"You're making me nervous," you murmur as fall into step beside your boyfriend.
Fratboy!Mark spent a whole two hours biting his nails and shifting nervously on your bed as you got ready. Every two minutes he was up and pacing around the small area of your dorm room. He hasn't told you he's apprehensive, but it's obvious.
You two have been dating for just over a year now. You two had gotten together the summer before your last year of high school and here you both were, still together while in university. You two have spent so much time together, have absorbed each other's mannerisms that now you're just two sides of the same coin.
"Huh?" Mark asks as he pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, "what have I said, babe?"
"You haven't said anything. It's what you're doing. You're like radiating your anxiety onto me. I thought you said they were cool, Markie," you pout as you squeeze his hand.
"They are," he stresses, "but they're a lot."
"If you can handle them, then I can handle them," you reassure as you peck his cheek.
Mark had been waiting for this moment since he'd passively mentioned to his new frat brothers that he had a girlfriend. They'd all been pretty cool about it, asking Mark about you, asking when they were going to meet you, so he finally gave in. They were cool guys, sure, but you were his girlfriend, he didn't want his new group of friends to reflect poorly on him.
Mark felt like he was going to be sick as he watched you introduce yourself to the guys. They all seemed to be on their best behavior and the frat house seemed to be tidy and organized for the first time.
He felt you squeeze his hand. He hummed, wide eyes finding your own look of concern, "are you going to come out back with us to the fire pit?"
"Yes, of course, babe," Mark nodded, following behind you and the guys closely.
He couldn't help how his nerves radiated off him, even now that you were already here. You were talking to the guys, listening, laughing, making conversation like you were a long lost friend among them.
You leaned into Mark as you laughed at something one of the guys said. "You have to come over more. I want more embarrassing Mark stories," Jaehyun laughed.
It was then that Mark seemed to tune in. The anxious buzz in his mind calmed down as furrowed his brows, "you've been telling them embarrassing stories?"
"Yeah, in exchange for embarrassing stories of you while you were pledging. Does a talent show rendition of Drake dressed as Mickey Mouse ring a bell?" You tease with a giggle.
"I have a video!" Johnny exclaims with a laugh, "I'll send it to you!"
"How are you going to send it to her?" Mark asks as he cocks his head to the side.
"We exchanged social medias like five minutes ago and I'm ten followers richer now," you smile happily.
Yuta nods as he scrolls, "awww, look! It's Markie at prom!" He holds out his phone for the rest of the group to see. They all hoot and holler, leaning in to get a good look at the screen,
Yuta looks at the screen with a decisive nod, "you guys are a good looking couple. Obviously, you're punching though, Mark."
"Obviously," you agree with a nod, accepting a handful of snacks from Johnny who is sitting beside you. Johnny who has never shared his snacks without Mark asking and you didn't even have to ask.
He's starting to think he didn't have any reason to be nervous at all... yeah, this whole college experience will be great with you and his new frat brothers at his side.
You didn't used to come to parties like this. Well, at least not on weekdays. Definitely not when you had a Calculus 3 exam in a couple of days to worry about. However, the pleading eyes of your three best friends who couldn't bear to see you go through the whole grueling college experience without going through the whole drinking-and-partying stereotypical uni thing managed to convince you this time.
And you were thankful to have a little black strapless dress tucked away in the back of your closet for specific situations like this. And you were also grateful when your friends offered to pay for your Uber - after all, being an university student also brought with it the unhappiness of lack of money and the small joy of when you get something for free.
You just weren't very grateful when you realized that you barely spoke to those people at the party and your friends had "very important" things to do, which included kissing and boys, and didn't include you staring at them while all of this was going on. Of course, this was expected, and you didn't want to be a party-pooper, so you just started walking around and drinking a few shots of beverages you weren't exactly interested in knowing what were. Again, it was for free.
Your slight shyness wasn't limiting or controlling, but it was certainly a bit inconvenient. More than once a few good-looking guys came up to talk to you, but your clumsiness simply drove them away within a few minutes. Damn.
And now here you were: listening to incredibly loud music in a modern mid-century house that you didn't know who it belonged to - or even if it was a fraternity, or anything like that - with a plastic cup of a drink that you didn't know what it was, eyeliner that you could swear would melt at any moment with the human warmth around you, a little black dress that had already gone out of fashion and an uncontrollable urge to do something outrageous, just so you could distract yourself from the fact that normally at that time you would either be sleeping or freaking out about the imminent calculus exam. "Damn that motherfucking calculus," you thought, "I'm at a party."
