As soon as his last lecture of the week is done, frat!John is making a beeline for his room in the massive frat house, throwing the last few essentials into his mostly-packed bag and taking it straight to his car. He doesn't really bother with farewells, most of his brothers already used to his biweekly trips. Instead he just gets a bottle of water and double-checks for his cigarettes before hitting the road.
It's a longish trip, enough hours for him to stop halfway through and have some lunch before driving the rest of the way. It's about mid afternoon when he finally parks on his childhood home's driveway. The house is calm when he goes in, the space still familiar enough for him to slide back into old habits. He greets his ma with a kiss to the cheek and his pa with a pat on his back, easily answering questions about his studies, his part-time job and the responsibilities as frat president while putting away everything he brought.
As if done on purpose, right when he finishes giving his father a hand in the garage, his ma calls him over. She hands him a couple containers filled with homemade biscuits and muffins, instructing him to take them over to the neighbour's and offer to help in any preparation previous to the neighbourhood's monthly get-together. He quickly agrees, easily taking the pile of sweets from her and heading across the street, to your parents house.
Familiar with the place, he doesn't bother with knocking on the front door, instead heading to the back entrance and calling out his greeting as he walks in. He's met with the familiar face of your mother, and the excited squeal of your younger brother who steals the still-warm baked goods straight out of his hands. Just as if he had never left his own home, he slides into the rhythm of it without any friction. He easily reaches a hand over to ruffle the boy's hair and takes the empty spot by the counter, chopping away at the ingredients still waiting by the cutting board without having to be asked to.
He's patient enough, checking on your parents and your siblings, nodding along at the most recent small town gossip and answering any and all questions asked by your mum. In the way he always does, he asks about you at the perfect time, finding a dull moment in conversation to bring up your studies and from there he gets the answer he really wanted.
"Oh dear, you know how it is, so many projects and lectures and all that..." your mum dismissively waves her hand around, checking on whatever is producing such an amazing smell in the oven before turning to him again. "I don't think I'd ever do it justice, trying to explain. Michael has texted me they were on their way back, anyway. I'm sure you two can catch up then." The both of them slide into easy conversation once again, finishing up on dinner prep while entertaining your brother's excited rantings about all the games he plans on playing with the rest of the neighbourhood kids.
It's during one of his many excited explanations that the front door opens, your father's voice filling up the space as he announces your arrival and begins taking in the last-minute purchases to round out the night's menu. John is on it before your mother can even finish wiping her hands, heading to your dad's truck to get the last of it in. It just takes a couple minutes for everything to be put away, and when he turns around he expects to find you there.
Instead he's met with your dad outstretching a hand, offering a beer in his direction, "Kid's in the shower, drink one with me meanwhile?" There's no real reason for him to refuse the offer, and it's not like he's going to see you any faster by waiting without a drink, so he heads with your dad to the backyard and enjoys a few minutes of casual conversation while sipping a cool pint.
However it seems like the universe, a mischievous entity or whatever it may be, is against his favour today. Because by the time you're out of the shower, the guests are already arriving and you're both pushed into a flurry of familiar chatter and hosting activities that keeps you too busy to really sit down and catch up. It's like you're same-sided magnets; whenever he heads into the kitchen to fetch more drinks, you've just moved back to the lively living-room with second servings, and when you're getting the many dessert options, he's gone outback to get the kids at the table again.
It isn't until the conversation is slowing down, those with the youngest ones at the table already heading back for bedtime, that he finally has the chance to really spend time with you. He's by the kitchen sink, emptying any leftovers in the bin before giving the plates a quick rinse and setting them in the washer when you walk in, now-empty containers joining the pile he's steadily getting through. "Hey there," a smile is already appearing on his lips just by hearing your lighthearted greeting, "haven't really seen you today, been avoiding me or-"
Your words die off as soon as he turns around, your eyes not meeting his blue ones, instead fixating on the thick and prominent moustache sitting right over his lip. There's silence for about two seconds before your head falls back against your shoulders and the most unrestricted belly laugh leaves you. His brows raise at it, first in surprise and then amusement, a huff leaving him as he returns to the dishes. "It doesn't look that bad," and although he's mostly joking, his tone does have a little defensiveness in it.
