Imagines and Preferences: Book 1

Preference: Highschool AU | Twenty One Pilots

Summary: You and TØP in a high school AU.

QOTP: Do you play any sports?

Word Count: 973

Josh -
He looks quite lonely, sitting at a lunch table by himself and drumming his fingers on it. His lunch is pushed beside him, given he's already eaten it. He looks nervous - kinda bored, but mostly nervous.

You, being the wonderful human being you are, walk over and sit across from him. He looks up from his tapping.

"I'm guessing you're a drummer," you observe. He stops drumming, his hands going to sit in his lap as a blush tints his cheeks.

He smiles a little, "Yeah, I guess..."

He looks down at the table as if he's trying to memorize the pattern of the wood. "What's your name?" you ask, causing his head to snap up.

His blush deepens. "J-Josh."

"I'm Y/N," you reply. He nods, not knowing what to say next. "So you're new?" you ask.

"Yeah..."

"It's not so bad here. I mean, there are a few people that are too big for their own pants - if you know what I mean." You glance around, then jerk your head to a group of people on the other side of the cafeteria.

He laughs, but shakes his head, "I have no idea what you're talking about." He's grinning, his eyes adorably crinkling at the corners. You laugh as well.

"My mom says that - meaning they're kinda full of themselves; have fragile egos that expand every time someone merely looks in their direction," you explain. He laughs again, then rests his elbows on the table, his hands joining under his chin.

"I can assure you I'm not like that..." he says.

"I could tell," you laugh, "and, just for the record, I'm not like that either."

"I could tell."

You look at him for a moment, study his face, the structure of it. Note his cheek bones, glance at his eyes, trail your gaze down his jaw line.

"Y/N?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry."

It's your turn to blush now, feeling the heat radiating off your cheeks. You can only imagine how red they were.

"If you don't mind," he laughs, "could you stare at me and show me to my next class at the same time? I'm a little lost."

You nod, chuckling and happy that you improved his confidence a tad. "Y-Yeah."

Tyler -
"You are a grade-A piece of trash," you tell him, walking down the stairs to your next class.

"Come on, Y/N; he was totally checking you out," he laughs.

You look at up him, "What is with you and your obsession with getting me a boyfriend?"

"If you get a boyfriend, you won't be available and that means that my attraction to you is rendered useless because then I know you don't like me, thus helping me to get over my crush on you."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm messing with you, Y/N."

"Like I said - piece of trash."

"A piece of trash that knows psychology," he added.

"Still doesn't make you any less of a piece of trash."

"At least I'm grade-A."

"And it's the only A you'll ever get in your life, Joseph."

You both walk into class, early enough that you're only two in the room. As he sits down at his desk, he rolls his eyes. You sit at the one next to him.

"What about the new kid? What's his name...? Josh!" he asks.

You shake your head, "Y/N was already talking to him at lunch, so even if I wanted to date him, he's probably already in love."

"That kid that has the same name as you?"

"Yeah."

He sighs, "Then you're all out of options."

You turn in your chair, opening your notebook, "Good."

After your last class, you head to the gym where Tyler is at basketball practice. Unfortunately for you, he's your ride home, so you have to wait for practice to be over.

You always have to wait because you carpool together everyday. One day, you drive, the next, he does. Because of this, you know most of the guys on the boys' basketball team.

So, you sit and do your homework on the bleachers.

When practice is finished, Tyler walks over to you, already ready to go. "Was the homework hard?" he asks. You shake your head, handing him his backpack. He slings it over his shoulder as you walk out to his car.

You both throw your bags in the backseat and climb in, Tyler at the wheel. He puts the keys in the ignition. "Do you want to get something to eat?" You nod. This is a common occurrence; he's always hungry after practice.

"Isn't that cheating, though?" you ask him.

He glances at you, then turns back to the road. "What?"

"Dinner before 500 baskets."

He rolls his eyes as you laugh.

You go through a drive through, Tyler refusing to take your money for the food. "I have known you since we were in diapers, Y/N; I don't need to be payed back for a fricken sandwich," he says.

You sigh, "That doesn't justify anything. It's not like I payed for your diapers. You don't owe me."

"Tell you what," he says a minute later, "if you go out on a proper date with me, consider the money payed back."

"That's twisted logic, idiot. You'd just be spending more money on me; I know for a fact you wouldn't let me pay if we went out on a proper date."

"I'm trying to be cheesy and romantic, Y/N."

"Then I'd absolutely love to go out with you, Tyler," you reply, laughing.

"I believe the cheesier response is, 'Of course!'"

"Do you want to go on this date or not? Because you're pushing it."

"Touché, Y/N. Touché."