On the other side of the large, high-ceiling living room, a group of recognizably annoying boys were playing beer pong while dozens of girls surrounded them. All of them were engineering students, except for their leader, Mark Lee, who was the most disturbing of the seven and was a literature major (which in some way that was incomprehensible to you, attracted a lot of girls) and he obviosuly took advantage of this, which was visible by the girl leaning loosely on his waist at this very moment.
— YES! — Haechan, one of them, shouted over the loud music as he hit the ping-pong ball into a glass of beer. Mark cracked his neck twice before picking up the glass and drinking until the very last drop, defeated.
You stared at him as he shrugged and grimaced before returning the glass to the table and flashing a smile at everyone in the game, preparing for his turn to throw the ball.
It wasn't that he wasn't handsome, or attractive. Yes, he was. And he didn't fall short on either count. You could understand why he was so chasen after by the girls on campus. It's just that you'd had the opportunity to have a few dialogues with Mark Lee, and they were all pretty unpleasant. There was something about his manner, his attitude, that you just couldn't endure. He was irritating. Smug. Sloppy. And you don't have time or patience for that.
He then flexed his arm, his biceps visible thanks to his tank top, and threw the ping-pong ball, but someone blocked your view just in time to watch him hit the cup.
— You won't believe what I've just found out! — Jennie, one of your three cheeky friends, appears smiling and clearly drunk. — Mark Lee is a total soft kisser!
— What? — You almost scream, startled by the sudden mention of the boy you've been shamelessly watching for the past few moments. And even worse: worried about how your friend had acquired this information.
— I'm serious! — She laughed out loud, bending her body forward and knocking some of what looked like a fruit cocktail out of the glass in her hand. You sidestep cautiously, but some of the pink liquid still splashes on your legs. — Lin said they kissed earlier in the evening, and he barely even moved! Can you believe that?
You laugh at the irony of the facts. That was valid information to share. You feel a bit bad for Lin, your classmate, but honestly? You wouldn't trade knowing that for anything.
Of course, Mark, the most conceited person who ever lived, would be the type to talk a lot and do nothing. Was there anything more coherent than that? Absolutely not!
Your laughter joins Jennie's, and you both enjoy the gossip for a while. Suddenly, Rihanna's "You Da One" starts playing through the dozens of speakers scattered around the house and you and your friend stare at each other, wide-eyed, as your laughter stops.
— THAT'S OUR SONG! — You shout at the same time. Jennie pulls you by the arm to the most spacious part of the room, where everyone was dancing, and you let yourself go for the first time all night.
The lively melody and beat combine with the rhythm of your heart, and not much later you can hardly feel the world around you. Tests, lack of money, shyness or cocky boys, none of it mattered. The few drinks you've consumed so far finally seem to take effect, and with every song that plays, your body feels looser and your mind feels further away.
Not long after that, a tall, muscular guy starts to whisper something to Jennie, who smiles back shyly. You realize that maybe this is your cue to take a break from the dance floor to grab another drink and finally quench your thirst caused by the sudden exercise.
You see the familiar counter full of disposable cups and bottles of all kinds on the other side of the hall, in what appears to be a dining room combined with a kitchen that is now full of young people and very messy. It's easy to let yourself imagine what that environment would look like if it weren't in its most chaotic state: perhaps a cozy place or a shared-house of intelligent students. But right now, that was just the alcohol talking.
As soon as you reach the counter, you grab a plastic cup and fill it with what looks like clear alcohol - perhaps a vodka, or gin - topped off with a generic soft drink from the other side of the counter. That mix will be enough at the moment to keep you from passing out, but it won't let the dance sober you up again either.
The first sip brings the sweetness of soda and the bitterness of strong alcohol down your throat.
— Vodka. That's for sure. — You conclude to yourself, looking at the cup in your hands.
— I thought you were some kind of female-hermit or something. — A voice pulls you out of your little dialog with the inanimate object in your hands, and you look up to see the person on the other side of the bar, only to roll your eyes deeply.
— That' not even a thing.
But Mark Lee just shrugs, filling his own cup with what looked like a brownish liquor.
— You get the idea. — He smiles and tilts his head, stopping to watch you. His eyes scan along your little black dress and you suddenly feel embarrassed by all the attention you're getting. He just lets out a muffled laugh, probably noticing the way you flinch slightly, and walks away with his drink - not without turning around and giving you a wink, which you answered with a frown.
After the not-so-pleasant appearance of the cocky college student, you remember the funniest piece of information of the evening: "Mark Lee is a total soft kisser!". Of course! He could be as arrogant as he wanted around you or any other girl, but you knew what he really was. You knew his secret. And he may have walked out of there thinking he'd rocked it, or that he'd made you uncomfortable as usual, but it was you who had won your little dispute. After all, you're going to have the last laugh.
