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alavestineneas · 1 year ago

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pairing: catohadley x fem!reder

summary: He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price. warnings: canon-typical violence; mentions of meat (as in reader owns a butcher shop); trauma and poverty word count: 6k

author's note: hello beautiful people! In honour of my birthday, I am posting about this bad boy today. Hope you like it - it was such a fun thing to write! Enjoy!

The stones under his worn boots are changing quickly; they are coloured in all shades of grey, sometimes with funny black dots on their rounded bellies. Cato would stop and collect a few if it wasn't for the important task at hand: Mom sent him to the butcher's, letting him take the thinly metaled coins for the first time, which are now snugly stored in the pockets of his raggy coat. He has the order memorized; Mom always buys the same. Three pig legs for the soup, which are then added to the porridge she cooks, and two bottles of the cheapest milk on the counter. It's good for the bones in his body, she says, and Cato believes her. Soon, he will start school; he has to be strong to get the chance to try out for the academy.

The butcher's is just around the corner; it's the only shop in their block that is always open. And, although the signboard is already faded, it is still his favourite place to visit. The door opens with a creek, and a small bell over Cato's head sings its cheerful melody. He takes a few steps inside, the colourful counters greeting him with all kinds of meat and sausages. He reads the curved writing on each of the signs carefully, trying out the way the letters come together in words. The sound of rushed steps is the only thing that breaks his mesmerization. They are soon changed by the grunting of the wood chair on the old tiled floor, and then, finally, a head pops up from behind the stands.

''Good afternoon!'' A pair of curious eyes stare at him, a smile missing a few teeth serving as a second greeting. ''What can I do for you today?'' the girl asks, changing her cheerful demeanour to a more serious, business-like tone.

Cato straightens up, his fingers finding the coins. He is a grown-up now; no other four-year-old he knows is allowed to go to the butcher's by themselves. ''I am here to buy meat.''

The girl laughs, her hair shaking with her mirth.

Cato feels the redness creep to his ears—of course, he is here to buy meat; everyone does. ''Why are you behind there anyway?'' he mutters, crossing his hands in front of himself. He thinks the girl should stop now; it's really not nice to laugh at others.

''Grandpa went to trade for bread and left me as the captain here,'' the girl boasts.

''That's a shame.'' Partly because Cato liked Grandpa Marc—he always sneaked a few pieces of candy for him and his brothers at home—and partly because he didn't like the little know-it-all. ''I would like three pig legs and two bottles of the cheapest milk,'' he declares in one breath, careful not to mess up. He isn't sure he can take another wave of her laughter.

''Sure,'' the girl nods, packing the meat in a big brown bag. Cato patiently waits as she moves her chair to reach the milk shelves, stopping before them. ''Which one again?''

''Shirley's.''

The girl doesn't move; the flowers on the back of her dress are still facing him.

''Shirley's,'' he repeats a little louder. Cato feels silly again; he doesn't like the mean girl and the way she teases him. ''Are you stupid? The one with the blue cap is Shirley's.''

''Right,'' she finally grabs it, moving to the register. Her hands work quickly, wrapping the goods and putting them together. ''The meat is this much money, '' she scrambles the numbers on the piece of paper lying nearby, ''and milk is this much.''

Cato goes over the symbols, carefully counting the total in his head. ''Here,'' he says, reaching for the money. ''And you wrote the two here wrong—it should be facing the other way, like a swan.''

''Oh. Sorry about that. Is this with change?'' She points to the colourful coins on the wood.

''Don't you know how to count? You need to give me 50 cents in change.''

''I do!'' she argues, her hand slapping the counter. ''I was just, hm, testing you!''

''Sure. Then why are you giving me two dollars back now?'' Cato raises an eyebrow. Part of him wants to laugh at her, just like she did moments ago. But he doesn't. Instead, he swaps the coins for the right amount, giving her the money back. ''Here you go. All good.''

''Thank you! Have a nice day!''

Cato nods, grabbing the bag and exiting the shop with a light heart. He did what his mom asked him to; she will be very happy to know that. The air is warm, and the soft wind is hitting him right in the face. In no time, Cato is home; the door is never locked. He places the bag on the kitchen table; Mom will see it when she puts the baby to sleep. His third brother - the other two are sleeping on the big bed in the children's room. That used to be his, but now he is a big boy—he sleeps on the couch in the living room, right near the kitchen. He likes it here; the baby's crying is not as loud, and he can see Mom as often as he wants to when she cooks.

There's not much to do right now; it's the ''quiet hours'' in Hadley's house. Usually, Cato would go play outside at this time, but instead, he grabbed the big book from the kids' shelf. There, with big, red letters, are all of the alphabets and numbers. It was his favourite. Cato remembers how mom would sit with him on her lap, her soft finger circling every picture. ''This is one. Look, it has a tiny nose, just like you do! Here, give me your hand—that's one finger you have, little gentleman!''

Cato throws one last glance at the closed door to the parent's room—he decides that mom won't be mad at him if he plays not in front of the house for once—and grabs the book, leaving the still place. This time, he grabs a few of the prettiest rocks on his way—he builds bridges and castles with them in the small creek behind their house. The butcher's is still empty when he gets there; the girl sits on the tall chair, drawing on the paper.

''What are you drawing?'' Cato asks, trying to see, but the counter is too tall for him to reach.

The girl doesn't look surprised to see him here; it's like he never left in the first place. ''It's worms. Papa worm, mama worm, and little worm. They are having dinner.''

''What are they eating? Meat?''

''No,'' she said, shaking her head. ''Meat is expensive; they have no money. They're eating a dirt pie. Here,'' the girl climbs off the chair, sitting down on the floor instead. Cato sits down near her, looking over her shoulder. ''They have small plates and spoons.''

''My dad doesn't like pies. He likes potatoes more.'' Cato thinks meat is better than pies and potatoes, but he doesn't tell Dad that. The girl tells the truth: meat is expensive.

''Where is he? At work?''

''Yeah, at the factory.'' Most people work at the factory—that's what Cato's dad says. They go when it's dark outside and Cato is still sleeping, and they return when the clock shows all zeros. Then, his dad eats while his mom drinks tea, and they whisper about something. ''And yours?''

The girl shrugs. ''I don't have one. It's just Grandpa and me. What is this?'' She points to the book in Cato's hands, and he finally remembers why he came.

''That's my book. It has numbers. Do you want to see?''

The girl beside him nods, and Cato smiles. He opens the book and proudly shows off the beautiful pictures. The girl likes them; she listens carefully to what Cato has to say about each letter. He likes it when he doesn't laugh at him.

''Good morning, Grandpa Marc!'' Cato greets the man behind the counter, cutting up yet another piece of meat. It's early, but he already stands in the butcher's, his dad's old bag on his shoulder. They can't be late for the academy.

''I'm coming, I'm coming!'' YN shouts, biting into the apple in one of her hands and tucking in her shirt with the other. ''Bye, Pa, see you!''

They both passed the exam for the academy; only four people from their neighbourhood did. They got the chance only because they were ''exceptional'' students, the only four whose training was free for now. The debt will be paid by them volunteering or after the academy through their future salaries. Cato knows that no one is actually able to pay it off; he will volunteer as soon as possible. YN will go; they agreed to go in different years.

That's how it always was with them—they walked to the academy and home together, trained, and learned together. Cato helped Grandpa in the shop, and YN often looked after his brothers. It was the endless stream of jokes from everyone around—you never saw one without the other, not even on the rating board. That was until year nine.

''I decided I'm not going to sit with you at lunch,'' Cato tells the girl walking beside him on the dusty road.

YN doesn't answer right away; she watches her feet instead. ''Let me guess—you will be with the mayor's son and his pack?''

''As a matter of fact, yes. They are my friends, and they invited me to sit with them.'' It annoys him the tone she is using.

''They are not your friends, Cato. They only do that, so you will volunteer for them when the time comes.'' YN is angry; her hands on the straps of the backpack are tightly clenched.

''So what? I'm going to volunteer anyway, so why not sit with them? There is nothing to do here, and they are always hanging out at movies or something.''

''Oh, so that's what it is about.'' YN stops, turning to him. ''You want to be one of them now.''

''Of course, I fucking do!'' Cato exclaims. ''We are dirt poor, YN. I don't want to live all my life in this shithole.''

YN's face changes; her eyes look at him as if for the first time. ''This is home, Cato. This is where we belong.''

''I don't. And I will find a way out of here, and you can stay in this mud as much as you like, but I will not let you drag me down with you.''

She slaps him. The hit is heavy; they are both trained to take blows, but it stings him more than it should. Cato watches as YN leaves, her quick steps echoing on the empty street in the morning fog. He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price.

YN can live without him as much as he does, she tells herself. She didn't decide to ruin the friendship, so she won't be the one to apologize, no matter how long the silence lasts. If he thinks that she will run back to him after four months of not talking, he is wrong. YN is fine; she still has two friends at the academy, she still has her grandpa and the beautiful sun above her head. It smiles at her every time she walks home alone, filling in the small gap in her chest with its golden rays. Her new companion.

What she doesn't expect is a group of people in front of the shop; they shout and argue, running around with ice and water in their hands. YN runs too; something happens. Fear rises in her stomach and travels to her throat when she sees the white coat of the doctor standing near the counter, a concerned expression on his face. ''I'm sorry,'' he tells her. YN clutches her bag, trying so hard not to cry as the crowd of familiar faces surrounds her.

He fell while trying to reach for the shelf, and a customer found him unconscious on the floor. Grandpa broke seven bones in his body and damaged his head. They are taking him to the hospital for, god knows, how long. The doctor places a hand on her shoulder; the cost of surgery is covered by the state, but she needs money for the medicine. They don't have any.

YN spends an hour crying into her pillow before pulling herself together—she is alone. It's not some stupid game they play—they pretend to win for years in the generated arenas in some big green boxes—it's life. The most brutal arena of all. So, she does what any fifteen-year-old would do—she washes her face with ice-cold water and grabs the keys from the shop. She has to speak with a few people.

The door to Hadley's home is never locked; nobody closes it in their neighbourhood, but YN still knocks out of respect. Cato opens it; she is surprised he is here and not with his new friends. He wants to say something, but YN has no time for him.

''Is your dad home?'' YN asks, trying to look over his shoulder.

Cato nods. ''Come in. Mom, it's YN.'' He shouts, closing the door behind her.

''Ah, YN. How is Grandpa Marc?'' She is cooking something—a big pot boiling with the best smell one could imagine.

The woman's concerned face stirs something in YN, so she fights the urge to cry and swallows her tears instead. ''Alive

''Come sit with us; we were just preparing to eat.''

YN wants nothing more than a plate of something warm, but she declines. She came here not to lessen the portion of someone; nobody here has money to make extra food. ''Thank you, but I need to speak with Mister Janus.''

''Spill it.'' Mr. Janus nods, standing up from the couch.

''Can we speak outside?'' YN asks, feeling a pair of blue eyes on her.

''Of course,'' Mister Janus shares a look with his wife before stepping outside. ''What happened, kid?''

YN takes some air inside her lungs. ''Is there a place for me at the factory for the night shifts?'' The man opens his mouth to argue, but YN is quicker. ''I know I am young, but I am strong from all the training, and I know a lot of useful things. I can reach where most men can't, and I will do anything you ask me to, I promise.''

Mister Janus sighed. ''I know you are good, but what about the academy? Night shift is six to six; you won't have time to get enough sleep and do the homework.''

''I quit the academy.''

''What?'' Mister Janus's face changes. ''YN, why? It's the only chance for you to survive.''

''Work is the only way for me to survive. Poverty and an empty stomach will kill me much faster than some games. I need the job, Mister Janus, please. If you don't give it to me, I will look for it elsewhere.''

The man thinks, his forehead creased with worry. ''Fine, kid. But be careful—get enough rest and don't push yourself too hard. We are here to help if you need us to.''

''Thank you, thank you so much!'' YN smiles, a few tears escaping her eyes. She hugs the man tightly, a glimmer of hope finally appearing. ''Thank you, Mister Janus; I will not let you down!''

Mistes Janus smiles back, patting her back. ''Go before it gets too dark; I'll see you tomorrow at five thirty.''

He watches as YN turns the corner of the street before returning to the warmth of his house. How much do these kids have to endure in this world?

YN didn't push herself too hard; she simply did what she was supposed to do. At six, she returned to the shop after the shift at the factory—butcher's opened at eight—so she had two hours to wash the dirt and sweat away with the old basin and a little warm water from the kettle and to master something edible on the stove. When that was done, she would dissect the meat and check the dates on milk bottles; the soon-gone bad would go to the sale section, and the new ones took their place. Then, the doors of the butcher's opened—people still needed to eat, and YN wasn't about to let them starve because of her own ''tiredness.''

The heaviest flow was in the morning, with the shop becoming quieter in the afternoon—that's when she took most of her sleep in, resting her head on the wooden counter and closing her eyes for a second. Oftentimes, customers would find her like this—they gently shook her shoulder and woke her up before ordering. Each time, YN felt shame creep to her cheeks, but each time, no one said a word to her; they just smiled, thanked her, and left the shop with a big brown bag in her hands.

That's how the rest of the year passed, with it becoming slightly easier when Grandpa was finally discharged from the hospital. His right arm didn't move like it used to, and it was hard for him to walk, but it was still better to have someone home to return to. Besides, he insisted on still serving the customers, so YN had an opportunity to sleep in her own bed for a few hours before a new portion of cut meat was delivered.

That's what she thought about standing in the main square in a crowd of children—how much meat she needed to cut before her shift. Grandpa was also here; some man had to hold him up so he wouldn't fall from being on his legs for too long, but he could at least enjoy the fresh air, which YN was grateful about.

The reaping was going quickly; the girl named was from the academy, so they didn't have to go through all that volunteering. YN didn't know her personally, but she saw her a couple of times; she was good with knives. As for the boys, it didn't go as smoothly—some poor eleven-year-old's name was called out, and he burst out crying on the spot.

''I volunteer!'' the voice boomed through the street, and YN turned with everyone to see who it was, although, in her head, she knew the answer.

Cato. He walked to the stage calmly, his legs conquering the steps in no time. He looked determined and happy, but YN knew better—that's what they taught them to present. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. Killers. She hears distant cries from the crowd behind her—it's probably Miss Hadley. YN clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together until her head rings. It isn't the time for her to break.

Cato can't bear to watch his mother's puffy face as she clenches her arms around him, whispering something like a prayer into his chest. His father is silent, a lonely tear escaping his eye as he holds Cato's youngest brother closer. The twins are also here; both of them are at the academy, so they have a faint idea of what he is doing. They tell him he will win because of how big he is, and that will be very easy. Cato smiles at them reassuringly—if only it were that easy.

''Dad,'' he nods in the direction of his crying mother.

''Come on, darling, you will upset him before the games,'' his father tells her, carefully pulling her way and placing a hand on Cato's shoulder. ''Stay strong, my boy. We will all be rooting for you every second you are in that arena; don't forget that.''

''Thank you, dad. Boys,'' he watches as twins show each other away, trying to get to bed first. He hugs them both; he has two hands for a reason. ''Behave and don't bother mom too much, or I'll have to kick your ass once I get back,'' he whispers into their heads.

The youngest one waves goodbye, blowing him a kiss. Cato smiles, watching his family leave the room. He wants to remember this moment forever, to put it in his pocket, and to never let it go. He knows why he is doing this—for them to have a better chance at life, for his father to finally have a day off, and for his mom to have new pots she secretly gazed at when she thought he wasn't looking.

''Hadley. Seven minutes.'' The peacekeeper announces, opening the door once more, even though Cato doesn't expect anyone else. Well, he hoped she would come—he really wanted her to—but he believed she never would. YN is not the type. Still, she is here. Closing the door behind her, in a simple blue jumpsuit and a nice scarf around her head.

''Hi,'' she nods. ''I came to say goodbye.''

Cato's heart skips a beat—those words hit harder than seeing himself on the big screens, with a tribute written under them. Soon, he may be dead; she will watch him on her small TV in the living room.

YN speaks quickly, almost in a rush. ''I know we don't speak anymore, but I know how you fight—you are capable of winning more than everyone else out there. Please, just don't think too much about what you are doing; just do it, okay?''

''Yeah, I'll try.'' He finds it weird that she doesn't want him to think, but Cato doesn't question why—she does know him better than anyone, having been training for a lot of years side by side.

''You have to return; your family needs you.''

''Don't worry too much about them; we already got the money for my volunteering from the mayor. They will be fine; dad can still work, and twins could help out. You have enough on your shoulders as it is. How is Grandpa Marc?''

''Better. He can't move like he used to and still needs help with walking and eating, but other than that, it's good. Although he is devastated that I didn't let him handle the meat, you should've seen how he tried to sneak a few knives at night.''

Cato's lips turn into a smile. ''That does sound like him.''

''Oh, I almost forgot. Here,'' YN rumbles in her pockets before taking a few pieces of candy out. ''We thought you should have a few.''

''You are kidding me? Lucky-talkies? I haven't had one in ages!''

YN laughs at his excitement, carefully placing the sweets in his hand. ''I know. They are as hard as they used to be; don't chip your tooth; it'll look bad at the promotion.''

Cato chuckles, pocketing the candy before his mentors have a chance to take it away. ''Thanks, YN. For everything.''

''I'll give you as much as you want if you don't die in there. Just try to stay alive, okay?''

''Easier said than done. But I'll try.''

YN smiles. Their time is up. The peacekeeper opens the door for her, his gun tangling dangerously around his neck. She doesn't turn around as she exits; her walk is steady. Cato thinks that he caught her shoulders shaking, but it could be just a twist of his tired brain.

The days after that are agony. YN doesn't know if it was her tiredness that finally caught her in a narrow corner or the grim reality of her life—it was definitely both. Even her favourite silent friend didn't cheer her up like it used to—the sun shone almost violently, burning her skin and leaving her body dizzy. The rotten cycle was now worsened by the non-stopping playing of what seemed to be a thousand screens, with stomach-curling screams echoing from time to time. They were everywhere—at the shop and their small flat above it, on the main square she passed each day, and, what was worse, they were at the factory, where she couldn't pretend to watch even for a second.

The work she does is heavy—carving the stones on the machinery bigger than her; her muscles were constantly aching, begging for a break. The suit she wore was too tight and too hot, and the annoying voice of the announcer blared through the speakers, stealing the air in her lungs. YN wanted nothing but to make it stop—for the world to go silent and still, even if just for a moment. But wonders didn't happen with people like her, so she continued to work, pushing herself through her gritted teeth.

''Welcome, welcome to what seems to be the last day in this beautiful arena!'' The blue-haired man spoke, his accent making YN's head hurt even more. ''To remind our dear viewers all across the Panem, here is a small recap from my colleague and sometimes friend, Claudius.''

''Thank you, Caesar. We are left with only three tributes on day eighteen—the first, of course, being Cato from District 2. His strategy has proved efficient so far; no doubt, he is one of the best contestants we've seen in a long time. And then, much to my surprise, a pair of tributes from District 12 are still in the games—their love story truly captivated the audience. Let's see what this day, or should we say night, brings us today and who will have the odds in their favour in the end.''

YN doesn't react to their comments; it feels wrong to compare herself to the kids out there, being selfish enough to think she deserves a break. She should be counting her lucky stars; it isn't her there, going through the bodies of the competitors one by one. Cato received body armour from the sponsors; that was good. He also lost his district partner; YN remembers her now; she was in his ''new'' friend group. She feels sorry for the girl; her death was awful, and her screaming Cato's name will forever be engraved in YN's memory.

''Aha, here he is! Our gladiator from District 2—he is running from—what's that?—wolves! Look at that speed—he surely is a good runner!''

YN turns her attention to the giant screen—surely enough, Cato is running from some monstrous creatures. He is bloodied; his skin is covered in bruises. YN prays it all will stop soon and he will get home safe. He doesn't even flinch when the arrow shot by twelve hits his chest; he just keeps running towards the Cornucopia.

''Please,'' YN whispers. He can't die, not when he has survived for so long.

''Look at them—all of the tributes managed to get on the Cornucopia just in time! Oh, here is a clever move from Cato's side: having Peeta in a headlock is a classic move. Now, he is sort of a ''human shield''. Brilliant!''

"Go on, shoot.'' Cato's voice booms through the speakers, sending shivers down YN's back. She missed hearing his voice, but it didn't even sound like him anymore. Like a stranger talking from the inside of what looked like her friend. '' And we both go down, and you win. Go on. I'm dead, anyway! I always was, right? I didn't know that until now. Isn't that what they want, huh?''

What the fuck was he doing? YN's mind raced—why won't he just kill him and get it over with? She doesn't notice how her hands begin to shake and how everyone else in the room seems to be eyeing her.

''No! I can still do this. I can still do this. One more kill. It's the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district. Not that it matters."

''Kill him! For fuck's sake, just kill him!'' YN stands up, her nerves getting the best of her. Her voice echoes—she didn't mean to say it out loud.

''No talking!'' The peacekeeper in front of her shouts, his hand steady on the gun.

YN turns to face him slowly. Who was he to tell her to shut up when it was her friend who was dying right before her eyes? She feels her hands clench into fists; she will be able to take him down in a fight, maybe even kill him. YN was willing to try, at least.

''She won't talk no more,'' one of the older men in the group mutters, his voice bitter. ''Sit down, child.''

YN wants to argue, wants to scream or run until the bullet catches up to her, but she doesn't. What use would her dead body be to her grandpa? So she sits down, biting her cheek until her mouth fills with a familiar iron taste. Everything she wants to say, she tastes in her throat instead.

''Wait, can we zoom in on here?'' One of the announcers asks. ''Here, yes, what exactly are they staring at? It fell from Cato's pocket, right?''

'''Well, Claudius, it looks like a candy wrap to me. The real question is: why does Cato have one in the first place? He didn't strike me as a big sweets fan. ''

''Well, whatever it is, it seems to have changed his mind—look at how masterfully he throws Peeta down, like a feather! Oh, and now he is lurching for the girl on fire!''

A loud snap is heard through the speakers, and the girl falls, lifeless. YN covers her face with her hands, the dirt from them leaving a mark on her sweaty face. A choir of relieved exhales rings through the room.

''Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have our 75th victor!''

It's hard, the first thing Cato realizes. Being here, breathing in the air that feels like spikes inside his lungs—everything was supposed to be easy, but it's so far from that. They have a nice house now; it has a room for each of his brothers, and even twins don't have to share anymore. His dad doesn't work; it's not fitting for victor's family to do so, so he takes up gardening instead. If a few years ago Cato heard that his father would ramble about how badly roses had grown on this soil, he would've checked himself into a mental asylum.

He isn't very loved in the Capitol, but his mentors said it was for the best. Cato believes them, but it stings a little. He wanted glory but got disgusted instead. It was not a fair trade, but at least his debt is paid, as is his brothers'. Money could buy a lot of things, just like he predicted, but it couldn't buy him peace. Cato has nothing ahead of him; he can't study like his peers do, can't work, can't live, and pretend it didn't happen. It very much did—when he closes his eyes, he can still smell the blood on his hands.

That's why he is here instead of Victor's village, eating ice cream on the empty main square in the warm evening. It's funny to think how he wanted to try it, collecting the money his father let him have for almost a year before ordering his first chocolate scoop. It was the tastiest thing he had ever eaten; now, it tasted just like every other one.

He hears the nearing footsteps—the people are returning from the day shift in the factories. Cato nods to a few of them—old neighbours, parents of classmates, or dad's friends. The men are all different—short and tall, ginger, blond and brunette—but they all bear the same expression that Capitoleers called ''a district 2 glare'' once. Cato used to get angry when he heard it, but now his face is no different—the word is a heavy thing to endure.

His eyes drift to the only person looking up and not on the road ahead—of course, it's YN. She thinks about something only she and the sun know, her steps mirroring those of the people ahead. One of the men notices him watching; he gently shoves her shoulder, whispering something in her ear before pointing in the direction of his seat. Suddenly, Cato wants to hide the ice cream in his hand and run away, but he doesn't.

''Enjoying your victory, Mister Hadley?'' Her voice is loud and filled with teasing, and a few men snicker at them.

Cato isn't angry; he deserves it, quite frankly. ''Always was known for the sweet tooth,'' he shrugs. ''As a matter of fact, are you free any time soon?'' He asks when the crowd is far enough away.

YN raises an eyebrow at him. ''Why is that? You know I work.''

''I was hoping you and your grandpa could come by sometime. Mom is awfully lonely, and the boys would love to see you, too.''

She nods. ''I am free on Sunday, but Grandpa is still a little shy about eating in front of people.''

''I'll ask mom to cook a soup then—it's better?'' He would cook the damn soup himself if it meant seeing her for longer than five minutes. If it meant not being alone in that house, that reeked of the arena.

''Yes, I think we can do that. What about 12? We could be a little late with all that walking.''

''Thank you; it's perfect.''

YN smiles at him. For the first time since he won, someone smiled at him. Cato smiles back, although he is sure it comes out more as a grin. YN doesn't notice or pretends to do so.

