#be gentle with me invincible fandom 🙏🏼

[rongloa]

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 | 𝐌. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

↜ CONCEPT — current | CHAPTER ONE ↝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. falling to earth like a comet—brilliant, burning, and broken. you don’t know their ways or their meaning. but there’s no harm in finding one thing for yourself.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬). mark grayson x tamarenean! reader

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. future slow burn, future gore, heavy angst, two aliens falling in love w/ each other, invincible series typical violence, extreme misunderstandings, eventual nsfw ( more to be added )

𝐚/𝐧. hey so i watched invincible, fell in love w/ the show + mark grayson and decided i needed to make a stupidly sad fic for it with hatred, devotion and just pure sadness. this is just a teaser kinda idea thing i had. this won’t be canon but it’s like an introduction?

also, reader isn’t described or named! i just used starfire for the headers cause i’m a hoe for aesthetics and reader is based off her, rahhhh 🫶🏼🫶🏼

The grass is warm beneath your bare feet, the suns casting soft golden rays across the open fields. Flowers swaying and dusting the field with glittering pollen. Petal-creatures chime in high pitches as they drift lazily through the air, brushing against your cheeks like curious new friends. You chase them with laughter tumbling from your lungs, your arms outstretched, the long fabric of your dress fluttering behind you like wings. Your toes skim the highest of the stems below, tickling the soles of your feet.

The hills roll in vibrant gold and verdant green, and the palace looms gently in the distance—all soft spires and opalescent stone, yet to break beneath the pressure of the sky.

You are small, but the land feels endless. Safe. Yours.

Near the balcony, amid flowers that weep tears of lilac, two figures watch you from the shade of the flowering trellis. Your mother—tall, radiant, fierce—clasps her hands behind her back as your father speaks softly, he’d always loved your mother.

“She’s wild,” She says with quiet love, with a tone that would melt your heart if you heard. “Like the suns themselves live in her chest.”

Your father doesn’t smile often, but he does now, faint and proud. “And she’ll need that fire. The council will object. She’s young, barely through her first year of training—”

“She learns.” Your mother’s voice sharpens.

“She was born second,” he reminds gently.

“She was born ready.”

You tumble into the grass with a shriek of delight as one of the petal-creatures bursts with a glittering white puff in your hands, harmless and fragrant. You don’t hear the words drifting behind you. You don’t know that your name is already being spoken like a promise. You only know the sun feels good and the sky is yours.

The future hasn’t touched you yet. Not with fists. Not with fire.

Not yet.

Earth is a blur beneath you, a storm-wrapped swirl of oceans and lights and clouds too soft to be real. The depth of space had dulled your senses, only the blistering heat that you had felt breaking the ozone layer of your home was what accompanied you. You don’t know what this planet is really like. They called it “chaotic.” “Violent.” “Hopeful.”

The last one is all you cling to.

You break through the atmosphere like a comet—fire streaming behind you, heat clawing at your skin, the air screaming as it parts around you. Earth. The third planet from the centre most star of their system. Blue, green, and heartbreakingly whole. You almost can’t believe you made it.

As you come to a stop within the clouds dust whips up in plumes from the desert so far beneath you. The innermost part of the continent would be a good start. You don’t break the cover you have, not yet. You simply fly along as you inspect the odd formations and land.

The gravity is almost too easy to shoulder here, and the sun warming your skin in a delightful way. It’s much different from your home, from the never-ending gardens and sprawling fields of just flowers.

It makes a pang of sickness rise in your stomach, home. You miss is with a kind of pain that nearly drags tears from your eyes. You miss the animals too, and your family.

Drifting around a particularly large rock formation and a gust of wind drags your hair into whipping the back of your neck. You can’t help the way you cringe as you continue, in search of any structures, or life.

Just when you begin to see abandoned metal sheds on the outskirts of an old worn down town, there’s a loud roaring in the distance, no, directly behind you.

Three fighter jets flank you within seconds of you breaking cloud cover, tight formation, their sleek metal wings slicing the sky like blades, blue energy pulsing from the engines in them. You hear the sharp ping of radar locks, the low rumbling of the engines, and maybe a little fear from the breathing in the cockpits.

A mechanised voice rings out, travelling over radio waves. You can’t understand it, don’t know the words or the their meaning.

Dragging yourself to a slower pace, you turn to look upon the closest jet. An odd thing sits within the cockpit, a massive black mask masking what would be their face.

If you were in their position, a foreign alien roving over your country, you would not be lenient. No announcement or sign of peace. You would be ready to fight too.

You raise your arms outwards to show you carry no weapons.

The jet that flies above gives another signal—more deliberate. The voice crackling in a foreign tongue, but the intent is clear: Land. Now.

You obey, not out of submission, but hope. Earth wasn’t supposed to feel like this—so sharp, so suspicious. But you left a world where suspicion became bloodshed. You left when the faceless conquerors came, burning through your cities, razing your skies, and laughing as they conquered what your people had built over the millennia.

You land roughly in the middle of a desert, dust pluming around you, the jets circling wide before hanging low to the ground. All their noses aimed downsight, at a singularity. At you. For a moment, you feel alone in the wide expanses of the desert. Even with three souls hovering fingers over the killswitch.

Then—footsteps. Measured. Unafraid.

It makes you shiver, but not out of the heat or cold. They approach from your left, you turn to face them.

A human, who looks a lot like you. Physiologically wise. Two hands, a face, and legs just like you. It makes a smile bloom on your face even as this situation feels too suffocating, like there aren’t barrels of weapons pointed at the space of you.

A man approaches, through the dust. Tight black suit. Grey hair that sits far back on his head. Piercing eyes, and a gnarled looking scar that makes you too curious not to stare. A battle scar, a story.

You give a polite smile, or what you can muster. It’s a bit too toothy with the way his eyebrow shifts just the slightest. Your teeth are sharper in appearance then his.

A bow instead? That’s more respectful. You hinge at the hips and your hair curtains your view of the man who’s slowed to a standstill, the tips of your hair create odd little swirls on the ruddy sand below. Glancing up from your position through parted strands his face is the same, a placid look of indifference. Fuck, not that either.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your planet, Earth…” You gauge his reaction and still nothing. You’re ready to bang your head against the floor and plead with any higher power that he understood any of that, only a word. Even the ‘Earth’ part, but it wasn’t likely. Your home world accent is still too thick. The word probably sounding more like, ‘E-ar-tuh’.

You just bring yourself back up, hands clasped in front of you as you simply wait for him to engage instead, maybe say one word you can recognise out of a million. Oh, the cursed language of Earth and this weird man who wouldn’t react to a g’lark eating the face of his mother.

As you stand and wait, he looks at you like a man who’s seen too much and still wants answers. It sets the nerves in your hands on fire, and the hair at your nape stand on end.

You think he says his name, ‘Cecil Stedman’, and perhaps a question. An important one that you cannot conjure an answer too. Not yet.

You can only bring yourself to nod once.