#mark grayson angst

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤUGLY LOVEㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Reader Part 1

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : Mark loves you. He loves you so much. But you don't. And yet you agree to go out with him. Maybe because no one else wants you. Maybe because you were lonely...

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You remember the first time Mark Grayson asked you on a date.

It was embarrassing.

Not for him, no. For you. Because he did it in the middle of the school hallway, right when you were already feeling like shit, surrounded by people who immediately turned to stare like this was some kind of rom-com moment. Like you were supposed to blush and giggle and say yes because Mark Grayson was the loser who somehow still managed to be well-liked.

And you? You weren’t special. Not in any way that mattered. You weren’t pretty enough to turn heads, not hot enough to make guys stumble over themselves. You weren’t the girl anyone fell in love with. So when Mark fucking Grayson—big smile, nervous hands, that stupid blue-and-yellow jacket—asked you out, you just blinked at him.

"Are you serious?" you had asked, voice flat.

His expression faltered for half a second before he recovered. "Yeah! I mean, I think you're really pretty, and, uh, I'd love to take you out. Like—dinner, movie, whatever you want."

You wanted to say no. You really did. But then you thought about it—about how the guy you actually liked barely knew you existed. How you were always the afterthought, the last pick, the option. No one was lining up to take you out. But here was Mark, all bright eyes and open hands, so eager, so desperate.

So you said yes.

Dating Mark was easy. And awful.

He was in love with you.

Not in a normal, lovesick puppy way. No, Mark was something else. He looked at you like you were air and he was drowning. He texted constantly, always wanting to know where you were, who you were with, if you were okay. He remembered everything you ever said—your favorite color, the way you hated cold weather, that one time you mentioned wanting to try some random Thai restaurant downtown. It was suffocating.

And the worst part? You liked it.

Not him, though. Just the way he needed you. The way he worshipped you.

You let him hold your hand even though his palms were always a little too warm. You let him kiss you even though he always lingered too long, like he was memorizing your lips, like he thought you’d disappear if he stopped. You let him call you pet names that made your skin crawl—"baby," "angel," "my girl."

You never called him anything but Mark.

Then, of course, came the worst part.

The superhero bullshit.

The time he told you, it was supposed to be some big moment.

He sat you down in his bedroom, looking at you with this nervous excitement, like he was about to give you the best news of your life. Then he told you.

"I'm Invincible."

You blinked. "...You're what?"

He grinned, all proud, like an idiot. "Invincible! You know, the new hero? Yellow suit?"

Oh. Oh, that was him?

The guy flying around looking like a blind bee?

Invincible. What a stupid fucking name.

You had so many questions. None of them were good.

"You're telling me you willingly wear that suit?" you said instead, voice dripping with disgust.

His smile faltered. "I—I mean, yeah, it's kind of cool, right?"

You stared at him. Stared at the boy you were dating, who was apparently running around in an ugly-ass yellow and blue suit with those stupid fucking goggles like he was actually blind.

"You look so dumb," you muttered.

His face fell. "Wait, what?"

"Yellow? Seriously? Who the fuck told you that looked good?"

"Babe—"

"And the goggles? Are you blind? No, actually, are you?"

He looked heartbroken. Like you had just kicked a puppy. It was honestly kind of funny. But then he smiled again, weaker, like he was trying to brush it off.

"You’re not... mad?" he asked hesitantly.

Oh. Right. That was what he was expecting, wasn’t it? Screaming, crying, breaking up because oh no, my boyfriend is a superhero, it’s too dangerous, I can’t handle it!

You just shrugged.

"Why would I be mad?" you said. "Not like I actually care what you do."

He just stared at you for a long time. Then he smiled.

Too wide. Too happy. Like you had said something perfect.

God, he was pathetic.

Mark loved you too much. And you let him.

Every date was his idea. You never asked. He was always the one picking you up, texting first, clinging to you like he was afraid you'd disappear.

You tested him constantly, just to see how much he could take.

Ignored his texts? He sent more.

Canceled a date? He rescheduled immediately.

Made fun of him? He laughed, like it was endearing.

You let him kiss you, let him touch you, but never too much. Just enough to keep him hooked. You never said "I love you." He said it all the time, and every time you just looked at him, blank, and let the silence stretch until he got uncomfortable and changed the subject.

And god, he never gave up.

He looked at you like you were the fucking moon. Like you hung the stars in his sky. Like he needed you just to breathe.

You hated it.

You loved it.

Because you could never have what you really wanted. No one had ever loved you like this before. So you let Mark do it.

Even if you could never love him back.

Mark never noticed when you looked at someone else.

Maybe because he didn’t want to notice.

Or maybe because, in his head, you were already his. Permanently. Like he had claimed you the second you said yes in that stupid high school hallway.

But you noticed.

You noticed him. The guy you actually wanted.

He was everything Mark wasn’t—cool, confident, effortlessly charming. When he walked into a room, people turned. Girls actually wanted him. They laughed at his jokes, flipped their hair when he talked, hung onto every word. He could have anyone he wanted.

But he didn’t want you.

That stung. Even though you knew it shouldn’t.

You had Mark. Mark, who worshipped the ground you walked on. Mark, who held your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world. Mark, who would probably die if you asked him to.

And still, you wanted someone else.

You tried. For a while.

It happened on a random night—Mark was picking you up from class, his stupid yellow goggles shoved into his pocket, hair still messy from whatever dumb hero thing he had been doing earlier. He grinned at you, all excited like always.

"You hungry? We could get that ramen you liked."

You weren’t in the mood. Not for him. Not for his stupid, endless happiness.

But then you thought about it.

You thought about how it would feel if he—the one you actually wanted—looked at you like that. You thought about how you were being handed something most people dreamed of. Unconditional love. A boy who would do anything for you.

So you tried.

You smiled—tight, forced. Let Mark hold your hand as he walked with you. You let him talk, rambling on about some new villain he fought, how he was getting better at flying, how his dad was actually talking to him about superhero stuff now.

You nodded at the right times. Gave him a few mhms and oh, really? Like a normal girlfriend would.

But it didn’t last.

Because Mark wasn’t what you wanted.

And because you were fucked in the head.

It always came out of nowhere.

One second, you’d be fine. Barely tolerating him, but fine. The next, something small—something stupid—would set you off.

Like tonight.

You were sitting in his room, scrolling through your phone, only half-listening as he went on about his superhero bullshit again. And then he said something—some dumb, innocent comment.

"I know I’m not, like, the coolest guy around, but—I dunno, sometimes I wish you’d talk about me the way you talk about him."

Him.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned to face him. Mark looked nervous, like he regretted saying anything. Good.

"What?" Your voice was sharp.

Mark hesitated. "I—I mean, I know you think he’s, like, really handsome and—"

"Are you seriously bringing this up right now?"

He blinked. "I—"

"No, really, Mark, really? Jesus Christ, I can’t have one fucking conversation without you getting all insecure?"

Mark flinched. Like you had actually hit him.

And fuck, that only pissed you off more.