''Oh, come in! Janus, come right down; the guests are here!''

YN and her grandpa are greeted with Miss Hadley's voice, her warm hands wrapping first around her, and then the older man. YN smiles; she missed just sitting down for a meal without having to worry about how much money she was going to need for the next one. The boys have grown. They shout, each trying to be the first to show her their own rooms and the cool things they have. YN tries not to get lost in the maze of toys, balls, books, and a thousand other different things, while Grandpa talks with Mr. Janus.

When the boys start to embark on what feels like a fifth circle around the house, Miss Hadley puts an end to it. ''That's enough! YN, darling, come sit here—what would you like to eat?''

The table is full of different things. There are so many that they could eat for a few weeks and be full. YN doesn't think she saw that many vegetables and fruits in her life. She asks for what everyone is having and is happy to have her plate full. Grandpa also seems to be enjoying himself; he insists on wearing his best shirt for the occasion and now listens attentively to what the twins have to say. They make a good team, YN thinks—twins finally found free ears that are not yet tired of them, and there is nothing that Grandpa loves more than a good story.

When the dinner is over, YN speaks, talking to Miss Hadley beside her. ''Thank you for the invitation; your house is just lovely.''

''Cato made us clean every corner of it before you came—I didn't even have time to play outside!'' The youngest boy whines, pouting slightly.

YN chuckles as she watches colour gather at Cato's ears, his eyes glued to the dish in front of him. ''Well, it was definitely worth it—I had the most marvelous time with you here. And the food was delicious! But I am afraid we have to go; Grandpa should walk when it's still light outside.''

''We will take you home,'' Cato announces, nodding to the twins to put on their shoes. They do so happily, grabbing them and their jackets before Grandpa has a chance to stand up and stick to his side like glue.

The evening is pleasant; the wind is quite chilly, but Cato doesn't mind. The only sound on the street is twins arguing over who will help Grandpa Marc with his cane for the next two minutes.

''Thank you for coming,'' he says, looking at the woman walking beside him.

''Of course. We had a good time, - I hope you did too. How's life been? We haven't talked in a while.''

''Good,'' Cato lies. ''And yours?''

''Better. Since your dad quit, I got the day shift; it pays better, and I can finally get rid of those horrible dark circles.''

Cato nods. ''I've been thinking a lot about our past these days, especially our childhood. It feels like a lifetime ago.''

''Things change,'' YN shrugs. ''We've grown and become different people since then. I would've never imagined working at the factory, but here I am. And you win the games—that was your dream.''

''Don't you miss it? How easy were things back then?''

YN smiles. ''They never were easy, I think; we just couldn't understand them properly. Besides, not much changed, if you think about it.''

''Maybe not for you.''

''Why?'' YN turns to look at him.

Cato swallows. ''YN, they made me different. The games, all those kills—they changed me.''

''You did what you had to survive. It doesn't matter now that you are here.''

''You think I don't notice how people tiptoe around me now? How can Mom stand to look at me for more than a minute? How do boys try to avoid me at all costs? And dad—he doesn't even speak to me! ''

YN is silent. Cato curses in his mind—he shouldn't have said that. He takes a deep breath. ''I'm sorry. It just feels weird. It's like I don't have a home to return to and can't get into a new one. Just hanging there, mid-air.''

''When Grandpa was in the hospital, that's how it felt. I was too young to be alone, but there was no choice but to watch as everything I once loved fell into ruins. I was supposed to be going to movies, partying, and sneaking out, not juggling the bills from medication and the shop. But life decided otherwise. So, I built my own home within myself—one that nothing could tear down or take away.''

''I don't think there is anything left to build on. I'm not like you; everything anyone sees when they look at me is a monster .''

''I don't.'' YN stops. ''I see the boy who brought me a pretty big book with pictures so I could give the change correctly; I see a man who volunteered for his family to have a chance at a better life. I see you, real you, not the role mentors or Capitol made you play. Just Cato.''

''Can I hug you?'' His voice is barely above a whisper.

YN doesn't answer - she just takes a step closer into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

''I'm sorry; I am so sorry for everything I've done," Cato mutters, his hands trembling as he holds onto YN tightly. ''I should've said it sooner. ''

''It doesn't matter now. We survived this; we are still here, you and I.''

Cato nods; his tears mix with hers, pooling in patches on his shirt. They are different—children who were forced to grow up too early in a world that wasn't for them. ''I think I never lost it—my home. It was always here, with you, on this street. Isn't it funny? All those years of searching, only to return here, where we truly belong?''

''The butcher's, you mean? If you wanted more candy, you could've just asked,'' YN smiles, whipping away her red eyes.

''Fucking finally,'' an aged voice mutters from behind the corner.

''Grandpa Marc!'' the twins turn to him, surprised.

The old man just smiles, his wrinkled face appearing younger with joy. ''Don't tell YN I said that. She'll never let me live it down."

The twins giggle, their happy laughter echoing on the street. A few moments later, Grandpa Marc joins in, his breathy laugh adding to the chorus. It's not the first time the street leading to the butcher's was woken up by sounds of joy, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

#imagine #hunger games #character x you #cato hunger games #cato hadley #cato x reader #cato hadley x reader #cato hadley fanfiction #the hunger games #district two #childhood friends to lovers #au #love this pookie so much #careers #thg cato

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smileysuh · 3 years ago

Text

Sunday Kind of Love : Frat Mark

🌙 staring. Mark x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. Mark is fine with having a crush on the girl in the library. He’s fine watching her from afar. And he’s fine with never speaking a word to the girl who he spends many nights chasing in his dreams. But fate, and a few nosey frat brothers, think Mark would be much better if he was forced to talk to the cute girl from the library that he can’t seem to get out of his head.

tw/cw. inexperienced/soft reader, frat nct, extreme pining, tooth hurting sweetness, the softest boy in the world, a love so pure it’s going to hurt you, oral (f/m receiving), dry humping, tiddie worship, multiple orgasms, switchy/no bdsm role Mark, etc..

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 35.8k

🍭 aus. Frat au!, slow burn, soft boy x sweet girl, library romance, frat found family, general frat shenanigans, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. music inspo: Sweet boi (chevvy) - Flaming hot cheetos (clairo) - Pink bubblegum (lavi) - Sunday Kind of Love (Etta James) - I’m Yours (Jason Mraz) - frat au masterlist

1: Thursday - October 23rd

“I’m not telling you who she is, or you’ll do something weird,” Mark states firmly as he leads Jungwoo up the campus library steps. “I told you, I’d walk with you here, but now you have to leave me alone, and go work on your project.”

“But I wanna see the pretty girl,” Jungwoo whines, which always draws a few eyes of people in the surrounding area. A few girls look over and heat flares across the Canadian’s skin. Usually Mark caves under pressure, especially the pressure of people watching a six foot two puppy man make baby faces at him, but today the Canadian music theory major stands firm.

“No.” Mark adjusts the baseball cap on his head, shielding his eyes from his friend and pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Have fun on your group project”

Mark leaves Jungwoo in the entryway, heading up the stairs two at a time. He reaches the third floor with record speed, then the Canadian weaves his way through tables and students until he finds the section you’re almost always sitting at.

It’s a large enough room that Mark generally feels comfortable enough to test fate and get away with being on the edge, close enough to you most days, but far enough that to a normal person, it wouldn’t look like he comes here for you… which he does.

Your designated study spot is close to the windows, at a small table that’s usually not full, but Mark has never had the courage to ask to sit with you.

He enjoys his space by the vending machine where he spends too much money on snacks to chase away hunger after hours spent sitting here, unwilling to leave until you have, even though it’s not a competition… it’s not, Mark just can’t stand the idea of leaving first sometimes.

Today, Mark settles in like normal. He pulls out his book, then his laptop. Next comes big headphones, which he has on him at nearly all times. There’s a brief internal conflict on whether or not he’ll take off his baseball cap or let the hat, glasses and headphones crush his head- although, he has been told on numerous occasions that his head is a little too large, so perhaps some squeezing will do him good-

Movement catches Mark’s eye and he watches a lost looking Jungwoo appear from the opposite way Mark had come- Jungwoo truly hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d never been to the library- and is approaching… you?

Mark sits there, gobsmacked, as Jungwoo casually takes the chair across from you as if it was his to begin with. Leaning forward, Jungwoo launches into an animated story, and the Canadian is pretty sure he hears his own name once- twice- three times before Jungwoo takes a breath and seems to ask you a question.

Mark can’t believe he’d turned down Jungwoo’s offer of being study buddies.

Well- he can. The idea of heading over to your table is horrifying.

As the initial shock wears off, all of Mark’s grand ideas dissipate as sense takes over, and soon, he’s back to being ultra comfortable in his seat by the faithful vending machine.

2: Friday - October 24th

“So Mark takes me to the library, and I offered him to come study with me and my partner while we worked on our project, but Mark wanted to go look at his crush-”

“Did you see her?”

“Lucas, shush-” Jungwoo rolls his eyes. “Anyways, Mark ditches me and I go work with my partner for like four hours. Then my partner has to leave because she had dinner plans-”

“What?” The Canadian perks up at what ‘dinner plans’ could mean.

“Mark, it’s my story,” Jungwoo scolds, shushing his friend with a light push to the shoulder. “Anyways, she leaves. And I was pretty hungry so I was thinking ‘what should I eat?’ And I passed a vending machine! So I stop, and guess who’s sitting there? Mark Lee!”

All the eyes shift to Mark, who is already blushing. He can feel his ears turning red with heat and he looks down, not willing to meet anyone's gaze.

“Turns out, my partner, who he didn’t want to come hang out with, was Mark’s crush! And he sat by the vending machine and watched us for four hours!”

“I did not,” Mark says, and he hates how unconvincing he sounds. He can’t look up, face hidden by a dark green ball cap, which only makes his heated skin stand out more to the men around him.

“He probably studied a little,” Johnny suggests, mouth half full of ice cream from where he’s sitting on the counter by the fridge.

He’s sweaty from a workout, his muscle shirt inside out to betray the exact form of cardio to all his friends, none of whom have the balls to tease the largest frat brother in the house (especially when it’s from something involving his girlfriend, who he’s quite protective of).

“Yeah,” Mark says. “Yeah! I did study!”

The Canadian heads to the fridge. He’s not hungry, but he wants to be closer to Johnny, who won’t make fun of him for any of this, and is the only person who hasn’t overtly pressured him to reveal your identity-

“So who’s your partner?” There’s the question - directed at Jungwoo, who is notorious for being terrible at keeping secrets.

And who does it come from?

Nakamoto fucking Yuta.

Ever since Yuta set his best friend up with Jaehyun, the three of them have been ‘on the prowl’ (well, Jaehyun less so much) looking for a cute girl to set Yuta up with.

Mark doesn't think Yuta will purposefully hit on you, but he’ll come around to say hi one day and then boom- you’ll fall in love with the man who looks like an anime prince and can say ‘I love you’ in something like six languages- as can most of the guys here, now that Mark thinks of it- so yeah- Mark can’t let you anywhere near his super hot frat brothers.

You already looked pretty smitten with Jungwoo, if Mark is being honest with himself. His hand finds the back of his neck and Johnny notices his friend’s mood has shifted, his body getting closer to the Chicago Native who shields him by swiftly changing the subject of the conversation.

“Guys, leave Mark’s poor crush alone.” Johnny’s tone is joking, but his voice draws all eyes. And his body language must express that he’s not joking, because Jungwoo puts his phone into his pocket immediately.

“Is anyone actually going to Haechan’s presentation pregame tonight? Pretty soon it’s going to be Presentation Pregame and Drunk Poker,” Johnny says, an apt topic change.

“Don’t give him ideas.” Doyoung’s stern voice announces his presence before he swiftly enters the room. He heads to the fridge, pushing past Mark and pulling the hood of his hoodie down to expose hair still drying from the man’s morning shower. He opens the fridge to begin the next part of his ritual: making breakfast.

“Did you hear the worst part?” Lucas says as he shovels a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, squishing it over into one cheek to speak. “No girls allowed.” He goes back to happily munching, looking around as if it’s the craziest thing ever suggested.

Everyone looks at him for a moment. He’s in dark checkered sleeping pants and a black muscle shirt, his dark hair wet from the shower and someone’s black rimmed glasses perched on his nose to set off the more angular side of his features. He’s a vision, and it takes a full moment for anyone to say anything due to the sheer striking effect of Lucas’s morning visuals, that no one was expecting or prepared for.

“Camping was no girls allowed,” Johnny points out, referring to the trip they’d gone on only a short time ago. Mark and Haechan had shown up late because the Canadian had been at the library and lost track of time while you both studied- Johnny wonders if it’s because Mark wanted to sit near you- maybe Mark does have a problem.

“Except Yuta brought his girlfriend, and then Jaehyun ended up with her!” Jungwoo exclaims excitedly, always the lover of gossip, and this particular turn of events had shaken him to the core when he’d found out about it. He’d always thought Yuta would end up with his best friend, not Jaehyun. It’s the only time in Jungwoo’s life that his match making senses had been off - there’d been the time he’d been in a weird game of seven minutes in heaven and he’d taken one look at Lucas and his best friend at the time and said: “They’re going to fuck for sure.”

He’d been right. Of course.

“Should we invite Mark’s girlfriend and see if he ends up spending the night with her?” Yuta smirks, always the type to tease. He reaches out and pinches at Mark’s cheek. The Canadian smacks his hands away.

“She’s not his girlfriend yet,” Jungwoo insists loudly, looking down at Mark in a way that makes Mark kind of mad.

Johnny hops off of the counter, drawing everyone’s attention. “Guys. Who’s presenting tonight?”

“Haechan himself, obviously. The first presenter sets the standard and he’s the one who came up with his whole presentation night thing,” Doyoung says as he finishes with his cream cheese and toast with five perfectly sliced cucumber medallions, turning to swiftly leave the room in the same manner he’d entered it.

“Will you be there?” Johnny calls as Doyoung gets farther away, almost out of ear shot.

“Someone has to chaperone.”

3: Saturday - October 25th

“You can’t be serious,” Yuta groans when he watches Mark drag himself out of bed on Saturday morning before noon.

The time could be eleven AM, three, five- it wouldn’t matter, Yuta is done for the day before it even starts, and they both know it.

Presentation night had gone… well, technically, it had gone terrifically.

By the time Haechan was even starting his presentation - which included sparklers and a podium Haechan brought in specifically for the event - a few of the younger men (newbies to legality), were giggling with tipsiness.

“The best frat vacation trips, ranked by me, the star character of all of them!” Haechan had announced, “Opening with number one! The trip where we purposefully left Doyoung in an Ikea parking lot in the middle of Sweden.”

Things had erupted after that, naturally, as Taeyong had spent two days convincing Doyoung that they hadn’t left him on purpose- and to his credit, Taeyong hadn’t left Doyoung the way the rest of them had- he’d been too drunk at the time to remember Doyoung’s existence.

The mere thought of the night before makes a shiver run up Mark’s spine, the taste of tequila flaring across his tongue- had he brushed his teeth before Johnny carried him to bed? He has some memory of Taeyong poking at his teeth, but he can’t quite remember if it had been with a toothbrush or a mozzarella stick.

“I have to study,” Mark says as he grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder before adjusting the hoodie covering his form.

“Liar,” Yuta groans, rolling onto his stomach and hiding under his blankets.

“I’ll bring you some lunch on my way back home,” Mark promises, feeling a little sorry for his roommate, who had been going hard with his drinking in the month since school started up again.

Mark’s not sure what’s up with Yuta, but he knows there’s definitely something troubling the resident anime prince.

The frat is quiet as Mark walks, heading down to pass through the kitchen and fill his water bottle. There, he bumps into Johnny, who agrees to head with him to the library before going on his morning jog.

Like their frat house, the campus is mainly deserted on the early Saturday morning, and Mark prefers it this way. He’s often busy reading while he walks, catching up on class content, or responding to group texts, and the abundance of skateboarders and other students who drive multi wheeled vehicles always stresses the Canadian out.

Mark enjoys the morning light peeking through the clouds to signify the start of the day. The air is crisp, just the way he likes it, and the leaves that scatter the walkways betray the season.

“What are you going to be for Halloween?” Johnny asks, mind on a similar topic to Mark’s as the two frat boys head across campus.

Mark shrugs, playing with the straps of his backpack. “I hadn’t thought much about it.”

“But your crush is coming right?” Johnny’s elbow nudges into the Canadian’s side, and Mark shuffles a little to the right as they walk, keeping him out of range of any future nudges from the tall man who never seems to know his strength.

Mark shakes his head, “I hope not.”

“What? Why?”

“It would be weird if she was there.” Mark isn’t able to really verbalize why it would be weird, but the thought of seeing you in a crowded room, surrounded by people, is so much different from the way he often pictures you at your desk with your eyes fixed on a book.

He enjoys the aesthetic of you, the calmness- it’s something he’s unable to really find anywhere else, given the fact that at any given time at least two guys are probably getting laid in his house, and likely five others are doing something just as crazy that Mark wouldn’t want to walk in on-

He really wants to keep you in your own special little library box, and Mark dreads the notion that you’ll continue studying with Jungwoo on the project the two of you are working on. He hopes it will be over soon, and that things can go back to normal, with you being his safe, pretty, little crush, that he doesn't have to share with the world, let alone his frat brothers.

4: Sunday - October 26

On Sunday morning, Mark wakes up feeling refreshed. Yuta often sleeps with the window open, and it had rained the night before, allowing the scent of fall to be carried in along with the cold.

Sitting up, and running a hand through his dark locks, Mark’s eyes find his roommate’s bed empty. This prompts Mark to rise, goosebumps erupting over the bare skin of his chest when he reaches for his glasses next to the window, the air caressing his skin as if to say hello.

With a groan, Mark shuffles over to his closet, grabbing a NCT House hoodie. When Mark leaves his bedroom, his head half through the hole of his hoodie as he pulls the fabric over his body, he bumps into Shotaro. Once he manages to get his clothes fixed, Mark follows Shotaro down the hallway. “Have you seen Yuta?” he asks, shocked a little at the coarseness of his voice.

“He’s making brunch.”

Mark pulls out his phone in confusion as they trudge down the stairs. “It’s only like ten though.”

Yuta is rarely awake on weekends before noon, and if he starts being mature now, Mark might have to pull up his own big boy pants- something he’s not very excited to do, given the fact that there is always at least one house mother in the form of Taeyong or Kun who is willing to baby any frat boy unwilling to leave behind the mannerisms of their teen years.

“Mama Jae is here,” Shotaro responds quickly, and suddenly everything clicks into place.

‘Mama Jae’ is the new name Yuta has given to his best friend, who happens to be dating the resident soccer team Captain. She’d always been a big presence in the frat, as Yuta’s best friend, but now that she’s over to see Jaehyun even more-

Well, if there’s one thing Yuta will get out of bed for, it’s his best friend, and Mark enters the kitchen to find ‘Mama Jae’ stirring a pot while Yuta rolls around with a blanket on the floor.

“So when you said ‘Yuta is making brunch’-” Mark grins, drawing the eyes of the half asleep, obviously moody man on the floor.

Shotaro smiles softly, setting a massive container of Kimchi onto the counter- it looks like the one Haechan usually stores in his room, and Mark worries Yuta may have sent his poor little (frat brother) on a fool's errand in retrieving it, because when Haechan finds out it’s been taken-

“Hey Mark.”

“Hey mama Jae.” Mark smiles softly at the girl who turns to wave at him from her cooking.

“Mark, I’ve told you a billion times, you’re allowed to call her mommy Jae if it fits your kink better,” Yuta says from the floor.

“God, it’s not even ten and we’re already talking Mark’s mommy kink?” Jaehyun sighs as he enters the kitchen, immediately walking up to his girlfriend to slot himself behind her at the stove, pressing a kiss to her cheek that has Yuta making a gagging sound that Mark doesn’t quite believe.

“I don’t have a mommy kink!” Mark groans, starting to think that a McDonalds McMuffin might be a better option to food with the boys if it means he’s going to be ripped on for a kink that he’s never even indulged in-

“Prove it!” Yuta screams back, his usual response when mommy kink gets brought to the table.

“I hate to say it,” Jungwoo’s voice enters the fold as the tall Mechanical Engineer takes a seat next to Mark at the kitchen counter, “but I’m starting to think this mommy kink thing might not be real.”

“What makes you say that?” Yuta sits up, gazing at Jungwoo quizzically.

Jungwoo shrugs, reaching for an apple sitting on a fruit platter Kun diligently keeps stocked for the ‘growing boys’ who generally prefer minute made ramen. “His crush isn’t a mommy type at all.”

And he would know.

“She’s not?” Yuta cocks his head.

Mark feels a little bad that he really hasn’t informed his own friends on any details pertaining to his new library dream girl.

Jungwoo shakes his head again. “She’s very baby,” he responds. “Very cute. The kind of girl you just wanna squish-”

“Hey!” Mark pushes at Jungwoo’s shoulder, unable to allow his friend to talk about you in any more detail.

“Tell me you don’t wanna just rest your head against her boobs-”

“Jungwoo!” Mark screams louder, standing up while heat flares across his skin, his hands forming fists at his sides.

But Jungwoo will not stop.

“And when she wears her cute little preppy outfits-”

Mark groans, throwing his hoodie up and over his head before pushing his glasses back up his nose. “I’m going to McDicks,” he announces.

“Mark, he’s just joking-” Jaehyun tries to talk the Canadian down, his red ears betraying his anger to everyone in the room, but Mark is already closing the door to the frat house shut behind him.

5: Monday - October 27

“Mark, trust me.”

“No.”

“Trust me,” Jungwoo says again as he pushes the Canadian down the hall towards the area of the library where his study buddy is waiting.

“I refuse.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You decide you like her, and flirt with her right in front of me while I have anxiety and can’t even speak, and look really stupid-”

Jungwoo scoffs loudly. “When has a girl ever not fallen for the whole ‘I'm cute and Canadian, and stutter over my words around pretty girls’ thing you do?”

“It’s not a thing!” Mark insists. “That’s just how I am around cute girls!”

“Oh.” Jungwoo frowns. “Well, it better work.”

Mark’s feet stop moving when they reach the study room and his eyes land on you. You’re already in your little corner, your books set up, three empty seats around you at the table-

“Mark, come on!” Jungwoo insists again, grabbing onto Mark’s forearm to drag him the rest of the way.

“I really don’t want to-” Mark groans, but then you’re looking up at him, a curious smile on your face as you nod to Jungwoo before returning your gaze to Mark- and the Canadian’s words die down in his throat. He licks his lips, suddenly aware of how thirsty he is- and he makes a grab at his backpack while Jungwoo pulls out the seat next to you.

“Y/N this is Mark. Mark this is Y/N,” Jungwoo says, waving a hand. “He’s going to study with us, that’s okay right?”

You nod, looking up at Mark, who nearly chokes on his water when you ask, “Don’t you usually study by the vending machine?”

Trying to swallow and answer you quickly, Mark ends up sitting down in the chair across from you, fumbling with his backpack, his laptop, and the water bottle that he almost sends spilling across the table. “I uh-” Mark adjusts the baseball cap on his head, hoping to hide his ears, which he can feel are hot with nervousness. “Yeah, I study- I study near the vending machine sometimes.”

“You usually have big headphones?” you point out, looking at Mark with these big eyes that make him just wanna droop to the floor and crawl away from this entire situation because god damn, you look so pretty, and you’re trying to talk to him and he doesn’t even know English at this point-

Mark nods, swallowing thickly.

“He’s a music theory major,” Jungwoo says smoothly.

“Oh wow!”

Mark is shocked at how your face lights up, and his heart lurches in his chest, his own passion for music blooming at the notion you’re kindred in your love- suddenly he wonders what you listen to, what music you like- do you like poetry music? Or things with fast beats?

He wonders if you’d like any of the music he makes when his head gets so full with sound that the only thing to do is to get it out- then he remembers at least five of his most recent songs are about you, and how badly he wants to just-

Mark grabs at his pencil, thumb repeatedly clicking at the button that controls the small stick of lead inside.

He’s been lusting after you for two months now, and something like shame washes over him at the fact that he has music, explicit music, about you- and this is only the first time you’re speaking. To be fair though- in Mark’s songs, it was never so much about what either of you were saying- so much as it was about where Mark was focusing his efforts to earn your pleasured sounds-

You let out a sigh, sitting back in your chair and turning to Jungwoo. “I did some prep for today, but after rereading the assignment, I think we need to change the angle we come at it from.”

Mark has no clue what you’re even talking about, but he doesn’t care, he could watch the way your lips move when you speak for hours.

The Canadian reaches for his water bottle, sipping it eagerly, trying to calm himself down while you and Jungwoo begin your work.

To Mark’s great surprise, even with you sitting right across from him, he’s able to focus on his work. When he’s near the vending machine, he’s constantly looking up at you, but seated across from you- it makes it easier in some odd way. He feels the comfort of your aura, and your voice illuminates the periphery of his mind as he works on reading music theory essays, keeping him engaged and grounded even when the words on the page threaten to simply be unretainable.

