#frat AU

[junrenjun]

after hours

mark lee x fem!reader x lee donghyuck, frat au

genre: mainly smut tbh

wc: 3.8k

warnings: afab reader, mark and haechan are frat bros, weed (smoking, edibles), unprotected sex (have safe sex plz), threesome, highkey switch!mark and switch!reader i guess, kind of dom!haechan, pretty heavy member x member in this, teensy bit of orgasm denial

The house is just as hot and sticky as you remember it to be. There’s people everywhere and you have to push around to get to the stairs. A pledge sits on the bottom step, eyes glued to his phone. He finally looks up when you approach. “You have to be with a brother to go upstairs, ma’am,” he drawls, boredom clear in his tone. 

“Ma’am? What am I? 30?” you ask him. “And I’m here literally every week.”

He responds without looking back up from his phone. “You still have to be with a brother to get upstairs.”

You’re starting to get impatient now. At this rate, the whole frat is aware of you and Mark’s “weekly weed time” as he calls it. Hell, half of them have participated at one point or another. “I am with a brother. I’m here to see Mark Lee, just like I do every Friday.” 

The pledge looks up at you again, exasperation clear on his face. “The brother has to be present. Like here with you right now.” You’re starting to miss Sungchan and Shotaro. They would never do this to you. 

“Well the brother I’m here to see is probably as high as balls in his room right now…” you say, trying your best to sneak past him. 

He puts an arm out and braces it against the wall to stop you. Your movements halt. “He still has to be here,” he informs you, annoyed. 

“Oh my god,” you raise your voice a bit. “Where is Taeyong?” you mumble to yourself, knowing the President himself would be able to get you out of this predicament. 

As you fish through your hoodie pocket to find your phone, a voice from the top of the stairs calls your name. There stands Lee Donghyuck, leaning casually over the railing, a solo cup in his hand and a smirk on his face. “What are you doing down there baby?” You shiver at the nickname. 

You shoot a pointed look toward the man on the last stair, who is now looking up toward the upperclassman. “I’m waiting for one of you fuckers to come find me, since your own pledge won’t let me upstairs.”

Donghyuck lets out a “tsk” sound, shaking his head at the younger boy. “C’mon man. She’s here every week, you should recognize her by now. And let her up, she’s with me.”

Surprisingly, the pledge doesn’t let you go right away. “She said she was here for Mark,” he informs his brother.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, leisurely strolling down the stairs. Once he reaches the bottom, he pushes the pledge’s arm out of the way with his foot. “Well she’s here for me too. Right baby?” You nod. “Go tell Sungchan to take over stair duty tonight for you, since you can’t seem to do your job right.” The boy nods hurriedly and scurries off. 

He smirks down at you, hand reaching to wrap around your waist. Leading you up the stairs, his  fingers brush lightly against the bare skin that shows when your hoodie pulls up a bit. It sends electric shocks down your spine. “Tell Johnny that the next pledge task should be to brush up on the frequent flyers list,” you mumble to him.

He simply laughs in response. “I can do that.” Once you reach the top, his hand moves from your waist to the small of your back, leading you through the crowded hallway. Finally you reach a door that you have become all too familiar with lately. A green street sign reading “Lee Lane” stares back at you. You still have yet to hear the story of how they obtained it. They refuse to tell you. 

Donghyuck reaches out and opens the door for you, slightly bowing. “My lady,” he says in an awful recreation of a posh accent. You roll your eyes and step through the entryway. You’re immediately greeted by 5 familiar faces and a cloudy haze of smoke. 

Jeno and Jaemin are slouched over each other on the couch, a little too handsy for what should be considered just friends. Nothing atypical there. Chenle and Jisung are sitting at Donghyuck’s desk, the taller man attempting to play some sort of game while the other eggs him on. Mark is lounging on his bed, blunt in one hand, phone in the other. “Where’s Renjun?” you pout once you notice the blonde man’s absence. 

You feel a familiar hand wrap around your waist once again. “He’s got an essay due at 11:59,” Chenle responds, not looking up from where his eyes are glued to the monitor. 

“Damn,” you reply. “Really wanted one of his edibles tonight.” With that, Mark leans down, starting to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand, passing the blunt to Jeno in the meantime. Once he finds what he’s looking for, he raises his head, a dopey smile on his face. He waves a little plastic bag around excitedly. 

All of a sudden, the smile drops from his face. His eyes are zeroed in on the hand circling your waist. “Hey!” he whines, grabbing Hyuck’s attention. “I thought I said no touching. She’s my weed partner not yours!” Mark and Donghyuck usually have no problem sharing you, so you suppose this little comment is meant to keep up appearances in front of their friends.

The hand reluctantly leaves your side and Donghyuck crosses the room to jump up onto his own bed. “She’s half the frat’s weed partner at this point, man!” He dramatically falls to his back, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. 

“True that!” Jaemin raises his head to shout from his spot on the couch. He looks…blasted to say the least. It’s clear his head is spinning from the sudden movement. After a moment, he just says, “woah” and tucks his head back into Jeno’s chest, who hums in delight. 

Mark captures your attention once again, patting the spot on the bed next to him. You jump up and join him. He offers the plastic bag to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Got this just for you.”

You reach for the bag excitedly, only for him to pull away from you cruelly at the last second. “Mark,” you pout at him, a frown on your face.

He simply laughs, leaning down to put his lips on the shell of your ear. “Gimme a kiss first, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes at his antics. A year ago, you would’ve choked on your own saliva hearing those words. Now, they’re like second nature to you. Leaning over the side of the bed, you pluck the blunt out of Jeno’s hand. The man in question hands it over easily, moving to pick Jaemin up and take him back to their own room. 

Turning back toward Mark, you take a hit, leaning close with your hands on his shoulders, and then exhale. He inhales the smoke, his own lips inches from yours. When he finishes the shotgun, he presses a small kiss to the side of your mouth. “Thanks baby,” he whispers. 

“Hey!” Hyuck calls out. When you turn, his eyes are locked on you and Mark. “Calling her baby is my thing!” 

A groan is heard from the opposite end of the room. “Can’t you three get a room?” Chenle asks exasperatedly. 

“We’re in our room,” Mark says in the most deadpan way he can muster. It’s not all that serious, the high leaving hints of that dopey smile on his face. It’s enough to work on Chenle though, because seconds later he’s turning the PC off and dragging Jisung out of the room by the collar of his shirt. 

As the door is shut once again, Donghyuck hops down from his bed, moving to lock it. “Finally some peace and quiet,” he mutters once he completes his task. You giggle a little at the statement. You’re not quite sure it truly qualifies as peace and quiet if you can still hear the loud music and voices from downstairs. 

The man moves once again, but this time approaches Mark’s bed, tossing himself dramatically on the end and taking the blunt out of your hand. While he occupies himself with getting even higher, you turn your attention to the man next to you. “Can I get that edible now, Markie?”

He must have been lost in thought, because your words seem to startle him. Finally, recognition sparks in his eyes once he realizes what you mean. “Oh, yeah,” he mutters, handing the plastic bag to you. 

You take it from him and unzip it, popping the gummy into your mouth. It’s strawberry flavored, one of your known favorites. You practically moan at the taste. “God, Renjun deserves some fucking head for this,” you say. 

Donghyuck snorts from his place at the end of the bed, eyes dazed but looking right at you. “Nah,” he shakes his head. “Mark deserves the head if anything. He practically got on his knees to beg Renjun to save one for you.” 

You look over at Mark to gauge his reaction. He has his head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed with his face tilted slightly toward the ceiling. His hand has drifted down to your thigh, fingertips running lightly over the bare skin where your shorts end. There’s no reaction evident on his face. It’s likely that he’s completely zoned out, unaware of the conversation taking place before him. 

“That can be negotiated,” you finally say, swinging one of your legs around so that you end up straddling his lap. The sudden movement pulls him from his daydream, his head dropping to look you in the eyes. You’re hovering slightly above him, not yet giving him the pleasure of your weight on top of him.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Whatcha doing pretty girl?” His hands move to rest lightly on top of your hips. 

You lower yourself a little bit more, your skin brushing against his sweatpants. “Hyuck said you deserve a reward for bringing me an edible,” you concede. “And I need something to entertain me until it kicks in.”

Mark simply hums in response, his eyes hazy but still somewhat focused on you. You hear shuffling at the end of the bed as Donghyuck moves to put out the blunt. You’re not surprised. Ever since you and Mark invited him to join your little Friday night shenanigans, he’s been keen to be in on the action. Eager to ramp the energy up, you lean in and press a long kiss to Mark’s lips. 

It’s sloppy, especially with the way he’s clearly feeling the effects of his smoke session. You pull back a bit, admiring the way your spit decorates his lips. His eyes look lazily up into yours and you smirk when they flutter close as you grind your hips down. “Fuck,” is all he manages to say as he throws his head back. 

You let yourself get lost in the movement, your own eyes finally closing. However, you’re startled when a pair of hands settle on your waist. Halting your movements, you turn to peek over your shoulder. Donghyuck has settled on his knees in between Mark’s spread legs, his head tipped dangerously close to your neck. The grip on your hips tightens and he whispers, breath tickling the back of your neck. “Don’t stop because of me, pretty.”

When you turn back around, Mark is watching you both, his eyes heavy with desire. His hands grip your thighs relentlessly as the bulge in his pants grows larger by the second. Remembering Hyuck’s words, you grind down on him once again. “Atta girl,” you hear from behind you, and it sends a rush of heat right down to your core. 

Donghyuck controls the pace with the hands on your hips, purposefully teasing both you and Mark. Your ass brushes back against Hyuck’s own erection every few strokes. Meanwhile, the man under you starts letting out breathy moans. The longer it goes on, the more you start to feel the effects of your edible. Your senses heighten and everything feels ten times more pleasurable than if you were sober. 

The hands on your waist start to move up, making quick work of removing your shirt. Donghyuck’s mouth meets the back of your neck as he removes your bra. Mark instantly groans as your chest is freed from the material. He doesn’t waste a second, sitting up as much as he can and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. 

Between him and Hyuck, who is now leaving marks on the junction of your neck, you are not going to last very long. You don’t have to worry though, because Mark suddenly plants a hand on your stomach, pushing himself away from you. You are thrown backwards, falling into Donghyuck’s chest. 

Confused, you look down at the man who is now leaning against the headboard, flushed and panting. “What’s wrong Mark?” you ask, your own voice a little breathless. 

“I…” the man stutters. “I was gonna cum,” he finally admits. 

“Aww,” Hyuck teases. “Was Markie gonna cum just from a little humping and sucking on some titties?” Mark’s face reddens immensely and he visibly swallows, but doesn’t respond. “I think he was…” Donghyuck teases again. “How about that pretty girl? You were gonna make him cum in his pants.”

You understand Mark’s embarrassment. Your own orgasm was not that far away. To be honest, you don’t even know how Donghyuck is coherent enough to be doing all this dirty talk. It seems that both you and Mark are a little too gone for your own good. In more ways than one. 

“So selfish,” Hyuck continues, sliding a hand past the waistband of your shorts. His fingers ghost lightly over the seat of your panties, the wetness spreading uncomfortably. “Leaving our girl all wet and unsatisfied because you can’t restrain yourself.” 

You’ve never seen Mark like this. The flush on his cheeks has spread down his neck and out to his ears. Pupils are blown wide, his chest heaving like he’s catching his breath. You can see his cock jump in pants at Donghyuck’s words. He even whines a little bit. Usually he’s more dominant than this, taking the lead but relinquishing control to Hyuck every once in a while. Tonight, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. You’re intrigued. 

The man behind you taps your clit a few times, drawing you from your thoughts. You breathe out hard. “You want this?” he questions teasingly. He moves his hand a circle, the friction so delicious you have to let out a moan in response. You hear him chuckle into your ear. “Then get naked. Mark too.” 

Mark’s eyes snap forward at the mention of his name. Quickly, he makes work of your shorts, pulling them and your panties down in one swipe. You kick them off onto the floor somewhere. Then, you lean down and yank his shirt over his head. The action tussles his hair, which now falls into his face messily. You don’t take the time to admire it though as you help Mark shimmy his sweatpants and boxers down. It’s awkward and takes a bit of time, but finally, his cock springs free. Your mouth waters at the sight. 

“Good girl,” you hear from behind you before you can move to touch it. Mark’s hips buck up into the air and he whines. “Oh did I forget someone?” Donghyuck teases. Mark nods relentlessly. “Good boy Markie,” he whispers. Yet again, his cock jumps. 

You turn your head over your shoulder, looking for your next instruction. Hyuck clearly wants to be dominant tonight, so you’ll indulge him for Mark’s sake. He must have removed his shirt while you were busy stripping, because you’re met with the sight of his bare chest. You follow his happy trail down to where he has his cock hanging loosely out of his pants. He quirks an eye at your ogling. “You getting eager, pretty?” he asks. You nod. 

“Okay,” he tells you, head raising to look at Mark. “Ride him,” he says, leaning back on his heels lazily. You follow his instructions wordlessly, straddling the boy in front of you once again. You line yourself up with him, preparing for the stretch. A finger running up your spine halts your motions and you shudder. “Uh uh. Face me,” he demands. You hear Mark choke up a bit at the thought. 

Hesitantly, you turn around, resuming your position. Your hands are planted on the bed next to the inside of Mark’s knees, Dongyuck sitting right in front of you. You go to sink down once again, but right before you do, Hyuck grabs your chin harshly and forces you to make eye contact. “Look at me while you fuck him.”

You gulp nervously, but continue to look into his eyes. Finally, you start to sit on Mark’s cock. The second his tip enters you, he’s moaning loudly. “Holy shit,” he breathes out. His hands grip your hips harshly, like he’s trying to ground himself. Meanwhile, you’re trying so hard to maintain eye contact with Donghyuck. The feeling of being stretched out makes you want to let your eyes roll to the back of your head. He looks back at you in amusement, like he’s getting off on both you and Mark’s struggle. 

“Keep going baby,” Hyuck tells you, leaving no room for argument. You resume your motions once more and Mark is no longer keeping his sounds at bay. The room fills with a cacophony of groans. As you continue your staring contest, you see Donghyuck’s hand move out of the corner of your eye. From what you can tell, he’s started to jerk himself off at the sight of you riding Mark. It takes everything in you to not look down. 

You raise yourself up and down continuously, the pace slow, but not torturous. Mark is clearly loving it, from the way you can hear his breathing pick up. “So good,” he slurs, grabbing a handful of your ass. 

“Yeah?” he teases, finally breaking eye contact with you to look back at Mark. “Tell our pretty girl how good she’s making you feel.” 

“So good, Y/N. Making me feel so good baby,” he says, voice cracking at the end of the sentence. You’re too preoccupied to really take his words to heart. You’ve taken the opportunity to let your gaze drift down to Donghyuck’s cock and the way he strokes it casually. There’s an obscene amount of pre-cum beading at the head, dripping down onto Mark’s sheets. You moan at the sight. 

You don’t realize that Hyuck has turned his attention back to you. Suddenly, his fingers are back on your chin, slowly tilting it up. “What did I say about eye contact?” You look up at him through your eyelashes. “Good girl,” he whispers, and you pussy throbs at the praise. Mark must feel it, because he lets out an especially loud groan. 

After a moment, Donghyuck shifts forward a bit, bringing himself closer to you. “Go faster,” he instructs, while his free hand snakes down to rub circles on your clit. You jolt at the feeling, but try your hardest to continue looking him in the eyes. “So sensitive,” he coos while you finally pick up your pace. Between Mark’s cock hitting your sweet spot and Hyuck’s hand brushing roughly against your clit, you feel the pit in your stomach rising. 

You’re not sure if your moans pick up or if Donghyuck just has a sixth sense for you approaching orgasm, but either way, he calls you out. “Gonna cum?” he asks, a sick smile spreading across his face. You nod eagerly. “What about you Markie?” A mumbled yes is heard from behind. 

“Mmm,” Hyuck hums. “Better tell her to get to work then, because neither of you are cumming until I’ve cum.” Your eyes flick down to his cock, and this time he doesn’t scold you for breaking eye contact. You reach out and wrap your hand around him. He shudders a little and sighs. Slowly, you begin pumping him, trying your best to find all the spots that make him tick. You flick your wrist aggressively, your thumb coming up to brush at his tip every few strokes. It’s got him going for sure, but not enough to send him over the edge.

At this point, you’re getting desperate. Mark clearly is too, because he’s egging you on pleadingly, like he’s dying to cum. “C’mon pretty, please get him off. Please.”

Finally, you run your thumb down the vein on the underside of his cock and his hips jerk. Then suddenly, he’s cumming, white spraying over your stomach, onto Mark's legs, and the sheets. You let him come down a bit, his chest heaving and his head thrown back carelessly. Once his eyes flutter open, you do your best to put a pleading look on your face. “Hyuck, please let us cum.” 

He nods wordlessly and you take it as a sign to pick up the pace once more. Mark gasps from behind you and you gasp in response as Donghyuck flicks your clit over and over. Moments later, you’re finally hitting the edge. “I’m cumming,” you announce breathlessly, leaning forward to let your head rest again Hyuck’s chest. 

The pulsations from your orgasm carry Mark to completion too, his cock twitching within your walls and painting them white. He lets out a guttural groan and you moan at the feeling of his cum inside you. As you come down, Hyuck has one hand on the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your hair. His other hand does the same thing on Mark’s lower thigh. 

He lets you both recover for a minute before speaking. “I may be high as fuck still, but we might want to sleep in my bed tonight,” he says, looking down to the spot on the sheets where some of Mark’s cum has dripped down to mix with his own. 

“Yeah,” Mark says groggily from behind you. “This is gross.” You tuck your head further into Donghyuck’s chest in embarrassment. 

Mark laughs at your actions. “Why so shy all of a sudden, pretty?” he mocks. 

“You have no room to talk Markie,” you tease back. Donghyuck’s chest rumbles as he laughs at your banter. 

“Okay,” Hyuck finally concedes, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you off Mark. You whine as you become empty, spend dripping out of you. “Let’s get cleaned up. Then we can cuddle,” he declares, carrying you to the attached bathroom. Mark’s footsteps follow behind you. You sigh in contentment, ready to relax with you two favorite boys.

[estellan0vella]

Never Felt Safer: B.C & H.J Bang Chan x fem!reader x Han Jisung (College AU)

WC: 17.4K

CW: Anxiety, panic attacks, pre-established relationship between Chan and Jisung, implied sex, mxm scenes, Minlix in the background, simp Chansung, pining Chansung, twin!Felix, protective!Felix, Comforting!Minho

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The Alpha Phi living room smells like a mix of old pizza, faint cologne, and someone's leftover gym socks, probably Changbin's, based on the guilty glance he shoots toward the corner of the couch. Felix lounges at the centre of the chaos, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle on the coffee table, holding a Red Bull like it’s his life force.

“Alright, listen up, dickheads zero through five,” Felix announces, voice cutting through the buzz of chatter like a knife.

Minho, seated next to him with his arms casually sprawled across the back of the couch, raises an eyebrow. “Not me, though, right?”

Felix tilts his head toward Minho with a smirk. “Not you, Min. You’re an evil angel, and I love having you here.”

Minho grins, sharp and smug, clearly revelling in the attention. Jisung immediately leans forward from his perch on the floor, waving a hand. “What number am I?”

“Two,” Felix says without hesitation, pointing at him with the Red Bull. “Chan’s number one.”

Jisung’s face splits into a shit-eating grin, and he wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, who’s perched in the armchair nearby with his usual relaxed confidence. Without any preamble, Jisung climbs into Chan’s lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, snuggling against him and fiddling with a fidget cube. Chan chuckles, resting one hand on Jisung’s hip.

“Fine with me,” Jisung mutters, twisting the cube over and over. “I’ll take number two if it means I get first dibs on this guy.”

“Gross,” Seungmin deadpans from the other couch, tossing a pillow in their direction. “We get it, you’re disgustingly in love.”

“Jealous?” Jisung fires back, not missing a beat.

“Hard pass.”

Jeongin, who’s been scrolling on his phone next to Seungmin, pipes up. “So, what’s up? You’re building to something.”

Felix straightens, his expression growing just a little more serious. “My sister’s coming over tomorrow.”

Immediately, a wave of groans rolls through the room, but Felix cuts them off with a sharp glare. “Shut the fuck up and listen, okay? She’s coming over to practice some SFX on me and Minho, and you know how anxious she is. So no scaring her, got it? I’m looking at you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin, sprawled dramatically across the other armchair with his long legs dangling over one side, raises both hands in mock surrender. “What the fuck did I do?”

“You almost gave her a stroke last time,” Felix snaps, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Which is why you’re dickhead zero, the eternal source of my disdain, affectionately, of course.”

“I told her she looked pretty!” Hyunjin protests, clearly offended. “How is that a crime?”

“You terrified her with your pretty frat boy bullshit!” Felix throws his hands up. “She has anxiety, you dumbass, and you made her turtle.”

Hyunjin blinks. “Turtle?”

Felix rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Disappear inside her shell. Like turtles do, idiot.”

Minho, watching the exchange with a small smirk, finally chimes in. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep them reined in.”

Felix blows Minho a kiss, the pink tips of his ears betraying his casual tone. “Thanks, Min.”

The room erupts into groans and exaggerated gagging sounds, but Felix ignores them. He levels the rest of the group with a sharp look. “Best behaviour. You hear me?”

A collective murmur of agreement goes around the room. Changbin nods solemnly. “Got it, chief.”

“Scout’s honour,” Seungmin says, holding up three fingers.

Felix doesn’t even pause before snapping back, “You were never a scout a day in your life. Shut the fuck up.”

Minho chuckles low in his throat, and Felix shoots him a fond glance before continuing. “Minho’s the only one who doesn’t freak her out, so the rest of you better leave her alone. She’s coming here to practice, not to deal with you idiots.”

Jeongin, ever the instigator, smirks. “The only reason Minho doesn’t freak her out is because you and him see her once a week for dinner at her apartment. Brother, sister, and brother’s sort-of-undefined-but-basically-dating boyfriend.”

Felix’s ears turn a brighter shade of pink, and he sputters, “That’s not—”

“It was a process, believe us,” Minho interrupts smoothly, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand. He gives Jeongin a slow, deliberate wink. “But you’re not wrong.”

“See?” Jeongin shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

The room falls into a comfortable rhythm of teasing and chatter, but two pairs of eyes linger on Felix for just a moment longer than the rest. Chan’s and Jisung’s. Chan’s gaze softens as it shifts, landing on the small space between Felix’s explanation and the mention of his sister.

Jisung catches Chan’s look, his lips quirking up into a knowing smile. It’s the same thought, unspoken but clear between them: tomorrow’s visit isn’t just about SFX practice.

It’s about seeing you.

The Alpha Phi house looms in front of you, just as chaotic and intimidating as always. The faint sounds of bass-heavy music thrum from somewhere inside, even though it’s not even noon.

You take a deep breath and clutch the strap of your makeup case tighter. The last time you knocked on this door without a plan, Hyunjin had answered, and your anxiety had spiralled out of control before you’d even crossed the threshold.

Not this time. Felix and Minho are already outside, leaning casually against the porch railing, waiting for you.

“Finally,” Felix calls out as soon as he spots you approaching. His blonde hair gleams in the sunlight, and he’s already wearing his signature shit-eating grin. “Took you long enough, slowpoke.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the small smile that creeps onto your face. “Traffic,” you mutter, hefting your makeup case as you reach the steps.

Minho pushes off the railing, straightening up. His red hair is pushed back today, giving him an air of effortless cool that would probably be irritating if it weren’t for the slight curve of his lips that softens the look. Without a word, he takes the case from your hands like it weighs nothing.

“Thanks,”

“No problem,” Minho says, his voice smooth and calm. He gestures toward the front door with a nod. “We’ve cleared the hallway and stairs for you. Path to Felix’s room is officially fuckboy-free.”