"You always do this," you spat, voice venomous. "Always. Acting like I’m the fucking bad guy when all I do is put up with your bullshit, your stupid works, your pathetic little—"

You stopped.

Because Mark was looking at you like a kicked dog.

Like he had just realized something awful.

And fuck.

You felt sick.

The guilt hit fast.

You pressed a hand to your forehead, exhaling sharply. "Fuck."

Mark swallowed. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Just—just shut up, okay?"

You didn’t want to hear him apologize. Not again. Not after this.

You weren’t a good person.

And Mark wasn’t good enough to fix that.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 2.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[ay0nha]

Putting my feelers out there….

Just watched the latest Invincible episode and I have a fic idea….

I was thinking a sort of anti hero (maybe reformed through Cecil style) that invincible can’t stand/gets under his skin but enemies to lovers style

The vibes are like reader has very much grown up on the streets knows how things work kind of in the Titan kind of way but because of that reader is morally grey which bugs mark but then it’s like they find mutual ground etc etc

But something happens where mark gets protective and it’s kind of eye opening the soft spot for reader (which reader gets prickly about because they’re not used to someone caring about them let alone “golden boy” mark) and maybe an unorthodox friendship/mutual understanding happens (aka mark maybe not holding back his physical strength. Because ballistic mark….brrrrrr)

Obviously with plot references to current season/things happening etc etc

If there’s some interest I’ll get started right away 🫡🫡 I’m just projecting and enjoying the idea of flawed super heroes

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

I Can Feel It in My Bones

Synopsis: Being Invincible’s pet is cruel, but you manage to find comfort in it.

Pairing: Yandere!Sinister!Mark Grayson X Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+; Mentions and descriptions of mass murder (this is a version of Mark that joined Omni-man and the viltrumites); Mentions of kidnapping and being chained; Mentioned and implied dubcon/noncon; Implied Stockholm Syndrome; Hurt/little comfort; Mentions of threats; All characters aged up; English is my 2nd language.

Word count: 500

Requested? No.

Extra notes: I might write more about this, and other fanfics with Mark and Rex, love my babygirls

General masterlist

You have your own suite. Well, it's not exactly yours, it's Mark’s room, but he barely spends time there, since most of his time is spent destroying Earth and intimidating civilians, alongside Omni-man. Meanwhile, you're always chained to the foot of his bed, just enough freedom to go to the bathroom and wander through almost all the expanse of the room. You can't even reach the door, not that it would change anything, there’s no one around to help you, much less someone brave enough to go against Invincible’s wishes.

Omni-man and Invincible like to talk as if you aren't in the room, as if you're invisible. You know the former doesn't understand why his son keeps a pet since it's death will come before Mark can even look like a 30 year old human. You're the pet. But he shrugs it off when Mark reminds him that not everything is about work, and if he can do whatever he wants to humans, then he wants to have a pet.

Mark is cruel. He always reminds you that the only thing stopping him from harming and killing you is your pretty face. That you only get to eat because he likes your body healthy. That you only get to shower and brush your teeth because he wants to breathe in a nice smell when he’s close to you. That you're only kept in his room and not at one of the slave’s camps because he likes to fuck you.

And you know it. You know it in the way he sometimes doesn't allow you to wear clothes. In the way he doesn't treat you like a person, more like a playtoy or decoration. In the soreness left when he's done.

But sometimes, sometimes you get confused. Because he lays his head on your chest when he wants to take a nap or just feel comforted. Because he keeps you in his room when you know he could just throw you in a cell. Because once in a while he asks about your old interests, and gets excited about things you had in common. Because he gives you things to entertain yourself. Because sex with him is good even when it's not consensual. Because he has a pretty smile. Because he doesn't look like the sadistic dictator who destroyed your city and killed half the people you knew, when he takes his mask off.

You wonder if he still keeps this human side of him because he simply grew up like that and it's too ingrained in his personality, or because he misses his mom and his friends.

It doesn't matter in the end, you're doomed in and out of this room. You're only human, he's a viltrumite. He was made to be a conqueror. You're gonna die faster than he can blink. He's gonna find another pet. At least, you can have some comfort if you keep him happy.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[midnightshindig]

i love your work! could i request hc’s/drabbles for mark, cecil, and rex (separately) having unrequited feelings for the reader? take care of yourself!! 😊

Cecil, Mark, and Rex x Unrequited!Reader

ooooooo you guys are about that angsty shit

i fw it

hcs under the cut!

Cecil

Cecil is a PROFESSIONAL

he keeps his emotions tight and on LOCK

There isn't enough psychological torture in the world that would get him to admit his feelings for you

except maybe the torture of watching you subtly flirt with him

I mean come on, the way you wear your uniform tie a little loose, the way your stockings always have runs in them, you bring him his coffee with a bright smile reserved for him and nobody else.

The two of you have a rapport, engaging in witty banter during the rare downtime at the GDA

You're intelligent and hilarious with a strong sense of conviction, what's not to love?

And he's so certain you feel the same way

So when he asks you to dinner, like a gentleman, in all the correct ways, and you politely decline?

Oh he's hurt, for sure

but he's a professional. He deals with worse all the time.

So why is he still thinking about it?

Why does it sting when you inevitably start dating Anthony from HR

Why can't he bring himself to just forget about you?

your banter becomes stifled, and Cecil thinks he's losing touch just a little

It culminates when you request to transfer branches

He approves the request, of course

He is a professional, after all.

Mark

He's a dweeeeeeb when he has a crush

Like, he thinks he's so slick

talking to Rex about you while you're only across the GotG gym with headphones in

but you totally know

Still, he doesn't care, because you like him too

I mean, c'mon, he's a total catch, right?

He's literally Invincible, and he's also invincible, what's not to love?

He follows you around like a lost puppy, chatting you up about everything and anything.

"Did you in the 2018 adaptation of Sceance Dog-" Oh my god shut upppppp he's such a dork

but he's nice, and is always down to spot your weights

so you're content to be his friend, and this works for a while

Until Mark asks you to come over for dinner

which is fine! You love having dinner with Debbie and Oliver

but you get there and Debbie is putting Oliver in the car, apparently they're going to get dinner elsewhere? She leaves with a wink and a smile

you go inside to see Mark setting up a candlelit dinner

"Oh! You weren't supposed to be here yet-!" He cries, smacking his forehead

"What... is all this?"

"I was going to ask you out, but... I mean... do you want to go out with me?"

You turn him down as politely as you can, and quickly leave the house

Training at the gym is awkward after that

Mark can take a hint, he's not a jerk or a creep or anything

but the moment can't be undone

Rex

MUCH less subtle than the other two

been flirting with you since day one

and you thought he was JOKING

I mean no way he's sincerely that much of a dick (oh but he was.)

so you'd jokingly flirt back

and Rex was like, hell yeah, pretty little thing wants me back

lets go boys.

but it developes, and he REALLY likes you

like he wants to take you on a date

So with some encouragement from Mark, Rex dusts off a suit from the thrift store, nabs a bouquet of roses from someones garden, and is outside your dorm door

"Oh, hey Rexxx....." You trail off, taking in the scene before you

"Y/n! Hey! Uhm... look... I know it, you know it, let's stop dancing around it and go out already!" he presents you the bouquet, thorny and still wet and half-eaten by caterpillars

You don't even have the words

"I'm sorry.... What gave you the impression...? What?" you're so confused, and trying so hard not to hurt his feelings

but Rex is easily triggered, and his face burns red with embarrassment

He yanks the flowers back and laughs a fake laugh "HA hahahhhh.... You- You thought I was being serious!! Bwaahhaha!!!!" He laughs, holding his stomach cheesily, before straight up running away on foot

He doesn't talk to you for three weeks

and after that it's only short responses and quippy, albeit cutting remarks.