Before Mark even knows it, the light outside is dimming and he’s onto his last essay before he has to start thinking of his own argument for a paper- but he honestly doesn’t have the brain power to do the last reading.

Instead, Mark pulls out one of his ear buds, adjusting the way he’s sitting and drawing the eyes of you and Jungwoo, who have been extremely focused this whole time.

“Are you done for today?” Jungwoo asks.

Mark nods. “You?”

“Almost,” You respond, letting out a soft sigh for the second time today, a sound that Mark eagerly eats up. “But I think I might read this last paper at home.” You reach out and close your laptop before stretching your arms over your head, groaning again. “What are you two doing after this?”

“More studying, after a movie and maybe some food,” Mark responds.

“Are you hungry?” Jungwoo asks, turning to look at you.

Mark holds his breath, waiting on edge for you to respond. It’s obvious Jungwoo means to invite you to get food with both men on their way back to the frat, and Mark isn’t sure if that sounds like a wonderful idea (because more time with you), or a horrible one (because he’s been on edge this whole god damned time and he needs to just let out a breath and collapse onto his bed and wrap his fist around-)

“I think my roommate made dinner actually.” You pull out your phone, eyes scanning it.

“Yeji, right?” Jungwoo asks, and Mark perks up at the mention of the pretty nursing student who is in and out of the frat with some frequency- specifically Lee Jeno’s room.

“Uh huh.”

“And you said you’ve never been to the frat before, right?”

“Gosh Woo, I don't like where this is going.”

“I’m just trying to invite you to the Halloween party this Friday!” Jungwoo assures you, and Mark doesn’t like the way his friend’s hand reaches out to cover yours on the table, “I know you’re all study study study, but come hang out sometime, it could be fun!”

“But I wouldn’t know anyone-”

“You’d know me! And Mark!” Jungwoo points out. “And Yeji, and I'm sure you’ve met Jeno.”

“I have,” you confess, and Mark notes the way you avert your eyes- if Jeno behaves in any way similar to the way he does at the frat, Mark guesses you’ve probably not only met Jeno, but seen a lot more of him than you probably would have liked to.

“What would I even go as?” you ask.

“Lots of things!” Jungwoo says quickly, launching into his list of top outfits worn by people to frat Halloween parties in the past. “You can even come in a onesie, or borrow the Pikachu onesie kicking around the frat, and I'm sure someone would be your pokemon trainer!”

Mark laughs at this suggestion, and the way your face drops at the notion of needing a trainer.

“What are you going as?” you ask, throwing Mark onto the chopping block.

“Erm- I don’t know.” Mark pulls at his hoodie, dragging it away from his chest to give him more airflow across his skin- every time you look at him, he gets this pang of warmth, and it’s starting to get a little uncomfortable.

“Didn’t Johnny want to be ghost busters this year?” Jungwoo asks, cocking his head at Mark, who has been known to go along with whatever outfit someone hands him the day of.

“Maybe- but I think his girlfriend was going to go as a powerpuff girl or something and Johnny weaselled his way into that.”

“Is he going as the dad?” Jungwoo laughs as he begins packing up his stuff.

Mark shakes his head, also giggling. “He’s going as the green powerpuff girl.”

“Of course he is.”

Mark shrugs. “It’s an easy enough costume right? A green outfit?”

“Do you think he’ll try to get his girlfriend to let him wear the green sequence dress she wore to be the frat’s Saint Patrick’s day Beer Queen?” Jungwoo questions, his eyes suddenly lighting up with excitement.

Mark scoffs, shaking his head. “No way.”

“Going as the green powerpuff is actually kind of smart!” you say, and Mark looks to you, waiting for you to explain. “It would be good to go as something with what’s already in your closet, you know?”

Jungwoo nods enthusiastically. “So you could be a powerpuff girl, or wear all black and be a witch- or dress all in orange and be an orange crayon-”

“Or maybe Velma from Scooby Doo,” you suggest, leaning forward to rest your chin on your palm, “or Daphne with purples.”

“Those would be good!” Jungwoo smiles, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Just come to the party on Friday?”

“Fine, maybe I'll let Yeji drag me with her.”

Mark also stands, assessing you. “Do you need us to walk you home?”

You shake your head. “I live close by.”

“You have an apartment in the new building- the one with the pizza place under it right?” Jungwoo asks.

You nod.

“It’s on our way- are you sure you don’t want an escort home?”

“I’m sure. But thank you.”

Leaving you sitting at your little corner table is harder than Mark imagined it to be, and as he and Jungwoo go down the library’s stone steps , Mark considers you in a Velma or Daphne costume.

Again, he’s hit with that confusing feeling of being excited but anxious, and the butterflies stay fluttering in his tummy the entire walk home.

6: Tuesday- October 28

Mark sneaks a look out the open pub door that allows a draft to flow through the busy Tuesday Trivia night event. It’s raining, and the noise of drops on cement carries in too, a pleasant ambiance as Mark’s frat brothers hurry to answer trivia questions next to him.

Mark’s never cared too much about trivia night, but he sees where Haechan’s drive comes from- everyone sees it when Haechan grabs his equally competitive girlfriend at the halfway point and they disappear into the toilets for the intermission.

While it’s nice to see all his friends be taken and have girlfriends, Mark has been feeling more and more lonely. Yuta is always date crashing his bestie and Jaehyun, Johnny is always working or with his girlfriend, and Haechan’s version of a good hang out is playing video games and screaming at the other players on coms for five hours straight… or aggressively and loudly screwing his girlfriend anywhere in the frat he pleases.

Mark’s hobbies have always been somewhat solitary. He enjoys reading, and playing guitar, but lately he’s been wanting to share these with someone- it’s one of the reasons he’s taken to studying in a library and not his own room- well, that, and the fact that Jungwoo is in constant need of cuddles the moment Mark steps foot in the frat house, and sometimes Mark simply does not have the time to put down his textbook and dote on the six foot puppy boy… or one of the other men who always find themselves drawn to the Canadian and in ‘need’ of his affection.

Haechan collapses onto the bench next to Mark, and this draws the Canadian’s attention from the open door- where he may or may not have been kind of hoping for you to walk by- and no matter how coincidental and one in a million this daydream might be, Mark’s eyes follow anyone who passes by the open door.

“Ready to carry the team, Markie?” Haechan asks, his hands finding Mark’s shoulders to briefly give him a massage that says ‘go get em tiger’, and Mark adjusts his posture, sitting up better while he plays with the straw in his long island iced tea.

“I’m not even that good at the music round,” Mark reminds his friend, eyes moving to where Johnny is preparing to get their trivia night on the go again after intermission.

“Says the music theory major,” Haechan scoffs, leaving one arm behind the back of Mark’s shoulders while he uses his left hand to reach for his beer.

“You know I hardly listen to the radio anymore.”

“Because it messes up your thought process, I know.” Haechan rolls his eyes, sighing. “When are you gonna get tired of writing simp songs about wanting to eat girls out, and get back on the mainstream stuff so you can help us win trivia more often?”

“I don’t write simp songs,” Mark states, but the heat rushing to his ears betrays the lie in it, if his voice hadn’t already.

“Oh really mister ‘head between your thighs while I stare into your eyes’-”

“Hey! That’s not my song!” Mark insists. “That’s Lavi- he’s just… a big inspiration.”

“I'm sure he is. Like that cute girl at the library. She’s the one with the ‘pastel skirt, long socks and no bra’ right?”

“Not the no bra part.”

“Not yet anyways,” Haechan grins, clinking his glass against Mark’s before taking a sip. “So what’s the deal with that though? Jungwoo said he invited her to the party on Friday?”

“Yeah, maybe- she might come.” Mark leans forward on his elbows, taking his baseball cap off with one hand to allow his fingers to run through his dark locks with the other, groaning before adjusting the hat back on his head.

“That’s good news!” Haechan says enthusiastically, and Mark really loves how much his friend tries to find happy things in everyday life- Haechan really is a happy virus, and Mark would be lost without him.

“I guess.” Mark shrugs.

“You’ll get to dance with her- that’s nice! And then- you can do whatever it is you do with women that makes them all so hopelessly whipped for you.” Haechan chuckles, nudging his friend with his shoulder.

“Women don't get hopelessly whipped for me,” Mark insists, but he can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his face as he looks down at his drink.

“Fix your glasses or learn to read situations better Mark, women are always whipped for you,” Haechan tells him, plucking the circular spectacles off of Mark’s nose to try them on himself. “Fuck dude, you really are kind of blind, huh?”

Mark snatches his glasses back. “Am not.”

Haechan simply laughs, shaking his head at his friend. “So what’s your costume plan for the Halloween party?”

“So many questions,” Mark sighs.

“Did your crush say what she would go as?”

“Maybe Velma or Daphne from Scooby Doo,” Mark answers immediately, enjoying questions centred on you more so than himself.

“So here’s the plan-”

“I didn’t ask for a plan.”

“So here is the plan!” Haechan says more forcefully, setting his beer down with enough force to gather the attention of a few of their friends. “We bleach your hair blonde-”

“We’re bleaching Mark’s hair?!” Ten is suddenly very interested, and he turns his whole body away from looking at Johnny to put his intense gaze directly onto Mark.

“We’re not bleaching my hair-”

“He’s gonna be Fred from Scooby Doo for Halloween to hit on his library crush, who’s gonna be Daphne or Velma,” Haechan tells Ten quickly.

“Ooh, that could look really good!” Ten nods. “So like, a honey blonde?”

“Guys- I’m not dyeing my hair!” Mark insist, feeling panic begin to rise in his tummy as more frat boys tune into the conversation.

“Dying your hair is fun,” Taeyong says softly from across the table, offering a small smile.

“Wait, hyung-” Ten grabs at Taeyong’s arm, “aren’t we maybe going to split dye your hair red and white for Halloween so you can be Todoroki from My Hero Academia?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have the time-” Taeyong answers swiftly- never the type to bother or infringe on his friends and their day to day lives.

“We’ll find time,” Ten assures him. “Mark, we can dye your hair at the same time if you want.”

“Are we ready for the musical round everyone?” Johnny’s voice saves Mark from any further discussion, and everyone turns their attention to the charismatic man with the mic. Mark’s thankful for Johnny, the frat brother who always seems to be saving him, even when it’s unintentional.

7: Wednesday - October 29th

“I just- what if she comes and then likes Yuta- or Jae-”

“Jaehyun’s taken,” Haechan interjects, stopping at a tree on the side of the hiking path to press his hands against the moss, picking at it and making a face. “Does this look like the moss in the picture?”

“No, it’s too dark,” Mark says, quickly looking down at the lab sheet he’s holding on a clipboard. “When I did this course in first year, I think we found the right moss down closer to the water.”

“So why did we hike up?” Haechan asks angrily, his hands grabbing at the straps of his backpack in a way that makes Mark concerned for their sandwiches inside- they would definitely get squished if Haechan decided to have a full on tantrum and throw the bag down-

“Because-” Mark flips to the second page of the lab form, “we also need to collect some more leaves-”

“More leaves?” Haechan throws his hands up in despair as Mark pulls the ziplock baggie with five different leaves in it out of his pocket.

“There’s always more leaves,” Mark sighs, knowing how tedious this lab was for him when he completed it.

“And there are always more fish in the sea, Mark,” Haechan matches the Canadian’s defeated tone, “but you’re never gonna catch the fish you want without throwing out some hooks.”

Mark narrows his eyes at his friend, who begins to continue up the path, his hiking boots creating indents in the rain soaked dirt trail. “True, but Jungwoo invited her to a house full of hooks.”

Haechan lets out a giggle, and Mark realizes he must be thinking about the hooks in their frat house that are there for… more sexual reasons than metaphorical, and he groans. “Stop being so dirty minded.”

“Stop being such an innocent simp,” Haechan fires back. “And if there are so many hooks at the party, maybe you have to hook her before the party- ever think about that?”

“Right, so between now and two days from now, I’m going to find time to hang out with her and make her fall in love with me- between this and Poker Night tomorrow-.” Mark scoffs, rolling his eyes as he hooks his thumbs in the straps of his backpack, trudging up the water logged trail after his best friend.

“You don’t have to see her in person- you could text her.”

“I don’t even have her number. Are you forgetting that I just met her on Monday?” Mark laughs.

“Just met officially,” Haechan corrects him.

“Besides- maybe I won't even go to the party.”

“Now I know you’re on crack-” Haechan says, whipping around to look at his friend. “You can’t miss Halloween- it’s the best party of the year!”

Mark stays quiet.

“So what? You’re gonna lock yourself in your room all night while people party outside? What are you gonna do when all your fans come knocking on your door wondering where their favourite guitar player is and why he’s not down by the fire playing music? You think they’ll just let you nap in your room? You think Yuta isn’t going to show up at sometime to your shared room with at least one girl who he plans to fuck the shit out of? Be realistic Mark!”

Mark sighs, knowing his friend is right.

“I should be in the library studying right now.”

“But you’re not. Instead, you’re here with me, while Jungwoo works on his project with your crush because you’re not man enough to step up to the plate.”

Mark stops, considering Haechan’s words while he continues up the trail. Then Mark reaches down and grabs a small rock from the path, throwing it at Haechan.

The stone hits Haechan’s arm, and the man lets out a screech as if he’s just been attacked, whipping around to look at Mark with wide eyes. “Hey!”

“Stop saying I'm not a man just because I take my time with things and you don’t,” Mark says, feeling proud of himself once the words are out. It can be hard for him to stand up to his friends at times.

“I’ll stop saying it when you actually get a girl instead of letting her slip through your fingers like every crush you ever had because you’re never able to go talk to her.”

“I just- I'm shy.” Mark frowns.

“But sometimes you’re fun too!” Haechan insists. “At frat parties- who’s the dude who promised to make eggs for a bunch of cheerleaders visiting from another university - while you were drunk I might add - only to go through all our eggs with not a single one completely cooked?”

“Me.”

“And who’s the dude who got offered a whole ass house in return for marrying that girl who was obsessed with you in year one?”

“Me,” Mark sighs.

“So pull up your big boy pants,” Haechan says, poking at his chest, “and fucking act like it.”

8: Thursday - October 30th

“Hey guys, look!” Haechan says when he puts his cards down, showing a pair of queens to match the one already face up on the table, “I’m Jungwoo on Valentine’s day last year.”

The table erupts in a chorus of snickers, and even Mark is momentarily distracted from his phone by the memory of his friend decked out in drag the year before.

To his credit, Jungwoo had shown up at the frat hours after disappearing from the club with not one, but two of the prettiest bartenders, who are known to be hard asses and notoriously difficult to take home.

“You might have Jungwoo and his two queens, but” Johnny grins, drawing Haechan’s wild eyes at the notion he might not have the best hand at the table, “do you have: a complete himbo light tower?”

The American sets down a pair of kings to join the king on the table, and Haechan lets out an ear piercing scream, jumping to his feet and waving his hands around.

“You cheated!” Haechan declares.

“Check my sleeves,” Johnny simply smiles, leaning back in his chair while Haechan all but launches himself at the American, furiously patting down the fabric of his muscle shirt, as if there’s any way Johnny could hide a card there.

“What do you have?” Jaehyun asks, his softer voice distracting Mark from the loud brawl next to him.

Instead of answering, Mark tosses his cards down, face up, confident that he doesn’t have anything that can beat Johnny’s three kings.

“Wait, Mark,” Jaehyun grabs his attention again, “you won.”

“What?” Now everyone is looking at Mark’s cards, and try as he might, the Canadian simply can not understand what Jaehyun is saying.

“No, I just have a joker and a five.” Mark tells him.

“A jack,” Jaehyun corrects him, fingers brushing the ‘joker’ as Mark had called it, “Yeah, you have those, but they’re in hearts, and all three cards up on the table are hearts.”

“This is called a flush, Mark,” Johnny explains, shock evident in his voice.

“You won,” Jaehyun repeats, pushing the stack of poker chips in the center of the table towards the man whose supply had been running dangerously low.

“What!?” Now it’s Haechan and Mark gasping, for two very different reasons.

“Mark’s not even paying attention to the game!” Haechan screams, throwing his hands in the air again while his eyes glint with passion. “He was on his phone the whole time!”

“I’m just checking it,” Mark mumbles.

You’d posted a picture on your instagram of your outfit for tomorrow laid across your bed, having gone with the purple Daphne costume, and Mark has been religiously checking his instagram in the off chance you’ll actually show yourself wearing the fit.

“This game is rigged,” Haechan says again, collapsing into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then stop playing it,” comes a new voice from the doorway, causing the small group to look up at the man standing there.

Ten has gloves on, and the smell of chemicals perfumes the room with his presence. “I just set Taeyong’s hair up with bleach- are you ready for me to do you next, Mark?”

“He’d love to be done next,” Haechan answers swiftly, a suggestive smirk on his face. He stands, grabbing at Mark and pulling him to his feet even as the Canadian begins to fight back.

“You’re not seriously going to dye Mark’s hair blonde, are you?” Johnny asks in amusement, leaning back in his chair and raising a bottle of beer to his lips.

“Yes we are,” Haechan insists. “Mark threw a rock at me yesterday, this is payback.”

“You threw a rock at him?!” Johnny and Jaehyun ask in shock, but Mark is already being forcibly dragged out of the American’s room.

“We can’t bleach my hair!” Mark says loudly as he tries to free himself from Haechan’s grasp. “We don’t even know if Y/N’s going at Daphne-”

“She is!” Jungwoo’s ‘helpful’ voice sounds as they walk past his room- Mark had been hoping Jungwoo either hadn’t seen the instagram post, or maybe that he’d decide today was a good day to start minding his own business.

Mark should have known better.

9: Friday - October 31st

Mark: Hey! It’s Mark, I’m friends with Jungwoo, he invited you to the frat party tonight and I think you said you’d never been to one? The frat village has a lot of houses in it- I was thinking you might get lost, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted company walking here?

Mark: it’s also just not very safe out on campus for pretty girls at night time

Mark groans. He should never have messaged you. Now he’s just coming off as a blundering idiot, and he quickly tries to fix himself.

Mark: which sucks and I’m sorry about that, and you shouldn’t NEED someone to walk with you just to feel safe

When the blue bubble shows up, signifying you’re typing, Mark hits send before his thought is even done- because his thoughts are done now. Now that you’re there, on the other end of this, working on a response- his mind is completely blank, his breath caught as he waits.

Y/N: That would be good actually! Yeji was going to walk with me but she just left- she said you guys do pre parties? I wasn’t sure if I was invited to that so I figured I’d wait, and I texted Jungwoo but he’s not responding

Just then, Mark hears a crash, followed by a scream, and four frat brothers go running by his door, one of whom Mark is pretty sure is Jungwoo.

Mark: Jungwoo is already drunk and we hide his phone when he’s like this :) I can come and pick you up- you’re in the new building by Student Union, the one with the pizza place under it, right?

Y/N: yeah!

Mark: Text me whenever you’re ready and I'll come get you :)

***

When you open the door and exit your apartment building, it’s everything Mark can do to stop his jaw from hitting the ground.

Dressed in a little purple outfit, you’ve taken the Daphne that Mark loved as a kid, and somehow made her even sexier.

Mark momentarily forgets how to breathe, only for him to half choke on air when you flash him a smile, approaching.

“Oh my gosh! Look at your hair!” you squeal.

It’s then that Mark remembers his own outfit, and his thumb rubs at the keys he keeps in the pocket of his bomber, which is hiding the rest of his costume. “Yeah, I uh-” Mark opens his jacket to show off the white blazer and the ascot tie underneath.

“You’re Fred!” you say, immediately knowing who he is. “I can’t believe you dyed your hair!” Mark freezes when you reach out, touching a strand. “Your hair was always so nice when it was dark- do you miss it?”

You thought his dark hair was nice? Mark is so busy thinking about your compliment that he almost forgets to answer. “It’s only been a day,” he admits, turning and beginning to walk back towards the frat with you next to him. “It’s alright,” he shrugs.

“Just alright?” You laugh. “Most people dye their hair so they can enjoy the new colour after.”

Mark chuckles. “My friends forced me to dye it.”

“They forced you?”

“I won’t get into it,” Mark tells you, because if he did, he’d have to tell you about his little crush, “but our frat can be kind of crazy with things like this.”

“So forced hair dyeing is a common thing for you guys?”

Mark smiles. “Not necessarily the dyeing part, but we’ve had guys wake up with a notch or two in their brows.”

“And this is why I avoid frats,” you say, letting out a shaky breath that has Mark looking down at you with concern.

“Are you cold?”

“A little, but the frat is close,” you wave your hand.

Mark ignores your dismissal, immediately taking off his jacket, which he holds out to you.

“Won't you be cold?” you ask.

Mark shrugs.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” you tease, accepting the jacket from Mark, who can feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“I talk,” Mark assures you, “I'm just-” He sighs, “Shy.”

“Shy is good,” You tell him. “It’s just interesting that you’re friends with Jungwoo and all these other extroverts. Maybe my view of frats is wrong- but from my few interactions with frat guys, you don’t really seem like the ‘climb the library building in a diaper with a crossbow attached to my back’ kinda guy.”

“I'm definitely not,” Mark agrees, smiling at the memory of Haechan going bat shit crazy to celebrate their last day of classes the year before. Mark’s also pretty sure Haechan had downed something like three of Johnny’s ‘special’ brownies before grabbing his crossbow too- which doesn't make the story any more safe sounding.

“I’m also not a ‘tie fireworks to the back of a roller chair to turn it into a jet propulsion system’ kinda frat guy either,” Mark clarifies.

“So what kind of frat guy are you, Mr. Vending Machine?”

“The kind that can’t cook eggs, but will still try, if it means feeding a kitchen full of drunk people,” Mark sighs, thinking back to the examples Haechan had used for him- and now that he’s saying it out loud, Mark has to admit, he sounds extremely lame.

“You can’t cook eggs?” you laugh, and Mark tugs at his earlobe in embarrassment, shaking his head.

You stop walking and Mark also comes to a stand still, looking at you. “What?”

“You can’t cook eggs!?” you repeat, “and we’re going to a frat party?!”

“Yeah?”

You shake your head. “Mark, let me teach you to cook eggs- it will be really easy, I promise.”

“So you don’t want to go to the frat party?” Mark’s brows furrow in confusion.

You grab at his hand, and Mark nearly jumps from the contact, his eyes moving up to meet yours.

“I don’t want to go to the frat party,” You tell him, “and something tells me you don’t really want to go either- so come back to my place, let me show you how to cook an egg, and I can also bake some cookies, and we can watch some Halloween movies-”

“Can we watch Scooby Doo?” Mark asks.

You grin at him, taking in his outfit again before looking down at your own. “I think we’re legally obligated to.”

***

“And then you put the lid on, and you just leave it.”

“You just leave it?” Mark asks in shock, looking between you and the egg you’d just cracked into the pan.

“Yeah, some people put a dab of water under the lid sometimes, that heats it, but the thing about eggs is you just gotta wait for it to cook and be patient.” you tell him.

“It’s that easy?”

“Uh huh.”

“You just wait?”

“Yep.”

“But why the lid? I’ve never seen someone use a lid before.”

“I think it’s faster this way,” you tell him.

“Well- you tricked me,” Mark insists, and you can’t help the way your grin widens. “You told me you’d teach me to cook an egg in return for a song- and I thought cooking would actually be difficult.” He adjusts his grip on Yeji’s guitar that you took off the wall in the living room for him.

“It’s not a trick,” You tell him. “Play for me while I make cookie dough?”

“Now you’re making cookie dough too?!” Mark says in shock. “Won’t your egg burn?”

“I’m watching it,” You assure him, taking the sugar and flour out of your cabinet.

You can tell from the look on Mark’s face that he doesn’t quite believe you, but he takes a seat all the same, adjusting the guitar one more time on his thigh before his fingers begin to strum the chords.

“Will you sing for me?” you ask after a while.

Mark immediately shakes his head, focusing his gaze on his fingers as he plays a tune. “No.”

“Please?”

“Maybe another time.”

“Did you write this song?” you ask.“I don't recognize it.”

Mark nods. “Yeah, it was something I made for an assignment a few weeks ago.”

He won’t ever say it, but the lyrics are all about you.

While he strums, Mark follows the verses in his head, repeating a mantra of praises even as you bake, and before Mark knows it, he has a perfectly cooked egg in front of him and the knowledge of how to replicate it.

***

Mark thinks he must be in heaven.

The egg alone had been amazing- if amazing is a descriptor that can be applied to eggs.

Then the cookies had come out of the oven and Mark had fallen even more in love with you as his teeth sunk into the warm, chocolatey goodness.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, you’d invited him into your room, showing him your favourite things while he hung onto your every word.

Mark is a music theory major, and he adores learning about music, but he loves learning about you even more. Part of him wants to be quizzed after, just to prove he’s memorized what you’ve told him.