You let out a laugh, your shoulders easing a little. “Good. I don’t think I could survive another Hyunjin ambush.”

Felix snorts, opening the door for you. “Yeah, well, he’s banned from being anywhere near the front of the house when you’re coming over. Lesson learned.”

“Damn right,” you mutter, stepping inside. “So, no flirting this time?”

Minho smirks. “Not unless you’re into compliments like ‘you look like you belong in a museum.’ That’s what got you last time, right?”

You groan. “Please don’t remind me.”

Felix waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, he’s not even awake yet. I think he stayed up all night painting or something. Total disaster.”

The three of you make your way up the stairs, Minho carrying your case with ease. “So,” he says, glancing back at you, “what are we doing today? Zombies? Scars? Some gory masterpiece to make my mother proud?”

You chuckle nervously. “Uh, SFX injuries, if that’s okay? I need to work on realistic wounds for my portfolio.”

“Wounds it is,” Minho says without missing a beat. He holds the case up slightly. “You brought all your murder tools, I assume?”

“Always,” you say, grinning despite yourself.

You don’t notice Jisung peeking out from the slightly cracked door of his room as you pass, his silver hair messy and his eyes wide with interest. He stays quiet, though, watching as the three of you disappear down the hall toward Felix’s room.

When you step inside, the familiar chaos of Felix’s room greets you. Posters are plastered across the walls in a chaotic patchwork of vibrant colours, and his gaming setup blinks with multicoloured LEDs in the corner. Felix flops into his gaming chair immediately, spinning in a lazy circle as Minho sets your case down gently on the bed.

“Sorry about… all of this,” you say, gesturing vaguely around the room. Your voice comes out softer, more hesitant. “Making the guys stay out of the way and everything.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Minho says, sitting down beside you on the bed. His tone is casual, but there’s a firmness to it that makes you feel a little less guilty. “The guys are a lot, even on a good day. This is nothing.”

Felix hums in agreement, spinning once more in his chair before planting his feet and leaning forward. “Seriously, you don’t have to apologize. They’re all idiots, but they know better than to mess with you. And if they don’t, Min and I will handle it.”

You glance down at your hands, fiddling with the anxiety rings on your fingers. Felix notices, of course, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he distracts you the only way he knows how by grinning at you like he’s just had the best idea in the world.

“So, murder makeup, huh?” he says. “Think you can make Minho look even hotter with a giant gash across his face?”

“Easily,” you say, a laugh bubbling out of you before you can stop it.

Minho raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was,” you admit, feeling a little less nervous now as you pull out your supplies. “Thanks for, you know being cool about this.”

“Always,” Minho says simply, his tone so genuine that it surprises you.

Felix wheels his gaming chair closer to the bed, the wheels creaking against the hardwood floor. He plants his elbows on the edge of the mattress and leans in, watching you as you sort through your SFX makeup kit.

The little compartments are crammed with pigments, brushes, sponges, and bottles of fake blood in varying shades of grotesque. Minho leans back on the bed next to you, his sharp gaze flicking between your hands and Felix, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Felix says, clapping his hands together like he’s rallying a team. His grin is mischievous, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “I wanna scare the shit out of Jisung and Chan, just like when you did that burns look”

Minho snorts, his laughter low and amused. “We should’ve filmed that for you. The way Jisung screamed when he saw you standing there? Priceless.”

Felix tips his head back and cackles. “He looked like he saw a ghost”

You shake your head, but you can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “You’re such a menace,” you mutter, pulling a headband out of your bag and holding it up. “Okay, sit still, Lix.”

Felix obeys and lets you push the headband over his head, sweeping his bleach-blonde hair back from his face. The ends stick out in every direction, and you grimace, running a finger through one crunchy strand.

“You need to put a hair mask in this disaster,” you say, holding up a particularly fried piece. “The bleach is murdering it.”

“I’ve been telling him that for weeks,” Minho says, leaning forward to inspect Felix’s hair critically. His tone is playful, but there’s an undercurrent of concern. “Baby boy, you’re gonna go bald by twenty-five at this rate.”

You gag dramatically at the nickname. “Ew. Minho, please. I’m trying to work here.”

Felix rolls his eyes, brushing both of you off. “Whatever, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.”

“Later isn’t good enough,” you say, wagging a brush at him like a weapon. “You’ll be doing comb-overs by the time you graduate if you don’t fix this now.”

Felix groans, but there’s no real bite to it. He stays still as you start applying a base layer of makeup to his face, smoothing out the colour to prep for the fake wounds. The rhythmic motion is soothing, and you quickly fall into a comfortable flow.

Minho grabs his phone and starts scrolling. A moment later, the opening notes of a Little Mix song fill the room. He turns the volume up, the beat bouncing off the walls. “Little Mix is undefeated,” Minho says, reclining again with a self-satisfied smile.

“You’re so right,” you reply, adding a streak of red to Felix’s cheekbone. “They’re perfect for this.”

Felix hums along to the song, swaying slightly as you blend out the faux injury. “I feel like a bad bitch already.”

“You are a bad bitch,” Minho chimes in. “You just happen to have the hair care routine of a gremlin.”

Before Felix can retort, the next song starts. The three of you are nodding along to the beat, when a loud voice from the hallway joins in, belting out the chorus with alarming enthusiasm.

Felix’s head snaps toward the door, his expression shifting to murderous in an instant. “Jisung! Go away!” he yells, his voice cutting through the music. “You know not to come near my room when my sister’s here!”

A loud, theatrical whine echoes back. “But it’s Little Mix! You can’t expect me to not sing along!”

You glance at Felix, stifling a laugh as he throws his hands up in frustration. “I swear to God,” he mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Before he can get up, another voice cuts in, Chan’s, calm and soothing. “Come on, babe. Let’s go play Little Mix in your room, yeah?”

There’s a beat of silence, then the unmistakable sound of Jisung perking up. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes,” Chan replies, laughter evident in his voice. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The two of them disappear down the hall, but not before you hear the exaggerated sound of Jisung smooching Chan. It’s so loud and obnoxious that it sends Felix spiralling into a fit of cackles.

“They’re so fucking gross,” Felix mutters, wiping a tear from his eye as he settles back into position. “Alright, where were we?”

“Making you look like you got into a bar fight,” you reply, dipping your brush into the next colour. “Now hold still, or I’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t get much worse than it already is,” Minho teases, and Felix flips him off without missing a beat. “I’m gonna order us food. Any objections?”

Your hands pause mid-blend as you work on Felix’s makeup. “Oh, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, the words spilling out in a rush. “I’m not really hungry.”

Felix scoffs so hard that he nearly dislodges the headband. “She’ll have the least spicy tteokbokki you can find,” he says, completely ignoring your protest. “She can’t handle spice, just like me. We’re not freaks like you, Min, who eat the spiciest shit they can find for fun. Order her food. She’s just being her little anxious self, panicking about you buying her food.”

“Felix!” you whine as you nudge him hard with your elbow. “Stop calling me out!”

Minho snorts, shaking his head as he pulls up the food delivery app on his phone. “He’s not wrong, though. You’re too polite for your own good. Just let me order you something. You can eat later if you’re not hungry right now.”

Felix grins, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Trust Min. He’s the responsible one here.”

“Debatable,” you mutter, focusing back on the gash you’re painting on Felix’s cheek.

“Rude,” Minho says with mock offence. “I’m only ordering in because I can’t be bothered to cook. Every time I do, it’s like vultures descend on the kitchen. I make one decent meal, and suddenly it’s a free-for-all.”

“That’s because you’re the best cook in this house,” Felix says matter-of-factly. “No one else even comes close. What did you expect?”

“Not to be treated like a five-star restaurant, that’s for sure,” Minho grumbles, scrolling through the menu.

You try again, your voice quieter this time. “Seriously, though, Minho, you don’t have to-”

“Nope,” Minho interrupts, holding up a hand without even looking at you. “Also, no paying me back. End of story.”

“But-”

“Shhhhh.” He cuts you off again, this time with an exaggerated shushing noise, his tone dripping with amusement. “If you keep arguing, we’re settling this on the football field. First one to score a touchdown wins.”

You give him a flat look. “I’d lose in ten seconds.”

“Exactly,” he says with a smug grin, clicking the order confirmation on his phone.

Felix lets out a loud laugh, nearly knocking the makeup sponge out of your hand. “God, he’s so full of himself. I love it.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible, both of you.”

“And you love us for it,” Felix says, winking. “Now hurry up with my face so I can take selfies to scare the shit out of people.”

Minho smirks, leaning back against the headboard as the three of you settle into the easy rhythm of banter and laughter. The lighthearted atmosphere helps ease the tight knot of anxiety in your chest, and for a while, it’s just the three of you, surrounded by the comforting chaos of Felix’s room.

Jisung’s room is a certified disaster zone. Clothes strewn everywhere, half-empty snack bags crumpled on his desk, and a pile of notebooks teetering precariously on the edge of his chair. Despite the chaos, it’s unmistakably Jisung’s space, with posters of indie bands and anime characters covering every inch of the walls.

The air smells faintly of the caramel-scented candle Chan had gifted him a week ago, though it does little to mask the underlying hint of energy drinks.

Jisung sits cross-legged on the bed, bouncing slightly with nervous energy as Sweet Melody blasts from the Bluetooth speaker on the nightstand. He hums along to the chorus, his voice light and airy, but his fingers are picking relentlessly at a loose thread on the corner of the blanket. The thread gets longer with each tug, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

Chan, sprawled out on his back next to him, notices. He always notices. His dark eyes flick from Jisung’s hands to his face, taking in the slight furrow of his brow and the way his lips press into a thin line between lyrics.

“I can hear your brain running a million miles a minute,” Chan says finally, his voice soft but laced with curiosity. “What’s up?”

Jisung freezes mid-bounce, the loose thread now wrapped around his finger. He glances at Chan, his silver hair falling into his eyes, and sighs dramatically. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Chan replies without hesitation, sitting up and leaning on one elbow. “You’ve been picking at that blanket for the last five minutes, and you only do that when something’s eating at you. So, spill.”

Jisung hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip. He tugs at the thread one more time before finally blurting out, “How the fuck are we supposed to get close to her if Felix is glued to her side every second she’s here?”

Chan blinks, caught off guard by the sudden outburst, but he doesn’t interrupt. Jisung continues, words spilling out in a rush. “Like, I get it, he’s her brother, her twin, her emotional support whatever-the-fuck, and I respect that, okay? I do. But how are we supposed to make any progress if he’s constantly playing guard dog? I mean, we want her to be the third in our relationship, but we can’t even fucking talk to her.”

There it is. The frustration, the longing, the anxiety. It all comes tumbling out in a messy, unfiltered stream. Jisung runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in wild angles, and looks at Chan with wide, pleading eyes. “What do we do, Chan? How do we even start?”

Chan leans back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest as he considers his words. “If we spoke to her, like, really tried to make our intentions clear, she’d probably have a panic attack.”

Jisung winces, already halfway through forming a rebuttal, but Chan isn’t finished.

“And then you’d have a panic attack for causing her panic attack,” Chan adds, his tone matter-of-fact.

Jisung gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Okay, so we’re just dropping truth nukes today? That was a personal fucking attack.”

“Yep.” Chan grins, entirely unbothered. “Because I know you, Ji. You overthink everything when it comes to her. You want to protect her and impress her and somehow confess your feelings all at once, but you freeze up every time she’s in the room.”

Jisung groans, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. “You’re not wrong, but do you have to say it out loud?”

“I do,” Chan says, nudging Jisung’s knee with his own. “Because you need to hear it. She’s not like us. She’s got walls up for a reason, and we can’t bulldoze our way through them just because we want to.”

“So what, then?” Jisung mumbles, his voice muffled by his arm. “We just sit here and pine while Felix keeps giving us death glares every time we so much as look at her?”

Chan chuckles, lying back down beside him. “No, dumbass. We take it slow. Be patient. Show her that we’re not just a couple of horny frat boys looking to make her a notch on our belt.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jisung sighs, letting his head roll to the side as Sweet Melody fades into another song. “Fine. We’ll play the long game. But if Felix cockblocks us one more time, I’m going to scream.”

Chan props himself up on his elbows, watching Jisung fidget with the loose thread again. After a moment, he sits up fully, reaching for his backpack that’s been haphazardly tossed onto the floor. “I did find this,” he says, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He smooths it out against his thigh and holds it up for Jisung to see.

“What the fuck is that?” Jisung asks, tilting his head as he squints at the flyer.

“It’s from the cosmetology and SFX department,” Chan explains, his grin widening. “They’re looking for part-time models for the students. Hourly pay, and they feed you.”

Jisung grabs the flyer, scanning the text quickly. His eyes widen as the gears in his head start turning. “You absolute fucking genius, Bang Chan,” he says, smacking Chan’s arm with the paper. “This is why I love you. You’re getting the dick-sucking of your life tonight, and I’ll even do that position you like to fuck me in.”

Chan smirks, leaning back on his hands. “Why not now?”

Jisung rolls his eyes, though his grin is practically glowing. “Because I want to see a peek of her before she leaves. Duh.”

Chan snorts, shaking his head. “You’re such a simp.”

Jisung flops back onto the bed, clutching the flyer dramatically to his chest. “You’re not wrong. I peeked out of my door when she came upstairs with Felix and Minho earlier.”

Chan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, yeah? What’d she look like?”

“She was wearing this cute cropped white sweater, you know, the off-the-shoulder kind? And those mom jeans that make her ass look, like, ugh,” Jisung says, waving his hand like he’s at a loss for words. “Her hair was clipped up all messily, and she had eyeliner so sharp it could cut a bitch.”

Chan groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck. Wish I’d thought about peeking.”

“You missed out,” Jisung says with a sing-song lilt, flipping onto his stomach to look at Chan. “She looked like an angel. Or a menace. Or both.”

“Definitely both,” Chan agrees with a chuckle.

Jisung holds the flyer up again, studying it as if it holds all the answers to their problems. “This is fucking genius. You’re a genius. We can get close to her, right? Like, we sign up, become her models, and bam! We’re friends! She gets less anxious around us, trusts us, and then bam! She falls in love with us.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Chan says, leaning over to ruffle Jisung’s hair. “And if it doesn’t work, at least we’ll have some cool makeup looks.”

“It’ll work,” Jisung insists, his excitement bubbling over. He giggles, tossing the flyer onto the bed before pouncing on Chan, knocking him back against the pillows. “God, I fucking love you.”

Jisung peppers Chan’s face with kisses, laughing between each one as Chan tries and fails to push him off. Chan’s hands find their way to Jisung’s waist, gripping tightly before sliding down to his ass, squeezing just enough to make Jisung gasp.

“You’re obsessed,” Jisung teases, wiggling his hips in Chan’s hold.

“Can you blame me?” Chan retorts, his fingers tracing over Jisung’s waist like it’s his favourite thing in the world. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“Damn right, I am,” Jisung says, leaning down to kiss him properly this time. 

Jisung breaks the kiss with a grin, his forehead pressed against Chan’s. “My genius, sexy boyfriend,” he murmurs, voice dripping with affection as his hands rest on Chan’s chest. Before Chan can reply, the faint creak of a door opening filters through the chaos of Jisung’s room.

Both of them freeze.

“That’s Felix’s room,” Jisung whispers, wide-eyed. He scrambles off Chan in a flurry of movement, almost tripping over a discarded hoodie on the floor as he darts toward the door. Chan follows, his socked feet sliding a little on the hardwood.

They press themselves against the doorframe, carefully peeking through the narrow gap. Sure enough, Felix’s bedroom door is ajar, and you step into the hallway, your makeup case in hand. Felix and Minho trail behind you, chatting to you about something, but neither of them notices the two lurking shadows just down the hall.

Chan’s eyes immediately drop to your figure, taking in the way your jeans hug your curves. His lips part as he lets out a low whistle under his breath. “That ass,” he mutters, barely audible.

Jisung hums in agreement, his gaze just as fixated. “Fucking hell,” he says, practically purring. “Alright, seeing her ass in those jeans has me ready.”

Chan tears his eyes away from you just long enough to glance at Jisung. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jisung says, his grin wicked. “You ready to get your dick sucked?”

“Yes.” Chan’s reply is instant, decisive. Without taking his eyes off you for a moment longer than necessary, he reaches out and kicks the door shut with his foot, the sound reverberating through the room.

Jisung laughs, already grabbing at Chan’s shirt to pull him closer. “God, I fucking love you.”

“Show me,” Chan says, smirking as Jisung shoves him back toward the bed. Whatever comes next is their business, but one thing’s certain: both of them are more determined than ever to turn the object of their admiration into something far more significant.

The classroom is buzzing with energy, chatter bouncing off the walls as students set up their stations for the day. You sit in your usual spot near the back, partially shielded by a tall counter stacked with brushes, pigments, and latex prosthetics.

Your SFX kit is open in front of you, neatly organized but untouched as you twist the anxiety rings on your fingers, trying to drown out the noise. The clipped-up mess of your hair keeps falling in your face, but you don’t have the energy to fix it.

Your teacher strides in, clapping their hands for attention. “Alright, everyone! Models are here. Be respectful, follow the guidelines, and remember to thank them for their time. This is a great opportunity to work with real people instead of mannequins, so make the most of it.”

The door swings open, and a group of about ten models shuffles in, their faces a mix of curiosity and boredom. You glance up, expecting a crowd of strangers. Instead, your breath catches in your throat as two very familiar figures step through the door. Chan and Jisung.

Chan looks effortlessly cool, dressed in black cargo trousers and a white t-shirt under a black knit sweater. His silver chain glints under the fluorescent lights, matching the one around Jisung’s neck.

Jisung, for his part, looks like he just stepped out of a fashion editorial. His cropped grey long-sleeved top shows just a hint of his toned stomach, and his baggy blue jeans hang low enough to reveal his white boxers. His sneakers are pristine, white as snow, and somehow, even in this classroom setting, he looks like he’s having the time of his life.

When they spot you, their faces light up. Jisung waves enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his heels, while Chan offers a more subdued but equally warm wave. You hesitate for a second, the overwhelming urge to disappear into your shell creeping up, but you manage a shy wave back.

Their reaction is immediate. Jisung’s grin widens, and Chan nudges him, clearly amused.

The other students notice them almost instantly, the energy in the room shifting. A few of the girls near the front start whispering, throwing glances at Chan and Jisung. It’s no secret that the two of them are infamous for their openness at parties, and now that they’re in the same room, the attention is palpable.

The teacher finishes their brief introduction and waves the models toward the stations. Almost immediately, a cluster of girls swarms Chan and Jisung, practically vying for their attention. Compliments fly left and right.

“Chan, you’d be perfect for my project.”

“Jisung, I love your skin tone. It’d be amazing to work with.”

“Have you modeled before? You totally look like you have.”

Chan and Jisung, however, seem completely unfazed by the attention. They exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between them, and then, without hesitation, they make a beeline for your station at the back of the room.

“Hello!” Jisung chirps as they reach you, his voice as cheerful as ever. He drops into the chair across from you, resting his chin on his hand.

“Hi,” you reply softly, your fingers still fiddling with your rings.

Chan pulls out the chair next to Jisung and sits down smoothly, his gaze warm but focused. “What a coincidence,” he says, his voice lower and steadier than Jisung’s. “We just wanted some extra cash, and here we are.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Well, I’m glad it’s some familiar faces who picked me rather than total strangers,” you say, though the words come out in a rushed tumble. “I mean, I guess you two are strangers with recognizable faces, but, um, still better than total strangers.”

Jisung beams at you, clearly charmed by your rambling. Chan leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Yeah? You’re not nervous about working with us?” His tone is teasing, but there’s genuine curiosity behind it.

“No, I-” You stop, realizing you’re about to contradict yourself, and shrug instead. “I’m just glad I won’t have to meet someone completely new. Familiar faces and all that.”

Jisung tilts his head, his silver hair catching the light. “So, how does this work, exactly? What do we do?”

You shrug again, feeling slightly more at ease under their curious but non-judgmental gazes. “It’s pretty simple. I just practice my SFX and different makeup looks on you. You sit still, let me do my thing, and you get paid by the university for your time.”

“That’s it?” Jisung asks, his expression lighting up. “We just get to chill while you turn us into zombies or whatever?”

Chan chuckles, his eyes never leaving your face. “Sounds like the easiest job ever.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” you mumble, already reaching for your brushes. “I can be kind of a perfectionist.”

Jisung nudges Chan with his elbow, his grin widening. “I think we can handle that.”

“Alright,” you say, your voice steadying slightly as you flip through your kit. “I’m going to do bruises for you, Jisung. If that’s okay? It’s the quickest thing to start with, so you can get a feel for what it’s like and how still you’ll have to sit.”

“Okay!” Jisung chirps, his enthusiasm as boundless as ever. He leans forward slightly in his chair, watching you intently.

As you grab the foundation brush and a small compact, your fingers instinctively reach for your anxiety rings, twisting them back and forth in a soothing rhythm. You think you’re being subtle, but both Chan and Jisung notice. They exchange a quick look, just a flicker of understanding passing between them, before Chan leans back in his chair, breaking the tension.

“I’ll grab us some coffee from the table,” Chan says, standing up.

“Oh, don’t,” you reply quickly, looking up from your kit. “It’s gross. Seriously, it's undrinkable.”

Chan raises an eyebrow, amused. “That bad?”

“Worse,” you say, pulling a small coffee sachet from your tote bag and holding it out to him. “Use this. There’s a kettle in the corner.”

Jisung perks up immediately. “Ooh! I love that brand. Their hazelnut flavor is the shit.”

You smile shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before turning your attention back to your kit. “It’s the only coffee I can actually stand,” you admit, pulling out your bruise palette.

Chan takes the sachet with a small nod. “Got it. Fancy coffee it is,” he says, heading toward the kettle.

As he leaves, Jisung rests his elbows on the table, leaning in just enough to stay in your line of sight. “So, you wanna get into the makeup industry?” he asks, his tone casual but genuinely curious.

You nod, focusing on applying a thin base layer of foundation to his temple. “Yeah. That’s the plan. Mostly SFX, though.”

“That’s cool as fuck,” Jisung says, his lips twitching into a grin. “When I become a famous crime reporter, I’ll hire you to make me look good on camera.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up into a small smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You better,” he teases, his tone light and playful. “And when Chan opens his music production company, you can do his makeup for the promo stuff.”

You glance at him, a faint smile still on your face as you swap the foundation brush for a sponge. “The two of you have nice skin. You don’t really need makeup.”

Jisung smirks, his voice dropping slightly. “We’re a sexy couple, huh?”

Your brush falters for half a second, and you laugh softly, not trusting yourself to respond. Instead, you focus on the bruising, using purples and yellows from your palette to create a realistic-looking contusion on his temple.

Jisung doesn’t push. He sits quietly for a moment, letting you work, but his gaze never leaves your face. He notices the way your shoulders relax as you settle into your craft, your hands moving with practised ease. You’re more comfortable here, surrounded by brushes and palettes, than you ever seemed in the unfamiliar chaos of the frat house.

“You’re really good at this,” he says after a while, his voice softer.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your eyes focused on blending the colours seamlessly into his skin.

The kettle clicks off in the corner, and Chan returns a moment later with three steaming cups of coffee. He sets one down next to you with a small smile before sitting back in his chair, watching you work.

Jisung flashes him a quick grin. “Told you she’s good.”

“Yeah,” Chan agrees, his voice warm. “She’s really good.”

You glance at Chan, tapping the end of your brush against your lip in thought. “How good are you at sitting still?”

Chan smirks, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Much better than him,” he says, jerking his chin toward Jisung.

Jisung nods enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely. I have the attention span of a squirrel who’s had crack, PCP, and coffee. Sitting still is not in my vocabulary. That was super hard for me.”

