Here, folks, have a 4/4 college/frat AU! I love college/frat boys 5sos so I decided to write cute little stories regarding each of them.
(No smut. Maybe a lil bit of innuendo. And some swearing.)
Calum: I huff out, rolling my eyes, tossing my head back, and throwing my hands out in frustration. I’m shivering a little bit under my thin work-out clothes, clutching my water bottle and phone, sighing at the endless unfairness of the world. The hallway is quiet, and poorly lit, the residents of the dormitory obviously already asleep, or somewhere else. I turn to lean against the door, when someone catches my eye. A few doors down the hall, there’s a tall boy, dark hair and tan skin, standing at his door, looking equally frustrated.
Suddenly he starts banging on the door.
“Let me in! I’m going to keep banging on the door until you’re so annoyed you can’t fuck her!” He shouts, making me stifle a laugh. I glance back at my door for a second, thinking about whatever the hell is happening on the other side before making my way down the hallway.
“Hey,” I say quietly as I approach the boy who is still relentlessly slamming his hand against the door.
He slows, turns to me, brings his hand away from his aimless pursuit, and allows a smile. “Hey. Roommate lock you out, too?”
“Yeah she’s been talking about this guy in her Women’s Studies class. Bet you twenty bucks he took the class just to get some action,” I shrug, leaning against the wall across from his door, slinking down to the floor.
“Yeah, my ass-hole roommate has a different girl, like, every other night. So it’s either I don’t sleep, or I’m stuck out here.”
He nods, sitting down across from me, spreading his long legs out across the hallway. He turns to look down the corridor, giving me a chance to study his features. His hair is messy, his eyes look strained, his lips puffy and sleepy. His sweater is stretched out at the sleeves, wrapping around his hands, a book bag rests on the floor next to him. He must have just finished studying at the library.
“I’m Calum,” he turns back to me, catching me staring.
“Y/N,” I blush, smiling sheepishly at his rich brown eyes and pouty mouth.
“What’s your major?"
"English. And a minor in visual arts.”
“Sick,” he smiles, nodding meaningfully. “Music theory. My major. Is… That… Yeah.” He stutters.
I giggle, reaching up to fix my pony tail, still shivering a bit in my tank top and leggings.
“You cold? This hallway’s cold,” he says, shifting in his spot and wiggling his way back up to standing position. “Let’s go get a coffee. That’ll warm you up.”
I grin, taking his hand and allowing him to pull me up next to him. “That sounds great,” I chime, falling into step with him, silently thanking my roommate for locking me out tonight.
Ashton: I stumble into the quiet, dimly lit bedroom, sighing in relief. It’s so nice to get away from all the noise and all the heat and all the bodies. I hate college parties. Why did I let my friend convince me to come?
I look around the bedroom, scattered with so many things - books, movies, papers, clothes. I love messes. They’re a sign of life. I plop down on the bed, grateful that this party was at a house not far from campus rather than in a dorm. Because now, here I am, laying on the host’s bed, taking a break from the chaos beyond the door.
I lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling for some time, listening to the sounds of activity in the hallway. A few spats, a few yells, a few crashes. Human life is so weird. I’m a little bit drunk.
There’s a jiggle of the door knob and the door swings open, immediately slamming shut. A tall, curly haired figure stands at the door, hands still pressed to it after forcing it shut, breathing heavy against the wood in front of his face. I go to say something, but I just lay in shock. It’s Ashton. The Art major prodigy who sits next to me in psych class. All I ever do is admire his hair and his dimples and his hands as they doodle aimlessly yet magnificently all over his notes. And here he is.
He turns around, gasping and jumping at the sight of me, before breaking into giggles. God, his laugh is just as incredible as he looks.
“Didn’t see you there,” he chimes. “Scared the shit out of me.”
I shimmy up on the bed so I’m leaning against the headboard, sitting and looking up at him. “yeah, I see that.”
He laughs again, reaching an arm back to gesture at the door. His body-hugging black long-sleeve pulls around his biceps, straining across his chest. “I had to get out of there,” he huffs.
“Same,” I nod. I’m not sure what to say. He’s marvellous and warm and admirable. I’m at a loss for words. He just smiles at me, making his way over to sit at the end of the bed.
“It’s Y/N, right?”
“Yeah,” my voice is small.
I wince at myself. I should never have a few drinks before talking to a boy ever again. He just smiles even wider, dimples sinking into his 5-o'clock-shadowed cheeks, eyes sparkling behind his glasses.
“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve been meaning to say hello for quite some time now.” He shifts his weight on the bed, his eyes flickering down to the floor as he searches for words. “I mean… I’ve been meaning to ask you out for quite some time now.”