…🎉…
A few more drinks away and no word from your friends. The small anger you had felt towards Mark had been transformed into an important mission to tell almost every girl you knew there about the new gossip you had been entrusted with.
You were at a stage in your drinking where your conscience was no longer so affected - so you could tell that your actions were the result of a real desire to unmask the most annoying guy you knew. Of course, the drink made you bold enough to carry out the plan, but the rest was all yours.
— So… Mark Lee, do you know who that is? — You were excitedly telling Lane, a girl from your business class. Lane nodded, curious. — The rumors are that…
She then arched her eyebrows, looking past you. Unfortunately, or not, you didn't exactly notice that.
— He's a very bad kisser! — And then you started laughing for the nth time that night, thinking about how funny that was and hoping for a good reaction from your colleague.
— Oh really? And how do you know that? — A voice echoes from behind you and you feel your spine freeze. Lane stares at you and the person behind you alternately, getting a front row view of your giant screwup.
"Shit", you thought before turning to face the known voice owner.
— Mark. — It's all you can say. You try your best not to show the shame of having been caught in such a…vulnerable moment. The brown-haired guy just stared at you intensely, arms crossed in front of his chest and a deadly look in his eyes. You don't let yourself be intimidated this time, and give him an ironic look in return.
— Funny you should be saying that, hermit.
— Funny that you're a literature student and yet misuse that word.
Okay, that wasn't your best take at the moment. But it was all you could think of as a response. You wait for a laugh from Mark, or anything else that would reveal his smug spirit - or that would show that he had been shaken by your comment about the kiss.
However, he just takes a step forward, still with his arms crossed, coming dangerously close to you and tilting his head and shoulders in your direction, to look you right in the eye as he says:
— Who did you call a "bad kisser" again? — He teases, starting to crack a sly smile. — Why don't you kiss me to prove who's the bad kisser?
You swallow a lump in your throat, not knowing what to say. That's right, it seems that his idiotic manners had appeared in the worst possible way, and now it was up to you to make things right, even though you felt nervous and your stomach twisted with a feeling you didn't understand where it was coming from.
Suddenly, a flash of confidence came over you. And there, staring at your nemesis' frowning eyebrows and the nonchalant way in which he crossed his well-shaped arms, with that stupid grin on his face and a growing challenge in his gaze, you understood what was happening to you.
Damn it, you want to kiss Mark.
Of course you don't want to give him a taste of being right, or yet another reason for him to think he's the man. Of course you don't want to hurt your own pride, and you'd hold on to it like your life depended on it.
But you also wanted to be able to test that gossip you'd heard earlier that evening. And you also wanted the taste of knowing that you'd totally destabilized that arrogant man. You wanted to see the look of surprise on his face when you accepted his proposal, or would he be… satisfied? Or bewildered? All the options seemed alluring in your imagination.
And you wanted to. Oh, you really did. You really wanted to kiss Mark Lee.
— Prove me wrong, then. — You boldly held the gaze of the boy who was testing your patience so much these past weeks. Your smile gradually widened as you watched his mouth slowly open in confusion.
Oh, he hadn't expected that.
Mark's eyebrows drew together and he seemed to search for words. His posture stretched, and the shadow of his body moved away from you.
— Wait, what did you say? — He pointed to his own ear and then to his surroundings, indicating the muffled sound of the party music. His face showed, however, that he had heard very well - he just wanted to make sure he wasn't hallucinating those words.
— Prove. me. wrong.
— What the actual f… — He practically whispered, but you could understand the words just by watching the movement of his lips. Mark's gaze in your direction was puzzled and surprised, but not in a childish way. He stared at you as if he were really trying to understand what on earth could be happening to you at that moment.
So, without letting him think too much about your sudden acceptance, you took the boy's wrist in one hand and began to lead him out of there.
— Let's find somewhere to go. — You said, with an assurance that had never come through your voice before, which Mark seemed to like. Then he took the lead himself, gently leading you through the party with the calm of someone who seemed to have done it many times before - and he probably had. You mentally thanked him, because if you had to continue to pull up your little confident act, your knees might have given out. Or your stomach would explode. Something in between.
Suddenly, Mark stopped in front of a door, already on the second story of the house. You didn't even notice how your feet made it all the way up the stairs, but they did. He opens the door, but not before turning to look at you one last time, trying to make sure that was happening.
He enters the room before you and turns on the light, making you realize that it was a rather narrow bathroom. Your heart beats rapidly before you take the final steps towards that unexpected destination.