You snort, shaking your head as you pull out a small palette and sponge. “I could do scratches or maybe a split lip?”

“Do both,” Chan says. “Whatever you want. We’re here to help you, get free food, and get paid.”

Jisung grins, leaning forward slightly. “Emphasis on the helping you.”

Their casual support makes you smile, a real, unguarded smile, and you turn your attention to Chan, holding up a few shades next to his face to match his skin tone. The colours need to be just right for the scratches to look realistic, and you’re already envisioning the placement.

While you’re focused, Jisung starts poking around in your kit, pulling out sponges and brushes like he’s never seen them before. “What’s this thing for?” he mutters, holding up a stippling sponge.

“Jisung,” Chan says sharply, without even looking at him. “Sit down. Drink your coffee. Be a good boy.”

Jisung snorts, rolling his eyes but obediently sliding back into his chair. “You sound like a dad,” he mutters, taking a sip of his coffee.

Chan doesn’t respond, but the amused glint in his eye says enough.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you position Chan’s face just right, tilting his chin slightly so you can work. Starting with the scratches, you dab the base colour along his cheekbone in thin, jagged lines, layering the colours to create depth. The focus required for the details blocks out the noise of the room, narrowing your world to just the colours, textures, and angles.

Chan stays perfectly still, his gaze never leaving your face. Every so often, his eyes flick to your fingers, watching the way they move with such precision. He notices the way you fiddle with your anxiety rings between steps, your thumb brushing over the grooves as if grounding yourself. It’s subtle, but he catches it every time.

Jisung leans closer, resting his chin in his hand as he watches too. He doesn’t say much, which is rare for him, but he’s captivated by how your concentration transforms you. You’re not the shy, anxious girl who fidgets in uncomfortable spaces here. You’re in your element, confident, steady, and focused. Your smiles, when they appear, are genuine, and they feel like small victories to him and Chan both.

“Does this hurt?” Jisung asks suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You blink, looking up from the scratches you’re blending on Chan’s cheek. “What? No, of course not. It’s just makeup.”

“Yeah, but you’re so good it’s making me feel phantom pain,” he says dramatically, and you chuckle softly, shaking your head.

“Sit still and let her work,” Chan says, his tone teasing.

“I’m literally not moving!” Jisung retorts, throwing his hands up.

You roll your eyes but smile as you switch to the split lip. Using a small detailing brush, you draw the initial line across Chan’s lower lip, smudging the edges for realism. You add layers of reds and purples, blending them seamlessly into his skin until the injury looks raw and freshly split.

The room fades away entirely as you work, your focus narrowing to the details of Chan’s face. You don’t notice the way he and Jisung exchange glances, silently communicating as they take note of your little habits, the shifty glance you throw at your rings when the noise gets too loud, the way your shoulders tense and relax in rhythm with your breathing.

They’re careful not to draw attention to it, subtly keeping the energy around you calm and light without you even realizing it.

When the scratches and bruising are complete, you step back, studying your work critically. You add a faint smudge of purple and green around the edges of the scratches, giving them the illusion of swelling, before finally reaching for the mirror.

“Alright,” you say, holding the mirror up for Chan. “What do you think?”

Chan leans in to look, his eyes widening slightly at the realism. “Holy shit,” he murmurs, turning his head from side to side. “This looks incredible.”

“Seriously,” Jisung chimes in, craning his neck to see. “It looks like someone decked you. This is insane.”

You feel a flicker of pride at their reactions, your lips curving into a small smile. “Thanks,” you say quietly, fiddling with your rings again.

“Can’t believe we get paid for this,” Chan says with a grin. “Best gig ever.”

Jisung nods enthusiastically. “We should’ve signed up for this ages ago.”

You laugh softly, your nerves starting to melt away as the three of you fall into an easy rhythm of conversation and quiet admiration.

The room buzzes with its usual energy, students chatting and setting up their kits, but Chan and Jisung sit off to the side, waiting. Jisung taps his boots against the floor rhythmically, glancing toward the door every few seconds. He adjusts the cuffs of his cropped leather jacket, his black vest underneath snug against his torso.

Chan sits next to him, leaning back in his chair, one leg bouncing slightly. His matching leather jacket and vest combo, paired with the loose baggy jeans, gives him an effortless edge, but his eyes flick toward the door just as often as Jisung’s.

“She’s late,” Jisung mutters, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Maybe she got held up,” Chan offers, though his voice carries the same undercurrent of unease.

When the door finally opens, you step inside, your movements stiff and your hands trembling slightly as they clutch your tote bag and makeup kit. You’re dressed in a blue and white tartan mini skirt with a matching cropped blazer, your makeup immaculate despite the visible tension in your posture. The messy clip holding your hair back looks like it’s hanging on by sheer determination.

Jisung immediately notices the trembling. His eyes widen, and he nudges Chan, who follows his gaze. Recognition flashes across Chan’s face, he’s seen this before, too many times with Jisung.

Jisung jumps up first, his wide smile doing little to mask the concern in his eyes. “Hey!” he calls out, his voice bright and warm, though there’s a softness to it meant just for you. He strides over quickly, motioning for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s go to the other room for a sec. It’s quieter there.”

Chan is already beside you, taking the tote bag and your makeup case from your trembling hands without a word. “Let’s go,” he says gently, his presence steady and grounding as he gestures toward the hallway.

You nod numbly, letting Jisung lead the way. His cropped leather jacket bounces slightly with each step, and you focus on the rhythm of his boots against the floor, using it to anchor yourself.

Once inside the empty classroom, Jisung pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. Chan places your bags down carefully on the table, then leans against it, his arms crossed but his expression soft.

Jisung crouches in front of you, his voice light and cheerful despite the tension in the room. “You know what I need right now?” he asks, tilting his head.

You blink at him, your breathing still uneven. “What?”

“Embarrassing childhood stories about Felix,” he says, his grin widening. “Come on, you’ve gotta have loads of them. Spill.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “I- I do, but...”

“But nothing,” Chan interrupts, his tone playful but firm. “Give us the dirt. I’m talking full-on Felix humiliation. We need it.”

Jisung pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to you. A small fidget cube. “Here. This always helps me. Try it.”

Your hands shake as you take the cube, turning it over in your fingers. The clicking and spinning mechanisms give you something to focus on, and you start to feel a faint sense of control creeping back in.

“There has to be something,” Chan says, his tone encouraging as Jisung moves to sit next to you, running a hand gently up and down your back. “Don’t hold out on us.”

You take a deep breath, the fidget cube helping to steady you as you begin. “Okay, um, there was this one time when Felix was sixteen. He had a massive crush on this guy, like, total heart eyes every time he saw him.”

Jisung hums, clearly intrigued. “Go on.”

“So,” you continue, a small smile creeping onto your face, “Felix heard that this guy loved birds. Like, absolutely obsessed with them. So Felix, in his infinite wisdom, decided he was going to catch a dove and give it to him.”

Both Chan and Jisung burst into laughter, but they don’t interrupt. They let you continue, their attention fully on you.

“He spent hours in the park with a net he bought from a fishing store,” you say, your voice growing steadier as the memory takes over. “And when he finally caught one, he brought it home, named it Cupid, and tried to teach it tricks to impress the guy.”

Jisung is practically wheezing at this point. “No fucking way.”

“I swear to God,” you say, a genuine laugh escaping you. “He even bought birdseed that was, like, premium grade or whatever because he thought it would make the dove healthier and shinier.”

Chan shakes his head, his own laugh rumbling low in his chest. “And did it work? Did the guy fall for him?”

“Nope,” you say, giggling. “The guy was allergic to birds.”

Jisung collapses against the back of his chair, clutching his stomach as he laughs. “That’s fucking priceless. Felix trying to be Mr. Romantic and failing spectacularly. I love it.”

Chan grins, his eyes softening as he watches you laugh. “See? That’s exactly the kind of story we needed.”

You fiddle with the fidget cube again, but your breathing is steady now, the tension in your shoulders easing. Jisung nudges you lightly with his elbow, his grin still wide. “Feel a bit better?”

“Yeah,” you admit, glancing between them. “Thanks.”

Chan straightens up, offering you a hand. “Anytime. Now, let’s get back before someone claims your station.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you up, and for the first time that day, you feel like the world isn’t spinning quite so fast.

Chan and Jisung step inside the classroom, hand in hand as Jisung grins at whatever Chan whispers in his ear. Chan’s black cargos and fitted compression shirt make him look every bit the confident leader he is, his silver chain glinting under the fluorescent lights.

Jisung, in his black trousers and the striking red-and-black watercolour-style top, walks with a similar self-assurance, the chain around his neck catching the same light. They’re already the centre of attention without even trying, but their eyes immediately scan the room for one person. You.

You’re at your usual station, sitting on a chair, but something’s off. Your shoulders are hunched, practically touching your ears as you try to shrink into yourself. Two girls are standing in front of you, leaning in far too close, their voices carrying just enough for Chan and Jisung to catch snippets of what they’re saying.

“Come on,” one of them purrs. “You know them, right? Set us up, just for one night. That’s all we’re asking.”

“They’re into sharing,” the other adds, her tone smug. “Everyone knows it. It’s not like they’d say no.”

You’re gripping the edge of your chair tightly, your knuckles turning white as you avoid eye contact. The tension radiates off you, your lips pressed into a thin line. Your green cargo trousers and white sleeveless turtleneck are immaculate, your hair clipped up messily but beautifully, and your makeup flawless as always, but the way you’re folding into yourself tells them everything they need to know.

Chan’s jaw tightens, and Jisung’s grip on his hand briefly tightens before he lets go, stepping forward. “Oi,” Chan snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter in the room. “Leave her alone.”

Both girls turn, startled but not deterred. Their faces light up when they see Chan and Jisung approaching, and they immediately shift gears, their tones turning flirtatious.

“Oh, hey, guys,” the first girl says, batting her eyelashes. “We were just talking about you.”

“Yeah,” the second girl chimes in, smiling coyly. “We’ve been dying to get to know you better.”

Jisung rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Both of you, piss off,” he says flatly, his voice dripping with irritation.

The girls falter for a moment but recover quickly, leaning into their usual tactics. “Don’t be like that,” the first girl says, pouting. “We know you like adding a girl to your relationship. It’s your thing, right?”

The second girl glances toward you, who’s practically curled into yourself at this point. “You two seriously can’t be considering her,” she says, gesturing toward you with a sneer. “I mean, come on.”

Chan’s glare is immediate and lethal. His dark eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches as he takes a threatening step forward. “Watch your mouth,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Jisung scoffs, turning his full attention to the girls. “What? You think we’d go for you? Don’t make me fucking laugh.”

The girls’ confidence wavers under the combined weight of their disdain, but they don’t leave right away. Jisung doesn’t wait for them to figure it out. He turns back to you, his expression softening as he crouches slightly to meet your eyes. “Fuck this noise,” he says gently. “You wanna come with us to grab coffee?”

You glance up at him, your hands still trembling slightly, and nod, your relief visible even through your lingering anxiety.

“Good,” Jisung says, standing up. He grabs your tote bag without hesitation while Chan picks up your makeup kit.

As they turn to leave, both of them shoot the girls looks that could kill. “Stay the fuck away from her,” Chan warns, his voice quiet but ice-cold.

Jisung doesn’t bother saying anything else, but the sharp glare he throws over his shoulder speaks volumes. Together, they guide you out of the classroom, their presence on either side of you making you feel safer with every step. The noise and tension of the room fade behind you as the door swings shut.

Once you’re in the hallway, Jisung flashes you a small, reassuring smile. “Let’s go get something sweet”

Chan nods, his expression softening now that you’re away from the chaos. “You’re with us. Don’t worry about anything else.”

The campus café is quiet at this time of day, a soft hum of conversation blending with the low buzz of the espresso machines. Chan leads the way to a corner table in the back, where it’s more secluded. He sets your makeup case down on the floor beside the table as Jisung pulls out a chair for you before plopping into one himself.

“What do you want to drink?” Chan asks, his voice steady and calm as he takes the seat opposite you.

You shake your head quickly, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m fine, really.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, leaning forward on his elbows. “Nope! Anxiety will not let you dehydrate on my watch,” he declares, his tone light but firm. “How about this, you can pay for the coffee next time. Sound good?”

You hesitate, glancing between them, but their expressions are so genuine, so patient, that you finally nod. “Okay. An iced caramel mocha, please.”

“Good choice,” Jisung says with a grin, leaning back in his chair.

As Chan heads toward the counter to order, Jisung places your tote bag on the table, his eyes lighting up when he notices the corner of a sketchbook sticking out. “You have a sketchbook?” he asks, already tugging it free.

“Yeah,” you reply, feeling a little self-conscious but smiling faintly. “If cosmetology and SFX don’t work out, tattooing is the backup plan.”

Jisung’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “Can I peek?” he asks, his voice practically buzzing with excitement.

You nod, and he immediately cracks it open, flipping through the pages with wide eyes. “Ooh, I want that one,” he says, pointing to a minimalist snake design winding around a crescent moon. “And that one.” He gestures to a geometric wolf. “Oh, absolutely that one.” His finger lands on an intricate floral skull.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “If you like them so much, pencil your name next to the ones you want.”

“Done,” Jisung says, digging into your tote bag for a pencil. Instead of a pencil, his hand brushes against a box of tattoo pens, and he pulls it out, eyes sparkling. “Oooh! Can I have one now?”

“Sure,” you say, sliding the box toward him. “Pick a colour.”

Jisung immediately grabs a black pen and places it in your hand instead. “Draw something cool on me.”

There’s a smile on your lips as you grab his hand. His fingers twitch slightly as you adjust his position, your own hand steady as you start outlining a skeletal hand on the back of his. The pen glides smoothly over his skin, and you fall into your rhythm, focusing on each careful line.

Jisung watches you intently, his eyes darting between your concentrated expression and the design appearing on his hand. “This is so fucking cool,” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch you work. “Seriously, how are you this good?”

You shrug, not looking up. “Practice.”

By the time Chan returns with the drinks, Jisung’s hand already resembles a realistic skeleton hand in progress. Chan places your iced caramel mocha in front of you before sitting down with his own coffee. His gaze falls on Jisung’s hand, and his eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s this?”

“She’s giving me the coolest skeleton hand tattoo,” Jisung says proudly, holding his hand up briefly before letting you continue. “It’s semi-permanent. How long will it last?” he asks, glancing at you.

“About two weeks,” you reply, still focused on adding shading to the bones. “If you’re careful.”

“Careful?” Jisung scoffs. “Have you met me?”

Chan chuckles, leaning back in his chair to watch you work. “Guess we’ll see how long it survives. It’s a good look for you, though.”

Jisung grins, wiggling his fingers slightly, earning a small scolding from you as you steady his hand again. “I feel like a badass already.”

“You already are,” Chan says with a smirk, taking a sip of his coffee.

You finish the final details on Jisung’s skeleton hand, stepping back to admire your work. The clean black lines trace over his skin perfectly, each bone detailed with just enough shading to make it look almost real. “There,” you say, setting the pen down for a moment. “Done.”

Jisung twists his hand to get a better look, his grin widening. “Holy shit, this is incredible. You’re a fucking magician.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you reply with a faint smile, wiping your hands on a napkin.

“No, seriously. It’s so good!” Jisung glances at you, his grin turning sly. “So, can I have another?”

You arch an eyebrow but grab the pen again, motioning for him to roll up his sleeve. “What do you want this time?”

He taps his chin, pretending to think. “How about a sword? With a snake wrapped around it. Make it badass.”

“Got it,” you say, leaning over to begin sketching on his forearm. The pen glides smoothly over his skin as you map out the shape of the blade, the hilt, and the curling snake.

As you work, Jisung leans back slightly, looking over at Chan with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey, Chan. Baby. Sexy man.”

Chan gives him a flat look. “What.”

“How do you feel about Jisung’s bitch on your forehead with the tattoo pen?”

“No.”

Jisung pouts dramatically. “No hesitation? Not even a little consideration?”

“Not even a little,” Chan replies, sipping his coffee calmly.

You shake your head, biting back a smile as you continue detailing the snake coiling around the sword. The tip of the blade points toward Jisung’s wrist, and the snake’s head curves menacingly near the hilt, its fangs bared.

“Could we count this as a date?” Jisung asks suddenly, his voice casual but his grin anything but.

Your hand falters slightly, and you cough, your head snapping up to look at him. Before you can respond, Chan kicks him under the table, the dull thud making Jisung wince.

“Kidding! Kidding!” Jisung says quickly, throwing up his free hand in surrender. “Totally joking.”

You narrow your eyes slightly but don’t say anything, your focus snapping back to his arm as you continue detailing the snake’s scales with delicate precision.

While your attention is on the drawing, Chan leans forward slightly, his eyes narrowing at Jisung and he mouths, What are you doing?

Jisung shrugs dramatically, mouthing back, What?! It was worth a shot!

Chan rolls his eyes and mouths, Idiot.

Jisung grins, leaning closer to mouth back, At least now she might realise we’re interested.

Chan glares, his lips pressing into a tight line, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans back in his chair, his gaze softening as he watches you work.

You finish detailing the snake’s body, adding a hint of depth to its scales, before leaning back to examine your work. “Done,” you say. “What do you think?”

Jisung lifts his arm, turning it this way and that to admire the sword-and-snake design. His grin stretches from ear to ear. “It’s fucking perfect. You’re a genius.”

Chan nods in agreement, his voice warm. “It looks incredible.”

You glance between them, your cheeks warming slightly at their praise. “Thanks.”

As Jisung continues marvelling at his arm, you finally allow yourself a small smile, feeling a strange but welcome sense of ease in their company.

The Alpha Phi frat house is quieter than usual, a rare lull in the usual chaos. You make your way up the stairs, your sneakers squeaking faintly against the worn wood. Felix is at a culinary practical class, which means you have a golden window of opportunity to talk to Minho without your overprotective twin hovering nearby.

Reaching Minho’s room, you hesitate for a second before knocking twice and pushing the door open. The familiar scent of his room, clean laundry mixed with a faint hint of cologne, greets you as you step inside.

“Hey there, anxiety bundle,” Minho greets from his bed, where he’s lying with his phone in hand, scrolling lazily. He glances up, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You can’t help but grin, hopping onto the bed beside him. “Hi, Min.”

He sets his phone down, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you more closely. “So, what’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

You take a deep breath, fiddling with the hem of your cropped turtleneck. “I wanted to talk to you about Chan and Jisung.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Chan and Jisung, huh? Have you ever even spoken to them?”

You bite your lip, nodding. “Yeah, they’re, uh, my models for my cosmetology and SFX extra credit stuff.”

“Interesting,” Minho says, his tone light but curious. He leans back against his pillows, giving you his full attention. “Go on.”

“They’re actually super cool to hang out with,” you admit, your voice softening as you pick at an invisible thread on the blanket. “But, we went to a café a couple of days ago, and Jisung asked if it was a date.”

Minho’s other eyebrow joins the first, his expression shifting to something more knowing. “You can’t tell they’re both into you?”

You blink at him, caught completely off guard. “Huh?”

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting up fully. “Come on, everyone in the frat but Lix knows. They’re not subtle. They like you and want you as a third in their relationship. A little polyamorous trio.”

You freeze, the words sinking in like a stone dropping into a still pond. “No. No way. No, I can’t- Nope. Nuh-uh. I am not relationship material. Nope. No way.”

Minho stares at you for a moment before letting out a low chuckle. “Okay, no breakdowns here. Deep breaths. You’re spiralling.”

“I���m not spiralling,” you protest weakly, even as your chest tightens.

“Right.” Minho reaches for the edge of his blanket, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m going to blanket burrito you and then cuddle you until your stresses flow out of you. Arms free, of course, so you don’t feel too restricted.”

Before you can argue, he’s already wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, tucking it securely but leaving your arms free just as he promised. “There we go,” he says, satisfied with his work. “Comfy?”

You hum softly, leaning into his side as he pulls you closer. “Yeah. Surprisingly.”

Minho shifts slightly, adjusting the blanket around you as he tucks you closer into his side. His warmth seeps into you, and for the first time today, the tension in your shoulders starts to ease.

“So,” Minho begins, his tone light but teasing, “what do you wanna talk about? We cannot under any circumstances talk about black-haired football captains and silver-haired journalism students who wanna fuck you in what could possibly be the hottest threesome and three-way relationship to walk the earth. Anything but that horror, which I am wildly jealous of but we can’t discuss because you’re in an anxiety burrito.”

“Shut up!” you exclaim, smacking his arm lightly, though you can’t help the small laugh that escapes.

Minho gasps dramatically. “Excuse me. Everything I say is a blessing. Don’t silence the gospel.”

You roll your eyes, relaxing further against him. “Fine. Let’s talk about you and Lix. What’s going on there?”

Minho groans, tilting his head back against the headboard. “We’re, like, together. Without the labels.”

“Loser,” you mutter, smirking as you nudge his side.

His head snaps back down, and he glares at you playfully. “Listen here, brat. It’s your brother’s fault, alright? One minute he’s all over me, sucking my dick like it’s the cure to cancer, and the next, he’s chatting up and fucking every Theta Tau asshole who so much as glances in his direction.”

You grimace but can’t stop yourself from laughing. “Oh my God, Minho.”

“It’s true!” Minho insists, throwing up his hands. “Do you know how fucking confusing that is?”

You sit up slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you consider him. “Have you ever considered that Felix wants you to make the move?”

Minho pauses, his brow furrowing. “Huh. No. No, I did not. That actually makes sense.”

“You’re welcome,” you say with a smug smile. “I give sound relationship advice. Can’t follow it myself, but hey, it’s called anxiety.”

Minho snorts, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Fucking nerd. Alright, Yoda, explain this wisdom to me.”

“It’s simple,” you say, leaning back against him. “Felix probably doesn’t want to make things official because he’s scared of messing it up. He’s waiting for you to say something.”

Minho hums thoughtfully, his arm tightening slightly around your shoulders. “Okay. Fair point. I’ll think about it.”

There’s a beat of silence before Minho glances down at you, his smirk creeping back onto his face. “Now, back to you.”

“Nope,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “We’re done talking about me.”

“Look,” Minho begins, ignoring you completely. “You’re hot. Chan’s hot. Jisung’s hot. And those two have got it bad for you, sweetcheeks. I’m talking down horrendously bad. Me mooning over your brother? Nothing on those two.”

You groan, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Minho, stop.”

“Not a chance,” he says, his voice growing more serious. “You think you’re not relationship material, but I’ve seen the way they look at you. They’d bend over backwards to make you happy. You deserve that. You really do.”

You don’t respond, your fingers absently twisting the blanket’s edge. Minho doesn’t push further, letting his words sink in as he pulls you closer to his side, his presence steady and comforting.

“Anyway,” Minho says after a moment, his teasing tone returning, “I’m pretty sure Felix and I are the blueprint for dysfunctional relationships, so if I can make it work, you’ve got no excuse.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he replies, grinning. For now, the weight of his words lingers, but it feels less like a burden and more like a possibility you can slowly start to consider.

The classroom hums with the usual pre-class energy. Students chatting, tools clinking against palettes, and brushes being sorted. Chan and Jisung are already seated at your station when you walk in, your steps hesitant. You’re dressed in green cargo trousers, black Converse, and a black cropped turtleneck, your hair messily clipped up as always. Your makeup is, as usual, flawless, the sharpness of your eyeliner contrasting starkly with the apprehension in your eyes.

But today, something’s off.

Chan notices it first. You don’t greet them like usual, instead setting your tote bag and kit on the table with trembling hands. Jisung picks up on it seconds later when you don’t return his grin or meet his gaze. You sit down silently, immediately busying yourself with unpacking your materials, your movements stiff and hurried.

“Hey,” Jisung says softly, leaning forward slightly. “You good?”