"Heyyyy Rex...." You approached cautiously "A bunch of us are gonna watch a movie, do you want to join?"

"I would, but then you'd get confused and think I was trying to make it a date!" He snapped back, running on the treadmill even faster

It would take some time, and a number of rebounds, but eventually he gets over you and things return to some semblance of normal

[killerkaiju]

Imagine how insane it would be if weeks before the Variants show up, your Mark breaks up with you for your own protection because he believes it'll be the only way to keep you safe following the events of Anissa and Angstrom. You're heartbroken. You hate him for leaving you like this, you hate him for being Invincible and you hate him more than anyone because even as the world moves on around you both, as he tries to move on, you still love him so deeply you can't stomach to look at the news to see him getting hurt to protect earth. So you're stuck in your house mourning for a relationship you won't get back until the Variants show up looking for not only the destruction of this world but to also find an emotionally vulnerable and heartbroken version of you. Some would comfort you with intimacy because this version of your Mark would have never left you, some would take advantage of this to lure you away with them to their world when it was time to go back. In the end, whatever you chose to do, you still ended up with Mark or at least a version of him.

[luverine]

Sunburn ₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

Yearning // sfw // fluff/angst // gn!reader

The sun hangs high, its golden light spilling over your skin, making you glow as if it was made just for you. Your eyes shimmer, reflecting the glimmering water at your feet, a universe of stars hidden in their depths.

Your damp hair clings in loose waves, wild from the salt and humidity, a halo of frizz that only makes you more breathtaking. You don’t seem to mind. Your smile never falters, soft and effortless, as the waves kiss your feet, pulling back just to return- just like I do.

The sun paints you with warmth, brushing your cheeks with a blush that makes my breath hitch. Your lips-plump, God, your lips. I wonder how they’d feel against mine, how they’d taste.

I want to be the reason your face flushes. I want to steal the breath from your lungs the way you steal mine without even trying.

I wish you’d turn to me, gaze deep into my eyes, and tell me what I already know, that we are meant to be, tangled together by fate itself.

But instead, I sit beside you, my fingers curled into the sand-dusted towel, letting the sun burn into my skin- all for the chance to be close to you.

Just me and you.

Friends.

Likes, Reblogs, Comments appreciated ☀︎

Divider by: enchanthings-a

[fulltimecatwitch]

[0bticeo]

soulmates AU with mark grayson in which soulmates feel each other's pain. he's invincible. you're not.

[deebris]

The Fractured Bonds

Nolan Grayson x daughter reader (platonic!)

Mark Grayson x sister reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Mark finds himself facing an unexpected threat to his family when Angstrom Levy decides to hold his mother and sister hostage. Despite the family turmoil they've endured and Nolan's departure, he returns to rescue his daughter.

Warnings: Contains scenes of violence, emotional distress and it mentions that the reader was murdered in other realities. The reader is 5 years old. This is just an idea I had a long time ago and kept it stored. This scenario was inspired by Chapter 33 of the "Invincible" comics in portuguese.

Word count: 3.6k

As soon as Mark flew into the house through the window, his heart stopped when he saw you and his mother clinging to each other, as if your lives depended on that embrace. When Eve told him that Debbie had called, but the voice on the phone was a man's, he couldn't help but rush back to you two and imagine that something was wrong, and indeed it was.

At first, he ignored the hideous figure holding you both hostage, but made a point to glare at him with hatred now. His head was larger than that of an ordinary person and the shape of his brain was imprinted around the skull; moreover, the expression on the stranger's face was manic and as furious as Mark's, but there was a kind of excitement shining through.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Your brother's voice was deeper than usual; an attempt to sound more authoritative and intimidating.

"He wanted me to bring you here..." Debbie suddenly began to speak "I-I didn't know where you were. I remembered that Eve had called, I thought maybe she knew." Her voice was faltering, full of pauses between words due to nervousness. And it was while his mother was speaking that Mark noticed her bruised face, with a bleeding nose and purple patches on her arms as she held your small body as protected as possible.

You seemed to be in better physical condition than her, but your injured knee did not go unnoticed, as a thin trail of blood had formed around your calf. In an adult, the wound wouldn't have been a big deal, but your delicate skin stung with the cut, and he knew it hurt because of your sniffles. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. H-he hurt me, he was going to hurt my baby." She said the last part with regret, referring to you, while holding you closer and running her fingers through your hair.

"In fact, I think your son was talking to me." Interrupting his mother, finally that man had spoken, and his tone was cynical, too unconcerned for the taste of the furious Mark glaring at him. As if that weren't enough, he dared to touch Debbie's shoulder, acting as if he had every right to do so.

"Let them go now." Mark ordered him with dangerously calm voice, although the expression on his face was one of pure disgust.

"Not yet." He opened a diabolical smile as he began his ridiculous speech: "I've learned a lot about you, Mark Grayson. Many things. I know how violent you can get when you're angry, like now..." He paused dramatically, as if he needed to emphasize what he was about to say next, and it was only irritating Mark's impatient. "I know you got it from your father."

The scowl on Mark's face deepened as you tried to peek out from your mother's arms to try to understand what was going on, but she pulled you closer to her embrace. "Stay here with mommy, sweetheart."

Both she and your brother hadn't had the courage to tell you what had happened to Nolan; you were still too young, maybe you wouldn't even understand. They both spent the last few months avoiding mentioning your father at home, and when they did, it was in whispers so that you wouldn't start asking questions they wouldn't know how to answer. No child should know that their own father was a superhero killer, let alone that he had abandoned his own family out of sheer moral caprice.

"Did you know that your identity is public in almost forty percent of the realities where you exist, Mark?" The villain continued his taunts, wanting to get to some point. "That's almost half. And that means you're careless."

"Get to the point already." Mark asked, or rather demanded. If this continued, he was sure he would snap. This dialogue was irritating him, but as long as his mother and sister were witnessing everything, he would need to hold himself together until he found a way to get him away from here.

"You see this?" He pointed to himself, referring to his own appearance "I'm a freak... A deformed freak. So I guess it's understandable that you don't recognize me." Then he wrapped you and your mother around his arm in threat, and the grip was painful. "When you saw me before, when you did this to me, I looked much more normal!"

"Oh, god... You're that guy." Realization struck him, widening his eyes as he remembered the past.

"That guy? Is that all you remember of me? That I was that guy?" If that man's temperament was bad before, now it must have risen about twenty degrees with the lack of importance his sworn enemy had given him. "I'm Angstrom Levy! The next time you forget my name, it will be because you'll be dead!"

