CrushxReader One-Shots

~The Head "Populars"~

Requested (March 2021) by: Alen_Pinkydits
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Y/n's POV

I walked down the hallway, acknowledging everyone who was greeting me and smiling at those who just giggled as I walked by.

"I love your outfit Y/n! Are those the new (Brand Name) shoes?" a girl who had her hands forever twirling her hair asked.

I nodded and gave her a smile before continuing my way to the lunch table where the rest of my "friends" sat.

"Hey Y/n," C/n greeted me as I sat down at the table with a fruit salad.

"Hey," I replied curtly.

I picked at my food, remembering that I gained two pounds this past month that I need to shave off, along with a couple more pounds in time for prom.

Although C/n is also one of the "populars," he's probably the only one that is down to Earth. I don't even know how I got my title, "Y/n the most popular girl in school" but before I knew it, I was getting more and more attention, and once the alumni of my high school left for college C/n and I were left to be the heads of the "populars table" as our high school likes to call it.

I guess I'm a coward. I should be arguing against the existence of a populars table, but instead, I let myself be pressured into going along with it and putting up a front, pretending to be something and someone I'm not for everyone's satisfaction. At least I'll be remembered.

Well, probably not.

Sure, I'm the popular girl now, but once we all move on with our lives it really won't matter. I'll be that girl that people remember from their high school days but nothing else. I mean, who wants to be that person that peaked in high school? I'm not a best friend, or a team captain, or even part of the school's anything. I'm not anyone someone can look up to. I'm Y/n, the most popular girl in school who needs to stay up to date with the latest trends, attend all the parties, and be "perfect" because what else am I good for?

Overwhelmed by my thoughts, I decided to go to the restroom. While inside a stall, I heard a group of girls walk in whose voices I recognized to be some of the girls from my table.

"Why is Y/n even one of the populars? Much less the head? She's so boring," one of the girls whined.

"Yeah for real, like she's not even talented at anything and doesn't look good at all with C/n," another girl replied.

"Yeah, guys only like her for her body, I bet she feels super alone. How pathe–"

I walked out of the stall with my head held high, washing my hands and casually applying some lip gloss in front of the mirror. I made eye contact with the group of girls, before pointedly looking them up and down and walking away with a smile on my face.

But I could only keep up the act for so long because what they didn't know was that my hands were shaking and tears were quietly slipping down my cheeks as I walked further down the hallway. I mean what they were saying was true. I am talentless, faceless, and a worthless—

"Y/n, hey. Are you ok?"

I looked up, mortified to let somebody see me in this state. I didn't think there'd be anyone in this hallway since usually, it's empty at this time.

I quickly wiped under my eyes so they wouldn't turn puffy and made up a lame excuse, "Yeah, I'm fine, something got in my eye is all."

I gave a quick smile to C/n before walking around him, but before I could make it past he quickly grasped my arm stopping me in my tracks.

"Y/n look at me," he said.

I reluctantly looked in his general direction but avoided eye contact in an attempt to control my tears.

"What's wrong?"

And just like that, those two words he spoke managed to make me unleash my fountain of tears, which were followed by sobs as I furiously wiped at my eyes.

C/n held my hand as he took me away to a secret corner of the school, knowing a whirlwind of rumors could start if we didn't get some privacy.

Once we were in a more private area, I no longer tried controlling my sobs and C/n quickly pulled me into a tight embrace as if using his body to shield me. At first, I worried about getting snot and tears on his shirt, but he held me comfortingly close as he caressed my back and ran his hand gently through my hair.

"This is so embarrassing I'm sorry," I let out as my sobs died down and my tears were just silently falling down my face.

"It's ok Y/n. Even we have feelings," he joked.

He continued rubbing my back up and down as I tried to control my breathing. I couldn't help but feel ridiculous about this situation, but there's no one else who can comfort me like C/n does.

Finally, after a couple of sniffles, I spoke normally, "Aren't you ever tired of it?"

"Tired of what?"

"Being a 'popular,' living up to everyone's dumb expectations. Having everyone pretend to like you just to whisper about you behind your back. Having no real friends."

He smiled, "Of course. Except that last part hurts Y/n."

I looked up, making eye contact so he could see my confused expression.

"I thought we were friends," he clarified.

I blushed, "S-sorry, I didn't know you thought of us like that since we only really talk at parties and in those groups."

He laughed, "Y/n you really have no idea do you?"

"About what?"

"Sure some people talk, but they're just jealous. You hold your head high no matter what and act like you have no fucks to give which is one of the things that makes you so confident outside of how extremely beautiful you are."

I softly smiled, "You think so?"

"Yeah, you're literally the Y/n. Who doesn't think so?"

My spirits lifted at his praise and I couldn't help but hold onto him tighter.

"Thanks C/n. And thank you for comforting me."

"Of course, I know you'd do the same for me."

"Yeah."

I gently left his embrace as I wiped the tear streaks from my face. I made sure to rub while avoiding the area around my eyes to prevent puffiness. Thank god for waterproof mascara.

"I don't wanna hear you doubt yourself ever again, or doubt the fact that you have friends 'cause I'm always here for you," he scolded.

I giggled, "Yes and I'm always here for you too."

"Damn right. Let's head back they've probably noticed how long we've been gone," C/n said, holding my hand again.

"Ok," I answered, responding to his gesture by interlacing my fingers with his.

And just like that, we walked back to our table, both of our heads held high. Except this time, I had a bright smile on my face because I no longer had to care about the whispers; which were now twice as many since the two head populars are holding hands. But that's a story for another day.