settled down and you were still nowhere to be found.

No, she wasn't surprised. Just disappointed.

The Principal then decided that she had let quite enough slide — she wasn't going to sit back and watch you exhaust yourself to the point of no return.

The stroll to your room was brisk, her heels echoing in a repetitive rhythm as Larissa racked her brain for what she could say that would have a profound enough impact on you, hoping that it would change the way you prioritise certain tasks and neglect others. The crescendo of the Principals heels came to an abrupt halt as she paused in front of your door.

She knocked twice.

"[y/n]? It's Principal Weems."

There was a lack of response.

Larissa convinced herself to wait. She knocked again. She waited. She bit her lip, shifted from foot to foot, clasped her hands together. Waited.

The Principal was a worrier; you were lucky enough to not have a roommate and so Larissa definitely wasn't going to leave without checking in on you. She tested the handle to find the door was unlocked; Larissa carefully pressed her fingers onto the wood, pushing it open just enough for her to peak her head in.

Larissa Weems X Reader One Shots. &lt;3 Kde žijí příběhy. Začni objevovat