Bradley Uppercrust iii x reader

1. First Day / Meeting

(y/n) = your name

    The sun shone brightly into your room. You've been trying to ignore it for the past 10 minutes. You don't want to get up, you know what's waiting for you today. How could you forget? With your parents and siblings downstairs talking loudly about it and your alarm that rudely interrupted your pleasant dreams and replacing it instead with your dreaded reality. Over the summer you always manage to forget just how much you hate waking up to an alarm.

     You hear footsteps at the bottom of the stairs which causes you to quickly sit up in your bed. You turn your head to your closed door. You recognize the footsteps as what you assume to be your mother's footsteps. Your footstep recognition skills were proved to be spot on when your mother's head poked in timidly through the slightly opened door. She notices that you're awake and gives a warm smile. You return the smile. "You excited for your first day of college?" She asks while opening the door more and leaning against the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest.

    Your smile quickly fades at the question. You look down at your bed. "I guess," you let yourself fall onto your back onto your pillow and stare at the ceiling, "I don't know." You could see your mother slightly frown from the corner of your eye, a heavy silence between you two makes your chest feel heavy with light anxiety. You've been preparing for college since pretty much pre-k, but at this point, it just sounds terrifying.

    "I don't think I'm ready." You turn your head to the side, facing your mother. She puts a hand on her hip and lets out a short sigh before pinching the bridge of her snout and saying, "Look. We're not doing this today, I know that you can't socialize or whatever, but this is important."

    You turn your head away from her. You've heard this talk before and don't want to start an important day with it.

    "You can try to ignore me if you want, but that won't stop the fact that you have to go out in public. You're going to have to deal with crowds, and you'll have to deal with people. Me and your siblings won't be there to hold your hand, and you're going to have to deal with it." Her tone got more aggressive and stern towards the end of her rant. She places her hand on the doorknob, "Get dressed, your breakfast is getting cold." She then closes the door and walks back downstairs. The interaction left a bad feeling in your chest and you feel your face heat up as tears began to form.

    Once you no longer hear her footsteps, you allow yourself to quietly cry for a moment. You hate how emotional you can be, it's a curse. Your mother tells you that she used to be the same way, but you just can't see it. She hardly cries. You feel like you have no one in the house who understands your emotional sensitivity. You can't help but be nervous in this situation, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. You're unsure as to whether or not your mother truly does understand how you feel, no matter how many times she's tried to relate to you in the past. 

    The idea of a new room, a campus full of strangers, crowded classes and the pressure to pass and make something of yourself was too much for you. School was terrible in your junior year of high school and you didn't want to repeat that. Last year was better thanks to your friends, but only one of them is attending the same college as you. As you sit up and kick your feet over the side of your bed, you're mentally hoping that the one familiar face you're counting on will be there.

    Going downstairs felt awkward at first, because you know that your mother is some kind of annoyed with you. You head straight to the kitchen where you get whatever food your family didn't eat for yourself. 

    In the living room, the rest of your family is sitting around and watching a show. You take a seat on the end of the couch by your younger brother and start watching it too. It looks like a shitty ghost catching show, something you and your mom both love. The horrible quality somehow makes it better.