He was certainly furious, pouring out hatred and continuing to blame Mark for interrupting his inter-dimensional goals, blaming him for his current deformed appearance, repeating that he would always be a freak, even though he had sought out the best surgeons to reconstruct his shattered body.

"The greatest minds in a dozen realities couldn't find a way to fix my brain!" His hands clenched into heavy, tense fists, ready to crush something "And it's all because of you!"

After that, he exploded and everything happened too quickly for Debbie to stop him, and even if she were quick, she wouldn't have had the strength. In moments, you were ripped from your mother, who had taken a punch to the face. Levy held you and stretched one of your arms with the free hand. You hadn't acquired powers yet and were nothing but a child; you couldn't defend yourself alone.

Mark took a step forward, but Levy raised your arm in a strange position, ready to break it. You cried and sobbed desperately due to the intense pain. "Mommy, make him stop! Mark!" You pleaded as he twisted your arm, and irrationally shouted for your brother repeatedly, seeking someone who could come to your rescue.

"Let her go!" Mark was no longer the Invincible, even in his superhero costume. He was just a man trying to protect his family, and he felt so useless and powerless that it was agonizing. Without thinking, he lunged at the hideous villain in front of him, ready to confront him in physical combat at that very moment.

"That's right. I'm right here. Come get me!" And he did, but Mark was taken aback to find himself in a completely strange place. He was no longer in his home; Angstrom Levy had sent him through one of his portals to another dimension.

He watched in shock the weird jungle he found himself in, with mutant dinosaur-like creatures devouring the carcass of another beast as large as they were right beside him. The animals noticed Mark, and suddenly they... Spoke? He heard the beasts mention that it had been a long time since they had seen any Homo Sapiens, obsessed with devouring him. Apparently, he was in some apocalyptic dimension where humans had been extinct by these beasts. He could have ended these animals in seconds, but still couldn't help but feel fear, not for himself, but for you. How would he return to help you?

At home, Debbie had to plead with Levy to return you to her, and with some pity for your cries after he broke the arm, he returned you, allowing you to be comforted by your mother. But he kept you two close to him, with a firm grip on the older woman's shoulder, so he could use you against Mark at any moment.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay," she repeated comforting words as she wiped away your tears and rubbed your back gently. Debbie had seen and heard of many cruel villains thanks to her life as the wife of a "hero," but how insensitive would a human being need to be to break a 5-year-old's arm like this? Of course, she knew that even more horrendous things had happened to children in this world, but you were her daughter, and it hit her deeply.

Debbie felt you faint in her lap and panicked. She shouldn't have shaken you the way she did, but in the midst of desperation, the last thing she wanted was to see you silent, with your eyes closed. You passed out from the pain. It's normal, she's aware of that, but it was still terrifying. She was only taken out of her stupor when she heard his disgusting voice again:

"I can't believe you're going to lie to her like that." He drew attention to himself. "What kind of mother are you? How can you say that to her? You're not sure about that." Debbie ignored him, and he took it as a challenge. "I bet you're not even listening to me. Blocking me from your mind, aren't you?" He insisted. "Are you sure you don't want to talk? I could use your company."

He tried once more, but still received no response from the woman. Levy shifted his gaze from Debbie to carefully observe you. He knew the pain must be intense; he should have given up injuring you as soon as Mark passed through the portal, but he preferred to do it as a reminder. A warning for when his brother returned. If he returned. "Let's check on your son. Let's see how well Mark managed to survive this reality."

Extending his hands to summon a portal that glowed green, a figure in his yellow superhero uniform passed through the colorful circle.

"You were going to hurt my sister?" The boy shouted as soon as he saw he was back home, numb with a sense of vengeance.

"Not only was I going to, but I did." The statement made Mark's blood run cold.

"Mark?" Debbie called him desperately to show your state. She couldn't bear to see you suffer. Mark held his mother's gaze, interrupting only to finally notice you, who were motionless. Your arm was in such a unusual and swollen position. Your face, which was once red from crying, now had turned pale, and if it weren't for your shallow breathing, he would have thought you were dead.

"What have you done?" He asked furiously.

Levy made no move to respond, taking you from Debbie's arms once again. "No! Let go of my daughter!" She shouted angrily, completely abandoning her earlier fearful expression. She refused to allow that horrendous creature to take you away from her a second time. Debbie had felt how cold and clammy your skin was, and the more she looked at you, the paler your face became.

"Welcome back, Mark Grayson." Levy said after observing the hysterical scene of the woman beside him unfold with some indifference. "Your little sister here is really cute; I personally adore this chubby face of hers." Mark's throat tightened at the sight of you in the arms of that despicable man, scared with force, and seeing his broken mother in the corner of the bed only made his heart beat harder. "You know, I've encountered her in other realities." His tone was perverse, too cynical. "But unfortunately, those versions of her didn't get to advance much in age compared to this one. Isn't that interesting?"

"You bastard!" It didn't take much intelligence to understand what he meant, and it made Mark's nostrils flare with fury.

"That also makes me wonder what must have happened differently for her to survive longer in this dimension." Debbie moved from where she was on the bed and carefully reached for the bedside lampshade while Angstrom Levy was distracted, but a brief glance at her son made her abandon the idea. Mark discreetly shook his head negatively, implying that she shouldn't do that. "Or maybe I am the trigger for this event here," he pointed out with a smile.

"If you hurt her more, I swear-" Mark said with hatred and tense body, but he was interrupted.

"What? You'll kill me? Of course, you will." The villain stared at him seriously, with some skepticism. "Don't worry. However, her well-being really only depends on you. After all, it was you who let Anissa kill her once, and Conquest, and Thragg... Although the latter was more your father's fault," he stated matter-of-factly while scratching his chin.

He seemed like had finished speaking, but decided that the hero needed to hear more upon seeing the boy's shocked face at the mention of those peculiar names, yours assassins, curiously, all Viltrumites. Levy wasn't sure if Mark was already aware of these people, but what really mattered to him was to disturb the boy. "But it's you whom I want to hurt. I want to hurt you so, so much... Your little sister is very safe, as long as I determine that the only way to hurt you is by hurting her."

Then suddenly he lifted your unconscious body in his arms as he prepared to throw you into a portal. Debbie's heart was in combustion, beating faster than ever as she suppressed a scream. But your brother's temper finally snapped, completely determined to kill him once and for all.

Mark moved forward to stop him, but within seconds, the roof of the house was pierced and him felt something, or rather, someone push him away. He couldn't see much, but he followed his mother's pleas and embraced her, protecting her from the wreckage. His throat tightened at not seeing you, not knowing what was happening, but soon part of the dust began to settle.

Struggling a bit, the boy managed to see his father's back, apparently holding the man, who moments ago was about to send you away, in the air by the neck. He relaxed a little more when he saw traces of his hair resting on Nolan's broad shoulder, finally free from the dangerous clutches. Despite the disturbing events regarding his father, Mark knew he wouldn't let anyone harm you under his protection.

