☇ highschool au
♢ genre: pure, complete fluff
♢ pairing: jungkook // you
♢ word count: 6k
♢ warnings: none
Description: Your grades are slipping too low for your liking, you’re reprimanded by the student council president, Jeon Jungkook has got you feeling some type of way, and additionally, you agree to go to his basketball game. What could go wrong?
A/N: the first fic oops i don’t really know if this blog will go in the fic direction, i’ll see how it goes. feedback is appreciated!!
You slam your locker door shut after you throw in your gym clothes, breathing out of your nose as slowly as you can as you lean against the locker, hands clenched so tightly the veins were visible.
“Woah, what’s up with you today, Y/N?” Tzuyu, Jackson, and Yerim, three of your closest friends, gather around you. All three of them have concerned looks on their faces.
“That little…” you mutter angrily, looking up. Tzuyu’s eyebrows rise at your frustrated look.
“Hey, I asked you, are you okay?” She pokes your shoulder. You wordlessly yank out a rumpled piece of paper out of one of the many folders in your arms and flap it in front of her face.
“Just look at this,” you seeth, eyes smoldering. “My average for physics dropped. All because I wasted my time to help Golden Boy study. How am I supposed to be valedictorian now?”
At that, Yerim rolls her eyes as Tzuyu scans the paper. “Are you serious? You’re upset about, like a 2% drop? I have a 87 for your information.” Jackson just snorts.
“You should know how Y/N gets about her grades, Yerim. She’s ranked one, so obviously she has to keep her grades up if she wants to keep her ranking.”
“Well,” Tzuyu says breezily as she hands the piece of paper back to you, “I don’t get what you have against Jeon Jungkook. I mean, he’s actually really nice, smart, and good looking. Oh, and athletic since he’s also the basketball team captain now that Yoongi is injured.”
“He asked you nicely if you could help him too,” Yerim adds. “Always a first.”
“You don’t get it,” you grit out, brushing the hair falling over your eyes out of your face. The four of you begin to make your way back to your homeroom classrooms, with Jackson bidding a farewell as he is a year older.
“One, he’s not attractive Tzuyu-” you begin, disgusted (you’re lying to yourself but no way were you admitting that), “and two, I helped him for two hours studying for that huge test, and while I only got a 94, he got a perfect. His grades are better than mine at this rate. It’s not fair.”