Then you’d moved to the living room, where you’d set up Scooby Doo. At first, you’d sat a respectable distance from each other, but you’d slowly gotten closer and closer-

Now, you’re asleep with your cheek on Mark’s shoulder, your hands looped in his arm, and the movie ended ages ago. Mark doesn’t mind the silence, doesn’t mind staying frozen for fear of waking you, because it gives him all the time in the world to admire you.

His eyes take in your skin, and his hand itches to reach out and play with the pleats of your purple skirt, but he fights the urge, not wanting to move even a muscle. He could take his phone out of his pocket and at least have something to do while you sleep- but Mark’s been avoiding his phone all night.

The calls from his friends asking where he is had started nearly as soon as you and Mark had decided to not go to the party, and Mark knows he’s in for a big dust up when he gets home, but he’s hoping to push that off for as long as he can.

Just as Mark is about to touch your hair - having finally talked himself up to have the courage to do so - the front door to the apartment is thrown open, startling you and Mark.

Your pretty roommate is mid lip lock with a man who dwarfs her in size, pressing her body up against the door, which is probably why it had been so loud when it was thrown open.

Mark is in so much shock at the sudden sight of a pretty girl making out with someone, that he doesn’t even know what to do- luckily, the cat that had Mark hostage, does not have your tongue, and you let out a small “Yeji!” to clue in your roommate to the fact that the common space in your apartment already has guests.

The two people pull away from each other, wild eyes turning to you and Mark, who look back.

If Mark had been frozen before- he’s way past that now-

He looks his frat brother Jeno up and down.

“Mark!?” Jeno asks in shock, and Mark realizes Jeno is one of the frat brothers yet to see the new blonde hair colour on the Canadian.

“Jeno?” Mark echos, having not expected to face his frat brothers so directly any time soon- especially not in a joker costume with makeup half ruined from kissing.

“Y/N!?” Yeji screams, adorned in a matching Harley Quinn outfit. “So this is why I couldn’t find you at the frat!”

“We decided not to come,” you respond.

“Not for the whole night I hope,” Yeji says slyly, grabbing at Jeno next to her. “We’ll be in my room.”

The two of them disappear before Mark or Jeno are able to say another word to each other, and when Yeji’s bedroom door closes behind her, Mark stands. “I should probably get going.”

“Is it late?” you ask, rubbing at your eyes. “Sorry, I fell asleep on you.”

“It’s fine,” Mark assures you, “you can sleep on me any time.”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them, and they leave Mark blushing and stuttering, trying to explain himself while you simply watch him with a smile.

“Walk home safe,” you tell him softly, pulling Mark into a short hug before letting him go. “It can be dangerous out there for pretty people.”

Mark’s heart sings in his chest at your words, and he rubs the back of his neck, looking down to hide the dopey smile that covers his face. “I guess you’re right about that.” He turns to go, and just as the door is closing he stops. “Study together on Monday?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

10: Saturday - November 1st

“I don’t need help,” Mark assures the hungover men in the kitchen as he goes about his morning, pulling out a pan to begin cooking.

“You always need help with eggs,” Jaehyun sighs, leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest while he watches Mark. The soccer team captain has his hood pulled up, and Mark kinda feels bad for Jaehyun- he looks terrible, but pretty much everyone in the frat does.

Mark had arrived back at the house at one AM to find the party still in full swing. Haechan was passed out face down on the front lawn, and when Mark had helped him inside, he’d found the bathroom to be occupied by Yuta, a massive bottle of Vodka, and three girls dressed as cheerleaders- one of whom had been more than eager to leave Yuta long enough to splash some water onto Haechan’s face and prop him up against the wall- out of all the places Mark could leave Haechan, he hadn’t planned on it being in the bathroom while Yuta got blown- but there’d been other pressing matters that needed his attention- like the fact that a few of the younger frat brothers had somehow gotten their hands on a tattoo gun-

The front door to the frat opens, drawing the attention of Mark, Jaehyun and Johnny in the kitchen, as well as Taeyong and Doyoung, who are diligently cleaning up the open concept living room space.

“Jeno!” Johnny greets his younger frat brother as he shovels cereal into his mouth, a happier greeting compared to the glare Jeno receives from Doyoung, who’s never happy about frat boys leaving to have “nightly conquests” before clean up is done. “How was Yeji’s?”

“It was good- did Mark tell you? He was there too,” Jeno says casually, immediately heading into the kitchen to sit next to Johnny and grab an apple from the fruit bowl that Mark had watched Kun diligently refill before going to go do whatever it is that Pre-med students do in the mornings.

“So that’s where you disappeared to for the first few hours of the party,” Johnny grins knowingly, as all the attention in the room shifts to the poor Canadian, who is trying his darndest just to cook himself a god darned egg.

“Did you get any, Mark?” a groggy voice comes from under a pile of blankets haphazardly strewn about one of the couches.

Mark had assumed Taeyong and Doyoung had made the pile during cleaning- but when Yuta pokes his head out from under the layers of fuzzy blankets, his hair sticking every which way, Mark realizes Yuta must have been on the couch this entire time. Mark had assumed he’d gone home with some girl- or three-

The entire room is quiet for a moment as everyone just looks at Yuta, who sits up, revealing his bare chest. This causes a scream to erupt from Doyoung - who had, suffice it to say, not been ready.

“Did you get any, Yuta?” Johnny snickers, turning so he can sit on the table and look out at the living room, his bowl of cereal held in one large hand while he eats with the other.

“Come check under this blanket and maybe you’ll find a little slut waiting,” Yuta smirks, stretching as both Taeyong and Doyoung groan at him.

“It’s too early for this. I’ve had enough,” Doyoung says in defeat, tossing a beer can onto the floor and heading towards the stairs that will lead him to the second floor.

“And I am not a slut!” comes another new voice, and a second head pops up from under the blankets, on the opposite end of the couch from Yuta.

Mark’s just as surprised to see Haechan as he had been the resident anime prince- and then suddenly everyone is throwing questions at the sleepy sunshine boy, who is looking anything but sunny- had this been where Yuta took Haechan after Mark had deposited him in the bathroom while Yuta got blown?

Mark doesn’t even have the energy to question it- and luckily he doesn’t have to, because his hyungs ask for him.

“What the hell are the two of you doing on the couch?” Johnny laughs.

“And where’s your girlfriend?” Taeyong has a hint of anger in his tone, and Mark remembers that Taeyong is quite close to the woman in question..

“Home. Sleeping probably,” Haechan yawns, moaning loudly and earning a soft kick from Yuta, which he returns with even more force. “She trusts me,” Haechan insists even as Yuta all but lunges at him over the blankets, landing with a soft thump on top of Haechan as they begin to wrestle.

“She shouldn’t,” Yuta says as he attempts to pin Haechan down, “you’re a fucking menace.”

“And don’t forget it!” Haechan screeches, using his body to roll the two of them- something Yuta had not been expecting - and the two tumble to the floor in a swirl of fabrics and laughs.

No matter how much of a menace Haechan is, Mark knows he’d never cheat on his girlfriend. He all but worships her- and their love story had been a long one, full of tensions and push and pull that has led to the kind of relationship Mark aspires to-

The trust Haechan has in his partner, and vice versa, is something that’s always made Mark’s heart clench.

“Also, hey!” Haechan sits up suddenly from the floor, and then launches onto the couch, popping his head up and over it so he can look at the men in the kitchen, “Jeno, did you say Mark was at Yeji’s?”

“Yeah.”

“So that’s why you missed Halloween you bitch!” Now Haechan is launching himself over the couch, only for Johnny to grab at him, lifting the struggling man off the floor to keep him from Mark.

“No wrestling in the kitchen near the stove,” Johnny reminds the crazy boy still kicking to be released before setting him down.

“The stove!” Mark’s heart lurches in his chest, but for a very different reason, and he turns to look down at his egg, which is now ruined.

Jaehyun smirks next to him. “Told you you needed help.”

11: Sunday - November 2nd

“And you didn’t even kiss her,” Jungwoo sighs, stirring his pot of ramen and shaking his head. He’s been saying this at random moments since the day before, when he’d learned of Mark’s visit to your apartment, and every time he says it, Mark feels the need to explain himself all over again.

“I told you, it wasn’t like that-” Mark groans from where he’s seated in the living room, letting his phone drop from his hands to land on his chest.

“You were literally in a couples costume! And she took you up to her apartment! And baked you cookies!”

“And taught him how to cook an egg,” Haechan adds from where he’s standing by the window, looking out at the rain.

“Debatable,” Jaehyun says as he walks through the area, headed towards the front door with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“I want to meet her,” Haechan announces, even as he continues facing the windows.

“What?” Mark laughs, trying to process his words.

“I said,” Haechan turns to face his friend, “I want to meet her.”

“No- and hey, why are you even standing over there by the window?” Mark questions, trying to change the subject and beginning to get worried that he’s missing something important right outside.

“His girlfriend is coming over and it’s raining, so instead of walking to get her, he waits by the window like a sad puppy.” Now it’s Johnny who’s entering the conversation as he walks through the space, headed to join Jaehyun at the door, where he’s already slipped his runners on. Johnny also has a sports pack on his back, and Mark wonders how either of them have the energy or drive to go trek through the rain just to work out.

“Hey!” Haechan lets out a loud screech, turning to glare at Johnny, “I'm not a sad puppy!” But a moment later he’s looking out the window again and screaming “she’s here!” before darting off towards the entryway, pushing past his hyungs and throwing the door open, running into the rain.

Mark smiles- all of his frat brothers seem to have a reason to brave the storm today, but not him. No, he gets to enjoy the safe, warm, dry frat house, with whatever frat brothers remain to keep him company- and if they’re all busy, well, at least he has thoughts of you, newly recharged after your hang out - date? - on Friday.

And now, if there’s one thing Mark regrets, it’s that he didn’t kiss you. Because the memory of that? Well, he’s sure it would keep him company forever.

12: Monday - November 3rd

“I’m going to refill my water- do either of you need anything?” Your voice draws Mark from his studying, and he pulls out an ear bud before shaking his head.

“Woo?” You turn to your class project partner, and the man sitting across from Mark mirrors the Canadian’s action. “Then I'll be right back,” you breathe, grabbing your water bottle before heading off in the direction of the cantina.

“I can’t believe they’re here,” Jungwoo says when you’re gone, and Mark lets out a small ‘hmm?’ sound, somewhat confused by his friends words, but too focused on his work to pay attention.

“You haven’t even noticed,” Jungwoo scoffs, and Mark sneaks a glance at him, furrowing his brows.

“What?” Mark finally pulls out an ear bud to pay attention to his friend, and Jungwoo rolls his eyes - because of course Mark would take out his ear bud for you but not for one of his best friends until the last possible moment.

“No. I'm not gonna help you and point it out,” Jungwoo says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. “You’re not being nice to me today.”

“I'm literally here studying with you.”

“You just wanna fuck Y/N.”

“Hey!” Mark quickly shushes his friend, his heart lurching into hyper speed while his eyes dart around to look for you and make sure you’re not going to overhear Jungwoo- and that’s when Mark notices a familiar face amongst the students studying in the library.

Johnny Suh has distinct features. With what some sorority girls have deemed to be ‘turtle lips’ and a bone structure that has been compared to ET the god damned extra terrestrial- Johnny honestly has one of the most interesting faces that Mark has ever seen- even when he’s trying to hide it under a haphazardly placed baseball cap that says ‘I’m with stupid’ and points to the right-

Directly at Lee Haechan, another proud owner of a face that makes Mark’s top 10 list.

A quick once over leads Mark to the realization that a number of his frat brothers are littered throughout the room. Johnny, Haechan and Taeil have a table near the vending machine, while Jeno and Renjun sit by the windows.

Just when Mark thinks he’s spotted everyone, Shotaro comes walking in with a happy smile on his face, and takes a seat next to Yuta, passing him a can of Pepsi that the older Japanese frat brother accepts with a nod before his eyes slide back to Mark-

Yuta winks at the Canadian, and heat flares across Mark’s skin, his heart lurching in his chest. His fight or flight response kicks into high gear and Mark flips his textbook shut, hands reaching out to grab his things and begin to put them away.

“Are you going somewhere?” your voice makes Mark look up, and you take your seat next to him.

Your sudden reappearance makes Mark even more frazzled, and he begins to stutter. “No I-” He puts his bag on the ground again.“I was just-”

“Are you bored?” you ask, cocking your head at Mark with a small teasing smile on your face.

“No, I'm just done what I have to do for the day,” Mark says finally, and it’s not a lie. He’s been finished for a while, filling his time with other work, starting a project early- he’s just been enjoying your presence, but now the ambiance has been ruined by the intrusion of his frat brothers.

Mark quickly looks around, and his suspicions are confirmed: all seven of his frat brothers are staring at you.

It makes Mark’s skin heat even more.

You’re still looking at him, and your gaze makes Mark even more flustered.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is soft, and you reach for Mark’s hand, which is fidgeting with his ear buds in his lap.

Mark freezes, eyes watching your hand take his and give him a squeeze. The Canadian swallows thickly even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest, and he nods, smiling at you. “I'm just a little- uh, tired today.”

“Well I’m almost done, just have to read a little bit more of this essay- do you want to wait for me to be done, then we can all walk back together? I’ll take you both up on your offer to drop me off at my apartment- it’s on the way.”

Mark lets out a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and he nods. “That sounds perfect.”

You give his hand another squeeze, and then you turn your attention to your computer screen, where the essay is looking up at you.

Mark can’t take his eyes off of you, and his hand feels like it’s on fire where your fingers are laced.

‘Is she going to hold my hand for the rest of this?’ Mark wonders to himself, a flare of heat erupting across his neck at the notion.

When you lean forward resting your chin on the palm of your other hand, getting comfortable, Mark realizes it’s extremely likely you’ll keep holding his hand- and his heart races even harder, almost deafening in his ears as all of his senses focus in on you.

He loves your side profile- loves the way you get so into what you’re studying. He’s been watching you study for months, but being up close, being able to just gawk at you - while holding your hand no less - it’s one of the most wonderful things that’s ever happened to him.

Before the Canadian even knows it, you’re finished with reading the essay. Ten minutes must have flown by with Mark just looking at you- but when you close your laptop, and take your hand away from his, it breaks the spell, and suddenly Mark remembers that he’s surrounded by frat boys who are going to tease the shit out of him for this entire interaction.

But, Mark realizes, does he really care?

He just got to look at you for ten minutes while holding your hand. There’s nothing his frat brothers could say to him that could drag him off of the cloud nine you’d just transported him to.

When he’s with you he’s untouchable.

The giggles and looks from his friends bounce off of him instead of bugging him the way they normally do, and his heart rate seems to have slowed down to a steady pace-

Then you look at him, flashing that smile as you say “so should we go?” and Mark’s heart goes into overdrive again, his anxiety suddenly flaring at the realization that the three of you will have to walk past all his frat brothers to leave.

As you pack up, the only thing Mark can think about is how much he wants to hold your hand again.

Wants to feel the calming presence that radiates off of you, seeping through your interlocked fingers-

“Is that Jeno?” Hearing his friend’s name on your lips makes Mark’s heart drop, as does the way you immediately head over to the two frat boys.

“Don’t be jealous, Markie,” Jungwoo’s mocking tone makes Mark groan.

“I’m not,” The Canadian insists, but looking over at you and Jeno chatting does bring a few unfavourable emotions bubbling to the surface. And it takes only a moment for Mark to realize why.

Because while Jeno might not be a threat - as he’s kind of dating your roommate - the man next to him is single.

Renjun might not be known as a lady killer, but Mark knows the guy has game. He has this mean sexy thing going for him- and Mark has seen girls fall at his feet before because of it.

Then another voice is calling out Jeno’s name, and this voice is nowhere near as pretty as yours had sounded.

Lee Haechan draws the eyes of everyone in the library - he’s much too loud - and he comes bounding over, despite Taeil attempting to grab his forearm to stop him. The elder man flashes a frown at Mark that says ‘I tried’ and Mark sighs, realizing that if Taeil hadn’t been here this whole time, this interaction might have taken place much sooner.

Mark moves quickly, reaching the table you and Jeno are at just as Haechan does, and two things happen simultaneously: you step closer to Mark’s side and his protective instincts kick into high gear - but Haechan also grabs Mark at the same time, pulling him away from you and into a half embrace that has Mark struggling to break free.

“Well, what do you know?” Haechan grins at everyone, “do we all study here often?”

Mark knows for a fact Haechan doesn’t study, and the Canadian fights the urge to scoff - or perhaps even throw hands. He also knows none of the others study here either, and the idea that this whole interaction was planned - likely by Haechan - has Mark’s emotions going haywire.

“Not as often as we should.” It seems to be the day of voices Mark really doesn’t want to hear.

Yuta Nakamoto is looking ‘fine as shit today’ - Ten’s words that morning, not Mark’s - and Mark can’t stand it.

“Uh, Y/N, these are all our frat brothers,” Jeno says, coughing and adjusting the collar of his hoodie.

Mark’s heart lurches, he’d been so busy being mad and suddenly attacked that he’d forgotten his manners, forgotten to introduce you to his friends, and now Jeno has to? Jeno is taking Mark’s job?

Mark can’t stand it.

By the time introductions are done, all seven of Mark’s friends have shown up at the table, with the Chicago native ending the round of names with his classic ‘and I’m Johnny’ line that has the younger men cracking up at the inside joke.

“We should probably get going,” Mark says as soon as there’s a moment for him to escape. He’s far too aware of the fact that they’re in a quiet library and there is now a group of ten people, nine of them being rowdy frat boys, standing around a table. He knows people are looking at your ragtag gang, and a quick once over of the room has him locking eyes with a girl that’s been hitting on him for over a year now - despite hooking up with Winwin for much of it.

Mark really wants to get out of here.

“We should,” you agree quickly, and Mark notices the way you step closer to his side, giving him a small smile that he returns.

“Yeah, I'm tired of studying anyways,” Haechan announces, interjecting himself into Mark’s plans yet again.

“Should we get burgers?” Yuta asks, and immediately a chorus of ‘yes’s’ erupts from the group of big, red blooded males.

“I actually have to head home,” you say, drawing all eyes, and Mark feels sorry for you, because he knows the pressure of eyes, especially the eyes of frat boys.

“I’ll take you,” Mark tells you softly. “Have fun with burgers, guys,” he says before anyone can invite themselves to this too. Then Mark is reaching for your hand, interlocking your fingers and high tailing it away from his friends while you hurry to follow.

As soon as you’re in the stairwell, Mark lets go of your hand, and it’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. “Sorry about them,” he says quickly.

“It’s okay. They seemed nice- they were just a bit overwhelming.”

Mark nods. “Yeah. I know you don’t really like frat parties, and I sort of assumed it was because of all the people.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment and Mark struggles to fill the quiet, worried he’s said something wrong. “I’m kind of the same way,” he tells you. “I like being with the guys- but sometimes it can be too much, and I need alone time, or at least, quiet time.”

Mark’s starting to think maybe it’s not alone time he needs anymore, it’s you time, and he doesn’t want to tell you he needs alone time and then have you giving him space- because that’s the last thing he wants.

He wants you to smother him actually- if possible.

“It still surprises me that you’re in a frat sometimes,” you breathe.

Mark looks at you with a smile. “Me too.”

The two of you continue grinning as you walk through campus, chatting about anything and everything. When you pass an ice cream shop, you discuss favourite flavours and Mark anxiously tries to figure out a way to ask you out for ice cream, but to no avail.

“What are you up to tomorrow?” you ask when you reach your apartment.

“Studying again,” Mark responds quickly, although there’s a part of him in the back of his mind screaming about ‘trivia Tuesdays’, an event he generally takes part in with the frat.

You nod. “Me too. But I think maybe I'll get ice cream before I study, at maybe… four oclock?”

Mark stares at you for a few seconds, his brain trying to solve the equation presented to him-

Does (the mention of ice cream) + (a specified time) = a date invite?

Should he invite himself?

Should he say anything?

Should he just show up at the ice cream place tomorrow? No- that would be bad, what if you don’t mean for him to be there?

“I- uh-” Mark licks his lips, swallowing thickly as his hand raises to rub at the back of his neck in an attempt to calm himself.

“You can join me if you’d like, but no pressure,” you say, reaching out and touching Mark’s forearm lightly. “Thank you so much for walking me home.”

“Yeah, uh, no problem.” Mark’s brain is practically short circuiting, and when you hug him, he all but explodes.

The eye of the storm- the way his brain shuts off completely, if only for a moment, while you hug him- it’s one of the most blissful moments he’s had in a long time.

The moment is over all too soon, and then he’s watching you leave, heading up to your apartment, and Mark’s heart shatters. Because he never wants to see you leave ever again.

13: Tuesday - November 4th

“Mark!” You squeal, and Mark’s heart lurches in his chest, from you, and from the way his entire scoop of ice cream almost just tumbled to the ground with one harsh lick.

You’re both momentarily shocked by the way his ice cream was almost just decimated- and then you’re both bursting into giggles, with you shaking your head and linking your arm with Mark’s as you leave the ice cream shop.

“Don’t lick it so hard,” you tease.

Sinful thoughts explode in Mark’s mind and he hurries to push them down, but the most he manages is to stutter a little as his skin heats with embarrassment- and then you’re mirroring his stuttering, choking on your own ice cream. “Not like that!” you assure him, squeezing his arm a little, “Mark! Get your mind out of the gutter!”

“Yours was in it too!” Mark insists, and he enjoys the way you hide your face in his shoulder even as you walk, shaking your head before pulling away and sighing, still with a massive smile on your face.

“Are we meeting Jungwoo at the library?” Mark asks, looking for a topic change. The thought of Jungwoo is a sure way to bring his heart rate down.

“Oh, uh- he’s not studying with us today,” you say, and Mark’s brows immediately furrow in confusion. “I just- I have a midterm to study for, in another class, so no group project stuff today- and you and I used to study in the library even before Jungwoo introduced us, so I thought you might be going anyways- I’m sorry, we can still call and invite him if you want-”

“No,” Mark immediately cuts you off, “this is good. I kind of like it when it’s just the two of us.”

For a moment, Mark waits for a response, his breath caught- then you’re nodding and turning to smile up at him. “Me too.”

Mark can’t help but smile all the way to the library, and even once you begin to study, the smile hardly leaves his face.

***

“It’s getting cloudy,” you say an hour or so into studying, and Mark follows your gaze out the window. The clouds are definitely starting to look angry, and Mark didn’t bring an umbrella.

“Looks like rain,” Mark notes.

“Could be nice. Do you like the rain?”

Mark shrugs. “I don't really have an opinion on it. But most of my frat brothers hate the rain- it always messes up party plans and outdoor activities.”

“I’m not big on outdoor activities,” you confess, and Mark laughs.

“Me neither.”

“I much prefer to sit in my room, with some nice fairy lights, and some tea, and a good book or something to study- and I can just listen to the sounds of the rain outside.”

Mark can picture you sitting in a comfy bed, with fluffy white blankets he could wrap you in. He can imagine the smell of cookies from the kitchen, because Mark had seen the way you baked on Halloween, and he is starting to associate the feeling of warm cookies in his mouth with you.

“How's studying for your midterm?” Mark asks, eyes assessing the books laid out in front of you. You’d taken the seat across from him today, and while Mark enjoys being able to see your face more clearly, he misses knowing he can simply reach for your hand next to his and hold it. You’re so far away- with all the books between you- and Mark hates it.

“It’s okay,” you sigh, leaning forward and resting your chin on the palm of your hand. “I’m really stressed out about it. The professor is a bit of a dick-”

Mark is a little shocked to hear you say the word ‘dick’. It’s the first semi swear word to come out of your lips, and there’s something about the way you pronounce it, in your sweet voice which Mark has already grown to love- it triggers something deep in his tummy. He’s not sure whether he wants to call you cute or shut you up with kisses and make you tell him how much of an asshole your professor is while he eats you out-

“How about you? What are you working on?”

Mark had completely spaced out while you talked, too focused on your lips and the images running through his mind- and it takes a moment for the Canadian to recollect himself. “I’m writing some lyrics actually-”

“Really!?” Your whole face lights up with excitement and Mark’s chest squeezes, as if your joy had gone directly into him, and now you’re both energized, despite the clouds outside. “Show me?”

“It’s not done. It’s a first draft,” Mark tells you- neglecting to mention that the contents of the lyrics are quite decidedly centred around you.

How is he ever going to show you any of his songs? They’re all about you- and obviously so.

“I’ll trust your creative process,” you sigh, and Mark feels like jelly- most people don't respect him when he says no, when he says he’s protective of his newly birthed song babies that have yet to grow and be shaped- “but please, I mean it when I say I’d love to hear one of your songs.”

“Okay,” Mark nods. “Or maybe- do you have any favourite songs? I play guitar- I could learn a song for you-”

“You’d learn a song for me?” You look at him with the biggest, sweetest eyes Mark’s ever seen- he swears he can see stars twinkling in your irises, and heat flares across his skin with embarrassment, forcing him to look away from you.

“Yeah, it’s really not that hard to learn something new.”

“You must be really talented.”

“I’m really not.”