Levy felt himself losing breath, his brain throbbing from the blow he received from a piece of wood fallen from the ceiling. An intense pain hit him as Omni-Man began to bash his head repeatedly against the wall. His skull was now partly mashed into the concrete, and the red liquid that was his blood flowed to the ground.

"If my left fist weren't busy, I'd make you suffer much more," Nolan's thunderous and deep voice sounded intimidatingly throughout the room. "Despicable trash like you should keep your filthy hands to yourself."

Nolan struck one last time as he whispered in a chilling whisper the last words that man would hear before having his skull pushed against the wall slowly, until it crushed like gelatin: "I'll ensure that every version of you that dares to appear here on this Earth, or anywhere in this Universe, has a slow and painful death before laying a finger on my daughter again."

And as the Viltrumite increased the grip on Levy's neck and continued pressing his head against the wall, it seemed like his eyes were about to pop out. The skin that was once brown now split between purple and pink in some spots due to the continuous pressure while him was dying.

Observing the man coldly, Nolan withdrew his hand and took care not to stain you with the blood dripping from his fingers, portraying a much gentler grimace as he observed your sleeping figure. He always found it adorable to see how incredibly tiny you looked in his arms, It awakened an intense feeling of protection. But upon noticing that you were injured, his eyebrows furrowed, carefully examining your broken arm while wondering how Mark had let this happen.

"Father, what-" Mark broke free from his mother, finally finding words amidst the shock, but was interrupted.

"Your sister needs to go to the hospital." His voice was distant, almost emotionless, successfully masking the concern.

Debbie honestly wasn't ready to face the man she had been deceived by so soon, but she couldn't care less when the only thing she had wanted for hours was just to keep you safe and close to her. She avoided his eyes as she anxiously waited for an opportunity to have you back in her arms, and her ex-husband seemed to have noticed. As hesitant as he was, he walked over to her carefully, avoiding showing a more human side of himself to his family, but also not being hostile in his gestures. He surrendered to the act and pressed his lips to one of her temples before putting you in her arms.

"Take good care of her." He stared at his son with some severity. "I can't always be here, I'm entrusting her life to you, Mark."

The boy looked at him with some indignation, as if his father doubted that he would do everything to protect you, but he knew he had been too careless, as Angstrom Levy said he was. Even though he had the strength to defend his little sister, he still found himself vulnerable tonight, almost incapable.

"You don't need to ask for that." Mark was firm, and Nolan nodded satisfactorily. He thought about saying something more, even though he didn't understand why, the last thing he should want is to speak to his father again. Perhaps it was to unload the disgust he still felt, but the health of both of you was a more important matter to him now.

"Go away." Debbie's voice surprised them. She was obviously defeated, too tired for all this, but still found the energy to stand while holding you. "It was the necklace, wasn't it? Are you spying on us?"

Nolan's gaze was hard, trying to hide how his ex-wife's contempt affected him. The months of bitterness he spent in space had changed his demeanor a bit, but he thought it would be less painful for both of them not to hear his regret after all the harm he had caused. He didn't consider himself worthy of his family's pity, although now they considered him a stranger. He knew that Mark and Debbie still harbored a monstrous image of the person he was, and perhaps he really was.

"Aren't you going to admit it?" She asked him again with indignation, seeing that the man didn't make a single move to leave.

The object she referred to was a gift from both of them to you, or rather, from Nolan. He was the one who had the idea of ​​putting the necklace around your neck with the excuse of keeping you safe. He wanted to know where you were and who you were talking to, and the way he found to do that was by projecting this piece with the help of his planet's technology. "I hope every time you hear this little girl mention your name, you wriggle with remorse and agony, if you still have any kind of heart. You were better off away."

She still remembers when he told you: 'Whenever you want to talk to me, just hold your necklace close. That way I'll always be with you.' At the time, it was something so beautiful, something they hadn't thought of doing with Mark, but now it could be different. In your childish mind, it was as if it were magical and a piece of your father would really be with you all the time. But now it stirred disgust in her, she wanted to destroy it.

"Don't take it off, Debbie. Please." Nolan's imposing voice had become softer, almost frightened, and he had finally shown some kind of weakness after so long. "Please." He repeated the plea.

"Mom, maybe it's a good idea to let her keep wearing it. At least sometimes." Mark interfered not for his father, but thinking of you. If Nolan had been able to appear today to save you, he could come to your rescue more often, although the idea of ​​you being in danger again gave him chills.

Debbie hesitated, giving up tearing the necklace off your neck. Knowing that Nolan would be able to experience their day-to-day life bothered her, but she would deal with it later, remembering that you needed medical care. She was very hurt, but her own condition didn't matter to herself as long as she saw you awake and well again. "Mark. Hospital." she announced hurriedly ignoring the fourth person in the room and the bloody scene beside her.

Nolan sighed in relief for a moment, looking one last time at you and Mark, ashamed, but adopting the stone-cold expression he had previously. "Mark, don't let her take it off." He didn't want to sound like that, but the tone of his voice carried a threat. The boy cared little about giving him any kind of response, returning a grim expression to his father as he departed at a thunderous speed through the now-open roof, just as he had come, raising the dust once again.

"Let's go," Mark said gently to his mother, lifting her delicately since you were in her arms.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤUGLY LOVEㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Reader Part 2

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : You didn't love him. You couldn't. No matter how much you try. And yet you didn't leave. It's toxic. It's bad. But it's all you have...

☆⁠ WARNINGS : Explicit sexual content (consensual but emotionally heavy), emotional distress during intimacy, crying during sex, guilt, toxic relationship dynamics, unhealthy love. This is not a happy love story.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

"I don’t love him."

You say it easily. Like it’s not a big deal. Like it’s just a fact.

You were too honest with your friends.

Maybe because you knew they wouldn’t judge you. Maybe because you wanted someone to tell you that what you were doing was fucked up.

Maybe because you just wanted to say it out loud.

Your friends looked at you.

"You mean like… you’re falling out of love?" one of them asked hesitantly.

You huffed a dry laugh. "No, because I was never in love."

They exchanged glances, unsure what to say.

"I can’t stand the sight of him sometimes," you continued, feeling your own words sink like stones in your chest. "I mean, he’s cute, I guess. But everything else? Nah."

One of your friends frowned. "Then why are you still with him?"

You don’t answer right away.

Because you don’t want to.

Because you don’t want to say "because no one else will love me like that."

Because you need it.

"He’s obsessed with me," you say instead, voice dry. "Might as well let him be."

Another laugh. Another joke. The conversation moves on.

But then—

A shadow.

A flicker of movement in the corner of your eye.

Your stomach dropped.

Slowly, you turned—

And there he was.

Mark.

Standing just a few feet away, looking right at you.

For a second, everything froze.

You stared at him. He stared at you.

He had heard. He had to have heard. You were so sure of it, your heart hammering in your chest, a sick knot forming in your stomach.

And then—

He smiled.

Like he hadn’t just heard you rip him apart.

Like nothing had happened.

"Hey, babe!"