You don’t answer, pretending to focus on your brushes as if they’re suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Your fingers fumble as you arrange them, the clinking sound drawing Chan’s attention. He exchanges a quick glance with Jisung, his brow furrowing.

“Y/N,” Chan tries, his tone low and gentle. “What’s going on?”

Still, you don’t respond. Instead, you grab your palette and turn to Jisung, gesturing for his arm. “I’m starting with the scarring,” you mumble, your voice so soft they almost miss it.

Jisung hesitates but holds out his arm, watching as you grab a brush and start applying a base layer. Your focus is razor-sharp, but something about the way your hands move feels mechanical, like you’re running on autopilot. You won’t look at him, your gaze glued to your work.

Jisung glances at Chan again, his worry evident. “Okay,” he says cautiously, trying to keep the mood light. “Guess we’re skipping the chit-chat today.”

No reaction.

As you work on creating realistic scarring up his forearm, Jisung tries again. “You know, I was thinking, maybe I should start a petition for you to do our makeup at frat parties. You’d probably get us a shit ton of attention.”

Still nothing. You don’t even crack a smile, your brush moving methodically as you blend shades of red and brown into his skin. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable.

Chan leans back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table as he studies you. He doesn’t say anything, but his dark eyes flicker with concern, his lips pressed into a thin line.

When you finish Jisung’s arm, you finally glance up, just to grab another tool, before quickly averting your gaze again. “Switching to facial injuries,” you mumble, turning toward Chan without waiting for a response.

Chan shifts in his chair slightly, his posture relaxing as he nods. “Go ahead.”

You step closer, your movements still stiff as you start creating a gash on his cheekbone. Your hands remain steady, but your avoidance is glaringly obvious. You don’t meet his eyes, even when you have to angle his face toward the light. Instead, you keep your focus strictly on your work, avoiding any interaction.

Jisung leans his chin on his hand, watching you carefully. “You know, we’re here, right?” he says softly, his usual playful tone replaced with genuine concern.

Your hand falters slightly, but you quickly recover, your expression unreadable. “I know,” you mutter, still not looking at either of them.

Chan tilts his head as you add depth to the injury, his voice low and steady. “You don’t have to say what’s bothering you if you’re not ready. But you can. We’re not going anywhere.”

Your hands are trembling so violently now that you can barely hold the brush. The classroom feels too loud, too bright, too crowded, like the walls are closing in around you. The edges of your vision blur as you inhale sharply, your breaths coming too fast and too shallow.

“I- Excuse me,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling as much as your hands.

Without waiting for a response, you push back from the table, nearly knocking over your chair in your haste to leave. You don’t even think to grab your tote bag or kit as you rush out the door, the classroom’s noise fading into an overwhelming silence.

Chan and Jisung are on their feet immediately, exchanging a single, knowing look. They don’t need to speak to understand what’s happening. Jisung recognizes the signs, he’s been there too many times himself, and Chan has seen this far too often when helping Jisung through his panic attacks.

“We’re going after her,” Jisung says, already heading for the door.

Chan nods as he follows. “Of course.”

They move quickly through the hallway, scanning for any sign of you. It doesn’t take long for Jisung to notice the slightly ajar door to the empty classroom they’d taken you to before. He pushes it open gently, the hinges creaking faintly, and the sight inside makes both of them freeze.

You’re crouched down near the far wall, your head in your hands as you tug on your hair with trembling fingers. Your whole body is trembling, and your breaths come in short, ragged gasps that hitch and catch painfully in your throat. It’s clear you’re spiralling fast.

Jisung and Chan exchange another glance, unspoken understanding passing between them. Chan steps forward first, closing the door quietly behind them while Jisung pulls the blinds down to block out the outside world. They’re careful, their movements measured and deliberate, as if any sudden motion might make things worse.

Jisung crouches down in front of you, his voice soft but steady. “Hey, what do you need? I know it’s hard to answer right now, but I’ve been here before. For me, a hug helps, a tight one. It compresses my nervous system and calms me down. You’ll fight it at first, but it’s just me and Chan. You’re safe with us, okay?”

You nod faintly, your fingers twitching as you try to loosen your grip on your hair. Your breaths are still shallow, but you’re trying, and Jisung can see it in the way your shoulders rise and fall unevenly.

“Good,” Jisung says gently, shifting to sit behind you. He carefully takes your hands, pulling them away from your hair and holding them in his own for a moment before guiding your body to rest against his. “I’m gonna hug you now, alright? Just let me help.”

He wraps his arms tightly around your chest, holding you firmly but not uncomfortably, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head. “Just me,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Chan crouches in front of you, his eyes soft with concern. “My turn,” he says quietly, leaning in to wrap his arms around both you and Jisung, enveloping you in a warm, grounding embrace. You’re sandwiched between them, their bodies a protective barrier against the storm raging inside you.

“Just breathe,” Chan murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

Jisung presses his cheek against the back of your head, his voice equally calm. “Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow and steady.”

It’s hard. Your chest feels tight, and the panic claws at you, but their warmth and steady presence start to chip away at the edges of the fear. Jisung’s hold is grounding, his arms firm and secure, while Chan’s presence in front of you feels like a shield against the world.

“You’re doing so good,” Jisung says softly, his fingers lightly brushing against your forearms. “Just keep going. We’ve got you.”

Chan’s hands rub gentle circles on your back, his movements synchronized with Jisung’s reassurances. “That’s it. Keep going. One breath at a time.”

Slowly, the tension in your body begins to ease. Your breaths become a little less ragged, a little more controlled. The trembling subsides bit by bit, though your body still feels exhausted from the panic.

“You’re okay,” Jisung whispers, his voice soft as he rests his forehead against the back of your head. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Chan pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, his hands still resting gently on your shoulders. “Better?” he asks, his voice warm and patient.

You nod weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Jisung presses a light, reassuring kiss to the top of your head before helping you sit up straighter. “No need to thank us. We’re here for you. Always.”

“Want to talk about why you’re an anxious bundle of nerves today?” Chan asks gently, his eyes locked on yours. There’s no judgment in his tone, just patience and concern.

You hesitate for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, but the warmth of their presence gives you enough courage to speak. Once you start, though, the words spill out in a frantic, barely coherent rush.

“It’s—it’s Minho,” you stammer, your voice shaky and fast. “He said you two like me, and not just like me, like like me like me, and then he said something about polyamory and a three-way relationship, and I-look, I can’t do that. I don’t want to come between you two, you’re perfect together, and I don’t even know how to be in a regular relationship, let alone something like that! I mean, I’m definitely not relationship material. I overthink everything-”

“Wait, wait, slow down,” Chan says, his lips twitching in an effort to suppress a smile as he tries to keep up with your rapid-fire rambling.

Jisung giggles, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Silly girl,” he says, his tone playful and affectionate. “You wouldn’t be coming between us. There’d be three of us in the relationship. That’s kind of the point.”

You pause, your brain short-circuiting at the simplicity of his words. “I… what?”

Jisung squeezes you tighter, his grin widening. “Three of us. Not you versus me or Chan. All of us together. Team effort.”

“Exactly,” Chan chimes in, his voice steady and calm. He leans in slightly, his dark eyes warm as they meet yours. “Tell you what. Jisung and I will take you on one date. Just one. No pressure, no expectations. If you decide polyamory isn’t for you, we’ll stay just friends. No hard feelings.”

You blink at them, your heart racing as you try to process everything. “One date?” you echo, your voice almost disbelieving.

“One date,” Chan confirms, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Just to see how it feels. No strings attached.”

Jisung nods eagerly. “And if it’s not your thing, that’s fine. We still get to hang out with you and be your friends, which is already pretty fucking great.”

You look between them, the sincerity in their expressions making your chest tighten in a way that’s equal parts terrifying and comforting. Finally, you nod, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. “Okay. One date.”

Jisung cheers softly, his arms tightening around you. “Yes! I’m calling this a win.”

Chan chuckles, resting a hand on Jisung’s back as he looks at you. “Thank you for trusting us.”

As you sit there, sandwiched between them, the panic that had consumed you earlier feels like it’s beginning to fade, replaced by a tentative sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.

The low rumble of a sleek black convertible echoes through the quiet street as Chan pulls up outside your apartment building, the hood already down. The car gleams under the dim glow of the streetlights, a perfect reflection of its owner’s effortless confidence. Jisung sits in the backseat, his cropped leather blazer catching the light as he leans against the side of the car, a casual grin on his face.

Chan, in black trousers and boots with a white half-buttoned shirt over a black turtleneck, rests one arm on the steering wheel as he glances up at your building. He checks the time briefly before looking at Jisung. “You think Minho’s keeping Felix distracted long enough?”

Jisung snickers, adjusting his silver chain. “Please. If anyone can manage Felix, it’s Minho. The man dragged him to a love hotel. They’re probably too busy fucking to even think about anything else right now.”

The sound of the building’s front door opening pulls both their attention, and their conversation stops. You step outside, your beige flares swishing slightly with each step, white sneakers bright against the pavement. Your white bandeau crop top hugs your figure, and your half-up, half-down hair style gives you a polished but relaxed look, the little bun at the back bouncing slightly as you walk.

Jisung’s grin widens as he scrambles out of the backseat and around to the sidewalk, opening the door for you with a dramatic bow. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” you reply with a teasing smile, sliding into the backseat next to him. Your movements are smooth, but there’s a flicker of nervous energy in your hands as you buckle in.

Chan glances over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You like fast driving?”

You nod, settling into your seat. “Yeah, why not?”

Chan doesn’t need any more encouragement. He slams his foot on the gas, and the car roars to life, speeding down the street. The wind whips through your hair, and your laughter spills out, unrestrained and genuine. You throw your hands up, tipping your head back as the city lights blur into streaks of colour.

Jisung wraps an arm around your shoulders, his touch light enough to give you space to pull away if you want. Instead, you lean into him, your laughter bubbling over as the wind rushes past. Chan watches the two of you through the rearview mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he navigates the empty streets with ease.

“Disclaimer,” you say between giggles, “I had an edible brownie to help my anxiety, so I’m kind of stoned right now.”

Jisung’s eyes widen with delight. “Oh my God. When I thought you couldn’t get any hotter.” He nudges Chan with his free hand. “She’s one of us, Chan! A stoner!”

Chan snorts, his eyes flicking to the mirror again. “I’m sober, don’t worry. I wouldn’t drive stoned.”

“Obviously,” Jisung says, grinning. “I had a joint earlier, though, so we’re vibing, Y/N. You and me? Stoner solidarity.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Good to know I’m in good company.”

Chan hums thoughtfully. “I will steal one of those brownies later, though, if you’re offering.”

“Sure,” you say easily, your gaze softening. “I’ve seen your place already. You can come over and meet my dog. He’s a golden retriever. His name’s Simba.”

“Dream woman,” Chan says, his voice warm and genuine. “Dog lover, brownie maker, and she likes fast cars. What’s not to love?”

You laugh again, feeling the edges of your nerves melt away in the company of their easy banter. The car speeds forward into the night, the three of you riding the high of the moment, figuratively and, in your case, literally. It feels like freedom, like something new and exciting, and for once, you’re more eager than anxious about what comes next.

The sleek black convertible pulls up to the brightly lit bowling alley, its neon sign casting a kaleidoscope of colours on the pavement. Jisung hops out first, his black trousers swishing as he moves, and he offers you a hand with a playful grin, and you take it, sliding out of the car.

Before you can step away, Jisung wraps an arm around your waist, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your beige flares. “You ready for this?” he asks, his tone warm and teasing.

You glance at him, your nerves bubbling up again, but before you can respond, you feel Chan’s gaze on you. His dark eyes are soft but questioning, waiting for permission. You nod shyly, and he steps closer, draping his arm over your shoulders with a casual ease that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Now we’re ready,” Chan says with a small smirk, steering you toward the entrance as Jisung keeps his arm snugly around your waist.

The trio walks through the glass doors, greeted by the bustling atmosphere of the bowling alley. The place smells like popcorn and pizza, and the sound of bowling balls crashing into pins echoes around you. Chan leads the way to the counter, where a guy in a red-and-white uniform greets him with a friendly smile.

“Got a booking under Bang,” Chan says smoothly, his tone low and confident.

The employee nods, checking the screen and handing him a set of shoes. Meanwhile, Jisung leans closer to you, his voice conspiratorial. “Must be nice, huh?”

You giggle, glancing at Chan as he talks to the guy like it’s second nature. “I’d be half passed out by this point talking to another human like that.”

Jisung snorts, his laugh low and infectious. “Right? Meanwhile, Mr. Smooth over here acts like he owns the place.”

Chan turns back to you both, raising an eyebrow. “You two gossiping about me?”

“Always,” Jisung replies without missing a beat, his grin cheeky as Chan rolls his eyes and leads you down a side hallway.

At the end of the hallway is a door marked Private Lane. Chan opens it with a flourish, stepping aside to let you and Jisung walk in first. The private lane is sleek and modern, with plush seating and mood lighting that makes it feel more like a lounge than a bowling alley.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Smooth,” Jisung says, plopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

Chan ignores him, instead turning his attention to you. “So, have you ever bowled before?”

You hesitate for a split second before shaking your head. “No,” you say, your voice soft.

Chan quirks an eyebrow, and Jisung’s grin widens. “Never?” Chan asks, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“Nope,” you lie smoothly, hoping they won’t catch on.

“Well then,” Chan says, grabbing a bowling ball from the rack and holding it out to you, “we’ll have to teach you.”

“Absolutely,” Jisung chimes in, standing up and grabbing another ball. He rests it on his hip as he walks over to you. “This is gonna be fun.”

You smile, biting back your nerves as they both step closer, their expressions eager and intent. You might not be a complete novice at bowling, but right now, the idea of their hands guiding yours and their attention entirely on you feels worth a little white lie.

Chan rolls up his sleeves and grabs a bowling ball from the rack, his silver chain catching the light as he steps to the lane. “Alright, Y/N,” he says, holding the ball out to you. “Let’s start simple. Just grip it here and here.”

You take the ball, the weight of it heavier than you expected, and Chan steps behind you, close but not overwhelming. His hands rest lightly on your elbows as he adjusts your stance. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees a little.”

Jisung lounges on the nearby couch, a smug grin on his face. “Don’t drop it on your foot.”

“Helpful,” Chan mutters, shooting him a look before turning back to you. “Ignore him. Now, swing it back gently, then forward. Let it roll off your fingers when it feels right.”

His voice is low and patient, and you nod, following his instructions. With Chan’s hands steadying your arms, you swing the ball forward. It rolls down the lane with a satisfying thud, wobbling slightly before knocking over a few pins.

“Not bad,” Chan says, his voice warm with approval. “Let’s try that again.”

The game continues, and for the first few rounds, either Chan or Jisung is always there, standing behind you, guiding your movements. Jisung’s approach is less methodical than Chan’s, he’s more playful, cracking jokes and deliberately leaning close enough to make you laugh as he adjusts your grip.

“Alright, superstar,” Jisung says during your next turn, resting his chin on your shoulder for a moment as he lines up the shot with you. “This time, aim for the left side. Trust me.”

You roll your eyes but follow his advice, and the ball takes out a solid chunk of pins. Jisung cheers loudly, throwing his hands up like you’ve just won a championship. “See? I’m a genius!”

Chan laughs from his spot on the couch, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

The real chaos begins each time it’s Jisung’s turn. Instead of bowling normally, he walks up to the lane, turns his back to the pins, and bends over, rolling the ball between his legs. It glides perfectly down the centre of the lane, knocking down every pin in a clean strike.

“Fuck yeah!” Jisung yells, spinning around with his arms raised in victory. “Did you see that?”

“That shouldn’t even count,” Chan calls out, shaking his head in disbelief. “You didn’t even look!”

Jisung shrugs dramatically, grabbing another ball. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”

His next turn, he lies flat on his stomach at the start of the lane, pushing the ball forward with both hands. Once again, it rolls perfectly down the lane and crashes into the pins, scattering them everywhere.

“This is bullshit,” Chan mutters, standing up and grabbing a ball. “There’s no way you’re this lucky.”

“It’s not luck!” Jisung insists, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s raw talent.”

You can’t stop laughing, your sides aching as Jisung continues his streak of absurd bowling techniques. He tries spinning the ball while crouched like a frog, rolling it while hopping backwards, and even attempting to launch it from his lap while sitting. Somehow, every ridiculous method he tries results in a strike.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, shaking your head as you watch him collapse onto the couch, arms raised in mock exhaustion.

“Unbelievably good,” Jisung corrects, winking at you.

“Annoying is more like it,” Chan quips, his smirk softening the words.

The second game kicks off, and you decide it’s time to step up. Chan and Jisung exchange a glance as you grab a ball, their eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“You got this,” Chan says, leaning casually against the scoring console.

Jisung smirks from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his silver rings glinting as he gestures toward the lane. “Show us what you’ve learned, superstar.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. With confidence, you line up your shot, swing the ball back, and release it. It glides perfectly down the lane, straight into the pins, scattering them in a deafening crash. A clean strike.

The room falls silent for a split second before Jisung shoots up from the couch, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “We’ve been fucking hustled!”

You turn to him, feigning innocence as you shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jisung’s jaw drops dramatically. “Oh, you’re good. Real good. You just wanted us to feel you up, didn’t you?”

You duck your head, biting your lip to hide the shy smile that betrays you and Chan laughs as he steps forward, ruffling Jisung’s hair as he passes. “Oh, she did,” he says, his voice warm and teasing. “But don’t tease her too much, Ji. Look, you’ve made her all shy.”

Jisung grins, unbothered, and strides up behind you. Before you can step away, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. “Be honest,” he murmurs near your ear, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “You’ve bowled before, haven’t you?”

You nod once, still too shy to speak, and his nose brushes lightly against the side of your neck as he chuckles. “Little liar,” he whispers, his tone playful and affectionate.

Chan takes his turn at the lane, his throw smooth and precise, though he leaves two pins standing. He shakes his head as he turns back toward you, grinning as Jisung presses a kiss to the top of your head before letting you go.

While Chan preps for his spare, Jisung leans over to the control pad on the table and presses a few buttons. “You drink?” he asks, glancing at you.

You tilt your head curiously. “They have cocktails?”

Jisung nods, scrolling through the menu on the screen. “Yep. What’s your poison?”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your lip as you consider. “Hmm. Sex on the Beach.”

Jisung freezes for half a second before turning to you with a grin so wicked it makes your heart skip. “We could have sex on the bowling lane.”

Your jaw drops as you stare at him in shock, your eyes wide. “Jisung!”

He bursts out laughing, his arms wrapping around you again as he pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m kidding! You’re so easy to mess with, it’s adorable.”

You huff, though you can’t fight the laugh bubbling up as you swat his arm. “You’re impossible.”

“And you like it,” he quips, his grin softening as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Chan returns to the table, his spare successfully picked up, and raises an eyebrow at the two of you. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, shooting Jisung a look as he chuckles under his breath.

“Sure,” Chan says, his eyes narrowing slightly but the smile on his lips giving him away. “Whatever you say.”

Jisung, still grinning, reaches for the pad to confirm the drink order, adding a mock toast under his breath. “To bowling hustlers and adorable liars.”

The sleek convertible pulls up in front of your apartment building, its engine purring softly before Chan cuts it off. The night air is cool, brushing against your skin as you step out of the car andJisung hops out after you, his cropped leather blazer catching the streetlight as he stretches.

“This is the part where we find out if you’re a hoarder or if you’ve got some hidden skeletons in your closet,” he teases, falling into step beside you.

Chan chuckles, locking the car as he joins you both. “Don’t scare her off, Ji.”

You lead them up the stairs, your sneakers tapping lightly against the concrete as the three of you climb to your floor. At your door, you unlock it with a faint click and push it open, flipping on the lights. The warm, lived-in space comes into view, shelves lined with books and figurines, Attack on Titan posters framing one wall, and a collection of Harry Potter merch spread across various surfaces.

Jisung steps in first, his eyes immediately scanning the room. His mouth falls open slightly as he takes in the decor. “Anime and Harry Potter?” he says, his voice filled with awe. He turns to you with a playful grin. “You’ve officially made me fall in love.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you kick off your shoes. “It’s not that impressive.”

“It’s fucking heaven,” Jisung declares, his eyes darting from the Levi Ackerman figurine on your shelf to the Hufflepuff throw blanket draped over your couch.

Chan is about to respond when the soft patter of paws echoes through the apartment. Simba, your golden retriever, pads out from the hallway, his tail wagging lazily as he stops in front of Chan, sniffing curiously.

“Oh my God,” Chan breathes, crouching down immediately to pet the dog. His hand brushes over Simba’s soft fur, his face lighting up with pure joy. “He's adorable"

You watch Chan coo at Simba, scratching behind his ears. The dog leans into his touch, clearly pleased.

Jisung flops onto your couch, letting out a dramatic sigh and you sit next to him. “No, seriously. This apartment is heaven. Anime, Harry Potter, and now a golden retriever?” He looks at you, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You’re perfect.”

Before you can respond, Jisung leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your lips. His touch is fleeting, like he’s testing the waters, and his eyes widen immediately as he pulls back. “Uh, shit, sorry, I-”

You cut him off by leaning in and kissing him again, your hands lightly brushing against his chest. His surprise melts into a quiet groan as he deepens the kiss, his fingers tangling gently in your hair while his other hand finds its way to the small of your back.

Behind you, Chan stands up slowly, his dark eyes locked on the two of you. There’s a heat in his gaze, his tongue swiping over his lower lip as he watches, his hands slipping casually into his pockets.

Jisung pulls away just enough to look into your eyes, his breath warm against your lips. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmurs, a grin playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Only to you,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan steps forward, his boots clicking softly against the floor before he leans down and cups your face in his hands. His touch is gentle but firm as he tilts your chin up, his eyes searching yours for permission.

When you don’t pull away, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slower, deeper, and filled with intent. His thumbs brush against your jawline as he holds you steady, the kiss sending a shiver down your spine.

As Chan kisses you, Jisung doesn’t move far. Instead, he wraps his arms around you from behind, his lips finding the curve of your neck. He presses a series of soft, lingering kisses along your skin, his breath warm and his touch featherlight.

Chan pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he glances at Jisung over your shoulder. “You good back there?” he asks, his voice rough with a mix of humor and something darker.

Jisung grins against your neck, his hands tightening around your waist. “Oh, I’m very good,” he replies, his voice muffled as he presses another kiss to your neck.

Chan brushes his thumb gently against your cheek, his gaze steady and soft despite the heat simmering in his dark eyes. “If you don’t want to go any further, let us know,” he says quietly, his voice low and reassuring. “There’s no pressure.”

You take a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing at his words. Meeting his gaze, you manage a small, shy smile. “My bedroom is the door at the end of the hall.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Chan’s face before it’s replaced with a warm, knowing smile. He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and starts leading you toward the hallway. Behind you, Jisung remains attached to your back, his arms draped loosely around your waist as he follows your movements step for step.

The short walk feels longer than it is, your heart racing with anticipation. When you reach the door, Chan opens it for you, stepping inside first to take in the space before turning back to you and Jisung. The room is cosy and well-kept, the bed neatly made with soft, neutral tones, and fairy lights strung up around the walls giving it a warm glow.

Jisung’s eyes sparkle with excitement as he steps inside, still clinging to you. “Oooh! I get to dom! I haven’t done that in a while. Chan doesn’t let me dom him!”

You let out a shy giggle as he twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. “Is that so?”

Chan snorts, closing the door behind him. “That’s because you’re a menace, Ji.”

“And you love it,” Jisung retorts, grinning as he tugs lightly on the strand of hair before letting it fall back into place.

Chan steps closer, his gaze dropping to meet yours, his voice taking on a teasing edge. “You ready for all other men to be ruined for you?”