He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, your hands moving up to dry the tears that have quickly formed in your eyes, "No, but it is a lot." His head turns to you, and quickly moves away once more when another -albeit much calmer- laugh leaves you. "Sorry, sorry, I'll stop laughing..." The solemnity lasts about a second before another chuckle leaves you, "it's like you have a third brow under your nose."
There's no real time for you to react, because he clicks his tongue at the same time that throws the dish towel at your face, "Enough, you brat. It looks good so it's staying, so you better get used to it." His scolding tone loses all bite as soon as you move closer, your chin resting on his shoulder as you check how much he has left before you decide to start wiping down the counter. "And i haven't been avoiding you. If anything you avoided me."
He regrets the lighthearted remark as soon as it leaves him, because just like he expected- "Wasn't. Maybe would've if i had known about your new look, though." He just rolls his eyes and splashes water in your general direction as retribution. Still, despite the teasing, you both easily move to comfortable conversation, finally having the chance to update the other in the most recent developments in your life.
By the time you're done tidying up, all guests have left and your little brother is fast asleep in your mother's arms as she takes him to his room. Your dad is the one to poke his head into the room, giving a light nod in your general direction. "We heading to bed, kid, see ya in the morning. John, you know this is your house." Barely waiting for a reply he gives a light pat to the doorframe and heads down the hallway to leave you two alone.
"Mind if I stay?" You both know there's no need for him to ask, but John always makes sure to check in, never one to take your family's open arms for granted.
"Of course not," the huff that leaves you makes clear how stupid the question seems to you. Of course that is, until an idea flashes in your mind. Your expression changes, turning solemn all of a sudden, eyes lowering to the tiled floor. "Actually, John... I don't think it's a good idea."
He seems to straighten a bit at that, quick to push down the tightening feeling around his chest at the possibility of someone else being the reason for your refusal, instead focused in worrying it could mean something else is wrong or hurting you. "Oh, that's alright, love." He moves a little closer, gently setting a hand on your arm and tracing circles with his thumb against your skin, "I'll leave, it's fine. Is there anything wrong though? You can talk to me."
You give a light shake of you head, bitting the inside of you cheek as you keep avoiding his eyes. "No, it's just... i don't know how to say this..." He feels like his heart will beat out of his chest at any moment now, his mind running through everything that could be wrong and trying to figure out a solution to every single scenario he can come up with.
Your eyes finally meet his, and before he can catch himself and figure out what's really going on, a grin spreads across your lips. "I just don't think I could sleep knowing there's a gigantic caterpillar in my bed." As the words leave you, you point a finger at his mustache.
That's how you end up upside down, slung over John's shoulder as he grumbles something about you being a brat and showing you about caterpillars, carrying you straight to your bedroom.
Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Askbox is open. Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai.
Ignore the lack of linear storytelling here, but i’ve been thinking about frat!johnny who has never had issue sharing pretty things with his frat brothers, even agreeing with Kyle or Simon beforehand, choosing a specific target.
Of course that is until you.
It’s not that he’s possessive or overbearing, he’s never been anything of the sort, confident enough in himself to know that if someone is with him is because they want him. He doesn’t need to ‘mark territory’, to keep you away from anyone, he’s more than capable to give you everything you need and even more.
It’s just that he knows how pitiful and pathetic he becomes with you, how down bad he is. He becomes nothing but a dog after a bone, heeding every call and instruction you give. Even when he’s the one on top —supposedly being the one to bark instructions and call the shots—, just a small whimper or moan and he’s immediately focusing all his attention on giving you more of it, giving you as much of him as you want.
He loves having you see him like this, the knowing look in your eyes, the grin on your lips when you do whatever you want with him. However, he does not want his brothers seeing that, they already laugh enough about how he follows you around campus —the way he has adjusted his schedule to match yours, organised his free time to spend as much of it as he can clinging to you—. They don’t need to see how he goes from the teasing menace he usually is to the yearning, praise-craving, whimpering mess he turns into when it comes to you.
Which immediately becomes the go-to way to tease him. It’s subtle enough that it gives the guys plausible deniability, but they all know exactly what they’re doing. It’s always something quiet, so only he’ll hear it, too.