Then he walked up to you, all smiles and warmth, hands casually in his pockets. His dumb jacket was unzipped, his hair still a mess from whatever bullshit he had been doing.

You were shaking.

Because there was no way he hadn’t heard.

But he was already kissing your cheek, leaning in close, like nothing was wrong.

"Sorry I’m late," he said, pulling out the chair next to you. "Got caught up with something."

You stared at him.

Nothing in his face gave him away.

Maybe… maybe he hadn’t heard.

Maybe—

"So, what were you guys talking about?" he asked, grinning, grabbing the menu.

Your throat felt tight.

One of your friends cleared their throat. "Uh, just… school stuff."

Mark nodded, seemingly unbothered. Then he turned to you, eyes bright, warm. "You ready to go? I made reservations."

And before you could react, before you could even breathe, he took your hand and pulled you out of your seat.

Took you out the door.

Took you on your fucking date.

Like nothing had happened.

Like you hadn’t just ripped his heart out and stomped on it.

You sat stiffly in the car, eyes flicking to him, trying to gauge anything.

Had he really not heard? Had he somehow walked up after—

No. No way. He have super hearing.

So why?

Why was he acting like this?

You opened your mouth—

Then closed it.

Because for once, you had no idea what to say.

You should’ve ended it.

You tried to end it.

It was late. Mark was in your room, lying on your bed like he always did, scrolling through his phone, waiting for you to come sit with him.

You stood near the door, gripping the hem of your shirt so tightly your fingers ached.

This wasn’t healthy. For either of you.

He was a good person. You weren’t.

You weren’t going to magically wake up one day and love him.

You took a deep breath. "Mark."

He turned immediately.

And then—

That smile.

That fucking smile.

Eyes wide. Face bright.

Like you had just said the most wonderful thing in the world.

"Yeah?" he asked, hopeful.

You hesitated.

The words sat on the tip of your tongue—I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t love you. I never have.

But you couldn’t say them.

Because he was looking at you like that.

Like you were the center of his universe. Like there was no world without you in it.

That was all it took.

Your throat closed.

Your heart sank.

And instead of saying what you needed to say, you just smiled.

"Never mind," you muttered.

Mark grinned, opening his arms for you. "C’mere."

And you went. Because it was easier to just let him hold you.

It started the way it always did.

Mark touched you like you were his.

Because in his mind, you were.

His hands, warm and careful, traced over your skin with something close to reverence. Like you were something precious, delicate—something he didn’t deserve but was grateful to have anyway.

His lips were soft as they pressed against your neck, down to your shoulder, lingering, inhaling deeply, like he wanted to memorize you.

"You're beautiful," he whispered against your skin.

You stiffened.

Because you weren’t.

Not in the way he saw you. Not in the way that mattered.

But Mark never saw the truth.

Or maybe he did, and he just refused to acknowledge it.

You let him undress you slowly. Let his hands roam, let his mouth worship. You didn’t push him away, didn’t roll your eyes, didn’t sneer at him like you wanted to.

You just let him.

He hovered over you, his breath shaky, pupils blown wide as he looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.

You swallowed, your throat dry. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You didn’t love him.

You never would.

But you had already given so much of yourself to this stupid relationship, so what was one more thing?

So you smiled, because that’s what you were supposed to do.

Mark’s breath hitched, and his lips were on yours again. His touch was desperate but restrained, like he wanted more but was afraid to take too much.

"It’s okay," you murmured, and that was all he needed.

The weight of him pressed down against you, warm, solid, real. His skin against yours, his hands mapping out every inch of you like he needed to memorize you, like this was the only proof he had that you were his.

And then—

Pain.

A sharp, tearing ache as he pushed inside you, slow, careful, almost reverent. Mark was shaking, his forehead pressed against yours, whispering apologies against your skin.

"You okay?" His voice was strained, breathless. "I—fuck, I can stop—"

You shook your head. "No. Just… keep going."

Mark groaned softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. He moved slowly, like he wanted to savor every second, like this was something holy to him.

It wasn’t holy to you.

It was just another thing you had given away.

But to him, this was love.

For him this was enough.

And so in the dim light of his bedroom, with his body pressed against yours, you pretended.

Pretended you wanted this.

Pretended you could love him.

Maybe if you acted well enough, you could convince yourself.

Maybe if you closed your eyes, you could imagine someone else.

But then—

"I love you."

Your eyes snapped open.

And it hit like a slap.

Mark was inside you, forehead pressed against yours, hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go.

His eyes—God, his eyes.

They were soft, devoted, desperate.

Like he would burn the entire world down just to make you love him back.

And that’s when it happened.

The dam broke.

Your chest tightened, your stomach twisted, and before you could stop it—

You started crying.

Not quiet, delicate tears.

But ugly, broken sobs.

Mark froze immediately. "Hey, hey— what’s wrong?" His voice was pure panic, hands cupping your face, eyes wide. "Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head violently, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

Because no, Mark hadn’t hurt you.

You had hurt yourself.

You had hurt him.

And now there was no taking it back.

Mark kissed the tears off your cheeks, his hands running soothingly down your sides, whispering, "It’s okay, it’s okay, I love you, I love you so much," over and over again like some kind of prayer.

And that just made it worse.

Because he meant it.

Because he would always mean it.

Even when he shouldn’t.

Even when you didn’t deserve it.

You curled into him, pressing your face against his chest, letting his arms wrap around you, letting his warmth swallow you whole.

And for the first time—

You didn’t push him away.

Because you were tired.

Tired of fighting him.

Tired of fighting yourself.

So you stayed.

And Mark held you like you meant it.

Like you would never leave.

You sat there, wrapped in the sheets, knees pulled to your chest.

You weren’t crying anymore.

But the tears still lingered, drying on your skin, the occasional sniffle betraying the fact that you had completely fallen apart just moments ago.

Mark was moving around the room.

Not chaotically, not frantically—just with purpose.

Like making sure you were okay was the most important thing in the world.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it over your shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His touch was so gentle—as if he was afraid you might break.

Then, he left the room.

You heard the sink running. A cabinet opening. Footsteps.

He came back with a glass of water.

"Here, drink something," he said softly, kneeling in front of you.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t reach for the glass.

Didn’t even look at him.

Mark hesitated, then gently took your hand and placed the cup in it, his fingers lingering over yours before he pulled away.

"You should drink," he urged again.

So you did.

Not because you wanted to.

But because you knew he wouldn’t stop worrying unless you did.

You took a few sips, enough to satisfy him, and set the glass on the nightstand.

Mark smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear before standing up again. "I’ll be right back, okay? Just… just sit tight."

You stayed curled up under the sheets, staring at the wall, deep in thought.

Because this was it.

You had crossed the final line.

It was your first time.

It was his first time.

And yet, all you could feel was emptiness.

Not because it had been bad.

It hadn’t.

Mark had been perfect. So careful. So gentle. So impossibly sweet.

And that just made it so much worse.

You had nothing to give him. No love. No devotion. Not even the barest hint of affection.

You had just let him have you.

And in return, he had given you everything.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

But it was too late now.

