girls just wanna have fun! 𑣲 ꒰ buffy summers x fem! college student reader ꒱
synopsis. ༯ in which buffy summers gets herself a girlfriend in college like god intended. or rather: buffy finally gets the courage to ask her college situationship out. what could go wrong? ꒰ a lot, apparently ꒱ content warnings. ༯ fluff; bisexual buffy summers; bi disaster buffy summers; typical college innuendoes; professor walsh mention. word count. ༯ ꒰ 𝟏.𝟖 𝓴 ꒱ author's note. ༯ writing this fic made me wanna write a ‘what if buffy had a gf instead of a riley finn’ during the faith body swap. because one: buffy deserves a partner who will notice that she isn’t herself and two after the initial shock of buffy ‘switching teams’ faith would probably go even more berserk than in canon. lmao. also, this fic will probably get a part 2. yay.
Ი𐑼 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊, 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐘 frat boys, annoying teachers trying and failing to instill some sort of responsibility into the minds of their young students, and situationships, flings, talking stages whatever you wanted to call it. It was like hell and you were in it. Especially because you either couldn’t read the signals or she was sending you all the wrong ones. It was like talking to someone who spoke a completely different language from you and you hated it. And loved it at the same time. It was like drugs. You want to stop but you can’t. You know you should stop, before you get hurt or inevitably embarrass yourself so badly you have to change schools. But something about Buffy Summers is making you want to see this humiliation ritual through. Like she’s somehow worth the fallout. It’s a scary feeling if you were being honest with yourself.
To make matters worse, professor Walsh assigned the two of you together for the upcoming paper on the “Id and the pursuit of pleasure.” You suppose you could relate, maybe a bit too much. But the whole thing truly felt like the universe was playing some kind of prank on you. Maybe it was a sign. The problem is, you didn’t know whether it was a good sign or a bad sign. Should you be pursuing this? You didn’t know.
Either way, this wasn’t about your feelings for her and her lack of feelings for you. It was about a grade, an assignment. The stuff you should be worried about instead of getting irrationally jealous any time you saw Buffy talking to someone who wasn’t you. Which was ridiculous, you knew that. Maybe Freud had an explanation for that one too. Why were you acting so foolish over a girl you met a month ago.
You were on your way to the library when you remembered that Buffy had told you to meet her by the garden in front of Stevenson Hall because she’d rather study with the sun on her back. You supposed you weren’t particularly against it, if only you could find your way back to Stevenson from your own dorm.
After an eternity turning and getting lost in the maze that was UC Sunnydale (and asking a junior for directions) you finally found your destination.
Well, you found more than your destination, you had expected to find Buffy in one of the wooden tables, maybe on a bench with the books on her lap and a teasing scowl on her face ready to tease you about your tardiness. But, what you found surprised you beyond measure. Buffy, on the grass, sunglasses on, on top of a picnic blanket surrounded by all kinds of picnic foods, the sight makes you flush immediately, this looked suspiciously like a date. And not a study date, a date, date.
Buffy lifts her head from her notebook as soon as she hears you approaching.
“Hey, aren’t you the tardy girl?” She teases. How did you know she was gonna say that again?
“Yea, sorry, got kind of turned around. I’ve never been on this part of campus before.” You justify, sheepishly.
“It’s okay, I’m just playing, can’t say I haven’t done my fair share of stumbling into walls and getting lost on the grounds of this good campus.”
You smile at her. She was always so… nice. You envied her roommate. Couldn’t have the computer put you with someone nice like her instead of your snore machine of a roommate.
Buffy pats the blanket next to her, inviting you to join her under the sun. “And look I got the magic book thingy.” She says, pointing to the book professor Walsh had specifically assigned to the freshman class.
You smile playfully at her. “Pretty sure that’s just a regular book.”
She pouts, looking at the heavy book in her hands. “Book of the hour then. Good book. Book that fights the evil homework given to us by the evil professor Walsh.” She says, looking oddly proud of herself.
“I don’t know, I kind of like her actually.” You shrug.
“I’m just saying her TA’s or whatever don’t call her the evil bitch monster of death for no reason. Plus with all the lectures and the homework and the studying…”
You can’t help but laugh at her rambling. She really was cute. Oh my god, what the hell was wrong with you.
Buffy suddenly stops her rambling and locks eyes with you, her green eyes so intensely focused that it gives you the urge to look away. You don’t though. “You have a nice laugh.” She confesses, her voice suddenly low and intimate, like she was caught in some kind of trance and you were the focus of it. “I mean nice… oh god.” Her face suddenly goes from her usual SoCal tan to a red shade that resembles a ripe tomato.