A low whistle from Simon as you walk into their party, his head nodding in your direction at the same time Johnny’s blue eyes spot you. He can’t help the needy groan that leaves him when Simon leans closer, “Shit, those clothes are tight. Gonna get them off with your teeth, Mactavish?” He has to step outside and play a game of beer-pong as a way to get the chilly air to cool his already-heated skin.
It doesn’t get any easier as the night goes on, because you keep distance between the two of you, just enough to make him move from one side to the other of the room, eyes always searching your figure, eager to follow you around and through the crowd. Despite the way you stay close to your friends, you meet his eyes every few minutes, giving him a wink over the rim of your solo cup, slowly licking your lip when you pull it down and feel a drop cling onto your skin.
He’s already sporting a half-chub when Kyle leans in, one hand on his shoulder while the other hands him a full cup of a drink Johnny doesn’t care to identify before taking a gulp. “That the kind of look you get when on your knees, mate?” He almost chokes on his the burning liquid, eyes closing tightly as the blood rushes south, his pants definitely too-tight now.
Even John fucking Price, the house president —the guy that is supposed to be the composed and serious one—, has his own fun with it. When it’s late, or maybe too early, by the time the sky is getting a brighter shade of blue and people have mostly shuffled out, only frat brothers and their trusted few having stayed behind.
John walks down the main stairs, stopping by the couch the Scott is on, looking at him with lightly raised brows. “Cute thing’s been waiting in your room for like ten minutes now, asked ‘bout you.” Before the full sentence has reached his ears, Johnny is up and running, taking the stairs two at a time as he desperately tries to make it to his room.
In his rush, he doesn’t realise how he walks right past you, while you exit the kitchen after helping Kyle and a couple more of the guys tidy it up a bit. “Where’s he going?” you ask in a mix of surprise and amusement, you just get a light shrug from the house president.
“Said he was going to prep for you, love.” John says with a grin, giving you a wink before he joins the others on the couch and lights a cigar. As you climb the stairs, you look over your shoulder, just to see the group of men giving you approving looks and knowing grins.
Or: you don’t have to do any foreplay with frat!johnny because the rest of frat!141 has him ruined long before you even touch him — they’ve all fucked johnny, they all know what makes him drool like a dog
Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Askbox is open. Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai.
Frat!John who confuses everyone, because he’s been the house president since his sophomore year, the youngest the fraternity has ever had and one that has shown innate leadership since his first day as a pledge.
He’s the guy who balances it all perfectly. The one that manages to keep up with the spirit of the house, of the history of charity and noble work that represent Alpha Delta Pi. The one to lead every event, give heartfelt speeches and to ensure every member and pledge partake in the activities done for the community.
At the same time, he lets the guys let loose, have the uni experience and get their parties and the social standing that comes from pertaining to such a reputable and long-standing house —still making sure to remind them of their commitment to their grades and extracurriculars—. Always the one to bring up the best theme for parties and plan it all in such a tactical way that ensures that all of them become as memorable as the one before, setting the bar higher and somehow always passing with flying colours.
He was perfect for his role, the best example anyone could have of a leader.
That’s the exact reason why he has all his brothers scratching their heads, how could a guy with such a perfect control of everything in his life —someone who had mastered the perfect balance between work and fun— still be single?
Sure, he had flirted from time to time, didn’t mind getting caught up chatting or dancing at parties; always had people looking up at him with that little shine in their eyes that made it obvious they’d follow him to bed or straight to the end of the world, if so he willed. And yet, he never acted on it. Not a single time had he been seen with his hands touching someone a little too low, much less kissing them or guiding them to his room.
Of course the missing pieces to the puzzle his frat brothers had been trying to solve for a while was no other than you.
Something none of them seemed to quite realise was how little they knew about John’s life out of campus. How little he talked about home, despite heading back at least one weekend a month and always being the first one to leave when holidays approached.
They had never realised that it all had to do with you. You who had been John’s neighbour since before either of you could remember, who had grown up going to class with him, spending full afternoons playing and riding your bikes around town.
They had never known about the person John had had a crush on since before he even learned what the word meant. The only person who could scape his perfect semblance and control, the only one who could make him forget about responsibility and order. The one who made him let go.
John was the perfect frat house president, someone that lead with his head, with logic. But he was also the guy that melted the moment he saw you, the one that did everything in impulse and followed his speeding heart if it meant hearing your melodic laugh.