You swallowed hard, tightening the sheets around your shoulders as Mark returned, holding a small plate of food.

"I made you something," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling as if nothing was wrong. As if he hadn’t just given himself to someone who didn’t love him back.

You glanced at the plate.

A simple sandwich.

Your throat tightened.

Because of course he would do something like this.

Of course he would take care of you.

Even when you didn’t deserve it.

"You should eat," Mark encouraged, nudging the plate closer to you.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t say a word.

You couldn't even look at him in the eyes.

You just sat there, curled up in the sheets, sinking further into yourself.

Mark’s smile faltered slightly.

"...Was it bad?" he asked suddenly, hesitantly.

Your eyes snapped to him.

He looked so unsure, like the thought had just crossed his mind, like maybe you had regretted it.

Which you had.

Just not for the reasons he thought.

You forced yourself to shake your head. "No. It wasn’t bad."

Mark studied your face for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached out, brushing his fingers against your cheek.

"You’re still shaking," he murmured.

You hadn’t even realized.

Before you could respond, he was already moving—pulling the sheets tighter around you, rubbing slow circles against your back, trying to soothe you.

"It’s okay," he whispered. "You’re okay."

You didn’t say anything.

Didn’t react.

Just let him love you.

Because you had no idea what else to do.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 1.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[sannasruins]

you had a choice

mark grayson x reader

type: angst, unrequited feelings, honestly idk

warnings: reader is the one with unrequited feelings, gn!reader but term "other girl" is used

a/n: i made the reader a bit more complicated in this fic, i honestly don't think they are wholly right in their approach, but are acting human and in a way i think many including myself might act. also i tried to keep to the cannon time line of season one but i haven't watched it in a few months and am basing it off the wiki so if there are any mistakes, don't at me

word count: 2.1k

You had known Mark since the two of you were young children, with your mother being a famous superhero, she and omni-man often socialized. You would attend his birthday parties, go on play dates with him, and as the two of you got older, his house would become a refuge for you when yours was empty. The two of you would play Mario Kart and Wii Sports in his living room, ordering pizza and talking about the newest Seance Dog comic that was out.

You were there to watch him grow, and change from the Mark that you had known to the Mark that he is today. There when he had his first crush in middle school, and when your chest weirdly hurt when he told you about her, you assumed you were just jealous at the idea of him spending time with someone more than you, and that it was nothing else.

But, you became more aware of him, flushing red when he leaned in close to you to see what you were holding or to murmur a comment to you under his breath. Blushing when he complimented you on a high score in a game or congratulated you for getting a good grade on a hard test. You would try to look nice around him, wearing pretty clothes and using the expensive perfume you got for your birthday. You would laugh at every joke he made, even if they weren’t especially funny, and you always smiled when you saw him.

He never noticed all your efforts though, poor oblivious Mark.

As the two of you entered high school, you started to notice the way some other girls would look at Mark, they looked at him almost in the same way that you did. But you told yourself that they didn’t know him like you did, they were not justified in their longing gazes.

You were there for Mark, his only peer he could talk to as he struggled with his lack of powers and feelings of letting down his father. Nobody else could support him in the way that you could, and did. You understood his struggle, being the child of a super hero yourself, you had expected that one day you would have powers manifest, but they hadn’t come yet if they were going to come at all.

And you were there to celebrate when he did get his powers, jumping with joy, holding his hands and telling him how proud of him you were, and how you knew he was going to be such a great hero.

When mark met Amber, you felt something form in your stomach, it was hard and it was cold, and every time you saw him looking at her, you were made aware of its freezing presence inside of you.

When you found out that Mark had managed to get a study date with Amber, the thing in your stomach seemed to double in size, filling you with bitter iciness that you didn’t fully understand. You tried to dissuade him from the date, telling him that he doesn’t need to be worrying about dating when he just got his powers, he should be training and starting his hero reputation.

“Thank you for your advice,” he told you, “But I don’t really think you could even understand what you’re talking about, its not like you have powers to speak from experience.”

His words bit at you, and he saw the hurt on your face, and he immediately felt regret for his harsh words.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed running a hand through his dark locks, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that, I really like her, and you trying to dissuade me just isn’t cool with me.”

You nodded and apologized to him too, saying you’ll keep your opinion out of his choice of dates and dating.

You were there when he told you about the kiss he had shared with Amber in his bedroom, talking about how sweet and understanding she was, despite the fact that he had left her for over an hour on their date with no explanation to go save Mt. Rushmore.

You again felt the chill in your stomach spread, reaching up to wrap its way around your chest.

“That’s great Mark, I’m glad it went well.” You smiled and told him, but neither he nor really you noticed that your words weren’t truthful.

You watched as he grew closer to Amber, despite his erratic behavior with being a hero, and he would gush to you all the time about how it was going with her, and how much he liked her, and so on.

And as he went through the trials and tribulations of being both a boyfriend and a superhero, you found yourself, someone who used to spend hours upon hours with him, the person who was once closest to him, being pushed to the side, forgotten, and neglected.

He would cancel the plans the two of you had made to reschedule a date with Amber that he had missed or messed up.  

When Amber dumped him after Mark didn’t show up to volunteer at the community center because he was out saving the world and got severely injured. You were the one at his bedside, holding his hand and tearfully looking at your best friend’s bruised and battered face.

You were called by Debbie and told that he had woken up, you rushed to his side, relief flooding over you as your eyes met his, and you smiled at him and sat down on his hospital bed.

The first thing he asked you however, brought back the freezing pit that you had forgotten since he had been so badly injured.

“How’s Amber?”

Your face morphed from smile to something between shock and disgust, before you quickly fixed it back into a now forced and small smile.

“She said she dumped you for ghosting.” You answered his inquiry, not trying to sugar coat your words at all.

“What?” he asked, and his face fell.

“Mark,” you told him, your voice softening for the boy who you care so deeply for, for your best friend who you love and only want the best for, “I think maybe you should let it be. You can’t keep doing this where you’re dating someone who doesn’t understand that you have a greater purpose, and more important commitments than just them. You can’t date someone who doesn’t know that you’re Invincible.”

He looked at you angrily, “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t comment on my relationship anymore.”

“…yeah.” You responded quietly and left his hospital room. Watching him go through this off and on, riding the seas of emotional turmoil over some high school relationship, hurt you. You didn’t want to see him struggle or be sad, he was still your best friend, at least in your eyes.

Once Mark was able to, he went to Amber and begged for forgiveness, which she for some reason granted to him. And to top it off, he then went on a weekend trip to a see a college with his once again newly reinstated girlfriend and Willaim, leaving you behind because you didn’t want to watch the two of them being together all weekend. You just told Mark that you didn’t want to fifth wheel when he invited you.

You were there when he came for you after that weekend, in incredible emotional distress, and told you about the fight he had with Amber, and that she had broken up with him again. Worst of all, he told you that he had revealed to her that he was Invincible to try to get her to understand him, in a last-ditch effort to win her back. And still after having that closely held secret told to her, and still having her turn him away.