You enter and close the door behind you. Mark leans lazily against the wall opposite to the sink, facing the bathroom mirror. He takes a deep breath, looks at the floor with a sly smile and says:
— I thought you hated me… — But you don't let him finish, because you quickly stand in front of him and put both hands behind the back of the head of the boy you hated. You see Mark's eyes widen one last time as he is interrupted, before you can bring your lips together in a rushed kiss.
Your nervous fingers run through the end of Mark's hair, which seemed freshly cut and slightly spiky. You smiled into the kiss at the tickling sensation, while he barely had time to react to your approach.
Then, when he finally understands, Mark pulls you close, holding your waist with both hands and spreading his legs to fit you between them. His grip is firm but still, as if he's nervous.
You continue to enjoy the moment, moving according to the rhythm between you, but always wanting more. The air in the bathroom seems increasingly thin, but the chaos of your mind barely lets you notice. You leave Mark's lips to make a trail of kisses between his chin and neck, hearing him sigh above you. You feel the warmth of his skin, and the short traces of freshly shaved beard on his face.
It's only when Mark gently pulls his face away and leans his forehead against yours, pausing to take a deep breath, that you realize he's barely had time to think.
— Okay, hasty. — He lets out a weak laugh between sighs. — Now it's my turn.
Without letting you answer - and in a classic revenge move - Mark leans over until you have to walk backwards. His steps are short, but they work until your back hits the sink counter. His exposed arms encircle you, holding you firmly on the worktop as he brings his body closer to yours until you're completely touching.
You let out an exclamation before he presses your lips together again, this time taking the lead.
Mark's lips feel like uncharted territory, as this time he takes control. His kiss is firm, but not at all restrained. Slowly, you feel one of his hands rise from the counter and run down your spine from the base to the nape of your neck, tracing it with his fingers and leaving you extremely sensitive. At the nape of your neck, Mark's hand fiddles with your hair, precisely catching the strands in a ponytail that he pulls back slightly.
His index finger makes a few deft turns through the strand, twisting it until it is completely in his grasp. He squeezes your strands with a force that doesn't hurt, but makes you grunt into the kiss - which he answers with a smile.
Still enraptured by the unexpected movements, you barely notice when Mark's two hands gather around your thighs, pushing them up until you're sitting on the sink counter and he has to tilt his head slightly to avoid breaking the kiss. The ease with which he had lifted you, and without pulling away. Oh my God.
Jennie's words about Mark seem further and further away, as if they had been in another life. They also seem, fortunately or not, untrue.
"Lin said they kissed earlier in the evening, and he barely even moved! Can you believe that? ", you hear your friend's voice in your head. Oh, no… Lin must have been completely out of her mind.
But there's barely time to think about anything outside that small bathroom. Or at least not when Mark is running his tongue lightly over your lower lip before moving on to your neck. The warm breath against your cold skin sends shivers down your spine, and you wriggle under the boy's grip - which still hasn't left your thigh.
With no time to lose, you pull back on Mark's neck to press your lips together again, and he seems to love it.
For a few more moments, you exchange hurried kisses and firm squeezes, until Mark's kiss begins to slow down, becoming even more attractive. The movement of your lips, so sure and certain, gradually stops, until he leaves a few lingering kisses and rests with your faces close together.
— I think you've proved me wrong. — You say, in a whisper, then let out a muffled laugh, unable to stop smiling.
— That's a shame… — He begins, tilting his head with a sideways smile. — Because if you weren't convinced, I'd have to keep proving it to you.
You face each other directly, and you can't help but roll your eyes at his comment, and then say:
— Mark Lee, you're an incredibly bad kisser.
— That's exactly what I wanted to hear. — He mumbles and moves closer again. You can still hear him let out one last dry, drawn-out laugh before closing your eyes and surrendering to the darkness.
(cw: f!reader, reader is referred to as "love/lover")
dividers from cafekitsune
a/n: thank you to the anon who recommended this in the poll!
There were few college stereotypes that you felt applied to you. You didn't sleep through classes, you didn't procrastinate until the last second all the time, and you didn't party every weekend despite your boyfriend, Mark, being a frat bro. But... you did grow to be the tiniest bit dependent on coffee, you did often go to class in sweats and, worst of all, you were bordering on broke.
It happened to work out that your boyfriend, was in the same boat. What better way to celebrate the giving season than making gifts for each other rather than buying gifts? At least, that's what you and Mark had decided anyway.
So you spent weeks researching good gifts, picking up skills you didn't think you'd ever need, and creating gifts for your boyfriend. There had been an unprecedented amount of hot glue strings, thread, and felt in your room since you started crafting. For weeks, you smelled like glue, but it was worth it. The gifts you had made, turned out to be so cute, totally Pinterest worthy.