You nod, biting your lip nervously but unable to suppress the small, eager smile that tugs at your mouth.

Jisung’s grin softens as he gently cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You know this isn’t just a one-time thing, right?” His voice is quieter now, almost tentative, as if he needs to be sure.

You nod again, your hands lightly resting on his chest. “I know.”

Something shifts in Jisung’s expression, a mix of relief and exhilaration, before he leans in and kisses you, his lips warm and eager against yours. His hands slide down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he deepens the kiss. In one swift motion, he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he presses you back against the wall.

Chan steps closer, his hands brushing against Jisung’s shoulders as he tilts his head to kiss the side of Jisung’s neck. His lips trail up slowly, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses along Jisung’s skin, making him shiver slightly even as he keeps his focus on you.

Jisung pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing uneven but his grin still intact. “Ready for this, baby?”

You nod, your hands curling around the back of his neck as your chest presses against his. With both of them here, surrounding you with their attention and warmth, you’ve never felt safer or more wanted.

Three Months Later

The Alpha Phi frat house is as chaotic as ever, laughter and the faint hum of music filling the space as you step inside with Chan and Jisung. You’re wearing black cargo trousers, a lilac cropped lace camisole, and black Converse. Your hair is clipped up messily, stray strands framing your face, and your makeup is flawless as usual.

Jisung struts beside you, his black baggy jeans slung low enough to reveal the waistband of his black boxers. His cropped black long-sleeved top and silver chain make him look effortlessly edgy, and Chan, on your other side, is the perfect counterpoint with his black cargo trousers, sleek black t-shirt, leather jacket, and matching chain.

The three of you are greeted by the sight of Minho lounging on the couch with Felix perched in his lap, their positions far too cosy for anything innocent. Felix is giggling about something, his blonde hair tousled as Minho’s arms keep him firmly in place.

“What’s going on?” Felix asks, his bright eyes darting between the three of you as you hesitate near the doorway. There’s a curious tilt to his head, but his smile is easy and warm.

You open your mouth to speak but quickly close it again, glancing at Minho with wide eyes. At the same time, Jisung nudges Chan, who scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. Minho’s grip tightens on Felix’s waist as if bracing himself for impact. His knowing smirk is the only indication that he’s been expecting this moment for weeks.

Felix frowns slightly, leaning back against Minho. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jisung says, dragging out the words with a nervous laugh. “You could say that.”

Before Felix can ask anything else, you and Jisung simultaneously push Chan forward, using him as a shield as you step behind him. “You tell him,” Jisung whispers urgently, peeking over Chan’s shoulder.

Chan sighs, giving both of you a side-eye before turning to Felix. “Okay. Felix,” he starts, his tone careful but firm. “You know Jisung and I are together, right?”

Felix blinks, his expression turning incredulous. “Obviously. I’ve heard you two fuck in every part of the house.”

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before continuing. “Right. Well, we added a third to our relationship.”

Felix’s face lights up with excitement. “That’s great! Who is it?!”

Minho stares at Felix in disbelief, his lips parting slightly before he mutters, “Oh, Lix. You’re so pretty. So, so pretty.”

Jisung, still partially hidden behind Chan, snickers. “But dumb. Even compared to me.”

Felix’s head snaps toward Minho, his frown deepening. “Well?! Who is it?”

Minho sighs, rolling his eyes like he’s explaining something painfully obvious. “It’s Y/N.”

Felix tilts his head further, the frown deepening into confusion. “My sister Y/N?”

Chan, deadpan, replies, “No, another Y/N on campus.”

Felix’s eyes widen, looking between all of you. “Really?”

Minho groans, his hand dragging down his face. “So, so pretty.”

Everyone goes quiet, waiting for Felix to piece it together. Jisung and you peek over Chan’s shoulders, your expressions nervous but slightly amused as you watch the gears turning in Felix’s brain.

But nothing happens. Felix’s brow furrows, his mouth opening and closing like he’s about to speak but can’t find the words. Minho watches him for another few seconds before shaking his head in resignation.

“It’s not computing, is it?” Jisung whispers to you, his voice barely audible as he stifles a laugh.

You shake your head, biting your lip to hold back your own giggles. “Not at all.”

Felix finally bursts out, “Wait, so you’re telling me-”

Everyone leans in slightly, hopeful.

“-you, Jisung and Y/N are… like, all three of you?” His eyes dart between you, Jisung, and Chan, still visibly processing.

Minho buries his face in Felix’s shoulder with a groan. “Yes, baby. Yes, that’s exactly what we’ve been saying. God, you’re gorgeous, but your brain…”

Felix’s eyes narrow at Minho’s tone. “Shut up. I get it. I’m just surprised!” He turns to you, his voice higher-pitched now. “You? Really?”

Jisung pats Chan on the back. “We might be here a while.”

It’s been twenty minutes, and Felix is still sitting in Minho’s lap, staring blankly at the floor. His mouth occasionally opens as if he’s about to say something, only to snap shut again. Meanwhile, you and Jisung remain firmly behind Chan, who’s started tapping his foot against the hardwood floor, his arms crossed as his patience wears thin.

Minho gently strokes Felix’s arm, his voice soft but laced with teasing. “I know your little brain has processed it by now, baby. Come on, some emotion. Anything. You can do it.”

Felix blinks a few times before his gaze slowly shifts to you, his expression finally breaking out of the fog of shock. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says, his tone incredulous as he points at you. “You’ve never had a serious boyfriend in your life. Ever. Just random hookups! And now you come back with two boyfriends?”

Your eyes widen, and you glance at Jisung, who’s biting his lip to keep from laughing. Chan sighs heavily but stays silent as Felix continues his rant.

“What the fuck is this bullshittery?” Felix exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “It took me twenty fucking years to lock down one man! One! She meets these guys and bam! Two boyfriends! Just like that! The universe is sexist and homophobic!”

Jisung finally bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he leans on Chan for support. “It wasn’t like bam!” he protests between giggles. “There was a buildup, okay? Like two months of it. And now we’ve been happily dating for three months.”

Felix’s head snaps toward him, his jaw dropping. “Three months?! How the fuck did I not notice?”

Minho, who’s been quietly holding back his own laughter, smirks. “You didn’t notice because I was deployed as your distraction.” He leans closer to Felix’s ear, his voice dropping slightly. “Every time Chan and Jisung left to see Y/N, I railed you into next week.”

Felix makes a choking noise, his cheeks going bright red. “Minho!”

Minho grins shamelessly, brushing a strand of Felix’s hair back. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Felix glares at him for a moment before sighing dramatically and turning back to you, Jisung, and Chan. He points at you, his expression serious. “Okay! Fine! But if either of you hurt her,” he says, directing his attention to Jisung and Chan, “I did taekwondo for twelve years, and I’ll fuck you up.”

Jisung salutes him, his grin wide. “Noted.”

Chan nods solemnly. “Fair warning. Got it.”

Felix leans back against Minho, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Now, Minho, take me somewhere where I can cry, scream, and throw up to process this bullshit. Because now I have the knowledge that my friends are Eiffel towering my sister!”

He gags dramatically, covering his face with both hands as Minho finally loses his composure and laughs openly. “Alright, baby,” Minho says, standing up and hoisting Felix with him like he weighs nothing. “Let’s get you somewhere private to let it all out.”

As Minho carries Felix toward the stairs, Felix shoots you one last look, his hand flailing in mock accusation. “This isn’t over, Y/N! I need therapy!”

As Felix and Minho disappear up the stairs, you let out a heavy sigh. “Booze,” you say firmly, your tone decisive. “I need booze.”

Jisung perks up immediately, grinning like the devil himself. “The kitchen is more of a bar than a place we store food. Let’s go.” He takes your hand, leading you toward the kitchen as Chan follows, shaking his head fondly. “And hey, if you’re nice, I’ll roll us some joints.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as you step into the spacious but chaotic kitchen. “Am I not always nice?”

Jisung freezes for a second before turning to you with wide eyes and an apologetic grin. “Kidding! Kidding, baby!” He tugs you closer and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Tell you what, we can even use my cherry papers.”

That earns a smile from you, the edges of your tension softening. “Deal.”

Chan rolls his eyes, already moving toward the counter to pull down glasses. “You two are impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words.

Jisung skips over to a cupboard and pulls out a tin labelled Jisung’s Shit in bold, slightly crooked letters. He pops it open on the counter, revealing a neatly arranged collection of rolling papers, a grinder, and a stash that smells distinctly skunky and sweet. “What’ll it be?” he asks over his shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows. “Straight joints, spliffs, or my famous two-layer combo?”

“Famous?” Chan interjects as he pours three hefty servings of whiskey into the glasses. “Last time you made that, you couldn’t get off the couch for six hours.”

“Which means it worked,” Jisung retorts, sticking his tongue out before turning back to you. “Your call, baby.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you lean against the counter. “Keep it simple tonight.”

Jisung mock-salutes you, grabbing the papers and his grinder with an exaggerated flourish. As he works, Chan slides a glass into your hand, his own already in his other. “Here,” he says, his tone warm.

You take a sip, the burn of the whiskey grounding you almost immediately. Jisung hums softly to himself as he rolls, his hands deft and practised. It’s a strangely comforting sight, the three of you falling into this rhythm together, the chaos of earlier fading into the background.

Jisung finishes quickly, holding up the joint with a grin. “And voilà. Cherry perfection.” He lights it with a flourish, taking a quick puff before passing it to you.

You take it carefully, the sweet smoke curling into the air as you take a slow, cautious drag. The tension in your chest eases a little more, replaced by a warmth that’s equal parts the whiskey, the weed, and the presence of the two men beside you.

Chan clinks his glass against yours, his smile soft but teasing. “So, what’s the verdict? Does this make up for your brother’s meltdown?”

You snort, shaking your head. “It helps. He’s going to be a drama queen about this for weeks, though.”

Jisung leans against your side, draping an arm over your shoulders. “Good thing you’ve got us, huh? We’ll keep you sane.”

“You say that like you two aren’t half my stress,” you tease, earning a loud laugh from both of them.

As the night wears on, the three of you settle into easy conversation, the kitchen filled with laughter and the faint haze of smoke. It’s not perfect, and the chaos of the day still lingers at the edges, but for now, it feels enough. You’re surrounded by warmth, care, and a sense of belonging that you hadn’t expected to find but now that you have it, you’re not letting it go.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

Requested By: @omgsquee2001

[liyliths]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 a jujutsu kaisen college au

౨ৎ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

summary: you, a journalism major in the newspaper club, get assigned to interview the hottest star quarterback on usc's football team for the season, satoru gojo. he’s everything you avoid—charming to a fault, a notorious womanizer, and the king of the college frat scene. the real question is, will you see through his charm, or will you fall for the one person you swore you never would?

As Y/N reached for her water bottle in her backpack, Satoru leaned back in his chair casually, tilting his head as she studied the girl sat in front of him. “Can’t say I mind being interviewed by someone so cute,” he said, his grin widening. Y/N froze mid-sip, feeling her cheeks flush involuntarily. The words hit her like a curveball, and she nearly choked on her water, coughing as she tried to regain her composure, not daring to look the white-haired boy just feet away from her in the eye. Satoru’s grin turned into a laugh, and he held up his hands in mock apology. “Too soon? Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

pairings: football and frat!satoru gojo x journalism major!reader

contains: fem!reader, opposites to lovers, slow burn, situationship core, angst and comfort, cursing, suggestive content although sfw, idiots denying they're in love

word count: 4k

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Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Y/N woke up to the sharp hum of her phone vibrating incessantly against the nightstand. She groaned, stirring underneath her bedsheets, her arm flopping out from underneath the covers to silence the offending noise. Across the room, her roommate, Shoko Ieiri, mumbled something unintelligible into her pillow as she rolled onto her stomach. 

“Turn it off,” Shoko grumbled dramatically, her voice thick with sleep. “It’s Saturday.”

“It’s Wednesday,” Y/N muttered, squinting at the screen as she brought the phone to her face, her eyes adjusting to the bright light.

She felt her heart sink into her stomach immediately at the sight of a missed call from Utahime Iori, one of the organizers of the Daily Trojan, USC’s newspaper organization. A flurry of text notifications followed, the words blurring together until one specific phrase caught her attention.

Last minute opportunity to interview Satoru Gojo before his football practice, be there in 15 minutes. Sorry for the short notice, I was just able to fit it in.

Y/N bolted upright with her hair falling in front of her face, panic jolting her fully awake. “Shit!”

Shoko, who was desperately trying to sleep in just a bit longer groaned again, rolling over to groan at Y/N from beneath her sleeping mask. “What now?”

“I have an interview with Satoru Gojo,” Y/N said, scrambling out of bed and nearly tripping over her blanket in the process.

“Who?” Shoko muttered, though she was already drifting back to sleep. “Wait… that obnoxious guy with the white hair? I’ve always wondered why it’s like that… maybe you should ask.”

Y/N didn’t have any time to explain. She darted across the room, yanking open her closet and pulling out the first semi-presentable outfit she could find, because half of her clothes were dirty, hidden in a pile by the corner since she’d been so busy with recent assignments. She rifled through her desk drawers for her notebook and pen, stuffing them into her bag along with her laptop. The whole time, her mind raced.

Why now? And why him?

Everyone on campus knew who Satoru Gojo was—the star quarterback of the football team, the face of USC athletics, a charming member of the frat Sigma Chi, and, infamously, a walking ego wrapped in a shit-eating grin. She’d never formally met him, but his reputation preceded him. He was everywhere—plastered on posters, featured in highlight reels, and constantly surrounded by a swarm of admirers. 

And now she had to interview him. Alone. In less than 10 minutes now.

No pressure.

Y/N tugged a comb through her hair, barely managing to tame the wild mess, and grabbed her phone. She quickly typed out a response to Utahime as she shuffled through her room, but she rolled her eyes as it autocorrected to: On my way!

“Good luck,” Shoko muttered through her pillow as Y/N bolted for the door.

“Thanks,” Y/N muttered under her breath, accidentally slamming the door behind her as she hurried.

Y/N rushed out of her dorm and made it through the crowded student center, dodging clusters of fellow peers with her bag slung over one shoulder, checking the time on her phone to see she was already late. Her heart raced—not just from the stressful walk, but from the growing nervousness that gnawed at her. She was on a tight schedule, and meeting Satoru Gojo of all people wasn’t doing anything to calm her nerves.

Especially knowing she was late. She hated being late.

Then, she spotted him almost instantly. He was pretty hard to miss.

The white-haired boy stood near a seating area, flanked by a group of girls who looked entirely too delighted to be in his presence, almost as if he were some kind of god. Somehow, the dude looked even better in person. He was handing a phone back to one of the girls, flashing a charming grin so bright it could have powered the entire building’s lights.

“Thanks, ladies,” he said smoothly, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets as they giggled their goodbyes.

Of course, Y/N thought. The campus celebrity himself.

Satoru turned, his eyes scanning the crowd from beneath his glasses, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might pass her by. But then his gaze locked onto her, and that infamous grin widened as they made eye contact. He strolled over casually, as if he had all the time in the world, stopping in his tracks just a few feet away.

“Oh hey, were you wanting a picture too, or…?”

Y/N blinked at him, thrown off by the sheer audacity. “Unfortunately, no,” she said bluntly, pulling her backpack off from her shoulders. “I’m here to do your interview for the student newspaper.”

Recognition flickered in Satoru’s expression, nodding to himself as he slyly took off his glasses, tucking them onto the hem of his shirt. As Y/N met his gaze, she was almost blinded by how blue his eyes were underneath the sunlight, looking between them in silent awe as he began to speak again, barely registering his words.

“You’re Y/N, right?” he questioned, sliding into the chair across from her with an ease that annoyed her more than it probably should have, snapping Y/N out of her daze as she gave a small nod. “Utahime told me you’d be coming. You’re late.”

Y/N sat her bag down carefully as she took a seat across from Satoru, resisting the urge to glare at him. His easy confidence at 8 AM was more irritating than impressive, and she didn’t quite feel like being serenaded on a random Wednesday morning. 

“It was late notice,” was all Y/N managed to say.

As she reached for her water bottle in her backpack, Satoru leaned back in his chair casually, tilting his head as she studied the girl in front of him. “Can’t say I mind being interviewed by someone so cute,” he said, his grin widening.

Y/N froze mid-sip, feeling her cheeks flush involuntarily. The words hit her like a curveball, and she nearly choked on her water, coughing as she tried to regain her composure, not daring to look the white-haired boy just feet away from her in the eye.

Satoru’s grin turned into a laugh, and he held up his hands in mock apology. “Too soon? Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

This is going to be a long morning, Y/N thought, glaring at him as she set her water bottle down a little harder than necessary. She opened the notebook she had fished out of her bag and clicked her pen, forcing herself to focus. “Let’s get started.”

“Straight to business, huh?” Satoru smirked, propping an arm over the top of his chair to stretch out. “You’re not gonna ask how my morning was first? Show a little charm?”

Y/N’s pen tapped against her notebook, and she gave him an exaggerated smile, putting on her best customer service voice as the cherry on top. “How was your morning, Satoru?”

“Better now,” he said with a sly wink.

Y/N’s smile disappeared and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she flipped to her first question. “You’ve had an impressive season so far. USC is 7-1, and you’re leading the conference in passing yards. How do you handle the pressure of being the face of the team?”

For a moment, Satoru’s expression shifted. The smirk faltered, replaced by something more thoughtful as he brought a hand to his chin. “Pressure’s part of the job,” he said, his tone more serious than Y/N expected. “You learn to tune it out—focus on the game, the plays. And, you know,” he chuckled, “when in doubt, throw the ball really far. That usually works.”

“That’s… surprisingly honest,” Y/N admitted, jotting down his response.

“Surprising?” Satoru grinned again, leaning forward this time, his elbows propped on the small table between them, just in front of Y/N’s notebook. “What’d you expect? Some arrogant speech about how I thrive in the spotlight?”

“Isn’t that your whole brand?” Y/N quipped before she could stop herself, cursing at herself in her head for it. It was too early for this.

He laughed, the sound loud and unapologetic. “Touche, Y/N. Apparently, it looks like you’ve been doing your research.” 

“Well, you make it easy. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Reputation?” Satoru raised an eyebrow. “Good or bad?”

Y/N paused as she jotted down her notes. “Depends who you ask,” she gave him a pointed look, but his grin widened, showing off his annoyingly perfect teeth.

“You’re good at this,” he said, tilting his head slightly while he looked between Y/N’s eyes. “I like you.”

How charming.

Y/N arched an eyebrow but didn’t take the bait. Ignoring the warmth creeping up her neck, she redirected, glancing up at him from her notebook, meeting his playful blue eyes. “Speaking of reputations, some people say you’re more focused on greek life than football. What would you say to them?”

For a second, something flashed in Satoru’s eyes—defensiveness, maybe, or irritation—but it was gone before Y/N could read it. “I’d say they don’t know what they’re talking about,” he said smoothly. “Partying’s just a warm-up. The field is where the real work happens.”

Y/N watched him carefully as she wrote down his response, adding, “Doesn’t the partying ever get in the way?”

“Not for me,” his grin turned almost wolfish. “Besides, I always make it to practice, but I can’t say the same for my teammates.”

“Right,” she said dryly, jotting down another note. “So, you’re saying you can do it all—party, play, win?”

“Exactly.” Satoru clicked. He sat in thought for a moment before a lightbulb suddenly appeared over his head, enthusiastically pointing at Y/N. “You should come to one of our games. You know, get the gist of it.”

“I’m here for an interview, not to become a fan,” she replied sharply, though the warmth on her cheeks betrayed her.

“Maybe you’ll end up doing both,” Satoru chimed with a shrug, studying Y/N with an intensity that made her shift in her seat, his eyes practically burning through her skull before he chuckled to himself.

“You don’t like me much, do you?”

“It’s not personal,” she said, shifting from her notebook to her computer, not tearing her eyes away from the screen as she typed away.

“Fair enough.” Satoru leaned back again, his smirk softening into something more genuine. As he waited for Y/N to finish typing, he glanced down at his watch, the sunlight that poured through the windows glinting off its face as he checked the time. He blew a low whistle before looking up at Y/N, a slight frown forming on his lips.

“Looks like it’s time for me to head to practice,” Satoru announced as he stood from his seat with an effortless grace, dusting off his pants. “Any other questions before I go? Sorry to leave you hanging, but my coach will kick my ass if I’m late again.”

Y/N glanced at her notes, scanning the lines she’d jotted down during their interview. She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head, meeting Satoru’s piercing blue eyes with a quick smile. “Nope, I think that’s it for now.”

“For now?” He quipped, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Does that mean I get a follow-up interview? Lucky me.”

She rolled her eyes, closing her notebook shut before she shoved it back into her backpack. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Satoru said with mock sincerity, sliding his hands into his jacket pockets. “See you around, Y/N.”

Without waiting for a response, the blue-eyed boy turned and strolled away, his white hair catching the light as he disappeared into the lingering crowd. Y/N let out a slow breath, her fingers tapping absently against her keyboard as she watched him weave through their peers.

She shifted her focus back onto her laptop, opening a new document tab. For a moment, her fingers hovered in mid-air, the words she wanted to write swirling in her mind. She narrowed her eyes, then, with a decisive motion, typed the header she thought of in bold letters:

Is There More to Satoru Gojo Than Meets the Eye?

-

Back in her dorm room, Y/N typed away on her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she polished the first draft from her notes of her interview with Satoru. Across the room, Shoko Ieiri was lazily straightening her hair, balancing her phone on the edge of her desk as it buzzed with a notification from Instagram. She glanced down at the screen, quirking an eyebrow when she noticed a familiar name.

Satoru Gojo would like to send you a message.

Shoko inquisitively unlocked her phone, approving the message with her lips quirking into a faint smirk as she read what he had sent.

Satoru: Hey, I know this is random but… can you convince your friend, Y/N, to come to my frat’s party this Friday? You’re invited too, of course.

Shoko: What’s in it for me? And how do you even know her? This is super random.

Shoko didn’t go to parties. It wasn’t a thing. 

She didn’t have time between her medical school workload and her part-time shifts at the hospital doing a lot of shadow work. She knew Satoru through a few classes they’d had together on campus throughout undergrad, as well as his best friend Suguru Geto, but it wasn’t like they were super close.

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Satoru: I’ve seen her around, and she gave me an interview for the student paper this morning. But I don’t know, drinks, games, a break from your responsibilities… the time of your life? And Y/N’s. ;)

Shoko snorted, shaking her head. “He’s unbelievable.”

The words knocked Y/N out of her focus, and she frowned, pausing her typing to glance at Shoko. “What? You’re talking to a boy?”

“It’s nothing,” Shoko waved her off, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes as she typed out another reply. Y/N shrugged and turned her head back to her laptop’s screen.

Shoko: I don’t have time for this, and Y/N’s not a partier. Nice try.

The dots indicating Satoru was typing appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared. He was probably trying to figure out the next convincing phrase to slide in. Shoko watched the screen with mild curiosity, wondering if he’s trying to argue his case, but he never sent another message. Did he really just give up?

But then Shoko’s grin widened.

She ran it through her head, imagining the entertainment the situation would bring. Seeing Y/N standing out of place at a frat party, overstimulated, squirming under Satoru’s relentless charm would be the entertainment she needed to get through the week.

Besides, they both needed some loosening up anyway, what harm could it do?

Shoko: Fine, I’ll convince her. You owe me.

Now she just had to get Y/N to agree. Shoko leaned back in her chair, the faint creak of the wood punctuating the quiet hum of the room. Her eyes flickered toward Y/N, who was hunched over her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard in a rhythm only she could keep.

This was going to be easy. Well… not easy, but doable.

“So,” Shoko started, her tone far too casual as she lazily spun her phone between her fingers. “There’s this party on Friday.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed immediately. She didn’t even look up from her screen as she continued typing. “No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Shoko scoffed in offense as she propped her feet up on the desk from her chair.