He’s dreamt about his future since he was a child, knew the school and fraternity he wanted to attend well before he was old enough to apply, has had a clear plan on his career and his goals seemingly since the moment he was born. And just as much, he has imagined his home life, with you. Sharing a quiet house, one that is always cozy and warm, that smells like fresh sheets and lit candles. One where he comes to you, every single day.
And yet, despite being a planner at heart, despite having his steps scheduled for the next twenty years, something had managed to slip. It had been you, carefree and impulsive as you were.
Studying the one thing you’d always loved in a different university hours away from his, accomplishing your dreams and growing into yourself further everyday. He’d take seeing your smile over following his ideals any day.
So, instead of taking a risk and making a sudden choice; instead of risking years of forethought, gambling the prospect of his future and seeing it turn into ash in front of his eyes, instead of confessing his feelings for you and potentially losing just as much as he could win… He just made sure to stick with what little he could plan, with the scheduled home visit every month, same weekend you’d head back. The same dates for winter and spring break, the same week in summer spent in your family’s house by the lake.
Maybe some day he’d schedule in his confession, but for now, keeping the little bit of control he had over his feelings worked perfectly fine for John.
My other frat!141 works (99% Johnny)
Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Askbox is open. Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai.
Right so this one got just a little bit away from me, it started as three paragraphs but i just kept on getting ideas to further expand the blurb and posting like 5 different parts felt silly so… Enjoy the almost 2.5k words :)
There was one time when frat!john skipped his scheduled visit back home, just a single one in all of his uni years. Despite it being silly, something that happened all the way back in his first semester and something he should’ve gotten over long ago, it’s something that still makes his stomach shift uncomfortably with a mix of regret and shame every time he thinks about it. Even if he’d never say it out loud.
It was a fair choice done by someone just-entering university. A star-eyed pledge that had quickly gotten accepted into the fraternity of his dreams, that had gotten along with all of his seniors in such a natural way that sometimes people seemed surprised to know he was just a newbie. He wouldn’t judge any of his younger brothers if they’d come to him now, with a troubled conscience due to a similar confession, yet he’s convinced himself he should’ve known better back then.
Instead he had let himself be swayed by the promise of a gigantic party, old fraternity members coming back and doing an exclusive celebration that would often exclude pledges. Except he had gotten an invitation, one handed over by no other than the house president at the time.
Nowadays he would’ve said he already had plans, that he was incredibly flattered at the invitation and would surely take up the offer if a new occasion arose, but that his previous commitments took precedence.
Worst part is, it would’ve been taken well if he’d said it. Amazing, even. A young man choosing to keep his word over enjoying a kegger would’ve impressed the fraternity as much as his invitation had. Of course, he hadn’t possessed such level of forethought and delayed gratification back then, instead accepting on the spot.
So he had called home, making up an excuse about needing to meet up for a group project that was due soon, insisting to his parents on how it couldn’t be done any other time but that one weekend. It had gone well enough with them, and soon the younger version of himself had fully forgotten about his trip home and delved into the party’s project.
He’d spent the couple of days between the invitation and the fated night focused on nothing but his fraternity. He’d admittedly skipped a bunch of classes, done a few papers and assignments that still were of the worse he had ever turned in —the only greyish area that could make his records 'not perfect', even now, about to graduate—. His life had stopped revolving around his usual schedule, instead focused on this one particular goal.
It had all come tumbling down the day-of, just a few hours before the party started. He’d been in his room, fresh out of the shower and heading to his dresser, when he’d spotted the screen on his phone lightning up. Not thinking much about it, he’d thrown some underwear and pants on, only picking up the phone when it started to flash and vibrate again. “Ma, i told you, i can do my own laundry just fine.”
His whole body seemed to freeze up when he heard your laugh on the other side of the line, instead of his mother’s worried tone. “I’d hope so, seems like a long drive to get clean socks.”
A muffled groan leaves him, at least feeling lucky enough that you can see the embarrassment that burns on his cheeks while he clears his throat. “Yeah, right… So, needed anything, love?”
You hum lightly, a sound of shifting making it through the line, making him wonder if you were laying on your bed, maybe lounging on the couch. His thoughts are quickly interrupted when you speak again. “Well, we did have movie tickets for about half an hour ago. But I'm guessing it’s not happening anymore.”