“Really?” I can taste the eagerness in the voice, and I hate myself for not having the capacity to play it cool. He just glances up at me grinning, nodding. I just nod, smile spread across my lips.
“I’ll take that as a yes. But I’ll take you on a proper date, I promise,” he pauses to glance around the quiet, dim bedroom. “Although this isn’t a bad start.”
Luke: I sit at the table at Starbucks, clutching my latte close to my chest, impatiently tapping my foot. Of course he’s late. What else did I expect when I agree to help ultimate-frat-boy Luke Hemmings write his paper on Ancient Cultures. The tall, snapback wearing, big mouthed motherfucker sweet talked me into helping him, and I’m being stood up. For a tutoring session.
“Y/N!” Comes a voice from behind me, followed by a pat on the shoulder. I glance up to see Luke, to my dismay, as he settles himself into the seat across the little table. “There’ my little genius!”
He nods. “I know. I’m sorry. I slept in a little late, so I practically ran here.”
“It’s one o'clock, Luke,” I say as deadpan as possible, even though his apology seemed sweet and genuine.
He laughs, taking his laptop out of his bag and setting it on the table between us. “Okay, maybe a lot late. I had a rough night last night.”
Ah, yes. Another frat party for Luke. “Doesn’t that happen pretty much every night?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow as I watch his blue eyes flicker across his laptop screen as he starts it up.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice lacking enthusiasm. “It’s exhausting.”
We immediately jump in to his essay. He feeds me information that he’s researched. I feed him statements formed out of the information. He tries to write a paragraph, I correct half the grammar and reword the whole thing. We laugh at spelling errors and the occasional bad joke made by Luke. He gets up to buy me another coffee and himself one. Other people look at us as they walk in and out of the café. I, surprisingly, enjoy myself.
A couple hours later and we’re finished. My brain and eyes are exhausted, but he looks just fine. Excited, almost.
“Well, my prof is going to think I got this straight off of a website. Thank you. You rock,” Luke grins as he closes his laptop. He slides it into his bag and then turns to look at me, leaning his elbows on the table, closing the space between us. “Now we can just chat.”
“Luke, I’m really tired. I actually woke up this morning, and now I need a nap.”
“Y/N, you’re in a coffee shop! If there’s any place to stay awake it’s this one!” His voice raises slightly above speaking, excitement jumping from his lips. “Stay with me.”
Michael: “Shit!” I whisper, running down the corridor. It’s dark, as it happens to be the middle of the night. I thought it was such a great idea getting involved in this prank war. Yet, it’s cost me sleepless nights, constantly looking over my shoulder, and maybe one or two run-ins with the law.
But it’s been fun as hell.
So, here I am, scurrying down the dark corridor of one of the dormitories in my PJ shorts and T-shirt, campus security closely on my tail. My team told me it would be fun to TP the dean’s office. Look where that’s got me.
I hear the footsteps of the security guard nearing the corner and I panic, turning to the first door I see and banging on it, just gently enough that - hopefully - the security guard doesn’t hear. But I bang persistently.
The door swings open before I stop, so the heel of my hand comes down onto someone’s forehead.
“CrapsorryIneedtocomeinclosethedoorquick!” I hurry past them, hopping into their room, and turning to make sure the door is closed.
He closed the door, turning to look at me, his lucid eyes wide, his bright hair wild, just standing there in a T-shirt and boxers. He looks so confused. And totally adorable.
“I can explain,” I assure him, stepping past him to look out of his peep-hole. The security guard runs by, still in pursuit, down the hallway.
“You woke me up,” he groans, his voice groggy.
“I know, I’m sorry.” He waddles back to his bed, sliding under the covers, but still sitting up enough to look at me. “Security was after me, I needed to hide.”
His eyes widen at my words, an eyebrow raising. He sits up further in his bed, patting at the blanket near his feet, inviting me to sit down. He knows I have a story to tell.
I fill him in on the entire prank war. I was the one who released a bunch of chickens through the dining hall. I was also the one that hung up all the “Head Dean Warren Likes It In The Butt” posters all over campus. I was the one who poured paint onto the football field, in the shape of a giant penis. He laughed at all of it, occasionally high-fiving me.
“You’re one exciting person!” His voice sing-songs, a goofy grin on his lips. “You ever arrested?”
“Yeah, I got caught trying to spray-paint beta’s house. I was just gonna write obscenities. Nothing big.”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
“What’s your name?” He says, and I realize that we haven’t even properly met yet.
"Michael,” he smiles, pushing the blankets down his legs and climbing out of bed. “Wanna go finish TPing Warren’s office?”
A/N: Michael’s is really short but I like it I think it’s cool I want to be that person I’m too lazy to be that adventurous. Anyway. I’m not proofreading any of this. So y'all can just deal with how bad it is. Good night.