“I didn’t have to,” Y/N replied, pausing her typing to take a sip of water. “I’m not going to a frat party. Who do you think I am?”

Shoko let out an exasperated groan, throwing her hands up in the air. “Come on, Y/N,” she said, dragging out the syllables of her name like a plea. “You need to loosen up. It’s our senior year, and neither of us have been to a party in ages. What’s the harm in a little fun?”

“The harm is literally everything about it,” Y/N shot back, crinkling her nose in disgust at the thought. “Sweaty frat boys, people eating each other’s faces, sticky floors, loud music, and the sweet smell of alcohol and regret.”

Shoko chuckled, spinning her phone one last time before setting it down. “Fair points. But what if we made a deal?”

Y/N finally looked up from her laptop, turning to look at her roommate from her chair, her skeptical expression making it clear that she wasn’t buying whatever Shoko was about to sell. “Like what?”

“I’ll take out the trash for the next two weeks.” Y/N’s resolve wavered as she thought about it. “Two weeks?”

“Two weeks,” Shoko confirmed, holding up two fingers.

“And you’ll do my laundry.” Y/N chimed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she side-eyed her roommate.

“Deal.”

Y/N groaned, her head tilting back as she stared at the ceiling. “You’re evil.”

Shoko shrugged, utterly unrepentant. “It’s part of my charm.”

Y/N stared at her for a long moment, debating the pros and cons of the situation she found herself in. It wasn’t that she hated parties, it was more that she hated everything about the experience of parties. But two weeks of not having to drag the overflowing trash bag down four flights of stairs, and her laundry getting done on top of that?

“Fine,” she muttered, taking another sip of her water.

Shoko beamed, rising from her chair and grabbing her bag for class. Her duties were fulfilled. “You won’t regret it,” she said, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

As Shoko approached the door, Y/N did in fact feel a wave of regret rush through her.

“Wait—maybe we should just stay in. You look like you could use the rest…” she began, eyeing Shoko’s dark under eyes, hesitating before she finished her sentence. “Your eye bags are showing.”

“Nice try,” Shoko scoffed, shaking her head, not even pausing as she opened the door. I’ll see you after class. Party’s on this Friday. Deal’s a deal.”

The door clicked shut before Y/N could protest further, leaving her slumped in her chair in utter defeat. She stared into her computer screen, sighing deeply.

Y/N moved from her desk, her laptop closed and forgotten as she stretched out on her bed. She reached for her phone, her lingering curiosity tugging her toward her Instagram. She hesitated for a moment, then sighed, giving in to the urge. Opening the app with her arms stretched to the ceiling above her while cradling her phone, she typed his name into the search bar. His profile popped up immediately, complete with his own signature grin as the profile picture.

Satoru Gojo.

Of course, his follower count was a decent size, with about 21k followers, only following about 300 people himself. He surprisingly didn’t have very many posts up on his page, mostly photos of game highlights or him with his friends. The latest post was a group shot of him and his frat brothers standing in front of their house, red solo cups in hand. 

The caption read: “Legends only.” 

“Real creative,” Y/N scoffed under her breath, her thumb flicking to the next photo.

It was a highlight reel from a football game—a mid-throw shot that captured him in perfect form. The comments were a mix of adoration, jokes from his teammates, and filled with a lot of girls. He seemed to respond only to those he knew, leaving the rest unanswered, but the comments liked.

Her curiosity deepened as she scrolled further, lingering on a photo of him and a boy with pink-dyed hair. The two of them were mid-laugh, their helmets tucked under their arms, looking so genuinely happy it almost softened her perception of him. 

Almost.

As she scrolled back up, ready to close the app and put an end to her unnecessary stalking, her grip faltered.

The phone slipped.

“Shit!” Y/N yelped, jerking her head to the side just in time to avoid the phone smacking her face, landing unceremoniously on her chest. Grumbling, she picked it back up and froze. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the glaring button on Satoru’s profile.

Following.

She had pressed the fucking follow button.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, bolting upright. She fumbled to unfollow his account, her thumb jabbing at the screen so hard she nearly dropped the phone again. Her heart pounded as she stared at her screen, double-checking to make sure the button now read follow again.

He’s at practice, she thought, trying to calm her racing heart. There’s no way he’s checking his phone right now. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. He won’t see it.

Just as she let out a shaky breath, her phone buzzed in her hand. A notification appeared at the top of her screen. 

Her stomach plummeted. 

“Oh no. No, no, no, no,” she muttered desperately. Her thumb hovered over her phone, unsure whether to scream, throw it across the room, or crawl into a hole and never come out.

Satoru Gojo started following you. Would you like to follow them back?

───────────────────────────────────────────

next chapter (12/22) story navigation playlist

taglist: @n1vi @honoredalone @emyyy007 @getosugurume (ask to join)

[kestisvrse]

headcanon collection: meeting & dating hockey player!frat!luke castellan

♫ - espresso by sabrina carpenter

· definitely had a meet-cute type situation

· at a frat party that silena had ditched you at, he wasn’t watching as he walked and your drink went flying all over yourself.

· he apologized profusely which you furrowed your brows at, expecting a frat boy to be an asshole.

“holy shit! i am so sorry, oh my god that is such a nice shirt too.”

· led you to his room as he turned around and you threw on one of his shirts

· you hung out in different groups so you never really saw him, to return his shirt

· one day though, out of pure luck he decided to try studying at the library, running into you as you were about to leave.

· which led to him admiring your room as you dug around in your clean clothes basket for his shirt.

“you cleaned it?” “well… yeah i just threw it in i didn’t… really think about it… sorry.” you mumble, “it’s okay.” he says, smiling.

· ever since then, you noticed him studying in public more often.

· airpods in as he hunches over a table, gaze flickering between his laptop and his paper, squinting every so often.

“what’s with the sudden public appearances?” “oh! i- uh, wanted to try something new?”

· it led to you both seeking each other out at the library, all you knew about each other were your names and the classes you studied for, you had no contact or attachments but you always sat together

· eventually he finally asked for your number and you started seeing each other outside of the library and actually getting to know each other

“hey do you maybe want to come to my game on friday?” a text from him reads out, to which you quickly reply “of course :)”

· it became regular, if one of you needed to study you both found yourselves at the library, and if he had a game you were sat front row wearing his colours

· your friends noticed your feelings before you did, you were always bringing up a story about him, or asking someone to accompany you to his game

· it was sickening

“i’m out with luke right now, i’m so sorry.” “that’s okay!”

· luke wasn’t much better

· except his friends didn’t know who you were

· at first they thought he was hooking up with someone, to which he quickly shut down (he didn’t want you to think that’s what he was telling people, because he wasn’t)

· but hearing them say this made it click in his head that even if you were hooking up, he’d want more with you.

“can i come over?” “always, why?” “i really need to talk to you.”

“he’s going to tell you he likes you!” silena predicted, jumping around your dorm, “no he won’t!”

· he did

· he was a mess at your doorstep, he wasn’t used to relationships, usually sticking to situationships but with you, he felt something entirely different

· he was breathing heavily as he spoke, taking his sweet time to say “i like you” and instead just blabbering out compliments and how he doesn’t want to ruin things.

· but when he stops for a breath to watch your confusion, he shuts up and spits it out.

“i really like you, i want to be able to bring you flowers, and kiss you when you get a good grade on something you thought you’d fail, i want to fall asleep with you in my arms watching movies.”

· silena who hid in the bathroom squealed, causing luke’s cheeks to turn pink.

“ignore her! i, um, i really like you too.”

· and his confession was right

· as soon as he finally asked you out for real (after he took you out to dinner.) he was all over you

· hands had to be brushing each other if he couldn’t hold it, or didn’t have his arm around your waist

· he sported a grin of awe when he watched you get excited over things

· picking you up and spinning you around when you said you aced a test

· you still studied together all the time, sometimes if its in your dorm you get a bit sidetracked (ykwim.)

· he couldn’t help but take every chance to kiss you, your lips slotted together so perfectly he cursed all the time he spent hanging out with you and admiring your lips instead of actually acting on his thoughts

“is that my cherry chapstick?” you ask after pecking his lips, “ummmm no?” he scoffs (it is)

· you still went to every game, wearing his jersey now instead of just the teams colours

· kissing him passionately everytime he ran off the ice, didn’t matter if he won or not, he was an incredible player and that’s basically what your kisses said to him, how proud you were.

“I LOVE YOU!”

it was your four months as you watched him run around his room frantically.

“oh my god i swear it’s here somewhere!”

“luke it’s fine, just come lie down with me again.” you ask in a soothing tone, it was like your voice had a spell in it that made it work, forgetting his worries and his legs dragging himself to the bed.

“aha!” he suddenly yelled, causing you to jump. he ran to one of his shelves and pulled out a small box hiding behind his books, “see! i told you i had a gift.”

“you’re ridiculous.” you giggled, sitting up as he handed you the box, urging you to open it.

the cover snapped off as your jaw dropped in awe. a necklace with the initial “L” laid in the box, “oh it’s beautiful luke.”

“hey and look.” you look up at his eyes, looking down at his neck as he pulls something out from under his sweater. a matching necklace with your initial.

“oh my god you’re so cute.” you giggled, taking the necklace out of the box, “put it on for me?”

you quickly shimmed so your back faced his chest, holding your hair out the way as he snapped it around your neck, he admired you in the mirror, his hands coming to rest on your waist and the back of you head rested on his shoulder.

he said your name softly to which you hummed in response, making eye contact with him through the mirror, fiddling with the new necklace.

“i love you.” your eyebrows raised in a soft shocked expression at the unfamiliar words, turning to look back at him.

“i love you too.”

[ramonarampage]

Geto suguru with piercings please save me

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Thinking of a modern frat Harringroveson au with chubby!Billy, because he’s my favorite, and a scenario that’s similar to that one tumblr(?) post about the girl who lost her keys at a frat party, if anyone knows what I’m talking about.

Specifically the part where she wanders around the house looking the morning after, and no one is particularly helpful until she runs into a guy who sends a text to the group chat with a description of the keys, and suddenly like twenty of them spring into action like soldiers and find her keys in less than a minute?

It’s peak boys will be boys and I love it so much.

So I’m thinking about Billy, Eddie, and Steve being in a frat. Particularly one of the larger ones, so the house is roomy and kind of daunting when first stepping into the foyer.

Steve is taking an exam and he, very miserably, let it be known that he would be gone for most of the afternoon, seeing as his next couple classes were nearly back to back after his test. So, he’s out of the house all day, and Eddie takes the opportunity to have a scary movie marathon with Billy.

Because they might as well do something other than sit around and wait for him to come home, and why not watch something creepy? Steve hates scary movies, so it only makes sense.

The house isn’t buzzing with activity at two in the afternoon on a weekday, so the couple settle into the living room. Have some popcorn, get comfy on the sofa, light a fall-scented candle to match the cooling temperature outside, and it’s perfect.

Until Tommy (I’m picking on him this time, sorry) meanders in about halfway through The Fly.

Maybe it’s a running bit in the house, something born of affection, that it’s acceptable to poke fun at Billy for his size. He’s one of the bigger guys, in every sense, and he gets easily flustered, so he’s teased a lot. They chant his name when he does keg chugs at parties, and they even call him The Tank.

Partly because he can put a lot away, and partly because he’ll do some serious damage if he decides to throw down.

Maybe Tommy takes the joke too far. Instead of giving Billy a pat on the back and calling him big guy, be calls him lardass. Maybe he comments a little too much on Billy’s eating habits, trying to get some kind of rise out of him.

While Billy used to get pissed, used to get in his face and promise to kick his ass before someone intervened, he just gets… uncomfortable now. Usually whenever Tommy enters a room, before he even opens his mouth.

Like right now.

Eddie has his arm around Billy’s shoulders, cradling him against his side, fingers tip-tapping against the blond’s bicep as he noses a kiss into his hair.

“This sweater’s real cute on you,” he murmurs. Billy hums appreciatively, and Eddie smiles as he digs his hand into the bowl of popcorn in his lap. “My cute little muncher.”

A door closes in the close distance, and suddenly Billy goes a bit rigid where he leans against Eddie’s shoulder.

Tommy pads into the room, hands on his hips as he glances between the tv and the couple sitting on the couch. Spreads an amused little smirk, eyes tracing up and down the scene.

“No Steve today?” he wonders. Eddie shakes his head and turns his focus back to the movie. “And did you just call him little?”

The freckled brunet snorts, and Eddie huffs a groan and lolls his head back.

“Can you leave, please? Crawl back into whatever hole you spawned from?”

“Hey, this is the communal living room, I can come in here if I want.” Tommy plops down in the recliner and cocks his head to the side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Eddie lifts his head again, brows drawn together as he shifts to fish his phone out of his pocket after he pauses the movie. He rubs up and down Billy’s arm where his hand is still resting, and taps on his screen.

“I’m trying to watch a movie with my boyfriend, Hagan. He’s never seen The Fly, and we’re on kind of a schedule ‘cause we have to finish both movies before Stevie gets home,” Eddie says. “I’d say I wouldn’t mind if you watched and just kept your trap shut, but I’d really rather you just leave.”

“So you’re saying I can’t come into the living room in my own house? What would El Presidente think of that?”

Tommy clicks his tongue. Billy shifts when his eyes fix on him.

“I’m saying you make my boyfriend uncomfortable, and I’m saying you should fuck off about it.”

“I make him uncomfortable? I can hardly go anywhere in this place without seeing some kind of perverse display.”

Eddie quirks a brow.

“Perverse display?”

“Well, yeah.” Tommy crosses his arms, and it’s remarkably bratty. “You guys are always feeling him up, or sucking face, and he’s always pigging out. You don’t see how that could be disturbing?”

There’s a beat of silence. Eddie’s mouth pinches into a line when he notices the tinge of red in Billy’s expression. Notices how he leans closer, making himself smaller, and how out of character that is.

Eddie wants to rattle off an insult about how Tommy’s hair is always a mess, his room is filthy, and point out that his girlfriend has been cheating on him since the dawn of time. He wants to tell him how fragile he is if he thinks that two people sharing a kiss is obscene, or that snacking on popcorn is pigging out.

Eddie wants to say all of it so bad, but instead, he types briefly, and hits send.

Instantly, both Billy and Tommy’s phones buzz, and they both pull them out of their pockets. To Tommy’s horror, it’s a notification from the group chat. A voice note with a text attached to it.

Trying to watch a movie and this fuckhead Hagan can’t decide between being fatphobic or homophobic. I think we’ll start looking for an apartment so we can watch movies in peace.

It takes merely seconds for messages to start rolling in. Everything varying from what the fuck to hell no to questioning if the text is genuine, and if Eddie is serious about moving out. Eddie grins, and briefly hopes that Steve remembered to silence his phone before his exam.

Then, Tommy’s phone starts vibrating with a call. His eyes go wide, and he swallows before answering.

Eddie bites back on a laugh, knowing that only one person besides Steve has yet to have texted back.

“Hello?” Tommy answers.

He cringes briefly, and nods to himself as he pulls his phone away from his ear, and taps the screen.

“Am I on speaker, dipshit?” Jason asks.

“Yes.”

Tommy’s voice is suddenly timid, face hot with shame, and Eddie presses his lips together when a laugh threatens to sputter out.

Over the phone, Jason sighs.

“Hey, Bill? Edd? Can you guys hear me?”

Eddie clears his throat and exhales a calming sigh.

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Good.” There’s some static and some shuffling over the line. “You okay, Billy?”

For a moment, the blond is quiet, but he relaxes a bit when Eddie gives him a soft squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says.

“Cool. I’m kinda caught between classes right now or I’d deal with it myself, but I promise it’ll still be handled. I’m really sorry you guys had to put up with this, so I’ll have a couple pizzas sent to the house.”

Eddie nods in approval.

“We appreciate you, boss man,” he says.

“Alright, I’ll let you guys get back to your movie. Hagan, I hope you have street clothes on.”

Then, Jason hangs up. Things are quiet for a moment. Anticipation is thick in the air, and then there’s a new message in the group chat from El Presidente.

Hagan is excommunicado, effective immediately.

Eddie snorts when not a single text rolls through after that, but there’s the sound of movement upstairs.

“John Wick,” Billy murmurs, nodding. “Nice.”

There’s footsteps. Heavy scraping. Tommy stands up from his seat, ready to bolt upstairs to see what the commotion is, but he doesn’t make it further than the base of the stairs before the noise and voices get louder.

Then, things come flying down the steps, and Tommy barely jumps out of the way.

Armfuls of clothes, shoes, a backpack. Tommy’s eyes blow so wide Eddie thinks they might pop out of his head.

The mattress is next, with the sheets still on, and then figures come into view. Argyle and Jonathan carrying a dresser down the stairs in nothing but their socks and underwear, full drawers threatening to slide out and spill clothes everywhere. Patrick is right behind them with a nightstand in his grasp, alarm clock and bong still resting on top. More voices follow, and more and more comes tumbling down the stairs.

Nothing is moved carefully. Wooden legs are skidded across the floor, corners are banged against the guard rail and doorframe, and Tommy’s laptop is thrown like a frisbee out onto the concrete walkway.

It’s beautiful, Eddie thinks, how fast the pile of trash and other belongings accumulates, and how he counts probably fifteen heads as the guys dump everything out into the front yard. They wail at Tommy as they pass, booing and poking and some even pinching him before the guys all disperse like roaches when the light flicks on.

A few pass by the sofa, offering condolences like they’re at a funeral, and Argyle even tousles Billy’s hair before he disappears.

Tommy is left standing there, staring through the open doorway at his entire existence spread out on the ground in front of him. Eddie snorts when he sees the tiny Tommy Hagan has been removed from group notice appear in the bottom of the chat, followed by a plethora of saluting emojis.

He ropes Billy closer into his side and kisses his hair, shutting his phone off.

“You gonna be hungry for pizza?” he murmurs.

Billy tilts his head up to look at him, eyes glassy, and chews his lip.

“Mhmm,” he hums. “You think Stevie’s gonna be stressed when he checks his phone?”

He closes his eyes when Eddie squeezes him and presses a kiss to his forehead. Relaxes into the embrace when the front door shuts.

“I’ll send him a picture when the pizza gets here so he knows you’re okay.”

“Why wait ‘til the pizza gets here?” Billy muses.

He hums a laugh and turns further into Eddie, tucking his face in the crook of his neck and smoothing his hand over his chest. The brunet sighs comfortably as he feels around his lap for the remote, and traces shapes against Billy’s bicep with his free hand.

“‘Cause the only thing cuter than you in your comfy sweater is you having a snack in your comfy sweater.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Don’t want him to miss out on it.”

Eddie smiles as he presses play, and Billy chuckles into his neck.

“Me neither.”

[maxlarens]

🎨 I humbly request a moodboard for our frat/loscar au, por favor

FRAT AU MOODBOARD YESSS. i put more pictures because it was logan and osc so i felt like it was needed

my bday celly💝

[elix8r]

Monkey Bars (sjy) - Teaser

PAIRING: jake sim x fem!reader

GENRES: smut, fluff, crack, college au, frat au, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, maybe the slightest bit of angst?

TEASER WC: 0.35k once again i have no clue how long this is going to be but from what i feel rn it’s gonna be another long one and it’s also going alot slower than pink whitney rip ૮₍•᷄ ࡇ •᷅₎ა

SUMMARY:  Jake Sim was like the epitome of the perfect fourth-grade boyfriend. He had it all – being a year older automatically put him on the cool list (which in turn also boosted your popularity), genuinely kind, and very cute. But then, the earth-shattering truth that he was a two-timing cheater hit you like a ton of bricks. You caught him red-handed, holding another girl's hand and it devastated you beyond measure. So of course, in your nine-year-old mind, there was only one deserving punishment – a forceful push off the monkey bars during recess, resulting in a broken arm. 

And so, the battle lines were drawn. You and Jake became sworn enemies, a feud that carried on even into college. You saw him as a total fuckboy who always knew how to get under your skin, while he saw you as a snobby bitch who thought she was better than everyone else. But fate, in its twisted sense of humor, had other plans. Out of a class brimming with a hundred other possibilities, it was Jake who ended up being your assigned partner. 

Clearly, the world had favorites and you weren’t on that list.

THE FRAT DIARIES MASTERLIST

As Waka Flocka's "No Hands" reverberated through the pulsating house, your body instinctively moved to the infectious rhythm, the alcohol adding to the blissful sway. Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your shoulders, and the intoxicating scent of cologne filled your senses. Your body melded snugly with theirs before they leaned in, whispering into your ear.

"What's your name?" His voice jolted you, instantly recognizable and sobering. Slowly, you turned your head to face him.

Jake fucking Sim. 

Out of all the people in the world, of course, it was him. The realization seemed to mirror his own sentiment, evident from the annoyance etched across his face. Disgusted, you pushed him away, eager to distance yourself from his unwanted proximity.

"Oh, fuck no. Fuck off," you shot him a withering look, brushing at your shoulders as if trying to wipe away any remnants of his presence.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" His question only served to reinforce your belief in his sheer stupidity. You rolled your eyes, mustering up the patience to respond.

"Really, Jake? Why do you think you dumbass?" The realization hit you that Epsilon Nu was the frat Jake belonged to, instantly eroding any remaining respect you might have had for the house.

"No way you got a bid from AES," he exclaimed incredulously, disbelief radiating from his eyes. "Only hot and cool girls go AES, and obviously, you're neither."

"You've clearly become even dumber since high school 'cause it seems like you've forgotten that I'm a triple legacy," you emphasized, feeling your blood pressure rise with every passing second of the encounter.

"Whatever, get away from me," he retorted, his face still contorted with disdain, prompting a scoff to escape your lips.

"You're the one who came over to me, you asshole." With that, the two of you abruptly turned away from each other, stomping off in opposite directions, each eager to put distance between yourselves. The excitement and joy that had previously filled bid day were now replaced by a sour mood.

Leave it to Jake to ruin everything.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jake is so mean in this story but i love him sm like it’s so fun to write when both your main characters are assholes lmao it adds spice like this is already such a different vibe than pink whitney despite being in the same universe but i love it (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) 

[vividfleur]

I desperately need a geto frat bro or band au PLEASE IM BEGGING 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ if anyone knows a frat or band au fics slide them over PLEASE and THANK YOU 😊

[melancholy-of-nadia]

love u lately (m) #12 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately​ chapter title: #12 - shift pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: an outro song is defined as a song placed at the end of an album that signals to the listener that this is the wrap up or conclusion of the story told in the album . and while this might be the outro to this part of your life story, you think this is is also kinda like a prelude to a new beginning. a graduation. a move. a shift in relationships. we don't know what the next album of our life entails but having three boyfriends makes the unknown, a little easier. warnings:  LIGHT SMUT, Namjoon sax mention, small FOURSOME scene again, EIFFEL TOWER, random fluff scattered all around, mention of a pool party, kissing, blowjob, multiple orgasms, reader's birthday is 7/9 army day, video call, creampies, multiple positions, dirty talk, pet names, size kink returns, more confessions as always but they're good! playful banter from yoonminjoon note: @daegudrama has been editing this for over a year and if you have not followed her, please do so NOW. She has a SPICY Festa 2023 one shot series that is amazing and is currently working on a BTS x Pokemon fic. Go show some love! total word count: 7.5k (not including the authors notes at the end) drop date:  July 12th, 2024, 1PM PST cross posted on AO3 here ← #11 | Series Masterlist

Overall, your relationship with Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin progresses well after that night. Is there really a difference between the time before and after being in a polycule for you?

Well, not really. You would say the biggest difference is that it feels like old times when it was just you and them versus the world, and not like the months leading up to that Gamma party last October. The days when you would stick together, and there wasn’t casual dating or hookups causing a rift in your friendship. You guys are more intimate with one another now though, and it's been serendipitous.