It’s like a bucket of freezing cold water gets dumped on him, and he rushes through his room in a hopefully-quiet manner, pressing his fist against his forehead in frustration when he checks his calendar. In red marker, big and visible, the day’s date rounded with the word «Movies» and a quickly scribbled —and then messily crossed out— heart beside it. “Bloody… that was today, wasn’t it?”
“Yep, it was,” your answer is almost immediate. “I take it you’re not home at all?”
There’s yet another sigh from his side of the line, his free hand rubbing over his face as he tries to figure out how to make this situation any better. “No, no I'm not. Stayed in campus.”
He probably should’ve stopped there, let you have a go, make a remark about not forgetting your plans before turning the conversation lighthearted. Instead he just keeps going. “Sorry, love, there’s just this big party tonight, and you know- I've just been giving a hand around and all that. Slipped my mind, the whole movie thing…”
It’s right about then when he notices he’s probably just making it all worse. And if it wasn’t clear enough- “Oh.” it doesn’t even sound angry, just disappointed, maybe hurt —gods he hopes it’s not hurt, just the thought of hurting you is enough to make him feel like he’s gonna throw up—. “Big party then? Must have been really busy.”
“Really busy, yes… Didn’t mean to forget, you know that, right? I didn’t choose this over going to the movies” His eyes squeeze shut as soon as the words leave him. Jesus, John, why don’t you shut up?
The line stays silent for a couple seconds longer —long enough for him to feel like pulling at his hair—, his lips go to open again, to say anything else. You graciously save him from making a bigger fool of himself, “Yeah, it’s okay. Slipped your mind, is all. Uni life and all that.”
He just gives a light hum in agreement, desperately racking his brain for anything that he could say to make this better. Or at least not worse.
“So that’s your big study session?” He’s convinced he’s about to pass out for a moment, the relief he feels when there’s amusement back in your tone making him feel lightheaded.
“Right, about that… Don’t tell ma?”
Your laugh fills the line for a moment, and he can’t help the silly little smile that forms on his lips at hearing it. Causing it. “Right, right. Your secret is safe with me or whatever. But, you owe me an actual movie and snacks are on you.”
He’s quick to agree to it, ready to keep the teasing going when the fun is cut short once again. You can barely hear the knocking on his door through the line, voices going muffled for a moment before he’s back, “I’ll get you those next time… Gotta go now, the guests are arriving and all that.”
Once again he thanks the stars you’re not there to see the way he cringes at his own words, hand running through his hair as he hears you hum in response. “Oh, sure. I’ll let you get to your frat boy stuff. See you next time.”
Given the insistent knocks on his door, he’s quick to bid his farewell in return, hanging up and barley paying attention as he puts a well-fitting shirt on and lightly adjusts his hair before joining his brothers.
John is convinced that if the story had ended there, with a slightly immature choice, he’d been over it a long time ago. However, he really seemed to be stupid back then. At least he’s convinced of it now. Surely ruining an outing alone with you —something that could’ve been considered a date if he hadn’t been a coward and used “hang out” in the last second when proposing the plan—, was embarrassing and reason enough to have a guilty conscience. Still, younger him had really managed to make it worse.
Nowadays he’d be able to admit that the sequence of terrible choices that started when he joined the party were caused by nothing but the guilty feeling growing in his stomach. He should’ve taken a deep breath then, maybe give you another call and a proper apology, before throwing himself into the kegger. Instead he’d gone all in, letting some of the older guys drag him around from drink table to drink table, from one side of the crowded house to the other. Every time he’d check his phone, that a thought of needing to make things right with you stirred in him, he’d just push it down with another gulp of alcohol.
It had barely been two hours in and he’d already participated in any and all drinking games spread throughout the house. There was a light sway to his movements, a subtle slur to his speech and a giggly demeanour that hinted at how much he had really drunk. But he wasn’t thinking about you. His brain wasn’t stuck rewinding the disappointment in your voice, the pause before you’d made light of a situation he was slowly growing more sure had hurt you. So he’d kept going, from beer-pong to truth or dare, flipping cups and even straight shotgunning a couple beers.
By the time he’d seemed to come to, to give himself more than a split second to make his next decision, he was in one of the house’s many bedrooms with someone he could barely recognise further than seeing them in a couple classes, in bed and under him.