“You are,” you insist. “I can feel it.” You narrow your eyes at Mark to prove your point before your expression softens and you cock your head to the side. “I honestly just want to hear your voice- so I’m good with any song.”

“Any song?” Mark croaks.

You nod. “Whatever you think sounds best with your voice.”

“I’ll have to think about that,” he tells you, and he will.

It’s going to be the only thing on his mind when he goes to trivia night at eight, and if he didn’t already know his frat brothers kind of intimidate you, he probably would have invited you to tag along-

But no. He has to keep you and his other life a little separate still. It's not the right time for these things to overlap anymore than they already have, no matter how hard Haechan is pushing for ‘a future godson’ - which Mark insists will be provided within no time by one Jeong Jaehyun.

14: Wednesday - November 5th

“I had the longest day,” you say as you sit down across from Mark at his table in the library.

The Canadian half closes his lap top, pulling his headphones off and setting them around his neck to rest on his shoulders. He smiles at you.

Neither of you had coordinated about meeting here- and Mark enjoys the way this feels natural, as if you had had plans to meet.

“What happened?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, eyes assessing your windswept hair, slightly dampened from the misty on-and-off weather outside. The way you take your jacket off, exposing a pretty purple sweater underneath brings Mark back to Halloween, when you’d cuddled up next to him to watch Scooby Doo.

You launch into a story about the ‘dick’ professor, and how he’d gone over some of the questions in preparation for the midterm, but had been extremely vague and hadn’t cleared anything up- in fact, he’d probably made the entire class even more confused.

“When is the midterm?” Mark asks.

“Monday,” you sigh. “I have five more days to study.”

“You’ve got this,” Mark tells you, reaching out instinctively to place his hand over yours. “I’ll try not to distract you much today, how about that?”

You laugh, “I don't know how well that will work.”

“We can do thirty minute segments of hard work and then a five minute talking break,” Mark suggests.

You look at him, and then you nod. “Yeah, that could be good.”

“Do you need to vent some more? Or would you like to start now?” Mark asks.

You sigh. “I want to keep talking to you- but I know we should start studying. I also don’t want to interrupt your study time.”

“You never interrupt,” Mark assures you, giving your hand a squeeze before retracting his arm. “And we can talk as much as you want after your midterm.”

“Promise?”

He smiles softly at you. “Promise.”

15: Thursday - November 6th

“Who is it?” The voice coming from the intercom is buzzy, but Mark can tell right away that it’s Yeji and not you who has answered his call up to your apartment.

“Hey Yeji, it’s Mark,” The Canadian responds, “can I-”

The door buzzes, the intercom clicking to signal Yeji has hung up, and Mark laughs to himself, adjusting his rain jacket and heading inside. He tries to get most of the water off in the entryway, but he’s aware of the small puddle he leaves in the elevator up to your floor.

Mark’s heart is thumping in his throat when he reaches your door, knocking softly only for it to be thrown open a moment later. You’re standing there, wide eyed, in a little apron, and the Canadian thinks you must be the prettiest girl in the entire world.

“Mark! What are you doing here?!” you ask, grabbing his hand and dragging him into your apartment before beginning to fuss over his jacket, helping him take it off with care and hanging up to dry. He momentarily takes in the warmth of the space, the wonderful smell, and the sound of Etta James singing soulfully from speakers somewhere in another room.

“I was going to go to the library and maybe bump into you there- but then I remembered you said you like to study here when it rains- so I thought maybe- maybe you’d want a study buddy?” Mark can feel himself blushing, can feel the words coming out in stutters, but he can’t manage to get a grip on himself. He never can when it comes to you.

“I was actually just going to text you and invite you here, or come meet you at the library!” you beam up at him. “You read my mind.”

“Really?” Mark asks in shock, warmth spreading across his skin despite him still being cold from the rain.

You nod. “And I just put cookies in the oven!” You grab his hand again, leading him to the kitchen, where Yeji is standing by the sink, filling a water bottle.

“Hey Mark.”

“Hey Yeji.” He takes in her outfit, noting the jacket she’s wearing, “heading somewhere?”

“Volleyball practice,” Yeji nods, turning to grin slyly at the Canadian, “which means you two have the apartment all to yourselves.”

The connotation of her words hangs thickly in the air, and Mark struggles to find a response, but he comes up empty handed. Luckily, you shush your roommate, shaking your head and getting much more flustered than Mark- you all but corral Yeji to the door, and before Mark knows it, it’s just the two of you in your soft, warm apartment, while the storm rages outside.

The emptiness of the apartment suddenly feels very real, and Mark is hyper aware of you as you head back to join him in the kitchen after locking the door behind your roommate.

“What are you studying today?” you ask as you take your space by the stove, opening the door to peek at your baking.

The aroma perfumes the room and Mark stifles a groan from how wonderful your cookies smell, taking a seat at the little island in the kitchen so he can watch you. “Still working on a song,” He tells you. “The lyrics are a bit better today.”

“That’s wonderful!” You say with excitement, and Mark falls in love with you every time you show enthusiasm for him and lift him from the anxiety ridden purgatory mindset he often finds himself wallowing in. “Are you going to tell me what the song is about yet?”

Mark laughs at the way you cock your brow at him, and he shakes his head, running a hand through his messy blonde strands. “Probably not.”

“Meanie,” You pout, and Mark finds himself beaming at you, studying your face as you grin, opening the oven one final time to remove your perfectly baked cookies. “So we have to let them cool for five minutes- but then I was thinking maybe we could study in my room?” Mark’s heart lurches at the notion and you’re quick to continue talking, speaking faster as you get more flustered, “or we could study out here, if you’re more comfortable.”

“Your room sounds nice. I uh-” Mark adjusts the collar of his hoodie, which is beginning to press a little too tightly to his hot throat, “I really liked your fairy lights the last time I was here.”

“You did?” The smile that spreads across your face is enough to have Mark’s heart singing and his head nodding enthusiastically in confirmation.

“I also like this music,” Mark says, now looking for anything he can compliment if it’s going to merit a similar bright reaction from you.

“Etta James,” You both say in unison- then break out into small giggles.

“Of course you’d know who this is,” you smile, “you’re a music theory major. I bet you know lots of music.”

Mark shrugs. “It comes with the territory. But I like Etta. She has a really good voice.”

“Her music always makes me want to dance,” You breathe, smiling softly to yourself as you begin to take the cookies from the pan and place them onto a clean sheet to cool.

“Then you should dance,” Mark says simply.

“What?” You look up at him.

“You should dance,” Mark repeats.

“Here? Now?” You laugh. “In front of you?”

Mark nods.

You immediately shake your head. “I couldn't,” You insist, looking down at your cookies.

“But you said Etta makes you want to dance,” Mark states, standing and holding out a hand to you, “here, what if I dance with you?”

“You want to dance with me?”

The way your eyes have widened and you’ve somehow gotten smaller with your posture makes Mark just want to grab you and hug you and shower you in kisses and affection, but instead, as you accept his hand, he says, “Who wouldn’t want to dance with you?”

The way you immediately go to hide against his chest, letting out a “oh my gosh” that becomes half muffled by his hoodie as you press your forehead against his collar bone, your fingers wrapping up in the soft fabric by his hips while his free hand finds the small of your back. “I can’t believe you.”

“Why?” Mark chuckles, trying to ignore the rapid beat of his heart as he begins to sway to the music. It’s a slow song, and Mark knows it’s near the end of the tune- not a very good song to start dancing too, but he just has to keep you talking and wait it out until the album continues.

“You’re just- you always know what to say,” you sigh, finally moving your head away from Mark’s chest so you can look up at him. “And you’re too nice.”

“I’m too nice?” The Canadian laughs, feeling his skin heat with embarrassment.

“It’s not a bad thing!” you insist, moving your hand that had been grabbing his hoodie to his shoulder, and in that moment, you realize you’re really dancing with Mark.

You’re chest to chest, one hand held by his while he cradles you, with the other on your waist- and in that moment, the song changes to possibly one of the most devastating songs on the entire Etta playlist.

“I want a Sunday kind of love” wails through your speakers, and your heart urges you to sing, to match the exclamation of need-

But standing with Mark in your kitchen, half dancing, you think you might be the closest to a Sunday kind of Love as you’ve ever been.

He’s so beautiful, his warm brown eyes set off by the blondeness of his hair. You don’t miss the way his gaze darts down to your lips, and you lick them instinctively, only for your skin to heat in embarrassment at the movement that had been unconsciously done, your body simply reacting to the man in front of you before your brain had even had a chance to catch up.

“This is a good song,” Mark says softly, and he begins to pull away from you- only to help you into a wonky spin that has you both giggling. “Try again?” Mark prompts, and this time when he twirls you, instead of being two uni kids on the cusp of falling deeply, madly, in love- you feel like a princess who has found her prince charming, but then again, who’s to say there’s any difference?

When your spin is complete, you find yourself chest to chest with Mark again, but much closer than before. Giggling has left you a little breathless - or maybe that’s just Mark’s effect on you - and this time when you look up to meet Mark’s eyes, you don’t look away abashedly. Instead, you meet him straight on.

“Can I-” Mark leans forward, and you can’t help but look down at his lips before moving your gaze back up to his chocolate irises, “can I kiss you?”

“Yes please,” you nod, unable to help the smile that spreads across your face before Mark is pressing his lips to yours.

One of his hands moves up to cup the side of your face, and it adds a tenderness to the already soft as a cloud way he’s kissing you. He tastes like mint gum, a nice coolness when his tongue swipes over your bottom lip.

Shifting in his embrace, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your chest closer to his while you open your mouth to deepen the kiss, a soft, content sound leaving your lips.

“Fuck,” Mark groans, breaking the kiss in favour of rubbing his forehead against your own. “That sound-” your skin heats with embarrassment, “you’re so cute!”

“I am?”

Mark laughs, both of his hands finding your hips. Then he groans, letting out a deep breath.

He wants to tell you that you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. That he worships you. That he adores you. That he’d kill Haechan for you - but then again, he might have to do that for himself one day if Haechan isn’t careful-

“Should we study?” you ask, and Mark realizes he’s missed the moment by being caught up in his own thoughts of you.

He can’t let himself forget that so far, silences with you have been filled- Filled with studying, or movies- and while he relishes the idea of having comfortable silence with you, of laying next to you and simply playing with your fingers or doting you in affection- it’s obvious that moments of quiet still make you a little anxious.

Mark wants to fix that.

Instead, he nods. “Sounds good.” He clears his throat, shocked at the croaking sound he’d made, and then he’s the one who’s embarrassed and anxious.

You grin at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before moving out of his embrace, heading to the sink, where you fill a glass of water.

Mark takes the opportunity to try to recollect himself. He grabs his backpack, swinging it over one shoulder in preparation to move to your room to study.

“Here,” you say, returning with the glass of water. “I know you usually like your water bottle when we study.”

Mark accepts the drink with a smile, and then you’re grabbing his hand, towing him with you towards your room. “Get comfortable anywhere you want,” you tell him. “You can have the desk if you want, I don't mind studying on the bed- I'm just going to go grab the cookies so we have snacks and I'll be right back.”

Being left alone in your room feels intrusive- because Mark wants to look at everything. He wants to approach your bed and touch the fairy lights that illuminate the grey of the room, caused by the gloom outside.

Your window is open slightly, and Mark can feel the coolness of the air- which only tells Mark how nice, warm and homely your room is.

He could get used to this.

***

“How's studying going?” you ask when you’ve been successfully working on cue cards for an hour, Mark sitting at your desk working quietly on his own devices. The Canadian turns in his chair to look at you where you’re laying tummy down on your bed, cards scattered in front of you.

“Not bad,” he says. “You?”

“Doing okay. Finished my cue cards.”

“That's nice!” The enthusiasm that jumps out of him makes your heart swell. You love how much of a little cheerleader Mark can be.

“I was wondering- if you don’t have to work on your song right now, maybe you’d want to help quiz me a little on these?”

“I don’t,” Mark says immediately, “don’t have to work on my song,” he clarifies.

You light up, and Mark watches the way you scoot over, making room for him next to your body on the bed- or at least, that's what he thinks you’re doing. He waits for you to pat the open spot before approaching, and he lays down gingerly, careful and extremely aware of his proximity to you.

“Here.” You snuggle up to his side and Mark lets out a shaky breath, his skin practically singing where your arms are pressed together. He’d taken off his hoodie a while ago, and you’re in a tank top, allowing for the direct contact that’s making Mark question his sanity. “These ones maybe?” You put a stack of about twenty cards in front of Mark and he picks them up, examining them.

“I was also thinking-” You cut off abruptly and Mark looks sideways at you. “Never mind.”

“What were you thinking?” Mark prompts.

“It was nothing.”

“You sure?” Mark nudges you softly with his shoulder.

“I was just going to say maybe- maybe for each one I get right you could give me a little kiss- but then I thought it might be stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“And I also thought- maybe, maybe that would be too much, you know?”

Mark feels frozen.

“I just mean-” you quickly correct yourself, “I’m very- I’m not- gosh.” You hide your face in your hands. “I don’t have a lot of experience with guys, and I think slow is better for me, but-”

“Slow is good,” Mark confirms, “we can go as slow as you want.”

If only he could get his heart to slow down.

You like him. You have to. You want more kisses, so that must mean- that must mean you like him the way he likes you... right?

“I just- I really like you.”

Explosions go off in Mark’s head. His skin feels like a match that’s suddenly been lit, and it takes every ounce of self control in Mark’s body not to immediately let out a sound of triumph- or to maybe kiss you - but he reminds himself to be calm. And instead of screaming, or puking, or crying, or dying over your admittance of ‘liking him’, Mark manages to say, “I like you too.”

But his voice cracks.

And then you’re both giggling while Mark feels his ears turn red, but when you lean over, resting your head on his shoulder, it makes it all worth it.

16: Friday - November 7th

It’s nine am and Haechan is leading a group of four exhausted looking first year pledges in what he calls ‘the rain dance’- which pretty much consists of him assigning each person a complete coloured rain outfit (with Haechan being the Yellow Minister of Rain events, of course), and then directing them in a haphazard, wonky, circular dance that involves screaming loudly at the sky - which Haechan insists is able to control the weather and force rain clouds to go running.

Mark is sitting next to Johnny, protected by the cover of an overhang of their frat house, and the two tired frat boys watch their friend dance.

Haechan dips, letting his fingers glide across the wet grass, and then he throws his hands up in the air, letting out a wail that has Mark, Johnny, - and a number of other guys in the village who are on their respective frat house decks watching, - burst into giggles.

The four pledges, dressed in white, blue, green and pink, match the motion with much less pizazz.

“Rain!” Haechan screams loudly, “go away!”

“Come again another day!” Johnny yells, cupping a hand by his mouth to make his voice louder so it can stretch across the lawn to reach the group in the center of the little frat village.

“Rain!” Haechan wails again, forcing his circular dance to come to a halt when he falls onto his knees, facing the center, “don’t be a little slut!”

“That’s new,” Johnny chuckles and Mark shakes his head, unable to stop the smile on his face at his best friend’s antics.

“Don't be a little slut!” comes a chorus of screams from the four pledges.

“Do you think he kind of stole this from that Austin Powers movie?” Johnny asks, cocking his head, “the whole colour coordinated rain jacket thing-”

Mark’s phone buzzes in the front pocket of his hoodie, and he pulls it out, heart jumping when he sees your name on the screen. “I dunno,” he mumbles, brain attempting to make good on his friend’s musings- but it’s obvious how distracted Mark is.

“Your girlfriend?” Johnny asks, nudging Mark’s shoulder as he leans over to look at the Canadian’s phone. When you’re friends with Johnny, you learn pretty quickly that any phone in the house is, in fact, his phone, and he’s going to go through it- unless you keep your passcode under lock and key- which Mark is simply unable to do.

“Yeah- wait, no, she’s not-”

“Is she coming to the party?” Johnny smooths over Mark’s nerves, and the music theory major quickly reads your message.

“She says Yeji is, but she’s going to be studying all night.”

“Sucks to be her,” Johnny chuckles, popping a chip from the bag on his lap into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Mark says softly, but there’s little agreement in it.

“Don’t even think about it Mark.”

“Think about what?” Mark can’t take his eyes off his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys in preparation to type a response.

“Skipping the party again to go study.” Johnny crunches into his chips. “Haechan would kill you.”

Mark’s eyes go to the man who is still all but rolling around in the grass while screaming up at the clouds that deposit light precipitation onto the frat village.

Haechan really wants to party. He’s willing to make a fool out of himself in some weird rain ritual to get the skies clear, that’s how much he wants to party. And Mark can’t relate to it at all.

There’s only one thing he’d get onto his knees begging for-

Mark types a response into his phone, and a moment later your message dings up at him: ‘my place at seven for studying :) can’t wait to see you’.

He can’t wait either.

***

Mark can’t take his eyes off of you, no matter how many times he tries to read his textbook, his gaze always seems to simply rise- finding you on your bed.

When Mark had shown up, you’d suggested grabbing food before studying, and you’d been dressed in an outfit that made sense for being out and about. Last time, you’d been in sweats and a tank top, and while the comfortable look was adorable- Mark is obsessed with the little pastel skirt and sweater number you have going on.

Laying flat on your tummy, your skirt just covers the rump of your ass, teasing Mark with the pretty flesh of your thighs-

You move your head, drawing Mark’s gaze, and your eyes meet, causing his skin to heat with the notion that maybe you’d caught him gawking at you for the seventieth time.

“How’s the music theory?”

“Good,” Mark says, fiddling with his pencil. “How's midterm studying?”

“Good,” you sigh, “but- I think I'm getting tired.”

“You had a long day,” Mark notes, knowing that you started your morning with a nine o'clock seminar with Jungwoo. He checks his watch, which reads 12:30 AM. “Maybe I should go and you should sleep.”

You groan, closing your textbook and rolling onto your back so you can stretch. Mark watches the way you lift your arms over your head, your back arching slightly as you work out your muscles. The small gasp that leaves your lips before you go slack has Mark’s pants feeling extremely tight, and he shifts slightly in his chair by your desk.

“I don’t want you to go yet,” you say after a moment, and Mark all but melts into a puddle on your floor. “Maybe- do you wanna-” You turn onto your side, facing Mark and making some space on the bed. The moment your hand touches the mattress - an invitation - Mark is jumping to his feet to come join you.

“Can I hold you?” he asks once he’s settled, also on his side and facing you.

You nod, both of you moving forward, meeting halfway and connecting like puzzle pieces that should have been fit snug together the entire time. Mark can’t help but let out a contented sigh, and you snuggle into his chest, getting comfortable in his arms as your hands bunch up in the fabric of his hoodie.

Often, with girls, Mark feels the need to fill the quiet- and he knows you’ve been having the same anxieties- but with you in his arms, his mind goes completely blank, and any anxiety induced words that could have come spilling past his lips, have seemingly dried up- nothing more than a hazy afterthought to the feeling of having you pressed close to him.

Neither of you say anything.

Soon, Mark’s aware that you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, and just like the first time you’d fallen asleep against him, he vows not to move, for fear of waking you.

It’s three am when Yeji comes home, and her loud arrival in the entryway outside of your room wakes Mark up to confusion. It takes a moment for him to get his bearings, eyes becoming used to the soft glow of the fairy lights that are still on.

It takes a long time, but Mark is able to slowly move off the bed, untangling your limbs from him so he can turn off the fairy lights. For good measure, he grabs a fuzzy blanket that you usually have hung on the back of your desk chair, and he lays it over your body, making sure you’re covered.

Standing at the door to your bedroom, looking in at your sleeping form, Mark hates to say goodbye. But he turns off your bedroom light and slowly shuts the door, forcing his feet to carry him back to his frat house, which has begun to feel less and less like home.

17: Saturday - November 8th

“I’m sorry again for falling asleep on you-” you say for the third time in your phone call, and Mark shakes his head to himself, adjusting the coffee cup in his hand while he walks through campus.

“It’s fine,” Mark assures you, “you were really tired.”

“School is really hurting right now.”

Mark frowns, not enjoying the thought of you hurting. “But your midterm is in two days, then you’ll be able to relax a little,” he reminds you.

“I really should get back to studying,” you groan.

“I think so too- but I actually have a little surprise for you.”

“You do?”

“Uh huh,” Mark grins, coming to a stop in front of your apartment. “Do you maybe want to come down and see what it is?”

“What? You’re here?!” He can hear the excitement in your tone, and when he lifts his eyes to the window he knows to be yours, he sees the blinds get thrown open. Less than a moment later your head pops out the window. “I’ll be down in a sec!”

The line goes dead.

Mark chuckles to himself, pocketing his phone while he waits patiently. He’s been running little errands all day- but when he walked past the coffee shop and realized he’d be heading right by your apartment, he’d had no choice but to get you a drink. After all, you’ve been working so hard.

When the door to your apartment building opens and you come running out, Mark is momentarily in shock. You look absolutely adorable, in an oversized shirt that acts pretty much as a dress, and cute fuzzy slippers.

“Mark!” you beam, all but running to him. Mark opens his arms and you jump into them, nearly catching him off guard and forcing the Canadian to steady himself for fear of spilling your present.

“Hey you,” Mark breathes, grinning down at you while you beam back.

“What a good surprise!” You smile. “Are you going to come up and study with me?”

Mark’s heart drops. “No- I have to get back to the frat for a meeting,” - a meeting he’s honestly considering ditching now - “and actually the surprise is this,” Mark holds out the coffee.

“Two surprises!” you say enthusiastically, accepting the drink. “Thank you so much!” And then you’re on your tiptoes, pressing a chaste kiss to Mark’s lips that leaves him dumbstruck.

“You’re- uh- you’re welcome.” Mark can feel the skin on his neck flushing, and he rubs at it with a hand. “Like I said I should go, but good luck today.”

“Thank you.” There’s a moment of quiet, then; “Do you maybe want to study tomorrow?”

“I have another frat event,” Mark frowns, suddenly hating how busy being a frat boy often makes him. He used to love all the events- hanging out with friends - but now, whenever he’s with them, he always wants to be somewhere else. Somewhere with you.

“Oh.”

“But you’re going to do great,” Mark assures you, reaching for your free hand to give it a quick squeeze. “Now you better go back inside before you get cold.”

He’s worried about your bare legs in the November air, and he can see you starting to shake. He hadn’t meant for you to be out here this long- but he should have known you’d both want to talk to each other.

“Ok- and thanks again for the coffee.”

“Any time,” Mark says. And he means it.

18: Sunday - November 9th

The gymnasium smells of sweaty frat boys, and there’s a sickly aroma of booze hanging in the air down by where Lucas and Hendery’s duffle bags sit that makes Mark scrunch up his nose every time he gets close.

He needs to stay near the benches where his bag is- he’s waiting for a text from you. Mark had messaged you just before being forced to join the dodgeball game, and his ears are eagerly waiting to pick up the familiar tweet sound he’d assigned to your contact number- this way, he’ll always know when it’s you messaging him and he can prioritize getting to his phone.

He’d asked you if you wanted to meet up after your midterm- and Mark’s mind is already somersaulting with ideas of ways he could pamper you to congratulate you on your hard work.

“Get your head in the game,” Jaehyun says next to Mark, dodging a ball thrown by Johnny. The Chicago native and his mini me - Haechan - are always a menace when the frat goes to play dodgeball- but today, they seem to have a personal vendetta against Mark and the soccer team captain.

“What did you do to piss Johnny off?” Mark asks, moving quickly to the left as a ball whizzes past him, followed by a wail of anger from Haechan, who had tossed it.

“He was fucking his girlfriend in the showers this morning at 6 am, being really loud, so I flushed the left toilet,” Jaehyun smirks.

Ah, the left toilet: The one toilet in the frat house that, for whatever reason, when flushed, causes all the showers to go cold for a good five seconds. No matter how many plumbers have come to take a look at the frat pipes and hot water tank, no one has ever been able to fix this odd quirk- and frat boys are always more than willing to monopolize on the left toilet.

Mark thinks it might be a little hypocritical of Jaehyun to have punished Johnny for loud sex when Jaehyun’s the one always having angry fuck sessions anywhere he can get his hands on his spitfire girlfriend.

Mark has walked in on Jaehyun on accident more times than he can even count, and not once has he flushed the left toilet, although there’s been many occasions where it would have made things much easier for Mark- luckily, Yuta has been with Mark many times when they’ve stumbled upon Jaehyun, and is usually the one to flush the left toilet.

“What did you do to piss off Haechan?” Jaehyun asks when Mark ducks to dodge a ball thrown directly at his head.

“Skipped the party on Friday to study.”

“Right,” Jaehyun nods, never the type to be hyper aware of his frat brothers being at every party as Haechan is. The soccer team captain usually spends his frat parties with his girlfriend and Yuta, until he’s able to find a way to get his girlfriend away from the clutches of her best friend- the ‘Japanese prince’ can be a bit clingy when he’s drunk, and Jaehyun’s had to take the brunt of it by proxy of his girlfriend.

“Y/N right?” The way Jaehyun says your name has Mark feeling some kind of way- heat rising in his tummy.