You and Mark had both come back home together, bags stuffed to the brim with dirty clothes that needed to be cleaned. Days were spent catching up with family and nights spent with each other, enjoying the stress-free environment of being home. Well, stress-free in that there were no deadlines and no homework, but man, you forgot how annoying your family could be sometimes.
Tonight was the annual, Lee Christmas Eve party. It was a get together Mark and his family hosted every year since they moved into the house. You and Mark had spent many parties in his room together as kids playing with toys and making out once you started dating in high school.
Tonight, the tradition had yet to change. While the real adults mangled downstairs and kids ran around the house, you and Mark were in his room. Without and prompting you and Mark pulled out your gifts at the same time, you from behind your back and his from beneath his bed.
"Merry Christmas, Lover girl," he smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.
"Merry Christmas, Markie," you reply with a smile of your own.
He exhales, "So... I want to preface this gift exchange by saying that I am not a crafty person, but I tried my best."
"It's the thought that counts, Babe. I'm not a professional either," you reply sliding the bag he plopped onto his bed toward yourself.
"Okay then, I'm feeling better now," he sighs with a relieved smile, "open one of mine."
You smile at him and begin to pull the wrapped packages from the bag. You can easily spot the ones Mark wrapped himself and the ones his mom wrapped. You smile as you pick up the smallest of the bunch, wrapped a little sloppy, but nonetheless cute, "let's start with this one."
You pull off the wrapping paper and pull the lid off the small box to reveal a felt wallet. You coo, holding the card wallet between your fingers as you admire the colors and the handiwork, "I love it!"
Mark blushes bashfully as he ducks his head down to pick one of your gifts. He picks up a small box, even smaller than the one you'd just picked up and shakes it, raising his brows as he hears something rattle. You shrug playfully, biting back an excited smile as he pulls the top off the box.
"This is sick! Oh my gosh, Love. This is— woah!" Mark exclaims as he pulls out every custom guitar pick with gentle touch. Some have pictures of you, pictures of the both of you, logos of his favorite bands, and even some of his favorite quotes.
"I thought we had a price limit, how did you get all these picks and still have enough to make me more gifts?" He asks as he places the small box aside.
"I didn't buy those," you shrug, "I went to the music building after the guitar 1 classes and picked up every pick that was left on the floor. It was free beside the color printing from the library."
By the end of the party Mark has a new handful of guitar picks, a hand sewn case for his glasses with 'I love you embroidered' on the inner flap in your handwriting, a felt Polaroid frame ornament for the Christmas tree downstairs, and a calendar for the new year with a different collage of his interests and even you guys for each month.
You end the night with a new wallet, a cute picture frame for your first ever photo booth strip taken together, a journal covered in cute stickers and pictures of things you like, and another empty frame but decorated with jewels and glitter.
You bump Mark's shoulder with your own, "I didn't know you were this crafty, you're just good at everything, aren't you, Babe?"
"The girls helped me out a little when they came by the house," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "I'm still glad you liked the gifts though."
You hug him tightly, smiling up at him, "I more than liked them, I loved them."
"I'm glad," he smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "text me when you guys get to your aunt's tomorrow, alright?"
You smack a quick kiss against his lips, "of course, see you tomorrow evening. Love you, Markie. Save me some of your grandma's cookies."
"You got it. Love you, Lover," he responds, waving goodbye as your car pulls out of the driveway. This might have just been his favorite Christmas with you yet,
for starters, i really wanted to say how much i love the fratboy series and each of the personalities you’ve worked so hard to create! i’m sure myself and many others are so thankful for it and are excited to read many more of the works you put out in future 🫶🏻
also reading the latest fratboy!mark post made me feel bad for his gf because wdym she met them (& they all seemed to love her) and he still let them pollute his thoughts into thinking he should break up with her because of how stressed he was?? 😭😭 men really are just men…
Omggggg Mark 2:13 pm and Mark from Nu Chi Tau are def not the same!! The Mark who dumped his gf is from a different timeline with no other members around, the frat brothers in that timeline/au were mega assholes and the current NXT bros would NOT let Mark dump his gf!!! All the fratboy stuff that has been coming out recently is all set in the same au. Sorry for the confusion but I PROMISE the bros we met wouldn’t encourage Mark to be an ass, probably the opposite based on past fics lol
Thank you for reading and I appreciate your sweet message!🤍✨✨
Can we have a little fic abt frat boy mark pls i love ur work sm🫰🏻🫰🏻
Ok hi! I do actually have a teensy weensy little fratboy mark fic already here! But I am totally willing to write more if you have another idea for him🤍✨