It was like the realisation had immediately sobered him up, quick to move away before the rest of his clothes could be taken off, barely bothering to let out an apology as he pulled his pants on, shuffling around as he gathered his shirt and shoes and rushed out of the room and then to the backyard.
Again, he’s convinced he would’ve been able to forgive himself by now if that had been his last stupid decision of the night. Alas.
“John?”
The phone had rung for a bit, enough to make him think you wouldn’t pick up. Still, your voice, sleepy and confused, had come through in the last moment. The line went quiet, for long enough to make you shift and probably sit up. He finally managed to get his thoughts straight when you called out his name again.
“Hey, i… I'm sorry, love.” If you weren’t fully awake, you sure were now. His voice was so small and wobbly, the alcohol only heightening his regret and guilt, causing his eyes to glass over with tears.
“John, where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m so sorry… I- I got sucked into this whole frat thing, and i…” the only interruption is a shaky sniffle that you decide not to point out. “You’re more important than a party, love. I should’ve been home and taken you out, not here drinking and with other people, and-“
“Hey,” his eyes closed at the soft tone in your voice, a couple tears managing to spill when he imagined you saying it in front of him rather than through the phone. “What’s going on? It’s this whole thing about the movie? John we can just watch it next time we’re home, it’s alright.”
You hear his sharp sniffle again, and can pretty much see the vehement way he shakes his head. “It’s not, it’s not alright. We should’ve gone today, and i should’ve gotten you that candy you always get and i should be with you right now, and not here. I want you here.”
There’s a short pause, and then there’s shifting from your side of the line. “Where are you?”
He sniffles, giving a long winded and ramble-y answer to try to explain how he was in the further corner of the fraternity’s backyard. At your lack of lengthy reply, he’d kept going, narrating what he’d been up to and how overwhelming it had become. He’d clarified why he’d gone out —avoiding most details—, and with a shaky sigh he’d said it again. “Wish i was with you instead.”
There’s a bit more shifting and then silence again, a small sigh leaving you. “Do you want me to come over?”
That had been his last chance. He’d known even then, with how earnest your words had been, the softness and worry in your tone. He could’ve reassured you, slept his wump off and given you a proper apology the morning after. Of course, that didn’t happen.
“Yes,” broken and followed by a sniffle.
He’d stayed there, on the porch swing that had been on the far-end of the backyard who-knows for how long, waiting with his phone by his ear as you made the long drive to him.
The sun was already rising by the time you’d hung up, at least by then he’d sobered up enough to properly make his way to you when you’d parked, both of you looking equally exhausted when you finally stood in front of each other. You’d locked your car, pocketing the keys before a soft sigh left you, your arms opening in invitation.
He’d taken it even faster than he had taken the one for the kegger. His face found its place right into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling as close to him as he could to make sure you really were there and it wasn’t a drunk-dream. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad,” the reassurance left you as soon as you’d felt the wetness of his tears against your skin, your own arms squeezing him closer, one hand cradling his head in an effort to further comfort him. “Just don’t think about it, I'm here now.” All the reply he could manage was a nod against your neck, not moving from his spot in your arms, crying and sniffling as much as he needed. You’d only felt his body relax once the tears had seemed to dry, despite still holding you like you’d disappear if he let go.
“Should go to bed, shouldn’t we?” He nodded again, choosing to adjust his grip around you so he could lift and carry you into the house and up to his bedroom. He wasn’t planning on letting go of you until the weekend was over; and he hadn’t done it until you'd have to drive back to get to your own campus.
Something John had to admit now was that a part of his foolish younger self was definitely still alive. If it weren't the case, what other way was there to explain how, after that night and all the years that had passed since, he hadn’t dared to properly ask you out yet.
Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Askbox is open. Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai.
So, these are my headcanons on how the guys would get their monikers in the frat!141 au, warning corny ahh reasons ahead!! (it’s mostly drunk people naming them so)
"Captain" John Price:
That man runs the whole fraternity like his life depends on it. He knows balance and still lets the lads have their fun and experience the university lifestyle, doesn’t mean they can get away with skipping responsibilities, be it within the brotherhood or academically.
It’s no wonder then that, in his second year of presidency, the members start to tease the pledges saying he runs the place like a tight ship.