After the initial foursome, you all agreed to keep things lowkey, but your best friends (now lovers) don’t exactly know the definition of “lowkey.” From conspicuously holding your hand as they walk you to and from class (taking turns, by the way), it hasn’t gone unnoticed by others on campus. 

Soon after, rumors began circulating, especially coming from a certain salty Gamma boy who got left behind and some snarky Psi Gamma girls who were friends with Jimin’s ex. You’ve heard things in passing like “Y/N, the Beta Tau Sigma slut being passed around the house” or confession account tweets anonymously saying “Y/N is stealing all the finest men on campus for herself. Selfish bitch.”

But these are the same rumors you have been hearing since the beginning, back when you first moved into the BTS house and started hanging out with the guys. But with more concrete evidence now, it’s been more rampant than ever before. However, if you try to defend yourself, you know it will only satisfy those people more, confirming their torment works and continuing to do it until you’re on the brink of insanity.

You don’t blame your boyfriends for their affectionate behavior or for not keeping things more under wraps. 

They just want to show you as much love and care as they can to make up for all the lost time they couldn’t do that.

So when you accidentally snap at them for an unrelated thing after dealing with some harassment in your Instagram DMs, your boyfriends immediately worry about you, especially Yoongi. He is the first to notice the shift in your mood, pulling you aside to talk.

"Hey," Yoongi says softly, his voice filled with concern. "What's up? You've been tense all day."

You sigh, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. "Sorry…It's just... the bullshit rumors on the confessions account Instagram. I’ve been getting hit with so many DMs from burner accounts calling me “the Beta Tau Slut”. I’ve blocked a lot of them, but…" You feel your eyes slowly fill with tears of anger, but unwilling to let them fall.

Explaining all of this feelsl so stupid. Namjoon and Jimin join the conversation, their faces mirroring Yoongi's worry. "Babt, we won’t let them get to you," Namjoon says, taking your hand in his. "You know we’re here for you, right?"

"I know," you reply, squeezing his hand. "I’m usually good at ignoring shit like this, but damn… it just won’t stop."

Jimin wraps an arm around you, his warmth comforting. "We’ll handle this together, okay? We won’t let them say shit to bring us down."

Their support makes you feel better, but the constant negativity still lingers in your mind. It isn’t just about ignoring the gossip—it is about reclaiming your narrative and not letting anyone else define you or your relationship.

The next day, Yoongi surprises you with an idea. "Let’s make a statement," he suggests. "We’ll show everyone that we’re proud of what we have."

"How?" you ask, curious but hesitant.

"We’ll post about it," Jimin says, determination in his eyes. "Not intended to fuel the rumors, but to show that we’re happy and in love. Let them say what they want. We know the truth." Namjoon and Yoongi nod in agreement. "It’s time we take control of our story," Namjoon adds.

That’s when your three boyfriends post a photo of all three of them kissing your face at once, followed by a photo dump of other moments from that spring semester. 

There is no caption, as the photos really speak for themselves. You receive a downpour of positive comments from people who either already knew about your relationship with Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin or familiar faces you have good relationships with that comment their congratulatory messages to you four.

That eases some of the anxiety that has been building up inside you. Seeing the supportive messages and knowing that there are people who genuinely care about you and respect your relationship makes a significant difference. You feel a sense of relief and gratitude wash over you as you read through the kind words. You're glad you have the best boyfriends. They have stood by you, defending your relationship and ensuring you feel loved and cherished despite all odds.

–

"Took you long to come clean, honey pie." Hwasa narrows her eyes at you from the doorway of your room.

“Look I can explain…” You look away in shame, clutching your pillow closely, feeling more anxious than ever. You’ve never had close female friends before, so having to be comforted by one feels scarier than when the guys confronted you about things.

"Explain why you couldn’t tell me why you were snogging with your three guy best friends? I thought we were friends!" She pulls out her phone, pointing to the photo Yoongi had posted as well as Namjoon and Jimin’s.

You really were planning to tell her not long after you made it official with Beta Tau Sigma, but now it feels too late that she found out through several Instagram posts.

“I was scared you would think it’s weird…” "Weird?" She scrunches her face in confusion as she moves closer towards you, her tone serious. "I thought it was pretty fucking… awesome!" Her enthusiasm grows suddenly. "That’s every girl’s fantasy—dating the school’s hottest guys all at once? Trust me, I’ve heard stranger things."

“Really? Like…” You whisper, asking cautiously.

Hwasa sighs, her expression softening as she sits down beside you on the bed. “Like a girl from Psi Gamma doing coke lines with her professor and fucking him after for an A+, or a Mu Chi guy getting his dick up after injecting steroids,” she says with a chuckle. “Trust me, your situation isn’t even close to weird in comparison.”

You have a lot of questions about what she just told you, but you’ll save it for later.

You let out a nervous laugh, relieved by her understanding tone. “I guess you’re right. It’s just all so new to me. I’m so sorry, Hwasa.”

“It’s okay,” Hwasa reassures you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Like I’ve said a million times before, I got your back. I just feel bad for not being able to protect you from the harassment sooner…”

You sigh. "It’s not your fault Hwasa. But the good thing is that I had my boyfriends with me who have been doing their best and bearing with me through this. They’ve really made me feel what love actually is.”

"And that's why I'm so happy for you. I haven't known them for too long, but they’ve always seemed like great guys. If they make you happy, then I'm all for it." Hwasa joins you on your bed, getting comfortable under your Pompompurin blanket.

You smile, feeling the warmth spread through your chest as you move in for a hug. “Thank you, Hwasa. That means a lot.” After a moment, you pull back and remember your other friends. “Wait..do… Soohyun, Jieun, and Soyoon know?”

Hwasa groans, flopping back on the bed. “Soohyun saw the posts, but she’s still a confused little bird, bless her heart. Jieun, though, she’s sharp. She told me she caught on during that camping trip a few months ago. I thought she was imagining things, but she was spot on.” You blush, realizing you definitely need to talk to Jieun about this. “As for Soyoon, she and I had a bet on whether you’d end up with Namjoon or Yoongi because they seemed like more likely options than Jimin at the time. I was Team Yoongi, by the way. But… I guess we both won, so…” You both burst into laughter.

Hwasa's eyes light up with mischief. “Oh, but Soyoon did not see this coming at all! She was convinced you’d end up with Namjoon only. She told me he couldn't stop yapping about you to her whenever they’d hang out. You should have seen her face when she saw the photos! Her jaw literally dropped. She was in complete shock.”

You giggle, imagining Soyoon’s expression. “I can picture it. I guess I have a lot of explaining to do.”

Hwasa grins, “You do, but take your time. They’ll understand. And if anyone gives you trouble, they’ll have to deal with me first.”

“Thanks, Hwasa. I really do appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” she says, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, you better tell me how this all began. Every detail. Even the nastiest ones! You’ve got liquor in the kitchen, and I can get Hoseok to provide some weed on the house.”

A good smoke session sounds perfect to loosen up and spill everything.

You nod, then yell, “Hoseok!” He comes running from downstairs, looking confused.

“Give us the good stuff,” Hwasa says with a wink, beckoning him to bring the weed he keeps in a closet next to his room.

“As long as I can join for a bit too!” He smirks back at her, which she returns as well.

You both look at them, shaking your head.

Oh god, this is gonna be a long night.

–

Along with dating, other things that you are all initially worried about eventually start to fall into place.

Yoongi ends up finishing the mixtape he’s been working on for the longest time.

He submitted the best one out of all his peers, which means Professor Kang fulfilled his end of the bargain, writing him a letter of recommendation, and sending his mixtape to Mr. Bang. He said he’d never listened to such an innovative and unique collection of music and held Yoongi in high regard.

“Mr. Bang reached out to me!” Yoongi announces excitedly one afternoon in mid-May, holding up his phone for you to see. “He says he wants to do a Zoom call and talk business!”

You take his phone and read the email on the screen: “As I know you are still studying at X City University, it may be difficult for you to relocate to LA on such a short notice for the summer, but I’d like to potentially offer you a 3-month internship with Bighit Records. You can work remotely for now and then come into the LA office for the last few weeks of the internship. We will discuss more during our call. I don’t want to miss out on having a talented individual with growing potential join our label.”

You pause, stunned by the news. “Holy fucking shit, Min Yoongi! I told you that you could do it!” you exclaim, rushing to hug him.

“Like I said before, it’s because you had faith in me and gave me your love as motivation.”

Blushing, you kiss him on the cheek. “Stop, you’re being so cheesy!”

Yoongi laughs, pulling you closer. "Cheesy, but true."

When the other Beta Sigma boys hear the news, they immediately announce they are going to throw Yoongi a party to celebrate his achievement. Hoseok excitedly proclaims he will supply the alcohol, while Taehyung promises to buy the weed.

“We’re going all out tonight!” Hoseok declares, setting alcohol bottles down on the kitchen counter. “Only the best for our future music mogul.” That night is probably one of the most fun parties of the year.

–

Jimin, too, finds his groove. He wasn’t sure what other goals he had besides trying to get his business degree. He knows that either he or his younger brother would have to start running his dad’s bakery one day. But before that, Jimin’s dad wants him to become a prosecutor…which Jimin wasn’t completely keen on doing.

But there is one thing he does like: dancing. Aside from majoring in business, he is minoring in dance just because it lets him have an outlet to explore his long-time passions. Working for a corporation after graduating seems like the next big move, but for someone like Jimin, he thrives in creative environments more than a boring office.

He’s been doing dance covers since high school and uploading them on YouTube.

Recently, a few of his dance performances with Hoseok started gaining recognition. This led to him asking Jimin to perform in the college dance team’s performance for the university’s end-of-the-year culture fest, as well as choreograph it. He was initially nervous, as he hasn’t done something like this in so long, but you and your other two boyfriends attended his rehearsals, supporting him and cheering him on.

After he killed the performance amazingly with his fellow dancers, Jimin has new aspirations in mind.

“I talked to my parents earlier, more specifically my dad,” Jimin says, laying his head on your lap and looking up at you. “Told him I want to take dance seriously and make it my career.”

“Oh? What did he say about that?” you ask curiously, your fingers running gently through his hair.

“He was a little hesitant at first. You know, trying to nicely say it’s not financially stable.” You hum softly at his words, understanding the concern. “But then he said I could work an office job and dance at one of those professional dance studios during my free time. When I’d make enough, I could leave that job and stick to dance.”

You smile down at him, admiration shining in your eyes. “That sounds like a good plan to work towards. At least he’s supportive, even if he’s worried.”

Jimin nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I’m glad he didn’t outright dismiss it. I just need to prove to him—and to myself—that I can make it work.”

“You can do it, Jimin. You’re an amazing dancer. With your talent and determination, there’s no way you won’t succeed,” you say, your voice filled with conviction. “You’ve made it this far after all.”

He reaches up, taking your hand in his and squeezing it gently. “Really? You think I could aim for 1Million Dance Studio?”

“Pfft.” You say, grinning. “You are the Jimin Park, after all. Son of the famed Magnate Bakery’s Hyunsoo Park.”

“This is one of the many reasons I love you, babe. Thank you.” He laughs, an angelic sound that fills the room, and cuddles further into your lap, making you laugh at his clinginess.

–

As for Namjoon, he has switched his study abroad program to the summer instead of the fall semester. Being the (slightly) possessive boyfriend that he is, he can’t bear being away for that long. Especially this early on in the relationship when he is worried other guys would try to get at you. But you reassure him that it won’t happen, Jimin and Yoongi are with you anyway.

Despite you rarely seeing Jaebeom around after he got the biggest hint that you already had… others, Namjoon sometimes worries you’ll sway.

One evening, as you sit together in your cozy living room studying for finals with Taehyung, Jungkook, Hoseok and Jin, Namjoon brings up his concerns. "You’re not gonna randomly break up with me… or all of us while I’m gone right?" he asks, his voice tinged with unease. "What if Jaebeom tries to get at you again? Or Mingyu? I know he’s such an attractive guy and you–"

You interrupt him mid-rant and take his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. "Namjoon, you know I love you. I love Jimin and Yoongi too. You don’t have to worry about anyone else getting in the way. And besides, these Beta guys will keep protecting me too, right guys?"

Taehyung looks up from his notes and grins. "Absolutely! No one's getting past us!"

Jungkook nods vigorously. "We’ve got her back, Namjoon. Always."

Hoseok chimes in, flashing a bright smile. "Yeah, don’t worry. We’ll keep all those weird frat boys, international students, and businessmen away."

Jin, ever the voice of reason, adds, "You’ve got nothing to worry about, Namjoon. It’s literally summer session too, who the fuck is going to be around here anyways."

Namjoon smiles, albeit a bit shyly. "I know, I know. It’s just me being paranoid.” He lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing. "Thanks, guys. I mean it.” 

Taehyung chimes in, hitting you with his elbow, “If anything, our little Honey should be worried that her boyfriend won’t find another pretty girl while he’s in Korea.”

You playfully roll your eyes, nudging Taehyung back. "Oh, please. Namjoon is too obsessed with me, reading books and looking at art to notice anyone else."

"Very offended you would even think I would do that, Tae." Namjoon narrows his eyes at him, smacking him on the shoulder. "I’m only going to Korea to study at Yonsei, and I’m taking a really cool contemporary art class taught by a famous art conservator and historian. Plus, there’s this student organization I want to join that focuses on integrating art and social change. That’s what’s going to keep me busy."

Taehyung laughs, rubbing his shoulder. "Ah! Okay, okay, I get it. Mr. ‘Studious Foo’. Never mind."

Not long after, Yoongi and Jimin come home carrying bags of BB.Q Chicken and a selection of Korean beers they picked up from H-Mart downtown. The enticing aroma of fried chicken fills the room as they unpack the boxes, revealing an array of golden, crispy goodness as well as sides of white radish in cups and french fries. One box contains your favorite: Soy Garlic flavored chicken, a perfect blend of sweet and savory that you always have to make sure Yoongi orders instead of the original flavor. The other box holds Yangnyeom chicken, coated in a vibrant red sauce that provides a sweet and spicy kick that Jungkook and Jimin are obsessed with. You all gather around the dining table, the spread of chicken and cold beers inviting you all to indulge. The clinking of bottles and the sound of laughter fills the room as everyone settles in. Yoongi pours the beer, its crisp, refreshing taste pairing perfectly with the rich flavors of the chicken.

As you start eating, Namjoon begins to share details about his upcoming study abroad program. He speaks animatedly about his itinerary, his eyes lighting up with excitement. 

“That sounds really cool, Joonie,” you say, genuinely happy for him. “You’ve always been so passionate about art and using it to make a difference, so I’m glad you have the chance to discover more about that.”

"Thank you my love," Namjoon says, his smile growing. "It's a dream come true, really. And I promise, I’ll keep in touch as much as I can. Video calls, texts, everything."

Jimin, who has been quietly listening, chimes in, "We'll make sure she’s too busy to even think about other guys, hyung. Don't worry about that."

Yoongi smirks, giving Namjoon a playful nudge. "And we’ll show you proof too.”

These nights—eating delicious food, savoring Korean beers, and sharing laughs and dreams with your closest friends—are moments you cherished deeply. 

However, there is a bittersweet realization looming: Hoseok and Jin are about to graduate. Soon, these carefree gatherings will change. The thought tugs at your heart as you look around the table, capturing the smiles and laughter etched into your memory. You silently vow to hold onto these precious moments, knowing they will become even more precious with time.

– 

About two weeks later, Jin graduated from college. The whole house attends the ceremony, each of you holding flower bouquets or some sort of gift to congratulate him. It is a hot afternoon, sun blazing throughout the 2-hour commencement ceremony while the friends and families sitting on the bleachers are excited and proud.

After the ceremony ends, you all gather down on the soccer field. Jin’s brother, mom, dad, pregnant sister-in-law, and nephew have already arrived to congratulate Jin. 

Namjoon, who has been unusually secretive lately, suddenly opens a decently large case he had brought with him. Upon opening it, he pulls out his old saxophone, the one he hasn’t touched since high school. He immediately starts playing it, a catchy tune filling the air. Everyone turns to him in surprise, especially Hoseok.

"Why on earth did you bring that out after so long?" Hoseok asks, his eyebrow raising in curiosity.

Namjoon grins, positioning the saxophone and taking a deep breath. "It's a bet I made with Jin during his freshman year," he explains. "I told him that if he actually graduated on time, I'd serenade him with the 'Epic Sax Guy' song from the 2010 Eurovision."

The group bursts into laughter, Jin included, who is now shaking his head with a wide smile. "I can't believe you remembered that," He says, amusement clear in his voice.

Namjoon continues to play, and all of you around him can’t help but laugh and cheer, clapping along to the music. Jin is doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down his face as he watches his friend fulfill an old, ridiculous bet.

Jieun approaches you, wearing a white dress under her graduation gown, her eyes filled with concern and curiosity. She glances at your three boyfriends, who are behind you, laughing and teasing Jin. He looks both amused and embarrassed by the attention he's receiving from people around him after Namjoon's serenade.

"You think you'll be okay, Honey?" Jieun asks, her gaze shifting from the boys to you. Her question is gentle, but her eyes are sharp, taking in every detail.

Your cheeks redden. "I still can't believe you caught on to everything months before anyone else, Jieun."

She grins, a twinkle in her eye. "Of course. Nothing gets past me! Just wasn’t sure whether I was understanding things right." She jokes, giving your arm a light squeeze.

You smile at her, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "But to answer your question, yeah, I think so. We've got a good thing going, and we'll make it work."

Her expression softens, and she steps closer, pulling you into a hug. "I’m glad. I really do think you guys are meant for each other. Just like soulmates."

Soulmates. The word resonates deeply with you. All of the signs from the past just point out to that after all. It just took a little longer for you and them to realize it.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as Jieun continues, shifting the conversation.

"I'll be moving in less than 24 hours to LA to start my first job in entertainment next Monday. You better come down and visit me, alright?" She gently pokes your cheek, making you giggle.

"Oh woah! I will!"

"And don't forget about what I told you back in April. If you’re still interested, I’ll help you get there."

You nod eagerly, feeling a surge of determination, before you're interrupted by Soohyun, Hwasa, and Soyoon, who come over to bombard Jieun with their congratulatory flower bouquets.

As you watch the joyful scene, you can't help but reflect on your own future. After all, your boyfriends had started thinking about their careers, it makes you realize that maybe you should start getting your shit together as well. You are now their girlfriend with the potential to become their wife, which leads you to talk to Jieun, who was a senior in your department, about your future. Your career.

As a psych major and theater minor, her goal is to go into the entertainment industry and become an actress or go into hospitality in this field. And being a business major and psych minor yourself, hearing her stories about her internship from last summer made you realize you want to consider getting into this industry as well. Jimin and Yoongi will be involved in it due to dance and music, and Namjoon will be consequentially also in it due to working in art, so it will make sense. Maybe this is something you will start looking into as you approach your last two years of college.

As the day draws to a close, you find yourself standing with your boyfriends, the warm glow of the setting sun casting a golden hue over the soccer field. Jin’s friends and families surround him, laughter and chatter filling the air. Namjoon wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

"Ready to head home and party?" he asks, his voice soft and comforting.

You nod, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. "Hell yeah!"

++++++++++++

June 21 [Friday]

The sun is scorching as you stand outside feeling the summer heatwave pound down on you. However, your relief for quenching your thirst is suddenly gone as your hand lets go of your iced peach tea. You stare blankly at the building in front of you.

“You’re… going to lease an apartment for all four of us?” You manage to word out, turning back to look at Namjoon and Yoongi in shock.

Namjoon now sports a buzzcut, a new look he wanted to try after seeing how stress-free Sanyawn was with his own buzzcut. The change suits him well, and he looks undeniably hot. He’s wearing a slightly ill-fitted navy blue shirt that shows off his toned arms and a pair of khaki shorts, perfect for the summer heat. His new haircut accentuates his strong jawline and expressive eyes, giving him an edgy yet clean appearance.

Yoongi’s hair has progressively gotten longer, with some locks now cascading down to his shoulders. You were always used to his hair being side-swept or even in a bowl cut, but this new length is more than alluring. Dressed in a loose white linen graphic tee and jorts, Yoongi exudes an effortless cool despite the weather. The longer hair frames his face beautifully, highlighting his sharp features and giving him an almost ethereal doll-like look.

Jimin stands beside you, his hair now a striking blonde. He always talked about dyeing his hair but was hesitant to take the plunge until last week when Jungkook spontaneously decided to help him do it. It could’ve gone really badly, but it turned out incredibly well. He looks prettier than ever, the blonde contrasting perfectly with his warm skin tone. Jimin is wearing a white t-shirt and ripped jeans, a playful and stylish summer outfit that complements his new hair color.

“Uh, I mean, why not? We’re dating after all. Think it would be better for us.” Yoongi shrugs, walking towards the side gate entrance of the apartment complex and going inside. Jimin helps grab your sad, empty plastic cup on the ground and throw it in a nearby bin. You just got it on the way here and were barely halfway done with it. Nonetheless, the three of you follow along behind him on this self-guided apartment tour. 

“But…what about Beta Tau Sigma? The house?” Your words sound sad. “Are we not living there even after Seokjin and Hoseok graduate?”

You were only there for a little less than a year, but managed to become so much closer to the guys who you’d only share a few words with and maybe some small talk prior to living with them. What’s going to happen to them now? The house being two stories and having 4 rooms made it rather expensive to live in, especially in the area you are in. With 8 people living in it, there wasn’t much difficulty in getting the bills paid, and still having enough for other things like tuition and whatever fun stuff we had. 

You’ve been working in the library since your freshman year, and while you didn’t talk about it much, the guys had jobs to contribute to the costs as well. Namjoon works at a local art gallery near campus with San Yawn. Jimin works at the Admissions building and does campus tours to visiting students (which usually always charms them to enroll). Yoongi does freelance producing work for some studios in the area. Taehyung works late nights at a jazz club while Jungkook works reception at the gym. Hoseok is a dance instructor at a local community center and Jin… Jin doesn’t work. His rich parents have been really supportive to help provide for the other expenses.

“They’re planning to move out sometime in January. Jin just graduated and Hoseok is graduating in December. They don’t know if they’ll still be around, so Taehyung and Jungkook won’t be able to cover all the costs on their own. They’re looking to rent an apartment here too.” Namjoon adds.

A silence falls as the reality of things changing settles in.

“Can’t believe this is the end of Beta Tau Sigma…” Jimin mumbles, which doesn’t go unheard by the rest of you guys.

“For now. If things start looking good for us post-grad, maybe we’ll rent a new house together that’s even bigger. It was feeling a bit cramped in the last few months, not gonna lie.” Namjoon puts an arm around you, “But for now, we need some privacy…” He smirks at you, which makes your eyes roll.

“What he wants to say is that we can’t fuck you on the kitchen table at the BTS house.” Yoongi bluntly says, making you choke on your spit. Namjoon and Jimin begin to hit your back, which makes it worse with multiple hits.

“Hyung!” Namjoon and Jimin yell at the older man, who shrugs. 

“Oh my god…” It’s an understatement to say you are feeling half nervous and half horny at the thought of being fucked on every surface of your new home by your three boyfriends. Are you even going to survive that?

After a couple of months of being together, most of those times you’ve taken turns having sex with all three of them. At times, maybe one boyfriend would be in the room watching you and another getting it on. But as they mentioned, it’s not particularly easy to have sex as a group when you live with 4 other guys. Keeping quiet is not a simple task. You could’ve sworn you overhead Taehyung saying to Jimin and Jungkook that he got off of the sounds you and the guys were making one of those nights. And maybe you haven’t been able to look him in the eye since!

“You guys know I’m up for anything,” you say with a grin, giving them a thumbs-up, which earns you bashful smiles in return.