You have the sudden urge to save her, on the other hand, you do want to know if she feels the same or if you’re just an idiot deluding yourself. So, you opt for doing both. “So, what’s all this anyway?” You ask, gesturing to the picnic basket and all the food around you both.
“Oh, that, um… you know I study best with a little snack. Don’t you?” She questions, your inquiry only worsening her ever present blush. You don’t comment on it though. You like it, suits her.
You giggle at the answer. “Little? There’s enough food in here to feed an army! Or a frat house.”
“Maybe I got a little carried away with the whole study snack thing.”
You smile at her and run your fingers over her arm in a comforting gesture. “I think banquet is the word. Seriously, people are gonna think we’re on a date or something.” You say, planting the seed to see how she’ll react.
Buffy shrinks in on herself, her eyes pulling away from yours for a long painful moment while her fingers tug on the grass underneath you both. “Would— would that be such a bad thing…?” She asks, her eyes still trained on the ground.
You feel a warm sensation deep inside your chest, laced only with a bit of guilt for making her feel so uncomfortable. “I don’t think so.” You say, softly, still searching for her eyes.
She finally looks at you again. “You don’t?”
You place your hand on top of hers and run your index finger over her knuckles. “I don’t.”
Buffy smiles at that, a wide, warm smile that would have any outsider looking in believing that you just discovered the cure for cancer or something equally as spectacular and not that you wouldn’t mind being on a date with the most gorgeous girl on campus.
“That’s good…” She comments, shyly. “Wait, no, that’s not good, that’s bad.” She says, with a finality in her voice that you’ve never heard before.
That warm feeling inside you disappears, replaced with a sinking one deep in your gut instead. “… That’s bad…?”
“Yes, I mean no. Not like that!” Buffy splutters out. “I mean that’s good, that’s really good, great even. But this isn’t a date, this is a study date, with the third wheel of professor Walsh and her evil homework! We need to go on a real date. A proper date!”
“Oh, okay.”
Buffy smiles at you mischievously. “Say, are you free on Halloween?”
You think over your plans for the holiday or your lack of the same before answering. “I could be.”
“I was gonna go fifth wheel with my friends at that Alpha Delta scary house thingy. Could be fun. You know, go together…” She asks, now playing with your fingers with her own.
“Frat party?” You ask, unable to mask the uncertainty in your voice.
“Yea.” She says, before furrowing her eyebrows like she’s thinking really hard about something. “Why? You don’t wanna go with me?” She questions, her carefreeness suddenly replaced with deep worry.
You shake your head, trying to think of a way to tell her that ‘of course you wanna go with her, you’d go anywhere with her it’s just parties that you’re not a fan of’ without sounding totally and completely lame. “It’s not like that, it's just… I’m not one for parties really…”
Buffy tilts her head to get a better look at you, her smile never faltering. “Cmon isn’t college the place to experiment?” Her mouth closes and opens like a fish out of water after that particular statement. “I mean not experiment. Um, what’s another word for… Wow this is going just great, peachy even, I mean…”
You can’t help but laugh again, a little exasperated by her sudden nervousness over the word ‘experiment’ “I’ll go.”
Buffy turns her head so fast you worry for the health of her neck. “You will?”
“Yeah.” You confirm.
Buffy smiles goofily before returning her attention to your fingers who are still in her hand. “So… is it like a date…?” She asks, her voice hopeful and fragile like the word ‘no’ would break it forever.
“It’s a date.” You confirm.
“Wow…” She says, looking a little dazed but definitely happy.
You can’t help but peck her lips in what you’d consider a short lived moment of insanity.
Buffy’s eyes go wide.
“Yea. I’ll uh— swing by your dorm at 8:00 PM? Sound good?” You ask, trying to sound more cool and relaxed than what you actually felt.
Buffy’s still busy trying to process the small peck on her lips before she begins to answer question. “Swing…? Yes, I’ll see ya there!” She says, her voice a little too filled with enthusiasm.
You start to get up from the ground, deciding to make your getaway before this fragile moment is ruined by too much exposure.
“Wait.” She says, getting up and walking over to you.
“What?”
Buffy grabs both sides of your face and presses her lips to yours, it isn’t a full makeout session but it’s definitely longer than the first one, nicer too, the kind of kiss that leaves you wanting more, screw chivalry and taking things slow.
“That’s all.” She says, her cheeks still tainted a nice shade of red before she struts back to the checkered blanket.
You make your getaway after that, face hotter than the sun and mouth still half agape as you find your way back to your dorm.
Psych 105 homework be damned.
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