It was mostly a way for the older lads to do some friendly intimidation, giving warnings such as “Captain is on his way!” or “Wouldn’t want Cap to see this if i were you” whenever they caught a newbie skipping classes or trying to get out of charity events.
The Mr President jokes got old quick, anyway, already burnt out in his first year. And if you ask John, well, the title suits him quite well.
Simon "Ghost" Riley:
It’s quite a simple and straightforward explanation, this man hasn’t announced his departure from any party, event or get-together in his whole life —not one to make it obvious when he was leaving a one-night-stand’s bed either—. He just doesn't do pleasantries like that.
No one has quite figured out how he does it, though. He’ll be there, mingling and talking with people, looking like he has a good time. And yet, the second the person he was spending time with turns their head, he’s gone. Without a trace, no one seeming to have seen him leave. He has managed to do that in groups of up to 10 people, too.
So, running theory is that he just dissipates like a ghost, melts into thin air and drifts in the breeze to wherever he goes when he just dips.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:
It’s silly yet effective, one of those names that come from an inside joke that gets shortened into a nickname.
Kyle is charming and welcoming, everyone knows that, he’s got an easy-going personality and a slightly-crooked grin that makes anyone trust him in just seconds. On top of that, he’s one hell of a listener and very observant. Which means, you need anyone to agree to a dumb idea? The you need Kyle.
It started in a party, the first in the school year. One of the older brothers complained that everyone seemed too anxious and coy to really give it the spirit of a proper frat party, and some other guy in his group patted his back and said he’d got it. When asked he said they only needed some gasoline to get it started. In other words, it got kickstarted with a corny joke made by a drunk guy. But hey, as soon as Gaz joined, the party got properly started.
“Get some gasoline” got too long and old quickly, so whenever someone needed a pick-me-up, they’d just get Gaz.
John "Soap" Mactavish:
This guy earned his nickname his very first week in the frat. It was a private affair, older brothers teasing and making games up for the pledges to play and get more confident in letting go around each other —never in a demeaning way or trespassing anyone’s boundaries, John would never let anyone get hazed in his frat—.
Somehow a beer-pong game between Johnny and someone guy in his third year turned into two, and then into three when he just kept on winning. It then developed into various other, equally unimportant drinking games and an exponentially bigger crowd, ending up with a contest on who could take more shots and the whole frat watching around them.
Johnny absolutely cleared the older lad, that had to rush to the bushes in the backyard due to getting sick from the fourth shot in a row. Declared as the winner, word quickly got around as to how quickly he had cleaned every round. And thus, the name Soap stuck.
Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Askbox is open. Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai.
The stories don't follow any specific order unless specified in the post. Non-cataloged posts can easily be found under the frat!john tag. List last updated: 07/05/26. Thanks for reading!
The stories don't follow any specific order unless specified in the post. Non-cataloged posts can easily be found under the frat!141 tag. List last updated: 06/02/26. Thanks for reading!
Loooove frat!johnny but now I’m interested in what a relationship with frat!Price is like. You mentioned in passing that he’s house president, so he’s definitely a bit more responsible compared to the others. I’m just spouting out ideas, but I can absolutely see him meeting someone whose at one of the frats numerous parties, the party scene isn’t their thing, they were pressured into going by their friends, Price sees them hanging out in the corner after their friends ditched them and he originally approaches them if only to make sure they’re alright, but as they talk and the relationship between the two of them develops over time afterwards, they both start falling for the other (strangers to friends to lovers, not unreciprocated love, the whole package)
That’s a pretty good guess actually!
I snuck that little bit about Price being house president because i’ve had his and his darling’s base story planned pretty much since my first frat!johnny post. I’ve just been hoarding it and changing a little bit of wording from time to time.
It’s a longish piece, so i’m going to make it’s own post that you can read here. But it’s childhood friends to lovers, crazy slow burn, idiots in love kinda thing.
I just love to make them be yearning losers tbh
Also, your idea sounds like an amazing fic and if you ever get the courage to write it on your own, please tag me, i’d love to read it! And feel free to share any other ideas, love seeing what others imagine about the au's <3
(also as a heads up it’s going to be tagged as frat!john because i’ve apparently used it before and i want to keep my tagging system as cohesive as possible lmao)