“Yeah.”

“Good for you,” Jaehyun nods, briefly taking his eyes off of Johnny to give Mark a small smile. “It’s good that you’re dating again.”

Mark’s not even sure if he’d call what you have ‘dating’, but then the familiar tweet sound hits his ear from his right side- and his body is lurching into motion to go grab his phone.

He reaches his bag within seconds, eyes scanning the screen of his cell. You’ve agreed to meet after your midterm. Just as Mark’s heart squeezes with delight- something slams into the left side of his face, and Mark goes down.

The last thing he hears is Haechan screaming “head shot!” and after that, Mark’s not so sure.

19: Monday - November 10th

Mark’s just beginning to worry about the ice cream in his hands melting when the doors to your lecture hall open and students begin pouring out. He anxiously flattens himself against the wall, getting out of people’s way while he waits for you.

The past two hours have been torture- knowing you’re in your class, working your little bum off, being tested- he’s been anxious for you. He’s been so anxious, in fact, that he’s even skipped a class just to be here for you when you’re out of yours.

“Y/N!” He calls your name when he sees you, and you whip around to look at him, a massive smile appearing on your face.

Then you’re running- and Mark is opening his arms, forgetting all about the ice cream he’s holding in favour of wrapping you in a tight embrace-

He smashes both ice cream cones directly into your back.

Alarms go off in Mark’s brain as he tries desperately to apologize while you turn your head to try to see what’s just been smeared on both of your shoulders.

“I’m so sorry- oh my god- fuck! I got ice cream all over you-” Mark panics, letting you go as his face twists up in something like anguish while his skin begins to heat to a bright scarlet. He holds the two ruined cones in his hands.

“You got me ice cream?” you ask, turning again to look up at him with big eyes.

“Yeah, but now it’s all over you-”

“But- you got me ice cream,” you repeat, a big smile forming on your face.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your midterm.” Mark frowns, upset that he’d ruined his own plan, and he steps over towards a garbage can, tossing the cones inside. “But instead I wrecked your jacket- here, take my hoodie.”

Mark unslings his backpack quickly, setting it down on the floor by his Nike air forces. He straightens and puts a hand behind his head, grabbing his hoodie at the scuff- like Johnny had taught all the new pledges to do one day two of ‘how to be sexy in bed before your clothes are even completely off’ seminar he ran for every new round of guys during February’s Valentines Day Prep Week (which always ended with the event of the year: Jaehyun’s Valentines/birthday party).

Mark’s hoodie gets caught while he’s pulling it over his head, and he fumbles with it. With his arms raised, he can feel his shirt has ridden up, and cool air passes over the Canadian’s lower abdomen, making him tense at the unexpected temperature even while his neck heats with embarrassment.

When he’s with you- Mark feels like he can never do anything right. You make him so incredibly nervous at times.

The Canadian manages to get his hoodie off, and he thrusts it out to you, shyly running a hand through his now tousled hair.

“Thank you- I’ll just run to the bathroom to put this on and clean the ice cream off my jacket with some water. Be right back.” You get on your tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to Mark’s cheek before darting off, and the poor Music Theory Major is left standing there; a blushing mess.

When you return, hoodie clad, Mark can’t take his eyes off of you. The fabric swallows you up, and the sleeves are much too long, giving you a sweater paw effect that makes Mark want to just scoop you up in his arms and press kisses all over your face in return for the one you’d bestowed upon him five minutes earlier.

Instead, Mark forces his rapidly beating heart to slow down. He swallows thickly, averting his eyes from your form, “I know I ruined the cones I brought- but do you want some ice cream? We could go to this place by the frat- it has really good milkshakes too-”

“That sounds perfect.”

The two of you head out of the lecture building, and the cool outside immediately makes Mark’s skin pebble with goosebumps.

“Are you sure you don’t want your hoodie back?” you ask nearly immediately, stepping closer to the Canadian while you walk. “My jacket isn’t that ruined-”

“I’m fine,” Mark says, even as he fights the urge to rub his arms with his hands to create heat friction.

He hears you scoff, and then you’re grabbing his bicep, latching onto the side of his body and snuggling up, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

“I’ll keep your left side warm.”

And his whole entire heart, it seems.

You walk in a happy silence. Neither of you can stop smiling, and when you come to a stop at a light to wait for cars to pass, you rest your cheek against Mark’s arm. Your left hand reaches across the front of your body to play with his fingers, and when the Canadian gets a chance, he locks you in, giving your digits a squeeze as he flashes you a small, shy smile, that says ‘please don’t let go.’

“Do you want to share a milkshake?” Mark asks when you reach the ice cream shop. There’s no line for service, as it is a semi cold and cloudy day. Mark enjoys having you close without so many eyes on him.

Out on the street there are too many opportunities for people he knows to see him and to come harass him- well, maybe harass isn’t the right word, but Mark wants to focus on you, and any distraction would be an unwelcome one.

You nod, grinning up at Mark before hiding your face against his shoulder again, tucking extra close to his body.

“Should we go for something classic?” Mark questions. “Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry-”

“Cookies and cream,” you say, eyes locked on the board where it notes the flavours of the week.

“Where’ve you been all my life,” Mark breathes before he can help himself, and then his skin begins to flush with embarrassment.

“Hmm?” You turn to look up at the Canadian, and Mark fumbles over his response.

“I just- cookies and cream is my favourite- and usually I have to bribe friends into getting one with me because the milkshakes here are big- ”

“Your friends don't like cookies and cream?”

Mark shakes his head.

“Well then you need new friends,” you tell him in a stern voice, but you’re so small and cute and he just wants to pinch your cheeks-

“I do, do I?” Mark grins.

You nod. “But it’s okay, because now you have me.”

“Do I?” More words that Mark would have preferred his lips left unsaid- but he simply can't help himself around you, and he watches the way you become bashful at the question, squeezing his hand tighter.

“Uh huh,” you nod, hiding against his shoulder again.

Mark leaves it at that, and the two of you stand side by side, with massive smiles on your faces, the entire time you wait for your milkshake.

The plan is to get the drink and head back to your place to study, hopefully making it before the moody clouds decide to make their sadness everyone else's problem- but when the two of you exit the ice cream shop, it becomes clear that you won’t be able to make it to your place before the rain comes.

“Oh no,” Mark says when the first drop of precipitation lands on his nose, then both of you are looking up at the sky.

“Oh my jesus,” you whisper, having heard Mark say it a number of times and enjoyed the way it sounded from him.

Mark’s eyes meet your own and his lips part- he’s about to say something when there’s a flash. You both jump from the sudden light, and a moment later a low, thunderous rumble follows- then comes the rain, in full force this time.

“Run!” Mark laughs, lacing his fingers with yours and securing the covered milkshake in his other hand so the two of you can take off in the direction of “the frat! It's the closest!”

You giggle at his antics, allowing the gorgeous boy to hold your hand while the two of you run through the rain to escape the sudden storm. The day is grey, but you’ve never felt so golden and warm, even as water seeps through Mark’s black hoodie, which still enwraps your form in the soft smell of the Canadian boy who’s all but captured your heart.

You’ve been to the frat village once or twice when Yeji has dragged you with her to parties, but the house Mark leads you to is one that’s completely new.

It’s a large house- more of a ‘complex’ really, with three floors and pitched roofs- and it has a covered wrap around porch at ground level that seems to lead into a half covered cemented seating area.

“It’s a Monday afternoon, so most of my frat brothers should be in class,” Mark assures you, letting go of your hand when you reach the safety of the sheltered porch area in front of the door leading to the frat.

Mark shakes out his hair, getting rid of some of the water.

You can’t help but look at the way his shirt is clinging to his body, wet from the rain. He’s toned- much more toned than you’d thought he’d be- but you suppose you’ve mostly seen him covered in warm hoodies- which are thick, if the one weighing down your shoulders is anything to go by.

The Canadian grabs the front of his shirt and turns away from you, towards the door, while he flaps the fabric back and forth, getting rid of more water.

You try to do the same, but you’re really not that wet - well at least not where it’s noticeable - the hoodie had taken the brunt of the rain-

“You better not be thinking about coming in here while you’re dripping like that.” A stern voice draws you from your thoughts and you tear your eyes away from Mark’s pretty shoulders to see a dark haired man standing in the now open doorway.

“I-” Mark freezes, as do you- but the good news is, Stern Man isn’t talking to you.

“You know Doyoung hates it when you let things drip all over his floor- Markus.” Comes a sing-song tone that Mark knows well- almost as well as he knows the warm flash of embarrassment that overtakes him.

If there’s one thing Lee Haechan knows how to do- it’s how to get Mark Lee flustered.

“Take it off.” The low, masculine voice belongs to Lucas, and he appears behind Haechan and Doyoung, easily visible towering behind the shorter men, even as he leans a shoulder against the wall.

Jaehyun had once told Mark he’d been jealous of Lucas (who had dated Jaehyun’s now girlfriend) because of his beauty. At the time, Mark hadn’t really believed it- after all, Jaehyun is one of the most confident guys in the entire frat- and possibly the university.

But standing outside, on the verge of starting to shiver, with the literal love of his life behind him, Mark is not ready to have to face a fluffy haired, muscle shirt and red plaid pajama pant wearing, frat boy god- not when Mark still wants to impress you so badly with his own charms.

“That’s a good idea!” Haechan says gleefully. “Take it off!”

“Come on,” Mark scoffs, finally finding his voice. “You can’t be serious.”

He takes a step forward- only for Doyoung to throw up an arm, blocking his way in. “I hate to agree with Lucas,” Doyoung states, “but he’s right. Your shirt is too wet. Take it off. And Haechan, hand me Mark’s hoodie from the closet.”

Mark stares at Doyoung, who is known never to back down from anything.

The Canadian sighs. He can’t believe they’re doing this to him, and with you right there-

“Who’s your friend, Mark?” Lucas asks, peeking up and over Doyoung to look at you.

“This is Y/N,” Haechan says smoothly, handing the hoodie to Doyoung, who holds it to his chest, making a motion that tells Mark to strip first.

Mark hands you the milkshake and sets his backpack down. He steps forward and grabs the bottom of his shirt. To be fair to Doyoung- it is soaked through, and Mark’s sure that if he was to wring it out- well, he understands Doyoung making him do this.

The music theory major listens to Haechan introducing you to Lucas while Mark quickly tearing his wet shirt off, tossing it onto the ground and grabbing the new hoodie Doyoung extends to him.

Once it’s up and over his head, Mark picks up his backpack and steps forward to enter the frat house.

“You can both come in now,” Doyoung says, but Mark hardly hears him. He grabs at Doyoung- something he’s never really done before- as he passes by, and the older man’s eyes widen in shock.

“Don’t make her take the hoodie off if she doesn't want to,” Mark says quietly as he steps past, then he raises his voice so Lucas and Haechan can hear him. “Can you guys all give us some space?” The two men are still crowding the front door area, having just had a small conversation with you about studying - or something Mark hadn’t bothered to listen to.

Someone lets out a whistle- but it’s not one of the men in front of him, and Mark takes two steps further into the frat house, peeking his head around the wall to see the living room.

It's full of frat boys.

Johnny and Taeil are at the pool table, both have a beer in their hand and Taeyong lines up a shot, then he pauses briefly to look up at Mark- only for his gaze to shift to Doyoung, who goes to join his friend.

“Hey Mark!” Yuta sits on one end of the couch by the windows, Jaehyun on the other, the Team Captain’s girlfriend tucked into his side with her feet in her best friend’s lap.

“We saw you running through the rain,” the ‘Anime Prince’ grins mischievously, and his best friend pushes him with her foot, earning an even more sinister laugh.

So that’s how Doyoung had known to be at the door.

“Are you all skipping?!” Mark can’t help but ask, shocked to have just stumbled upon an entire gathering of people when he’d expected the house to be practically empty.

“We all saw the forecast this morning,” Haechan says to Mark.

“And if we're skippers, and you’re here, what does that make you, huh, Mark?” Johnny calls from the pool table, setting one beer down next to a - presumably empty - can on the side of the table before he lines up a shot.

The Canadian ignores his friend, and instead turns to look at you, flashing a smile and holding out his hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Good idea,” you say immediately. “It was nice meeting you both- and Haechan-”

Mark doesn't wait for formalities, he simply pulls you after him, past the group in the living room. “Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is everyone. Bye, everyone.” Mark says quickly.

“Mark!” Yuta whines loudly but Mark is already opening a door to the stairwell that will take you up to the second floor while calling out “dibs on our room” - although Mark’s not sure he trusts Yuta, his roommate, to take his ‘dibs’ seriously.

The frazzled Canadian leads you to his room and mutters a “thank god” when he finds it empty. He’d half expected Jungwoo to be waiting here for him like some final boss from a video game- and Mark has returned home before to find the big, cat-like frat boy stretched across his bed and in need of ‘Markie cuddles’.

“Sorry about them,” the soft, frazzled blonde says when you’re inside and he’s able to close the door, making sure to lock it.

“We probably should have guessed that on a rainy forecasted day, a lot of people would be skipping classes- and you do live in a frat house,” you respond softly, setting the milkshake you'd been holding since the shirt ordeal onto his desk by the window before moving to take off the soaked hoodie that’s still covering your body. “But I like your room. And Mark?”

“Yeah?” His heart stops a little in his chest and he leans back against the door, which he just now wishes was ten times thicker. He watches you pull off his hoodie, revealing the shirt you have on underneath.

“I like your friends.”

“You do?”

You nod, looking around the room.

Mark jumps into action, coming to stand next to you. “So this side of the room is mine,” he tells you, motioning with a hand to the bed on his right.

The Canadian keeps his things in a generally tidy order, and his walls are decorated with record album artwork and two guitars hanging one on hooks.

It’s the guitars that you gravitate towards, and before Mark can anticipate it- you’re turning to look at him with excited eyes. “Can you play me a song?”

“Hmm?” Mark lets out a dismayed sound.

“A song,” you repeat. “You told me you’d learn one for me.”

Mark swallows thickly. He had told you he’d work on something to be able to show you- and the Canadian music theory major searches deep into the corners of his mind for ideas.

He thinks about his friends downstairs - and how they might be able to hear Mark if he decides to whip out the guitar and give you an impromptu concert - but one look into your pretty eyes has him folding, bending over backwards like a frail leaf to accommodate your needs and wants.

“I guess, there’s one song I can play for you,” Mark says, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck shyly.

“Really?” you beam.

“Yeah.” Mark swallows thickly, mustering up his courage as he reaches for his guitar, pulling it from the wall. “But I might be a bit rusty,” he warns you, settling down on his bed with the instrument held deftly in his experienced hands.

“I’m sure you’ll be great,” you assure the pretty boy, mirroring him and sitting, your whole body facing the musician, whose knee you accidentally bump with your own in an effort to get closer.

The Canadian takes a deep breath, and then his hands begin to move, fingers strumming the strings to create a pretty tune. “It’s uh, I’m Yours, by Jason Mraz,” Mark tells you, head dipping so his blonde hair half obscures his face while he watches his fingers move on the guitar.

You notice the way his skin has turned a pretty shade of pink, a colour you’ve come to love on him due to how often he’s blushing. He’s so shy- and it makes you want to shower him with compliments- especially when he opens his mouth to begin singing, and one of the prettiest voices you’ve ever heard fills the room.

Mark gets through the first verse seamlessly, but when he reaches the chorus, the Canadian sneaks a glance up at you. That’s when he begins to fumble- breaking at the weight of your attention on his shoulders.

He forces his eyes away from you, trying to still his rapidly beating heart while singing and keeping his fingers playing the right chords- it’s one of the most difficult things Mark Lee has ever done- and he’s taught himself not one, not two- but four of the most difficult guitar picking songs to play in the world- so Mark knows musical pressure.

But he’s never known musical pressure like this.

Because suddenly, every word leaving his lips is a word he truly means- or at least, Mark aspires to be the kind of guy spoken about in the lyrics who reaches out for the things he wants, with no hesitation.

Mark’s not sure how he does it, but he makes his way through the song, reaching the outro and finishing on the line “I’m yours” as his fingers come to a stop on the strings.

You burst into applause nearly the moment Mark is finished his song, and the Canadian is shocked by the way you practically launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him despite the guitar getting between your bodies. “That was so good!” you squeal into his ear.

Mark is quick to shift the instrument out of where it’s uncomfortably caught. This gives him the ability to pull you to his chest completely, and the Canadian falls back against his bed, taking you with him.

The two of you land in a fit of giggles and smiles, both of you adjusting for the new position that has you half lying on his chest. “You’re such a good singer,” You tell him, face nuzzled against his neck.

Your breath tickles his skin, and Mark’s cheeks are hurting from how much he smiles when he’s around you.

Your fingers reach to play with the fabric of his hoodie by Mark’s shoulder, and Mark turns his head, looking down at you.

Your eyes are so pretty- Mark could get lost in them, in fact, he thinks maybe he already has.

He watches the way your gaze darts down to his lips- and Mark thinks: ‘Fuck it. No hesitation.’

His fingers find the bottom of your chin, and he gently prompts you to raise your face just slightly, even as he dips down to press his lips to yours.

You kiss him back, matching the softness, and your fingers pull more on the fabric of his hoodie, helping you shift to be closer to the pretty Music Theory Major.

“Mark-” you breathe a sigh of happiness against his lips, not knowing what you want, but knowing you want more- whatever that entails.

‘No hesitation’, Mark reminds himself, doing his best to read both your verbal and non verbal cues. He wraps his arms around you and gently prompts you to roll, moving the both of you until he’s settled between your legs, and your back is pressed against his bed while the Canadian hovers over you, holding himself up with an elbow by your head while his lips move softly against your own.

Your fingers find his hair, and when you tug on the pretty strands, Mark lets out a small groan that goes straight to your core.

He’s so unbelievably sexy- in this ‘I have no idea how fucking handsome I am’ kind of way.

Maybe he’s just Canadian- you’re not sure.

You tug at Mark’s hoodie, and he pulls away from your lips.

“Can I take this off?” he asks you, hands playing with the hood strings, pulling this way and that while he looks down at you, hair tousled.

You nod, eager to see his toned torso again after having been teased with it not once, but twice today.

With his hoodie discarded, Mark’s able to feel the draft coming from the open window. The cool stream of air that flows through the small space brings the aroma of rain and the repetitive pattering sound of heavy water hitting the sidewalk just outside the frat.

The coolness of the air reminds Mark of the warmth of you, and he’s quick to find his way back into your embrace again, his lips meeting yours with a new fervour. Your hands explore the bare expanse of his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscle and earning another groan of pleasure from the Canadian.

One of his hands grabs at the pillow by your head, and Mark fights the urge to rut against you, his cock pressing hard against the front of his jeans.

Mark’s never been the type to be upset about his ‘frat boy labido’, but right now, it’s getting in the way of him wanting to worship you. He wants to take his time- wants to kiss every inch of your pretty skin- he wants to taste-

The Canadian groans again, tearing his lips from yours in favour of going after your neck. He’s sure he can find some sweet spots there- can elicit some pretty sounds that will distract him from his own growing need.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, heart clenching in his chest at how it feels to verbally worship you- on top of the physical ways he’s already attempting to show how much he cares.

A soft whimper leaves your lips and you tangle your fingers in Mark’s hair, egging him on to continue. “So soft,” his voice comes out hoarse and he presses more kisses against the column of your throat, enjoying the way you arch your neck to give him the most space possible.

Mark swallows thickly, his kisses continuing downward. He gently moves the fabric of your shirt with two fingers, exposing your collar bone, which he peppers in tiny kisses.

“Mark-”

Hearing his name makes Mark look up at you with concern- only for him to find you with your bottom lip half pulled between your teeth, eyes heavy lidded- looking as sexy as you ever have.

The music theory major all but lunges back up at you, capturing your mouth with his own as one hand goes to cup the side of your face, his thumb under your jaw, directing you where he wants you to be as his tongue slips past your lips-

A sudden screeching sound makes both you and Mark jump, your fingers digging into his shoulders while the two of you whip around to look at his door- which is, thankfully, still closed.

The scream had sounded suspiciously like Haechan- but Mark’s been living with his friend long enough to be able to tell that the noise hadn’t been loud enough to have been too close.

“Let me put on some music,” Mark says, pushing off of you so he can sit on his knees, hand digging into his pocket for his phone. While his eyes scan the screen for a playlist, he notices your legs on either side of his waist, now bent at the knee, your feet flat on the bed. Mark allows the fingers on his free hand to gently brush your skin, trailing them up and down your thigh while he connects his phone to the bluetooth speakers.

“And the door is locked,” Mark tells you as soft music fills the room. He tosses his phone onto his hoodie, which is resting on the floor where he’d discarded it. “They’re a little loud- but uh, they shouldn’t try to come barging in or anything.”

“Okay,” you breathe, looking up at him with shy eyes.

Mark can hardly meet your gaze either, and instead he focuses on watching his finger trail up and down your leg, testing the denim of your pants. “Can I-”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I'm going to ask,” Mark grins, peeking up at you somewhat bashfully.

“That’s okay,” you assure him, also smiling a small happy shy smile that tells Mark you’re in this together.

Often with girls, Mark finds himself in power imbalances. Most of the time, the girl likes him much more than he likes her- which is why he’s not a one night stand kind of guy anymore - but with you, he knows you like each other a similar amount.

Or at least, he hopes you like him in a similar way to the amount he likes you- and if you don’t, well, if he treats you like a goddess, you will soon- right?

“Kiss?” You reach for him and Mark realizes he has to stop being so in his head, or he’ll risk missing opportunities with you.

He supposes he can pull your pants down - like he’d intended to do - later, because right now, all Mark wants to do is get lost in your lips- and your touches; your fingers trailing up and down his skin.

Mark kisses you like his life depends on it, and the gentle music playing from the speakers provides a comfort sound blanket that makes Mark feel confident he’s the only one able to hear your soft, pretty sounds of pleasure.

“I need-” You whimper when Mark’s kisses move to your jaw again, lips freed, and Mark is more than ready to hear exactly what you’d like him to do to you.

But when you let out a small whine, pulling Mark’s face back up to your own so you can hide against his neck- Mark realizes you might need a little help verbalizing what it is that you want.

“What do you need, pretty girl?” Mark asks, his voice coming out huskier than he’d intended, and his hips shudder at the sound of his own words - which had come out much more confident than Mark was even intending them to - causing friction, and sending electric shocks of pleasure skittering up Mark’s body.

“You,” your whimpery voice makes Mark groan, fist grabbing at the pillow again.

He can no longer help himself- especially if you’re going to be responding to him like this.

His hips rut against you, causing a delicious friction that makes you both moan, lips clashing and muffling the sounds. Your lips are like cookies and cream, Mark’s favourite, and he can only imagine how the rest of you is going to taste, and feel, against his tongue.

It takes everything Mark has to pull away from you, but he quickly shuffles down the bed, hands finding the waistband of your jeans and following it to the button, which he undoes.

His gaze shifts up to you, scanning your expression to make sure you’re alright with this. You even lift your hips to help Mark with the process, and he tugs your pants down, eager to get them off.

“Shirt?” Mark asks as he settles on the bed, laying down flat and positioning one of your legs over his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, breathing in the smell of you.

Your core is covered in a pretty pair of blue underwear, Mark’s favourite colour, and a wet patch is showing-

‘Did I do that?’ Mark wonders, eyes moving up to watch as you take your shirt off, following through with his earlier request.

Your bra is also a pretty blue- matching to your underwear, and Mark briefly remembers what Jaehyun had told him one time at a Frat retreat in Sweden: ‘if you take the girls clothes off and she’s in a matching set, you’re not getting lucky, she planned the whole thing’.

He wonders if you planned on getting caught in the rain- only to remember that showing up outside your lecture hall after your midterm was more of his idea than yours.

He has no clue that you’ve been wearing sets for the past week with the hopes that maybe Mark would go a bit further than just kissing you- and it’s beginning to look more and more like today’s going to be the day.

“You’re so pretty,” Mark coos, his lips teasing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs again- causing a shudder to run through your body.

“No you,” you state.

Mark’s ears turn red, and he rubs his face against your thigh, fingers gripping your legs as he adjusts them on his shoulders.

“And I like your hair like this,” you continue, enjoying the effect your words seem to have on the soft music theory major between your thighs. You reach a hand out, fingers threading through his golden locks. You’d enjoyed his natural dark hair- but you have to admit, this blonde makes Mark even more ethereal- if that’s possible.

“Stop,” Mark groans, his teeth nipping at your skin only for his lips to sooth the spot a moment later.

His voice lacks conviction.

“And has anyone ever told you-” you let out a sigh, stopping momentarily to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation of his breath fanning across your covered core, “that you’re an amazing kisser?”

Now Mark groans, fingers digging into your thighs and dragging you down to his face. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask permission - although, you’ve already told him he can do whatever he wants with you - he simply presses his mouth to your core, tongue pushing at blue fabric.

You mewl, pulling at The Canadian’s soft hair. “Mark-”

He adjusts, two fingers grabbing one side of your underwear and pulling them to the side.