"Give it a few weeks while Namjoon is away, and you're all ours," Jimin teases, winking mischievously. “You know what an Eiffel tower is?”

“I–”

"H-Hey, that's not fair!" Namjoon protests, though his smile betrays his playful spirit.

After Jimin’s teasing comment, you all decide it is time to go check out the new apartment. 

Upon entering the place itself, you are greeted by a spacious living room with large windows that let in plenty of natural light. The kitchen is modern and sleek, and there are three bedrooms, one for each of your boyfriends. The best part is the balcony overlooking the pool, a perfect spot for late-night talks and relaxing evenings.

“This place is beautiful!” you exclaim, twirling around in the living room. “You guys did great!”

“We thought you’d like it,” Namjoon says, grinning proudly.

“We should start moving in right away,” Yoongi suggests, already planning how to arrange the furniture. “Makes things easier before we start to get busy this summer.”

You nod excitedly in response, which makes him lean in close to you and kiss your temple.

A part of your heart breaks knowing that you won’t be back at that house on a daily, but no matter what, you’re ready for a new beginning with your soulmates.

–

Over the next couple of days, you all work together to move in. It’s a whirlwind of unpacking boxes, arranging furniture, and hanging up decorations. Namjoon proves to be surprisingly meticulous, insisting on organizing the bookshelf by genre. Jimin and Yoongi spend hours setting up a cozy corner with bean bags and a record player.

Finally, with everything in place, you all decide to celebrate with a pool party with friends at the apartment complex. The sun is shining, and the air is filled with the sounds of laughter and splashing water. 

This is truly what life is.

“Uugh~” 

“Fuck baby, stay still while I fuck your tiny pussy.” Namjoon whispers as he lifts your ass to thrust at a better angle. You are currently trying to balance yourself with your noodle arm on the couch as Yoongi enters in and out of your mouth and you use your other hand to pleasure Jimin’s cock. 

You were enjoying the party not long ago, and then once it ended, they immediately came back in with you, locked the door and closed the blinds. You guess the black swimsuit you bought really enticed them through the day. 

Now you’re being overstimulated to the brim. Your body is going to ache tomorrow for sure.

“This fucking bikini… Were you trying to kill us?” Yoongi chuckles, his hips are moving more frantically now, chasing his orgasm with little regard for how obvious his movements are. 

“So fucking slutty wearing that in front of the guys.” Namjoon moans quietly. “Let me breed you before I leave you to Yoongi and Jimin.” He snickers, making you whine as your cheeks heat up. Not long after the first couple of times with Namjoon, you found out he has a size kink, a breeding kink, and a slight degradation kink. It’s so interesting to see the contrast from being a golden retriever on a normal daily basis.

Namjoon pulls out and snaps his hips back into you, burying himself inside you over and over again, his movements make your brain go fuzzy as he uses his knee to push your legs further apart, from this angle he reaches deeper inside you, his fat tip prodding at your cervix. He presses his large hand right above your womb to feel himself moving inside, the feeling sends you over the edge as well, and your walls squeeze him, robbing him of all breath. 

“Shit..” Is all he manages as his climax hits him unexpectedly, you feel him spill inside you painting your walls white. Yoongi follows, making you swallow the cum as Jimin paints your tits with his own.

+++++++++++++

July 9th [Monday]

A few weeks later, Namjoon is in Korea, settling into his study abroad program. It has been years since he was last in Korea, back when he was just a kid before he moved to the US. Now, as he overlooks the sprawling Seoul skyline from his dorm window, he can’t help but think about how much his life has changed since then—especially after meeting you, his next-door neighbor. He often daydreamed about bringing you here one day, showing you all the places that meant so much to him. He’d start with Ilsan, his hometown, then Daegu, where Yoongi was from, and finally, Busan, where Jimin’s mom currently lives.

But those daydreams will have to wait. 

For now, he has to focus on his studies and then think of the future. Namjoon opens his planner, filling it with various assignments he has received for the semester. He makes a note to visit the National Museum of Korea in the coming days for one of his assignments. As he glances at the date, he suddenly realizes something important.

“July 10th here… Wait… July 9th. It’s baby’s birthday in the States,” he muttered to himself. “Damn, I was so busy getting settled here that I almost forgot.” Just as he is about to panic, his phone buzzes with a video call notification. It’s you.

Wasting no time, he answers the call, looking forward to seeing your face after a few days of not seeing it virtually.

But it isn’t your face, it’s Jimin’s.

“Hi Hyung! You didn’t wish our baby happy birthday earlier so…” He switches the camera view, showing Namjoon what appears to be you, receiving backshots from Jimin as you suck on Yoongi’s dick. “We wanted to show you what you were missing.”

Eiffel Tower.

Namjoon's eyes widen as he watches the video. He can’t believe what he is seeing, but a small smile creeps onto his face.

Jimin passes the phone over to Yoongi, who holds the phone close to your face, showing his dick going in and out of your mouth.

“Fuck…” Namjoon's hand slowly inches inside his sweatpants, palming his cock slightly.

“Baby, show your daddy how good you’re taking me,” Yoongi said seductively.

You smile playfully, your eyes locked with Namjoon's eyes on the phone. You slowly take Yoongi's dick deeper into your mouth, swallowing and pulling back before starting all over again. Jimin and Yoongi sigh contentedly, their eyes never leaving yours.

Namjoon watches, mesmerized by the sight. His heart races as he stares at the beauty of your body, your lips wrapped around Yoongi's dick. 

He feels a wave of longing and desire wash over him, making him pull out his own dick to stroke it as he watches you be taken by his two best friends.

The sound of your moans and their groans fill his ears as he continues to watch. His mind races with thoughts of the three of you together. 

Jimin and Yoongi's bodies move in perfect harmony with each other, their sweaty skin slapping against your soft lips. Namjoon's own cock twitches in his hand, unable to hold back his own arousal any longer. He wonders if the three of you are thinking of him as he watches, if you are fucking with the intention of sharing your pleasure with him.

Namjoon eyes widen as Yoongi sets the phone down, propping it up so Namjoon can get a full view of you being fucked and Yoongi making out with Jimin.

He can see your body arching, Yoongi's dick sliding in and out of you as you reach down to stroke Jimin's dick. Jimin moans into Yoongi's mouth, his own hand moving faster on his own cock. The sight of you pleasuring the two of them is more than Namjoon can take. 

He begins stroking himself faster, desperate for an orgasm.

As you begin to scream, Yoongi and Jimin follow suit, their orgasms filling the air. You collapse onto the bed, panting, as the three of them kiss and cuddle. Namjoon's own orgasm hits him like a freight train, his eyes locked onto the screen as he comes, his body shuddering with pleasure.

Fuck.

He needs to get through this semester abroad, make connections, come home and take care of you all for the rest of your lives.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He huffs before you wave with the laziest and most fucked out smile ever.

“I m-miss you.” You say before Yoongi ends the call to continue whatever he and Jimin have planned for your birthday night.

++++++++++++

September 6th [Friday]

“What are your thoughts on having kids?”

You nearly choke on your water, sputtering and coughing as you set the glass down. 

“Kim Namjoon!?” you manage to say, eyes wide with surprise. It hasn’t even been a full week since Namjoon returned from Korea, and here he is, bringing up such a huge question out of nowhere.

Namjoon looks at you with a calm, thoughtful expression, leaning back on the couch with Jimin and Yoongi on either of his sides, eating snacks while catching up on One Piece. “I’ve just been thinking a lot, especially after being away. I mean, it’s not like I’m saying we should have kids right now… or ever, but... I’m curious about your thoughts on it.”

You blink, still processing the sudden shift in conversation. “Well, honestly, I don’t really want to have kids…”

You’ve never had motherly instincts or felt like a caretaking figure. You have a younger sibling, but you’re only a few years apart in age, similar to Jimin and his brother or Namjoon and his sister, so it doesn’t require you to take on much responsibility. Plus, the things you’ve read online about pregnancy heavily scare you. You refuse to do it.

Silence proceeds, making you a little nervous. “I… Uh, could we opt for cats?” You suggest, giggling awkwardly.

“Okay but…” You start, knowing you’re gonna regret even saying this. “Maybe… just maybe… I’ll consider having one child. You guys just have to rock paper scissors that.”

Namjoon chuckles, his eyes softening. “If that’s what you want, sure. As long as we get three and we each get to name them.”

Yoongi smirks, leaning back. “I call for naming one Gyul!” You remember it means Tangerine in Korean, and it fits Yoongi’s vibe perfectly.

Jimin’s face lights up. “I’ll go with Marimo, like the moss ball,” he adds, making you laugh at the thought of a fluffy cat named after a plant.

You take a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease. “Okay but…” you start, knowing you’re going to regret even saying this. “Maybe… just maybe… I’ll consider having one child. You guys just have to rock paper scissors for that.”

“Really?!” Namjoon’s eyes widen, excited by the potential.

The room erupts in laughter, the tension dissipating. “Rock paper scissors to decide who gets the honor, huh?” Yoongi grins, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I guess that’s one way to settle it.”

“Let’s decide now!” Jimin’s competitive nature kicks in, and he’s already positioning his hand for the game.

“Wait, wait!” You laugh, holding up your hands. “We’re still in college! Let’s give it several years for us to get settled with everything and our careers–”

“What about marriage? That can happen sooner right?” Yoongi’s eyes gleam with curiosity and a hint of excitement.

You blink, taken aback. “Marriage?”

You’re not gonna lie. You have thought about this one.

It would be difficult to get married to all three of them in a country where polyamory isn’t…legal. And there’s also the whole thing with Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin’s parents being Korean and religious. That would most certainly give some or even all of their families heart attacks. So what were you thinking would be a good solution to this.

Legally marry only one of them.

And surprisingly you already have someone in mind for this.

“Your face is telling us you have thought about it.” Namjoon chuckles.

“What!? No way.” After cleaning the spill from earlier, you turn to sit on the loveseat, holding your bag of Lay’s Sea Salt & Vinegar chips with your glass of wine. These are your go-to snacks after all… well right after the Banana Kick Korean Cheetos that your local H-mart ran out of.

“So who did you have in mind, or are we also playing rock, paper, scissors for this?” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“I have someone in mind, but I’m not gonna say yet!” You say, then eat your chips. “I don’t think I’ll change my mind, but you can always try to win me over…perhaps.”

Namjoon chuckles, leaning forward. “You’re really going to keep us in suspense, huh?”

Yoongi smirks, nudging Namjoon. “Better step up your game, Joon. Looks like you’ve got some competition.” He gestures to himself and Jimin.

Jimin laughs, popping a cheese ball into his mouth. “Challenge accepted. Just wait and see, Y/N.”

Is this really going to be another virginity race with them? 

You roll your eyes at their silliness. "I do not want to see this turn into a competition again, guys. So let’s just go with the flow. This is a democracy!" you declare, trying to maintain a light-hearted atmosphere about this before they start a fight over this.

Namjoon leans back comfortably on the couch, his expression thoughtful. "Fair enough," he concedes, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "But you know we're all going to do our best to win you over for this."

Yoongi chuckles softly, leaning in closer. "That's right. We'll make sure you know why we're the best choice," he says with a playful smirk.

Jimin nods eagerly, reaching for the wine bottle on the coffee table to refill his glass. "You can count on it," he chimes in, his gaze lingering on you with affection.

Outside, the last rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, painting fleeting patterns on the floor. The evening breeze rustles the leaves outside, a gentle reminder that time continues to move on. Inside, amidst the comfortable familiarity of your new shared space with your boyfriends, you take a moment to savor the scene, knowing there’s more to this love story with your soulmates for years to come.

–

Fin.

–

–

–

Hi everyone. I just want to thank you all for reading this fic since it was released almost one year ago, August 29th, 2023. As I mentioned before, I had actually thought up this fic on May 29, 2020 and fleshed it out a little more on May 26, 2021. I have a whole character chart on activities/personalities/etc and the first half of chapter 1 up until Yoongi and Reader got ready to go to the Gamma Party. Though, I never got to writing more than that as I ended up getting hired for my first job after college not long after. Last year I got laid off from said job, but there were many issues that had me on thin ice and burnout. Sometimes I wonder if I should've stayed longer and carried on with it. But nonetheless, this leads me to a lot of great small opportunities I’ve found in the past year through networking and meeting amazing people in the music industry. It also gave me time to be like, “I guess maybe I could go back to writing this fic now that I have too much time on my hands…”

I have written fics in the past, but never managed to finish any series. Well, there was an Attack on Titan fic with several thousands of reads on Wattpad, but i will not comment on this further haha.  So this was truly my return to writing. It’s funny because I had initially not planned the fic to end up this way. Yoonminjoon have been my bias line for the last 4 years, so I knew that’s the delusional focus I wanted. But definitely had various drafts and plans that could’ve gone differently. But to spoil you on some of those initial ideas…

The original fic plan had more emphasis on Jaebeom throughout the story as  (somewhat) an antagonist that would be dating Reader until Yoonminjoon would realize their feelings throughout the story and eventually snatch her away not long after the first 4 chapaters. Jaebeom was my GOT7 bias for a long time before I fell out of the fandom.

not an initial idea but aside from the poly / fwb stuff, there were a lot of events in this fic based on things that happen to me when i was in college a few years ago. i somehow had a pretty wholesome experience, but did have many guy friends than girl friends in college so that did help me in relationship dynamic writing

Other notes I had from 2020 drafts: [Joon, Jimin, Tae and Y/N work at Joon’s family coffee shop on the weekends. Yoongi goes back home sometimes to help his mom at their family restaurant, but mostly works as an underground composer and sells beats. Hobi works on campus in the library. Jin is...rich. Koo works at a chicken place.] Obviously most of this did not happen in this fic, as mentioned earlier in this chapter with changed job responsibilities. Though the one job mainly mentioned in the story was Reader working in the library.

Had more smoking, (light) drugs, etc. use involved. It’s mainly alcohol and weed, but even then it wasn’t heavily done which makes me want to go back and add more of this later on.

Not really initial notes but age/year timeline in this fic for anyone confused

Seniors: Jin, Hoseok (graduated high school early)

Juniors: Namjoon, Yoongi

Sophomores: Reader, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkoo

Jimin cheating on Irene to get with Reader

I really wanted to do this because I wanted Irene to be more involved in the story, but that would make it too messy and dragged out. I would’ve had to make this story like 25 chapters if that were the case. 

Also I don’t personally think Jimin would cheat on his gf in this fic or irl, so I didn’t want to write him like that. I had to break them up before he could do anything else.

Jackson 

was supposed to be a bigger character in the series… but i accidentally did reduce him to “Jackson the party host”... but at least he’s Hoseok’s close friend  and show up often

Jin

I wanted to tie in more of the frat activities and dynamics in this fic as BTS is an unofficial frat on campus and he’s the leader of it, but I honestly don’t think was too important and could take away from the actual story

Jin was supposed to kick out Reader from the house as her relationships with her best friends got too messy and complex, though he didn’t want to do it.

Jihyo

Jihyo was supposed to date Namjoon longer and break up with him during the party where Reader ran into Yeonjun. Timeline should’ve been: Namjoon is at the TXT frat party with Jihyo -> Namjoon fights Yeonjun to protect reader -> Reader is shocked and upset -> Jihyo is confused and Namjoon comes clean about his feelings for Reader -> Break Up -> Namjoon confesses to Reader 

I also wanted Jihyo to send the “confession” text to Reader regarding what Namjoon said at the Gamma Party much sooner, so when she saw Namjoon at the TXT frat party, she would know everything. But I couldn’t find a way to tie it in earlier during her fight with Yoonmin. Very messy stuff.

I thought Jihyo was the best choice as Namjoon’s side “love” interest in 2020/2021, but once all the Namjoon and Soyoon friendship photos started coming out, I kinda of abandoned Jihyo and changed my focus to Soyoon.

Soyoon

Soyoon takes on the side girl best friend role that Jihyo would’ve eventually had

Soyoon was supposed to date Namjoon briefly, but it was too messy to write in, so I just made Reader have initial suspicions before the truth came out in Ch 8

Reader and Namjoon weren’t supposed to sleep together after the Yeonjun fight. Soyoon was supposed to act as a wingman for Joon so he could apologize to Reader and then they would have their first time in the library. But I wrote things definitely so it wouldn’t end up like that.

Jungkook 

Jungkook was supposed to be closer and more clingy to Reader. They have a close relationship, but I felt that it interfered with other things in the story, so I left it with the mention that he had a little crush on her and would hang out with her often.

Jungkook is the end game if Reader didn’t end up with Yoonminjoon. (hehe)

Namjoon

If there was only one end game from Yoonminjoon, it would’ve been Namjoon for obvious reasons.

If Reader ran into Namjoon right after her fight with yoonmin, that would’ve changed everything and lead him to be end game. I discussed with Rae about these through texts after I dropped Ch 8.

Yoongi

Initially planned for him to not be caught so soon by Jimin, but honestly, didn’t want to drag it out and didn’t know how to tie it better

Should’ve been more Yoongi smut scenes

I don’t know when or if I’ll ever write another series as it’s very time consuming. But for the LUL universe, I still have the LA LA LOST YOU prequel with Reader’s relationship with Yeonjun almost done. IDC (i don’t care) is another series I’ve been thinking of releasing filled with WHAT IFs~ (...Reader picked Namjoon, Reader picked Yoongi, Reader picked Jimin, Reader picks everyone in Beta Tau Sigma?, Reader slept with Jaebeom at the party, etc.). But all of that will have to wait. Let me know your thoughts in the meantime though!

Until then, thank you for all your support, and hopefully we meet again.

With luv, @melancholy-of-nadia

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ love u lately series masterlist

[simonsomeriley]

hufflepuff!reader with her frat boyfriend, sirius black 🫣

imagine running around the corridors of hogwarts with your daring-do boyfriend, Sirius, you were like the polar opposite of one another, he refused to be limited by other people or follow rules

you on the other hand, swore by it. never drawing outside of the lines, always inside by curfew, delivering homework on time & staying on school property

somehow sirius had convinced you to sneak out after curfew, "begging forgiveness is easier than begging permission, love,"

so hand in hand you ran, after sneaking past Filch, tossing each other in the snow and leaving footprints without any explanation the next morning

you never really attended dorm parties, preferring alone time or studying in the library. Sirius, however would usually spend the weekends at some frat party, wasted with Remus and James on his side, Lily glaring unapprovingly from the corner of the room..

frequently you would find your belongings in places you didn't leave them, for example your shoes that you left on your doormat, tied to the curtain in the common room, your winter jacket around a make-shift snowman of fake snow that Sirius had found a spell to make, "it's restricted information, sweetness. from a very special section of the library."

agreeing somehow to crashing over at Sirius' dorm after a long night, his dorm room filled with the smell of floral air freshener (it covers up the scent of booze the best, in his words)

you always show up to breakfast, lunch & dinner as accordingly, serving yourself normal portions and never staying late in the dining hall

Sirius, however, serves himself extra, (he saves some for the critters he finds outside), and he stays talking with his friends LONG after the meal time is actually over

lets you style his hair for fun or practise, using your curling wand on it, putting it in a ponytail and practicing hair colour spells on it (you almost fried his hair off once, he only lets you do it occasionally now)

finding polaroids of him and his friends at parties, secret hide outs or some funny statue they've found in the woods somewhere

him always sleeping on the mini-sofa when you're around, he knows you don't trust him enough to sleep in the same bed, so he always offers that he'll crash on the couch & lets you take the bed

(he snores loud and makes odd eating sounds in his sleep, you love him regardless)

i sincerely apologise if this is bad, i'm overtired & this is not proof read. 🥲

[egglain-archive]

instead of prison realm, frat gojo gets taken out with a beer pong ball to the head send tweet

[liyliths]

────────────────────────────────────────────

౨ৎ 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 a jujutsu kaisen college au

❝ well, i know that 'just friends' don't look at each other the way you two do. ❞

you, a journalism major in the newspaper club, get assigned to interview the hottest star quarterback on usc's football team for the season, satoru gojo. he’s everything you avoid—charming to a fault, a notorious womanizer, and the king of the college frat scene. the real question is, will you see through his charm, or will you fall for the one person you swore you never would?

pairings: football and frat!satoru gojo x journalism major!reader

contains: fem!reader, opposites to lovers, slow burn, situationship core, angst and comfort, cursing, suggestive content although sfw, idiots denying they're in love

playlist

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗡𝗘

you're thrown into a last-minute interview with the campus golden boy, satoru gojo. between his shameless flirting, the consequences of stalking on social media, and your roommate roping you into a frat party you absolutely don't want to attend, you quickly learn that dealing with satoru might be more chaotic (and irritating) than you ever anticipated. but hey, at least you're getting a good article over it!

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢

you survive a frat party, only to discover that satoru gojo is somehow even more insufferable than you thought. you watch him shamelessly flirt his way through a game of cup pong, and somehow accidentally make a deal to shadow the football team for the rest of the season for the newspaper club. you realize your senior year in undergrad might be way messier than you bargained for.

-

A/N: hello dear reader! i know you are probably disappointed when you see there aren't many chapters out, but i have the series outline finished and i'm working on it! i estimate there will be about 10-14 chapters in this series, i hope you enjoy! <3 i also want to mention a HUGE thank you for helping me with some genius ideas @hellfire--cult !!!!!!!

[chimivx]

nice for what.

" Dear Students, we are delighted to welcome you to Nasara University, where your energy and excitement enrich our campus life. Whether you are beginning or continuing your educational journey with us, we look forward to learning, exploring, and growing together. "

That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

Junior year! Internships, pushing for the A's, making the most of your upperclassmen years at Nasara, spending precious time with your sorority sisters at ITZ, partying with your brother fraternity ATZ... It was supposed to be the best. Next year you'd be focused on graduation and your future, this was the last year to soak up life at university! You can't believe it's falling apart... But, do you even realize why?

Meet ITZ! ~ Meet ATZ!

MASTERLIST

A {10} part series! It is centered in the same universe/world as Haven and NMWID for further context. If you've read either of them you'll see some familiar names here.

read it on ao3 ✧ talk to me ✧ my masterlist

[roszabell]

hey @doomspiral, a frat au

[leclerced]

college au landoscar

engineer oscar and all his late nights studying and finsihing homework so reader and lando get closer (which how is that even possible all 3 of them live in eachothers skin) and oscar starts getting sad that every time he comes over y/n and lan are already fucked out and he isn’t getting to have any fun and he isn’t gonna wake them up for sex so he just crawls into landos bed and goes to sleep and he starts snapping at them over the next 2 weeks and one day he just kinda loses it when reader asks him what’s wrong and he goes “I haven’t had an orgasm in literally 2 weeks! Before that i was cumming 1-2 times a day !! I love you guys but i’m stressed out and you are ALL over eachother and i’m trying to work so please-“

-🪼🪼🪼

good mornin jelly 🫶🏻 hope u have a good day todayy

she’d be a little annoyed and want to tell him it’s his own fault for staying out so late studying, refusing to wake them when he knows he can. instead of snapping back she’s just like. okay lets solve this problem i can make you cum right now. i can imagine he asks if he can finish this assignment first and she’s like “osc this is literally why you haven’t came in two weeks.” he blushes and before he can say anything, she tucks herself under lando’s desk and tells him to keep working as she starts untying the knot on his sweats. lando gets home and can hear oscar’s moans as he walks up the stairs to his room, then opens the door to find oscar all fucked out in the desk chair with her between his legs. she’d hear the door open and pull off oscar to peek around and see who it was. oscar wouldn’t have noticed it, and he gets so whiny and begs her to keep going, asking why she stopped and she just giggles, ignoring him as she says, “lan, baby, come suck his cock with me.” in the sweetest voice ever, eyes glinting with mischief. they take turns giving him orgasms back to back until he can’t take it anymore and she’s like “feel better now? that make up for the last two weeks?”