Love at First ID Scan (Stuyvesant X Reader) (HighSchool!AU)

You sigh as your messy bun blows in the wind, the 2 train approaching even faster than the rate at which your dad left you as a child. As you step into the car, a quirky reflection of yourself stares back at you from the window. Oh, Y/N, the weirdo whom no one could ever love. Sigh. You pop in your earbuds and listen to an emo band that is so underground that only you know it (One Direction) as you make your way to Chambers Street.

Suddenly, SCREEEEECH.

The train has come to a halt, and you fall ungracefully into the saving arms of a bad boy in a leather jacket. He snarls. He scoffs. He smirks. He pulls the Flynn Rider smolder. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”

“I-I’m sowwy…” you respond. An onlooker gags at the cringy scene, but you pay no attention. “Who are you?”

“Me?” He looks away, his eyes darkening as he turns to face the exit doors, fixated on the Chambers Street station. “I’m Lucius Fancyname Vampire. I’m a bad boy. So bad… that I only applied to one safety.” And he walks off, never to be seen again (until eighth period gym class).

Is this love? Your heart pounds.

***

“Oh no!” You lament as you rummage through your pockets (you have many pockets because you are quirky and wear cargo pants and giant hoodies, not the normie clothes all those “popular” kids wear). “My ID! It’s gone!”

You were supposed to leave for lunch because, like the loner weirdo you are, you are too nerdy for even Stuy students to want to be your lunch buddies. As you look for your precious ticket to the outside world, a normie girl passes by you, brandishing her own ID. “Ha!” she taunts, scanning out. “Look at this loser, Y/N. Can’t find any friends to play with?”

You scoff at her. She has not only insulted you but also committed the most atrocious sin of all: enjoying mainstream trends. She was wearing a DRESS instead of CONVERSE AND JEANS! Ugh! Shudder. If there’s anything Y/N stands for, it’s demonizing femininity.

“Knock it off!”

A gentle voice behind you yells at the Plot Device Mean Girl (™) and runs up. He hands you your ID, the supple skin of his hand brushing against yours. He continues, “Y/N, right? I found this in the Hudson Stairwell.” You recall that when you unassumingly waltzed into the stairwell, you saw things that tainted your virgin eyes and ran off. You must have dropped your ID during your escape! What a quirky klutz! He continues, “A pretty name, for a pretty individual.” He bows with intense grace and politeness, then saunters away in a very random r/NiceGuy plot device fashion. You gush internally, brushing a strand of your messy hair behind your ear. What a hero! What a way for fanfic authors to assume you are a femme person into men despite not tagging such heteronormativity BEFORE you open the fic! You blush and scan out.

Lucius Fancyname Vampire, jealous, growls in a very alpha-male way from a corner. By the way, he has a messy head of dark hair to conveniently juxtapose the nice boy’s bright orbs and kind character arc.

***

You walk back in from a lunch of letting out breaths you didn’t know you were holding and watching very #notlikeothergirls shows that no one knows about (Wednesday and dubbed anime), only to see Nice Guy and Lucius in a fistfight.

“Stay away from her!” The suspected glittery vampire growls.

“Y/N is mine!” The nice boy has shown a secret dark side (he has now parted his hair to the side as a visual cue of his changed nature and trauma).

“Guys! Stop!” You run between the two and stare into Lucius’s stormy orbs. “I know you. You’re better than this!”

“Oh yeah, go talk to him!” Nice Guy scoffs. “Women just don’t like polite men.”

Every onlooker groans with the understanding that kindness does not entitle one to romance. Just then, you are interrupted by a phone notification. Gasp! It’s Ms. Ingram!

“Dear Y/N,

We have received an update from your mother and must inform you that you are being sold to BTS. They are now your legal guardians. Your mother wanted us to relay that she was going to pick One Direction, but they are more gone than your self-awareness. We hope this finds you and your victim complex well.

P.S. Fill out the family inquiry form! You have rich BTS guardians now. Let’s account for that.

Best,

D. Ingram”