This time, when his mouth finds you, there’s nothing in his way.

You hold your breath, attention fixed on Mark as he drags his tongue the length of your entrance, stopping to swirl his wet muscle around your clit. Your legs shake on either side of his head at the gentle caress- and your fingers flex in his hair, a gasp leaving your lips as you relax into his bed.

While he holds your underwear to the side with his right hand, his left palm begins to smooth up and down the top of your thigh, keeping it over his shoulder, and providing a repetitive comforting motion that has your skin breaking out in excited goosebumps.

His tongue prods your hole, pushing in and earning a whimper that escapes your chest before you’re able to stop it. “Mark-” you moan again, tightening your grip in his hair, your lower body wiggling as you attempt to grind down against his face- nothing has ever felt this good.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, and you sneak a glance down at the music theory major. His eyes meet yours, and you feel your skin erupt in heat, embarrassment flooding your body.

“So pretty,” Mark reminds you, pulling away from your core to press a kiss to your inner thigh again. His left hand leaves your leg, fingers gently brushing over the swell of your breast, “can I-”

You cover his hand with your own, guiding him to apply some pressure, and a small whine leaves your lips at the feeling. You let go of Mark, but his hand stays where it is, giving its own testing squeeze as his tongue returns to your core with new vigour.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to an orgasm with each lap of the singer’s tongue, and when he moves his mouth up slightly, suctioning his lips around your clit- you know you won't be able to hold on much longer.

Words feel to be too difficult for your lust hazed mind, and the most you can do is hold onto Mark’s hair as an anchor and whisper his name over and over until his tongue is dragging you over the edge and you’re enwrapped in a euphoric warmth as your orgasm washes over you in waves of golden light.

The soft Canadian boy stays between your legs, licking you through your high.

His hand moves from your breast in favour of locking his fingers with yours, giving you a gentle squeeze when he feels you’re finally coming down. Mark looks up at you in wonder, wanting to take it all in. You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen- and watching you come undone on his tongue had been the highlight of his entire university experience- maybe even his whole life.

He presses a kiss to your clit and your legs shiver, attempting to close on either side of his head. Mark can’t help but smile, sneaking a glance up at you again. “No more?” he asks, eager to make you cum for him again.... And again, and again, and again-

“I want-” Your free hand reaches down for Mark and the Canadian releases your underwear, letting them move back into place while he rises to meet you-

There’s a loud banging at the door that makes both you and Mark practically jump out of your skin, followed by Yuta’s loud voice calling: “I at least need my laptop so I can study downstairs if you guys are in the room!”

Mark is quick to jump into motion, grabbing your jeans and shirt off the floor and tossing them at you before reaching for his own hoodie. “One second!” he screams at the door, pulling the fabric to cover his bare torso. The Canadian tugs at the hem, turning away from you to adjust his cock - which is pressing almost painfully against the denim of his jeans - and he makes sure it’s not noticeable.

Then Mark grabs Yuta’s laptop, turning to make sure you’re dressed before he heads to the door to open it a few inches, all but thrusting the laptop out and into Yuta’s arms. “Here,” Mark says, closing the door just as quickly as he’d opened it.

The music theory major locks the door again before leaning back against it, eyes finding you on his bed. “Sorry.”

You shake your head, releasing Mark of any anxiety he has over having just been interrupted. You still have your lip caught between your teeth, and you look so incredibly sexy- eyes half lidded, chest rising and falling with each breath-

“I think-” You fidget with the long sleeves of your sweater. “I think Yeji should be in class- if it’s a bit too crowded here, we could get umbrellas and walk to my place-”

“Good idea.” Mark is nodding and heading to his closet before you’re even done your sentence, and a moment later he produces two umbrellas and a rain jacket, which he holds out for you.

“Don’t you need this jacket?” you ask.

Mark shakes his head, “I don't care about getting rain on me- but I don't want you to get wet.”

The moment the words leave his lips, Mark’s skin flushes a pretty pink colour that has you both shyly hiding your faces. “Let’s go.” Mark picks up his backpack and you do the same, then he reaches for your hand and the two of you leave his room, milkshake long forgotten- after all, Mark has his eyes set on something much sweeter.

***

“You heard what?!” Haechan is on his feet in an instant, only to be tugged back to the couch by Johnny, who attempts to smooth this whole thing over.

“I’m sure you were just hearing the music.”

“It was definitely not the music,” Yuta says, taking his seat next to Jaehyun with his laptop out. “Mark is up there doing something with that girl and we all know it.”

Taeyong sighs, gaze drifting to the stairwell. “We don’t know-”

“The kid serenaded her!” Yuta whisper screams, conscientious of anyone eavesdropping on the impromptu gossip session that had sprung out of his own eavesdropping. “We all know-”

“I’m going up there,” Haechan announces, trying to stand again, only to be roughly tugged down for a third time by Johnny.

“You’re going to stay down here and give Mark some space,” Johnny says, looking his friend dead in the eyes.

“But Johnny!”

“No buts.”

“But Mark and his mommy milkers!” Haechan wails, closing his eyes and throwing himself down into the couch like a tantruming child.

“Oh my Jesus.” A soft whisper, and it draws all eyes.

Mark is standing by the stairwell, you right behind him, and he’s staring at Haechan while his skin turns a beautiful scarlet red colour.

“Mark!” Haechan squawks, everyone realizing at the same time that you’d just heard Haechan state ‘Mark and his mommy milkers’ with the most confident tone ever- “we were definitely not talking about your mommy milkers kink-”

Johnny grabs Haechan by the neck and all but throws him onto the couch, before covering the smaller man with his entire body, squishing Haechan down into the fabric.

“We weren't talking about that at all,” Johnny says, lurching a little as he squashes Haechan harder.

“Because- because Mark doesn’t have a mommy kink,” Doyoung tries to be helpful from the kitchen, where he and Taeyong are standing, each with a glass of wine, and a mortified look on their faces.

“He just likes sucking on tiddies!” comes another ‘helpful’ tone, this time from under Johnny, and the big man purposefully jumps more, squishing Haechan further into the couch, earning a pained whining sound.

“We’re heading out,” Mark says, skin still bright red as he drags you through the space to the door.

The entire room of boys watches Mark run away.

It's only when Yuta looks out the window and is sure Mark is half way across the field in front of the frat that the anime prince says, “Good for him.”

And everyone, even Haechan - who is still being pinned down and tickled as punishment from Johnny - agrees.

***

“Haechan’s just like that- not that I don’t enjoy- uh, boobs, but Haechan-” Mark has been trying to apologize for his friends behaviour the entire walk home, and you think it’s adorable how flustered he gets.

You squeeze his hand. “It’s okay.”

“The whole mommy thing is really more of a Haechan kink-” Mark continues, and you laugh, enjoying the way he rambles when he’s nervous.

You’re interested in Mark’s kinks, and hearing him discuss kinks in a general sense is making you wet again- even though Mark’s brought you an umbrella.

You’d been so close to having him- so close to wrapping him in your arms and inviting him inside-

But you’d been interrupted, and now, your feet carry you quickly towards your apartment, energized by the notion of what is to come.

You reach the door to your home, heart lurching with excitement, and just as you’re about to go to unlock the door, it’s thrown open and you’re met with the visual of your roommate all but climbing Jeno, their lips (and tongues) locked in a battle that looks as fierce as ever.

“I have to go-” Jeno groans.

Neither he nor Yeji have noticed you and Mark standing right in front of them.

You and Mark are frozen where you stand- both too polite to say anything, and too shocked. But then Mark drops his umbrella, the sound makes both Yeji and Jeno break their kiss, two steely gazes landing on the soft people at the door.

“Oh-” Yeji jumps away from Jeno, “you’re home.”

“You’re home,” you counter, looking at your roommate quizzically.

“Everyone skips on rainy days,” Yeji brushes it off, reaching out and grabbing your hand, “and now we can bake cookies! Girls day! Thanks for dropping her off Mark! And for picking up this loser-” She pushes at Jeno’s back and he steps forward, into the hallway to join Mark.

Then Jeno turns, grabbing Yeji’s hand, tugging roughly and pulling her to his lips for one final kiss. “Don’t pretend you don’t love me,” he says darkly, holding her gaze.

“You’re still a loser,” Yeji states, pressing a peck to Jeno’s nose before returning to the warmth of her apartment. “Bye you two.”

Everything happens fast with Yeji, and it leaves you and Mark scrambling.

You want to invite Mark in- but Yeji wants a girls day- and Mark wants to invite himself in- but Yeji wants a girls day- neither of you have the heart to deny her of this, especially since the idea of ‘girls day’ is making her so bright and bubbly.

You both push your needs to the side.

“Thanks for walking me home Mark.” You smile softly.

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” The Canadian shoves his hands in his pockets, “I'll see you at the library tomorrow?”

You nod, and just as Mark thinks that's the end of things, you step out of your apartment and press a quick kiss to his lips that leaves the music theory major breathless. “Bye Mark,” you say again.

Then the door is closing, leaving Mark and Jeno standing in the hallway outside.

Jeno picks up the umbrella Mark had dropped earlier, swinging it as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “So, Mark,” Jeno sighs, heading off towards the elevators, “I heard in the group chat that you serenaded Y/N today? That’s embarrassing.”

20: Tuesday - November 11th

Mark doesn’t mind holding your hand under the table while the two of you study. You both know that if you were to do this openly, Jungwoo would probably never let you hear the end of it. But after two hours of pretending to be just friends - ‘Because lets be real,’ Mark thinks to himself, ‘we’re way past that now’ - the Canadian is beginning to tire of not showering you in blatant adoration- and possibly kisses.

“You hungry?” Mark asks, ignoring the food monster sitting right in front of him who says “I am!”

“A little,” you respond, mirroring Mark by turning to face him. “What were you thinking?”

“Vending machine?” Jungwoo says louder still.

“Maybe the canteen area?” Mark suggests. “They also have hot chocolate- tea-”

“Sounds nice,” you nod.

“Want to come grab it with me?” Mark asks.

You nod again, grinning at Mark.

“Get me a sandwich!” Jungwoo whines, having picked up on the little ‘game’ Mark’s playing. It’s obvious to Jungwoo that he’s not invited on your exciting canteen adventure, but he’ll be damned if he doesn't at least get a sandwich out of it.

You and Mark are quick to head to the cafe on the main floor, and when you get to the small lineup, Mark finally steps closer to you, his shoulder gently touching your own. “How was girl’s day yesterday?” he asks.

“Fine.” You loop your hands through Mark’s arm, resting your head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry about that, by the way. I wanted to invite you in-”

“It’s okay, I have pushy roommates too, remember?” You can hear Mark smiling even though you’re looking at the specials board, and you squeeze his arm, rubbing your face against the warm fabric of his hoodie.

“What are you up to tomorrow?” Mark asks, knowing he has a bit of time in his schedule to see you if you’re not busy.

“I think Yeji signed us all up for hot yoga or something-” you respond, “then she said something about takeout and movies, so probably another girls day.”

“Wow, two in one week,” Mark says in shock.

“She says you’re stealing me away from her, so she has to call dibs on my time more,” you sigh, grinning.

“Well what are you doing on Thursday?” Mark asks.

You look up at him, smiling softly. “You tell me.”

21: Wednesday - November 12

“Can you believe they make us do two hikes? During rainy season!?” Haechan screams over his shoulder at Mark, who is substantially lower down on the muddy ridge they’re attempting to climb.

“This isn’t really a hike,” Mark mutters, but he knows Haechan doesn’t hear him, already pushing on up the trail. Sometimes, the Canadian wonders why he even accompanies Haechan on these trips- it’s not like Haechan went with Mark when he did this class in first year. “And you do three hikes in total, actually,” Mark calls, “which means you have one more.”

“What!?” ( @ 2:36)

“One more,” Mark repeats, catching up to the man who has come to a complete stop in the middle of the trail.

“No!” Haechan stomps his foot and Mark narrowly misses being splashed with muddy water that has been accumulating into puddles on the path. “At least you’re coming to the party on Friday- right Mark?”

The Canadian’s hands find the strings of his hood, and he toys them one way, then the other. “Uh-”

“Mark!” The whiney voice makes Mark groan.

“I’ll see if y/n wants to come- but I was kind of thinking of going to her place-”

“To do what? Not get laid again?!” Haechan scoffs.

Mark can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

He’s enjoyed keeping you a secret.

When he’d returned to the frat on Monday with Jeno, after being cockblocked by Yeji, the whole living room had interrogated Mark for details based off of Yuta’s claim he had ‘heard something’.

Mark had been able to downplay everything.

And he’d been truthful. He hadn’t fucked you.

Everyone had teased him, and he’d taken it all, knowing that it was just a matter of time.

“Mark.” A hand grabs at the Canadian’s shoulder and his best friend stops him in his tracks. “You told us you didn’t fuck her.”

“I didn’t,” Mark says. “I haven't.”

“So why are you smiling like that-” Haechan pushes at Mark’s chest roughly, only to grip the front of his jacket and pull him close, “huh?”

Mark shrugs, unable to help the grin on his face. He doesn't even care that Haechan’s jostling has pushed his hood down - the rain had once been something Mark didn’t really enjoy, but now, he didn’t mind it so much.

Not since some of his best moments with you had been helped along by the clouds.

“Invite her to the party, and if you don’t like it, you guys can leave- but come on!” Haechan groans. “We have the fire pit going and Yuta only knows so many songs he can play on the guitar that don’t get him immediately laid and no longer our musical entertainment.”

“Fine. I’ll come for a bit, even if I go to her place after.”

“Deal.”

22: Thursday - November 13th

“What are you thinking?” you ask, sneaking a glance up at Mark.

He’s sitting across from you and the two of you have snagged a seat closest to the windows in the library- a little away from where you normally sit, but the two of you have been trying to escape Jungwoo-

“I wish it had rained today,” he sighs, still looking out at the clouds. “The forecast said it might.”

“And why is that?” you smile, although you think you might already know the answer.

Now Mark looks at you. “There’s a frat party tomorrow- my friends would like to see you there, Haechan in particular. And I would too- it could be fun.”

You nod. “Yeji mentioned it. I’d love to come.”

Mark breaks into the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, and he reaches across the table to grab your hand, lacing your fingers.

“Also, about the rain- even though it’s not on forecast, I would have invited you to study at my place- but Yeji is cramming for a midterm tomorrow, and it’s best not to be in the apartment when she’s like this.”

“Oh.” Mark’s heart heaves in his chest and you squeeze his hand gently. “Well, tomorrow- if you come to the party with Yeji- she’ll probably stay much longer-”

“There you two are!”

It’s the worst possible person to ruin the moment, Kim Jungwoo. And if you weren’t there, Mark swears to god he’d-

“Jungwoo! We couldn’t find you earlier!” you say, releasing Mark’s hand. He’s shocked by how flawlessly you can pretend the two of you haven’t been hiding from Jungwoo-

“I got lost trying to find the cafe,” Jungwoo explains, taking a seat next to you. “But,” he puts a sandwich down on the table, “as you can see, I found it.”

The two of you should have known not to get a seat near any location with food.

23: Friday - November 14th

“This is going to sound crazy-” Jungwoo says, his words sloshing together while his drink, well, sloshes around in his cup. His arm is thrown around Mark’s shoulders while your class project partner leans in to talk to you. “Haechan’s a fucking wizard.”

“Okay!” Mark exclaims loudly, pushing his friend up by the chest so he’s at a more normal himbo light tour level. “You need to sit down somewhere.”

“He just needs water.” Haechan slides under Jungwoo’s other arm, a cup in hand, and the man with white blonde hair grabs it, sipping on the straw.

“A wizard,” Jungwoo repeats obnoxiously after a few gulps.

“Tell us what happened,” Mark sighs, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to his side to make room in the narrow second floor hallway as Renjun runs by with- wait, was that the tattoo gun Doyoung confiscated?-

“Last Friday it was forecasted for 100% rain, but I did the rain dance, and then by the time our party came, the rain had stopped!”

“Poof!” Jungwoo motions with his hands.

“And the time before that-”

“How many times in a row has it happened, Wizard.” Johnny comes up behind Haechan, and Mark’s glad he’s finally intervening.

“Five times,” Haechan announces, holding a hand out to show all of his fingers proudly.

“Sure- anyways,” Johnny turns to Mark, “we’re going outside for the fire pit, are you two coming?”

The Canadian looks down at you and you nod, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, we’ll head out,” Mark agrees, “but we’re going to go grab jackets first.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” Johnny promises. “Nice meeting you again.”

“You too,” you smile as the tall man passes you and heads down to the first level, where the frat party is already in full swing.

“Did you guys bring Yeji?” You turn to see Jeno poking his head out of his room. Even though he’s Yeji’s part time boytoy and part time boyfriend, you can appreciate how pretty Lee Jeno is. His hair is wet, like he’s fresh from the shower, and he’s just buttoning up his shirt.

“You weren’t waiting at the door when they arrived, so she said something about finding another guy,” Haechan states - a lie, in part. Haechan had let you all in, and Yeji had been disappointed in Jeno for not being there waiting for her- so she’d gone to join some sorority girl friends.

But, Yeji is one of the most gorgeous girls on campus- and she’s in a frat house, with a boytoy who never commits and lays a claim-

Sometimes you worry about Jeno.

You hope he doesn’t lose her.

Jeno darts off, Haechan and Jungwoo go down to the fire, and soon you’re in Mark’s room getting your pick of his hoodies.

“Which one do you think I should wear?” you sigh, running your hand across the fabrics.

“This one.” And then Mark is pulling the hem of his oversized hoodie over you, his other hand spinning you so you can face his chest, the hoodie cocooning you both in warmth as Mark presses his lips to yours.

In the heat of the kiss, you find yourself remembering something Yeji had told you at a sorority girl sleepover one summer: grab a guy by his belt and pull him closer if you think you have the upper hand in any way - which, ‘you all do,’ she’d noted ‘because you’re hot girls, and men are god damned lucky’.

Your fingers grab at Mark’s belt and the Canadian shivers, looking down as you try to pull him closer as confidently as you can.

Mark chuckles, watching your attempt. Then his eyes find yours.

He’s still holding the hoodie up with one hand, but the other is on the small of your back, drawing you in-

“Get a door, Mark!” Someone screams.

Mark groans- but then his brows furrow. “Wait, what?!”

He tears the hoodie off you both, looking towards the entrance to his room, where, low and behold: the door is now missing.

“Door stealing?” you ask, reaching for one of the extra hoodies to pull it on now that the moment has been ruined.

“It’s something we do sometimes in the frat-” Mark tries to explain, “but uh, we generally do it when someone is going to get laid and the house wants to make it harder on them to find a private place-”

“Good thing we don’t have to worry about that,” you say, lacing your fingers with Mark’s, “because we have my place too.”

Mark’s struck by the use of ‘we’ in your sentence- and he wonders if you’ve referred to the two of you as ‘we’ before- he wonders when you become a ‘we’, a unit, and he thinks about it the entire walk down to the fire pit.

“Mark!” Haechan leads the chorus of screams that welcomes the Canadian, and room is made between Johnny and Jungwoo for the two of you to sit.

The music theory major finds himself overwhelmed within moments, with two pretty sorority girls cozying up next to Johnny to gain access to Mark, and innumerable people asking ‘where the hell have you been for the past few parties?’

You watch the frazzled Canadian attempt to make pleasantries with people- even as Haechan thrusts a guitar into his hands.

It’s interesting to see Mark like this- in this setting.

He’s obviously a popular guy, and you’ve always known as much, but seeing him be fawned over by men and women alike- seeing him be the center of attention- you’re not sure you expected this from the seemingly shy, bashful, soft boy you’ve come to know.

“Is he going to play one of your songs?” Jungwoo asks, nudging your shoulder as he invades your space, the scent of booze washing over your senses as his breath teases your ear.

“One of my songs?” You turn to look at your part time class project partner, part time friend.

“Yeah.” Jungwoo nods earnestly. “The songs about you.” He boops your nose and your heart lurches in your chest.

“Songs plural?”

Jungwoo nods again, a massive grin spreading across his face while he grabs your jaw with one large hand, leaning in to whisper almost secretively; “that kid loves you.”

“Jungwoo.” Someone jostles your friend’s back, and you look up to see the ‘anime prince’ taking a seat on Jungwoo’s other side. “Stop spilling all of Mark’s secrets before he’s even played us a song, or he’s going to ditch again.”

As if on cue, the guitar sounds behind you, and you turn to follow it, putting Jungwoo’s words on the back burner of your brain so you can focus on Mark.

“What song should I play?” Mark asks the group, fingers moving gingerly across the chords as he plays around, a testament to his skill.

“A love song,” A pretty brunette says from across the fire, and you note how she leans in to catch Mark’s eye, sitting forward and showing off the low cut of her top even while her jacket is wrapped around her body- as is the arm of one of the younger frat boys.

You have an instant dislike for her… and the googly eyes she’s making at Mark.

A few more back and forths lead to Haechan choosing a song, and soon, Mark’s voice is drawing even more people to crowd around the fire pit.

The first song ends and everyone erupts in applause, turning the man who had been so confident while singing- back into your soft, shy boy.

“Play a rap song!” Someone bellows, and you turn to see a massive, shirtless man with a dragon tattoo on his back get shoved by a pretty girl next to him while he laughs-

He’s the pretty one you met when you and Mark were chased to the frat by the rainstorm- Lucas, you think? - and from the way everyone around you laughs at his suggestion - and the way he grabs the girl who’d scoffed loudest and kisses her - that this might be a semi common occurrence here.

“Play Wonderwall,” One of the older guys suggests, and a moment later, Mark is following through, with most of the crowd joining in to sing.

Mark bobs his head while he plays, his foot tapping, voice ringing clear and steady. His tone stays angelic, even when his friends try to derail the song with adlibs and loud belted notes.

You notice Mark’s ears turning red even in the dim light of the fire as he comes to the repetitive conclusion of the song.

“You’re gonna be the one that saves me,” he sings, with the crowd echoing Mark while he plays it out.

When he’s done, his hand finds your thigh, and you grab at his arm, tucking into his side like you’ve become used to doing.

Mark turns his head so he can talk in your ear as people discuss the next song. “It’s so weird singing in front of people after taking a few weeks off,” Mark says.

“I didn’t realize I was depriving your party of its entertainment,” you grin up at him. “You were so good!”

Mark looks down at you. He wants to tell you that what was really weird was singing a love song in front of you but not to you. But before he can, Haechan is announcing the next music choice, and Mark is once again lifting his guitar to play.

“Two more songs,” he tells you. “Then we can leave- if you still want to.”

The slight nod you give him is enough to keep Mark energized the rest of his small ‘set’.

***

“Can you believe it?” you ask after stripping out of the wet hoodie. You’re near your window now, looking out at the downpour. “The sky was fine- then all of the sudden the rain-”

You turn to talk to Mark, only to find yourself chest to chest with the Canadian, and his hands grab your waist to settle you.

Any thoughts or opinions you'd had on the weather dissipate from your mind as you look up at Mark.

“Thanks for coming to the party with me,” he says softly, one hand moving to cup your face, tilting you up even more.

You can’t help yourself, throwing your arms around the back of Mark’s neck while lurching on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He tastes like the beer Haechan made him take for the walk back to your place, and it doesn’t fit the soft Mark aesthetic at all-

Mark bumps into something and the two of you fall, the Canadian landing on your couch with you on top of him, your knees on either side of his waist.

You’ve stopped kissing in shock of falling, and now you find yourself giggling at Mark’s clumsiness. “Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Yes please.” Mark’s hands find your waist and he gently adjusts the way you’re sitting, prompting you to grab at his shoulders, steadying yourself to get comfortable.

“Would you find it weird if I told you I was a little jealous tonight?” The moment the words leave your lips you want to hide, and instead you grab Mark’s cute lil face and cover his eyes. “Don't look at me.”

Mark laughs. “You?! Jealous of me?”

“Well I was jealous of those girls at the fire pit. They were all flirting with you-”

“They were not.”

“Mark Lee! They were!” you insist.

Mark pushes your hands away from his eyes, looking up at you. One of his arms wraps around the small of your back and he adjusts you, leaning up to kiss the underside of your jaw. “I didn't notice. All I noticed all night was you.”

“Really?”

“I’m kind of shocked you’re jealous though, to be honest,” Mark says, sitting back and assessing you, both of his hands finding your thighs. His thumbs rub slow, hard, warm, circles through your jeans.

“I can be jealous.” You grab at his face, pouting, and Mark grins.

“I just mean- for you to think there’d be anyone else-” Mark shakes his head slightly, and you move in until your lips are almost touching his, the Canadian’s hands finding your waist again.

“Keep talking?” you whisper, leaning forward and licking at the shell of Mark’s ear, which has him shivering under you, fingers digging into your waist now.

“Fuck,” Mark groans, allowing you to push his face to the side and give yourself more access to his neck.

“Can I tell you something?” Mark asks, echoing your words earlier.

“Yes, please.” You press a kiss to his throat, enjoying how fast his pulse is racing- you can see it in the vein on his neck, and it strains when Mark does- pushing up so you can feel him at your core.

You grind down against Mark, both of you groaning.

“Even before Jungwoo introduced us-” Mark’s hands apply more pressure to your hips, urging you to move. The quiet Canadian manhandles you into a rocking motion that has the seam of your jeans pressing deliciously against your clit. “I thought you were the cutest-” he groans louder, then he pushes your hands away from him before grabbing your jaw, forcing his lips onto yours, “girl on campus,” he finishes, leaving you all too soon.

“If we’re being honest-” You wrap your arms around the back of Mark’s neck, using his body to anchor you as you grind harder against him, “before Jungwoo introduced us- I thought you were the sexiest guy who’d ever sat by a vending machine in the whole world.”

Mark laughs, blinking up at you in a daze. “The whole world, huh?”

You hum in affirmation, pressing your lips to Mark’s while you continue to rock yourself against him, core buzzing with the slow foreplay stimulation and the effect of Mark’s words.

The music theory major tugs at your shirt before one hand slips under it, cold fingers teasing your abdomen. You break the kiss so you can straighten, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it up and over your head before tossing it in the direction of your room.

“Wow,” Mark breathes, his thumb brushing the underwire of your bra while he looks at you with eyes so big they have entire galaxies swirling around in their depths and twinkling up at you.

“So- about what Haechan said- about how you like to suck on boobs-”

“Oh my Jesus,” Mark groans, head lolling back onto the backrest of the couch, then his hands move to cover his face.

“Mark!” you laugh, leaning forward to grab at his wrists, pulling his hands from his face. “Look at me.”

He groans but after a moment he follows through, blinking up at you while his skin blossoms with pretty pinks.

“Mark,” you coo, brushing your fingers across his face. “It’s like you’ve forgotten... I have boobs.”

“What?” Mark’s arms wrap around the small of your back and he pulls you close, looking up at you with confused eyes, because this feels much too obvious-

“I just mean-” You run your fingers through his pretty golden hair. “You like sucking on boobs- and well, I mean, I have some boobs-”

Mark’s lips part, and he looks up at you with the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever seen. You think he’s adorable- the way he acts like having a ‘tiddie kink’ is a bad thing-

When he’d eaten you out on Monday, he’d been a little hesitant to go for your tits. You wonder how often his friends rip into him for his affinity for boobs if he’s become this anxious about something that feels to be one of his kinks.

Mark licks his lips, and then he leans in to press a kiss to the column of your throat, beginning a slow descent. Your fingers tangle in Mark’s hair, and you pull gently when his mouth reaches the swell of your breasts, a moan slipping from between your lips as your hips push you to grind harder against the man between your legs.

The fingers of his left hand are splayed across the small of your back, and then you feel digits testing the clasp of your bra. “Take it off for me?” you whisper, pulling at Mark’s hair to force his mouth away from your chest. His eyes glitter while he looks up at you and he licks his lips, nodding before returning his kisses to your skin.

His fingers unhook your bra clasp and the fabric goes loose. Mark’s hands move up your back, reaching up to your shoulders, where his digits collect the straps so he can push them down slowly. The Canadian presses his face fully into the swell of your breasts, groaning as he peppers your skin in kisses and little kitten licks that have goosebumps erupting over your body.

“So soft,” he whispers, one hand moving to your waist, his thumb finding the underwire of the bra that's still covering you from him.

“Mark-” you groan, throwing your head back while grinding harder on him. You can feel his cock straining against his jeans, and you focus your movements to be more fluid, allowing you to drag your core up and down his length-

One of Mark’s hands grabs at the front of your bra and he tears it off of you in a motion that’s so uncharacteristically aggressive that it takes your breath away, fingers pulling on the Canadian’s hair and earning a groan as he attaches his lips to your nipple.

“Fuck,” he growls, mouth hot and wet against your pebbled nub, his teeth dragging against you a moment later and making you shiver in Mark’s grasp. “So pretty,” he mumbles, pressing his face against your breasts as his hands and mouth try to worship all of you at once, the thumb of his left hand brushing over your neglected nipple and earning another gasp and roll of your hips.

“Mark- I want-” you whimper, hips shuddering when Mark’s teeth tease your nipple.

“What do you want?” he whispers, breath hot against your skin while his hands massage your breasts, sending pleasure coursing through your body.

“I want you,” you pout, reaching between your bodies to grab at Mark’s cock, which causes the soft boy under you to jolt with sensitivity, his fingers immediately wrapping around your wrist to pull you away.

“If you do that you’re gonna make me cum too fast,” Mark tells you, hiding his face against your chest while one of his hands moves to the small of your back, keeping you close to him.

“But I want you,” you say again.

“After I make you cum like this,” Mark tells you, lips returning to your nipple while his hands find your waist, urging you to grind down against him again. “I wanna see you cum like you did on Monday.” His breath is hot when he speaks, lips teasing your nipple with each word and making you groan in frustration, fingers getting a better grip on Mark’s hair. “So pretty.”

“Mark!” you whine, hips working of their own accord. Between his words, his tongue- his hands, and the way your hips are moving- you find yourself teetering on the edge of an orgasm before you can even wrap your head around the position you’re in- he’s going to make you cum from grinding? With your clothes still on?

“Cum for me?” His tongue flicks at your nipple before he places open mouthed kisses against your breasts, collecting them in two hands and pressing them together while his hot breath sends you into overdrive.

You let out a pathetic whimper, your core squeezing around nothing as your orgasm slams into you.

“Mark-” You moan, hips moving erratically due to the intensity of your release.

“I’ve got you,” The Canadian promises, his hands finding your waist to help guide your motions. He presses kisses to the underside of your jaw while you wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto the man who helps you through your high until you’re a whimpery, needy mess.

“Mark-” you moan when he lets you come to a stop. Your skin is clammy, heart hammering against your rib cage. You grab his face, pressing a kiss to his hot lips. “Need you now.”

“Not here,” Mark responds, his hands finding your ass as he stands up, keeping you close to his chest. “Your bedroom. With the fairy lights.”

“And the window open so we can hear the rain.” You press kisses to Mark’s neck while he carries you.

Mark makes sure to use his foot to kick your shirt into your room before he closes the door behind you- it’s likely Jeno and Yeji will be stranded at the frat while the rain is as bad as it currently is- but Mark doesn’t want to take any chances with them walking in on the two of you.

The Canadian is careful when he sets you onto your bed, and you immediately adjust your position, leaning your head back against the pillows. Mark reaches past you, finding the powerbar switch on the corner of your bed that controls all the pretty lights in your room, and a moment later, Mark’s golden hair is practically haloed around him by the twinkly white lights.

“Hi,” He says when he turns his attention back to you, his lips finding your nose.

“Hi.” You beam up at him, your cheeks already starting to hurt from how big your smile is. “Off?” You grab at the hem of his shirt and Mark lets out a contented sigh, pulling away from you so he can remove the fabric keeping his pretty torso from your greedy eyes and eager hands. “I can’t believe you look like this,” you groan the moment his shirt is discarded on your floor, and Mark jolts when your cold fingers brush against his abdomen.

“Like what?” he asks, leaning over you again, his nose brushing up your cheek as his lips leave soft kisses in their wake.

“Just- so- so perfect,” You moan when his mouth begins to suckle on your ear and your hands smooth across his shoulders, pulling him closer while your legs wrap tighter around his waist.

“One of us is perfect,” Mark laughs against your skin, “but it’s not me.”

You hum happily. “Liar.”

Then you push at Mark’s chest, and he lets up immediately, allowing you to roll your bodies until you’re situated on top of the Canadian. His hands find your waist only for you to grab them, interlocking your fingers while you look down at the pretty boy in your bed. “Jungwoo told me you’ve written a few songs about me.”

Mark groans, throwing his head back into your pillows- you kind of enjoy having Mark in cute little moments- only for you to throw a curveball at him.

You love watching his ears turn pink, and you love reassuring Mark that he doesn’t have to be so embarrassed when he’s with you- that you’re pretty sure there’s nothing he could do that would make you laugh at him or make fun of him- and one day you’d seen the poor music theory major poke himself in the eye with a straw because he was so focused on his book that he couldn’t be bothered to watch where his mouth was going-

“Mark-” You adjust the way you’re sitting, grinding down against the outline of his cock, and this forces him to meet your eyes. “What are the songs about?”

“You, obviously.” Mark sits up suddenly, letting go of your hands in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist, fingers smoothing across the expanse of the small of your back, guiding your grinding motions like he had on the couch.

“Do you write about the things you want to do to me? Mark?” You love the way his name feels on your lips, and the man below you gives a small moan nearly every time you say it.

His fingers dig into your waist and he hides his face in your chest. “So many things.”

“Like what?” You run your digits through his hair.

“Think about you like this,” Mark says, looking up at you with soft eyes. “Riding me.” His hands grab your hips, forcing you to grind against him. “Think about your mouth.” Now his hand comes to cup your face, thumb testing your bottom lip as you press into his palm, opening your mouth to accept him. “Think about how sweet you taste,” Mark groans, rolling the two of you suddenly so you’re on your back again, and the pretty music theory major presses kisses to your breasts before beginning his descent.

“Mark-” You giggle.

“Let me have a taste?” His teeth nip at the waistband of your jeans, and you shiver at the feeling, closing your eyes to enjoy it- only to remember you need to have priorities.

“You’ve already made me cum once without your cock-” you whimper, pulling Mark’s face back up to yours.

“What’s one more?” he asks between kisses.

“It’s one more without you,” you groan, shoving your hand down the front of Mark’s pants before he can even stop you.

“Fuck-” Mark’s teeth sink into your bottom lip and his hands tense in the pillows on either side of your head as you stroke his length through his briefs.

“Don’t make me beg for you, Mark,” you plead, kissing his jaw and making doe eyes up at him.

“I could never make you beg,” he says sincerely, pressing his lips against yours while one hand pushes yours from his pants before it hikes your leg high on his waist. This time, when Mark grinds down against you, rolling his body fluidly, he hits all the right spots.

Your legs twitch and you pull at Mark’s hair, gasping- “Fuck - Mark - pants off!” You whine pathetically, so overcome with lust from the amount of foreplay you’ve just endured that you can hardly form sentences.

Luckily, you don’t need full sentences, because ‘pants off’ is enough for the Canadian, who rolls off of you and lifts his hips, wiggling from his jeans before going for your own. You practically kick your pants off, and Mark grabs at your foot, stopping you from narrowly kicking him while he laughs up at you. “You’re so wild,” he grins, pressing a kiss to your inner calf before joining you on the bed again.

“Take my panties too, please,” you tell him, closing your legs so he can’t slot between them- you refuse to have another grinding session with your clothes keeping Mark from you- in fact, maybe you want a little control, and you sit up.

“Should I be worried about the look in your eyes?” Mark asks, sitting on his knees in front of you.

You shake your head. “No- but… lay down?”

He looks at you suspiciously.

“Please?” You crawl forward and Mark’s lips part while he gapes at you, a dazed look on his face.

A moment later he’s following through and laying down, getting comfortable against the pillows and adjusting his briefs. His skin is beginning to flush with embarrassment, and you think Mark must be crazy to think he’s anything other than ethereal while laid out on your bed, pretty fairy lights illuminating his soft features, with the sound of rain seeping through your window.

You straddle Mark’s thighs, leaning over him to press a kiss to his lips, then his neck, and Mark pushes his hips up against you when you decide to suck on his ear lobe again. “Fuck- you feel so good,” he says softly, fisting the sheets.

“Then why aren’t you touching me?” You tease, and within a microsecond, one of Mark’s hands is cupping your breast, squeezing gently.

“Like this?” Mark whispers.

“Yeah.” You roll your hips- and suddenly you think you might know why Mark enjoys teasing you so much. Watching him be all pretty and needy below you- knowing you’re working him up this way-

You continue your descent and Mark watches you carefully as you hook your fingers in his briefs. He sucks in a breath when you begin to pull his underwear down, and Mark shifts, making it easier for you to get him fully naked for you.

Mark’s pretty cock smacks up against his abdomen, and as soon as you've tossed Mark’s briefs aside, you find yourself running your tongue up its length. Your hand gets a good grip on the base of Mark’s cock, and you relax into the feeling of blowing the man who’s brought so much joy to your life.

He groans, hand fisting your hair, and you suck on him even harder, swirling your tongue repeatedly around the head.

“Fuck- baby,” his hips push up, cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag slightly, your throat constricting around him. Mark groans louder and he pulls at your hair, forcing you off of him. “Get your cute little butt up here,” he instructs, and you’re more than happy to follow through.

It’s all too easy to move up from where you’re straddling Mark’s pretty thighs- and that's when you remember you’re still wearing your practically ruined pair of panties.

“Mark-” you whine, immediately looking up at him to fix the problem, that in all honesty, you put yourself in.

“Sorry,” Mark says, and then his hands are reaching for your panties. “Sorry-” he repeats a few more times as he tears them in two, throwing the ruined fabric onto the ground before grabbing your hips and adjusting you so you can line up with his cock-

You sink down onto Mark and both of you groan in ecstasy. Your walls flutter around the Canadian’s length, getting used to the new intrusion, and Mark sits up, enclosing you in his arms while he wraps his mouth around your nipple, suckling and kitten licking.

He drags his teeth against your sensitive nub and your pussy clenches around his cock, earning a groan from the man beneath you, who ruts up, one hand moving behind him to use as leverage so he can begin to move up and into you.

Likewise, you use your legs to push yourself up before sinking back down, a small whimper leaving your lips at the stimulus. “Just like that,” Mark tells you, and you thread your fingers through his hair to anchor yourself while you continue your tentative movements.

“Feels so good,” Mark says, moving his kisses to your neck before finally reaching your lips. His tongue clashes with yours and you ride him harder, the sound of skin on skin filling the room with each bounce on his cock. “Look at you,” his hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek, “my little riding pro.”

You can’t help the way your skin flushes with heat, and you bashfully look away, only for Mark to force your eyes back to his when he grabs at your jaw. “Don’t be shy.”

“You don’t be shy.” You push at his shoulders, laughing.

“I’m not shy,” Mark insists.

“You’re not?” You cock an eyebrow, ready to whip out receipts and spit facts about your favourite pink eared blushy boy- but when Mark flips you, he takes your breath away.

You blink up at the man above you, who has always been such a soft, steady presence- but now he has a glint in his eye- and all the shyness you’ve fallen in love with, is nowhere to be seen.

Mark presses his lips against yours and he begins to roll his hips, grabbing at the pillows on either side of your head to use as leverage while he roughly thrusts into you.

Soft mewls and whimpers escape your kisses, and when Mark moves his lips to your neck, whispering “Let it all out princess, tell me how good I’m making you feel” you simply can’t hold in your moans.

“Mark-” You dig your fingers into his shoulders, gasping when one of his hands moves to your thigh, pressing it up and against your chest, which allows him to go even deeper inside of you. “Fuck- Mark- please, oh my god-”

You grab his hair, tangling your fingers in the soft locks and forcing his lips up to yours while your eyes clench shut, body teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

“Cum for me?”

You smash your lips against Mark’s as he tears your orgasm out of you, his hips continuing their steady pace while your pussy spasms over and over again around his cock. Mark groans loudly into your mouth, grabbing at the pillow next to your head and squeezing, hips shuddering while your body works him through his own high.

When his hips finally come to a stop, you let out a groan, wrapping your arms around his back so he has to stay pressed to your chest.

His breath is hot against your neck, and he swallows thickly before breaking the silence; “Thanks.”

You laugh immediately, pushing Mark so he can roll off of you and you can lay sideways, using his chest to prop yourself up, gaze fixed on the pretty boy. “I like how you’re the one saying thank you.”

“I’m definitely the one who got lucky here,” Mark insists. “I mean- have you seen you?”

You hide your face against Mark’s chest, and he wraps his arms around the back of your head, grinning at your ceiling.

“Are you tired?” Mark asks when he notices the way you seem to be falling asleep next to him.

“Yes, are you?”

“Yeah- I should probably get going if you want to sleep-”

You tighten your grip on him, “but then my pillow would be gone.”

“I guess that’s true,” Mark smiles, his fingers finding your shoulder, where he traces shapes absentmindedly. “So- you want me to stay?”

“Yes, please.”

“And in the morning-” Mark trails off.

“Yeji is used to you by now,” you assure him. “Kind of like how I'm used to Jeno.”

“Right.” Mark nods. “But if I'm sleeping over- and you’re passing out right now- aren’t we missing some aftercare?”

He can feel you grin against his chest, and then you’re pushing yourself up to look at him. “What do you have in mind?”

“Hadn’t thought that far.” Mark feels his skin heating, but when he meets your eyes, he can see that when you giggle, you’re giggling because he’s cute, and not from judgement.

“A shower could be nice,” you suggest, running the tip of your finger from Mark’s shoulder and down his collarbone.

“Then let's go.”

You sigh. “That means getting up- and my bed is so nice and warm.” You squeeze Mark, cuddling in closer and hiking your leg up onto his abdomen.

He groans, a warm hand finding your thigh and pulling it higher, smoothing up and down your skin and massaging your flesh. “The shower could be nice and warm.”

“You know what else is nice and warm?” you say teasingly, inching yourself up his side so you can access his neck, which you pepper in kisses.

“You want to hear something crazy?” Mark asks, his pulse racing where you’re kissing his throat.

“What’s that?” you tease your finger around the center of his chest, enjoying the way you can feel his heart jumping under his skin.

“I probably shouldn’t say it-” Mark sighs.

“No, say it!” you insist, moving to fully straddle Mark so you can look into his eyes, hands flat against his chest.

“I just-” Mark’s hand finds the back of your head, pulling you in until your lips are just touching- “I think i’m kind of in love with you-” You simply stare at him, processing his words, and the two second delay has the man shifting below you, skin blossoming with shyness. “I know- it’s crazy- and it probably sounds like a line-”

“It’s not- it doesn't,” You try to assure him, tripping over yourself from the shock. “Can I tell you something crazy too?”

“Please do.” Mark can hardly meet your eyes.

“I think I'm kind of in love with you too.”

“Really?” Mark looks up at you with those massive eyes- the ones you’ve fallen deeper and deeper into every day.

You nod, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“So-” Mark rolls the two of you, practically buzzing with excitement that has you giggling, “does that mean-” Mark presses kisses to your neck that are so energized that they tickle you, his blonde hair brushing by your face and making you laugh even more. “Does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?”

The music theory major pulls away from your neck to watch you nod, and you smile up at him.

“Say it?” Mark pleads, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I will be your girlfriend,” you clarify, and then he’s kissing you, and it’s like your first kiss all over again.

The two of you end up making it to the shower, but not until much later.

24: Saturday - November 15th

Mark’s mind is blank. He’s so completely enraptured in the moment that nothing else needs to be filling his generally messy mind.

It’s still raining, and the pattering of water on cement can be heard as a sort of white noise right behind the Etta James record you’d put on after your morning routine- which you’d allowed Mark to watch.

Now you’re getting ready to study, and Mark’s still sitting in your bed, so completely happy just to be existing in the same space as you- to be able to watch you like this- it’s extremely different from the morning he’d assume he’d have, which included picking up empty beer cans and making sure all the younger guys were accounted for, skin unspoiled from the Frat Tattoo Bandit - who Mark is sure is Haechan, even though everyone’s seen Yangyang with the gun, but Mark thinks the flash tattoos that are showing up on all the younger pledges are more up Haechan’s alley.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

“You- then something stupid,” Mark admits, smiling at you and running a hand through his messy hair.

“Something stupid?” You cock your head, getting onto the foot of the bed and crawling towards Mark.

The Canadian swallows thickly, adjusting the way he’s sitting so he can be straighter against your headboard. “Fuck-” His eyes take you in and you know how cute you look- you’d worn a little skirt today, just for him.

“So are you going to tell me?” You smile, loving how easy it is to distract Mark and throw him off his rhythm.

“Right- uh,” Mark grabs at your waist, pulling you to be seated nicely in his lap, legs on either side of him. “There’s this tattoo bandit-”

He tells you the cliff notes version of events, and you listen, watching him speak. He’s so pretty, especially when telling stories. And then he’s asking, “should I go get us breakfast? If you’re busy studying-”

“Yeji usually cooks a nice hangover cure breakfast on Saturdays,” you tell him. “She probably wouldn’t mind if we joined her.”

“That sounds good,” Mark nods, and soon you find yourself holding the Canadian’s hand and peeking out of your doorway to the kitchen. Yeji is alone, and you pull Mark, leading him to where you take a seat at the island counter.

“Morning Yeji.”

“Morning-” she turns and stops abruptly when she notices Mark, a massive grin spreading over her face, “you two.”

“Do you mind if we join you for breakfast?” you ask, grabbing Mark’s hand under the table.

“Sure!” Yeji responds immediately, without a second thought.

“What? He gets to stay but I don't?”

You turn to see Jeno standing in the doorway of Yeji’s room. He’s pulling a hoodie on, and you note the mark on his neck- Yeji’s always been a biter.

“Mark is a sweet boy,” Yeji states, pointing her spatula at Jeno.

“But baby, you like me bad,” Jeno insists, entering the kitchen to press a kiss to Yeji’s cheek that has her giggling.

“Fine, you can stay- but only because I can never eat the whole package of meat, and you’re a walking garbage disposal.”

“Guess that makes you the garbage woman cuz you’re always taking me out.” Jeno presses a quick peck to her cheek before darting off, with Yeji’s scolding following him the entire way to his seat on Mark’s other side.

Mark is struck by how easy it is for him to get lost in the moment when the moments are as good as they almost always are at your apartment.

“Let me help you with that,” Mark suggests when the food is done, and he grabs plates, already knowing his way around your kitchen.

Breakfast goes by much too quickly for Mark’s liking, and it’s spent laughing. Mark’s never really thought much about how fun double dates could be- and that’s kind of what this feels like.

But when you grab Mark’s hand and begin to drag him to your room- Mark realizes he wishes breakfast was over much sooner- and then, when you jump onto your bed, your little skirt floofing around you and momentarily teasing Mark with your cute panties, he realizes, why does breakfast have to end at all?

He’s a very hungry boy.

Your record has been playing the same five songs on one side of Etta James’s album for as long as you’ve been at breakfast, and while Mark looks at you, it switches to the fourth song: Sunday Kind of Love.

It’s Saturday- but Mark thinks it’s close enough- and he cant believe he’s found it.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This fic has been updated for basic grammar/spelling edits as of March 2023, find the new bonus below! :) see the other boys in frat au here

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🔮 preview.

He’s only ever eaten you out in his bedroom, too anxious about being interrupted to go further than that. Maybe some part of you feels like you’re missing out- dating a frat boy but never sleeping with him in his frat- this has to be something on a bucket list somewhere. “Are we seriously going to do this?” Even in the low light of the evening, you can see Mark’s ears turning red.

cw/tw. oral (m receiving), quickie, protected sex, inklings of exhibitionism/having sex at a frat party, sickly sweet praise, vocal moaning Mark, sound kink, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.4k I teaser wc. 400 words

🌙 staring. Mark x afab!Reader

Bonus

“It’s just that you’ve been dating her for a while now and you haven’t been to a frat party in like ages-” Haechan groans, but Mark’s hardly even listening anymore. His friends have been trying to convince him to come to a party for weeks- and he’s simply been too wrapped up in you to want to go to a loud, sweaty, smelly fuckfest- “What can I say to convince you to come?”

“Nothing,” Mark sighs, ten seconds away from ditching breakfast to escape beratement.

Yuta - who’s been watching the whole exchange with a grin - finally pushes off from where he’d been leaning against the counter. “What if we promise not to steal your door this time.”

“Wait-” the music theory major looks up from the sandwich he’s making, “You were part of taking off our own door two months ago?”

“Of course, I’m the one with the best screw driver,” Yuta rolls his eyes. “But I promise only to use my screwing for good tonight - I’ll even find different room to fuck in- if you come to the back to school party, and bring that cute girlfriend of yours around too.”

“Right! Y/N is fully invited!” Haechan exclaims.

Mark looks between his friends. “You guys really need musical entertainment, huh?”

Haechan throws his arms around Mark. “We need our Canadian back!”

“Come on Markie,” Yuta taunts, “if you come and play the guitar and sing one of the songs you’ve written about your girlfriend, it’s a sure way for you to get laid tonight.”

As if Mark getting laid tonight was ever in question.

“Yeah!” Haechan joins in. “That’s couple goals as fuck, dude!”

Mark releases a deep sigh. “Fine, I’ll ask y/n if she wants to come to a party tonight instead of doing a movie, but!” he holds up a hand as Haechan begins to celebrate, “you guys can’t take my bedroom door off, and you can’t be too crazy- and also no promises we’ll even come-”

“I’ll take the maybe,” Haechan grins, high-fiving Yuta, “and just remember- your simp songs don’t only get you laid- they help us all get lucky, so bring one of your simpiest songs. I know you have a shit ton to choose from.”

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