You sat by him as he poured his heart out to you with watery eyes. But as you watched him, you felt the frigid cold in your stomach and chest spread even further, up into your throat, out into your arms, and down your legs.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He said to you weepily, “I thought she would understand if I told her, if I explained everything to her. I thought it would be alright.”

You didn’t respond and just looked at him, you didn’t know what you were feeling but it was a foreign feeling that you have never had before while looking at Mark. You felt tired, and almost apathetic.  

“I don’t know Mark.”

He continued on, rambling about how he thought he could fix it, and now how he can’t think of anything to make things better.

He turned to you after you hadn’t said anything for a few minutes, the only sound in the room being your slow breathing and his occasional sniffle.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked

“I don’t know Mark,” you said once again.

And then you got up, and walked out of your bedroom, leaving a confused Mark Grayson behind you.

You knelt frozen in front of your tv as you and most of the world watched the fight between Omni-Man and Invincible destroyed Chicago. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as you watched your best friend and his father, a man you had been close to since childhood, fought, causing death and destruction through out their super powered path. You felt horror, and selfishly, feared for Mark’s life more than anything.

You were there, when Mark awoke at the GDA hospital, sleeping on top of your folded arms that lay on his bed as you sat by his side.

You had been there for days, sitting sometimes with others who would come see him, but most of the time it was just you and Debbie, watching his swollen sleeping face, and wishing for him to wake up.

Mark looked at you, and around the room, and then back to you, with bags under your closed eyes, messy hair and most likely days old clothes.

It suddenly clicked for him, that you alone had always been there. Since a time before he could fully recall, you had been there. And here you were once again, by his side. He began to weep. Feelings of gratefulness and adoration flooded him.

You awoke slowly to the quiet sounds of Mark crying, but once you realized what the sound you were heard as, you jumped to your feet and looked at Mark. Worry morphing your face.

“Are you in pain?” you asked, quickly looking over him, as if you could find the source of his tears and presumed pain, and make them stop.

Mark reached out and grabbed your hand, and your eyes drew to his face. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not,” then he winced when you sat on the bed, shifting its weight and causing him to also shift, and added, “well maybe a little sore but that’s not what’s wrong.”

You watched him expectantly, still holding his hand, waiting for him to go on, wanting to know what was going on and how you could help fix it.

“I…” he started and stopped, clearing his throat that was rough from its lack of use and nerves, “I think I am in love with you.”

Your blood ran cold. The freeze made itself known once more, settling deep inside of you, in a place you could never take it out. It took over torso, and quickly seeped into your limbs, before finally it made its way to your head.

You pulled your hand away from his.

“What?” you asked, and though it just one word, the question came out harsh and sharp.

“I just realized now,” he explained to you, “that you’re the one that’s always been here. You’re the one who understands me. You’re the one who I need in my life, the only one able.”

You frowned at him, “So, I’m the most convenient? The one who is content with being push to the side, so you can prioritize other things? Who already knows who you are, what you are, so you don’t have to explain to the next girl you date?”

“No no no,” he shook his head, looking desperate to get his point across, “that’s not what I mean at all.”

“Forget it Mark,” you told him, standing up from his bed and taking a step back. “You were too busy loving another girl to notice that I was there, loving you.”

He looked at you, distress showed on his damaged face.

“I didn’t know,” he half whispered dejectedly.

“I’m pretty sure it was obvious Mark, if you ever once looked my way and actually truly saw me, and the way that I looked at you.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“It’s too late Mark. You had a choice, and you chose wrong.”

[sspookayy]

"𝚄𝚗𝚠𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚗" || Cecil Stedman x Reader

Description:

Where extraordinary beings wield incredible powers, the GDA embarks on a groundbreaking project to synthesize DNA in pursuit of creating the ultimate weapon. But when things don't go as planned the project everyone was worked so hard for is put on hold, suspended in time.

"I don't understand.. If you loved me then why did you do this?!"

"Love makes us make tough decisions sometimes."

I LOVE THIS MAN.

I haven't really seen anyone write much fanfic about Cecil, and well hes my favorite character so i have to do the Cecil simps justice. Updates may be slow because i have an actual irl job and bills to pay but I'm gonna try my best and et chapters out in a timely manner.

*crossposted on Tumblr, Wattpad, and Ao3*

________________________

Introduction-

The wall clock ticked relentlessly on, each second whispering in counterpoint to the clang of metal and grunts. You paused briefly in your exercise, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead as you gazed about at the stark, unyielding walls of the government compound that was home. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, their cold light casting an unforgiving glare on the rows of weights and machines that were now familiar companions in your endless pursuit of power.

Today, like every day preceding it, you were in the training room, pushing against the limits of your flesh. The weight of expectation had borne down on you since the day that they concluded you were an "experiment"—a component of a program to mold human potential into something greater, yet an offspring of circumstance gone awry.

You were different—not another test subject, but a pioneer of hybrid experimentation. Your creators had attempted to create a weapon, but you had become something more: a being imbued with unbelievable strength, agility, flight and reflexes, approaching the scale that was the Immortal in ability. You were a creation of their ambition, and while the world around you buzzed with the murmurs of heroism and glory, you had been kept under the veil of uncertainty.

You took a deep breath and seized the heavy dumbbells to begin another set of reps, muscles contorting and flexing as you pushed yourself to your limits. Your prison—your estranged home within these walls that held your secrets and torturers alike. You were coming to the end of your set when the door creaked open, the intrusion jolting you out of your focus.

"Impressive as always."

The voice was deep and resonant, heavy like the weights you were using, and it sent a thrill of recognition down your spine. You dropped the dumbbells and turned and faced Director Radcliffe—a tall, older man with sharp features, dark brown eyes, and an intelligence that radiated even in this austere environment. He was the Director of the Global Defense Agency, one of whose main functions was running the experiments.

"Sir," you breathed, attempting to conceal your surprise at his abrupt arrival. "What brings you here?"

He strode towards you with a swagger that belied the seriousness of the facility and delivered a smirk that played at the corners of his mouth. "Just stopping by to visit our most promising subject. I've been hearing whispers about your advancements, and I can tell that they're not merely rumors."

Radcliffe nodded towards the equipment, his gaze remaining on you—a combination of curiosity and admiration. You were naked, exposed; a combination of admiration and caution simmering between you as he gazed at you.

"Getting stronger every day," you replied, keeping your tone deliberately casual. "But I'm still waiting for the day I'm not a set of experiments." deliberately keeping your tone light."They seem to not be too keen on unleashing me on the world yet." You sat down on the bench that sat alongside the huge mirror that stretched along the whole wall and took the towel that was lying across it to wipe your face in an attempt to get rid of the thin layer of sweat that was covering your face.

Director Radcliffe leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a curious smile spreading across his face. "You see, with the right mindset, even experiments can become pioneers. They just need the right environment to thrive." There was seriousness in his voice that suggested he knew more than he said, as if the very fabric of your life was woven with both potential and restriction.

You glanced up at him in the mirror, the overhead fluorescent lights casting a glare that was so harsh your reflection was almost ghostly. "I suppose so. But what if all they care about is how mindlessly I can follow orders?" You let the towel drop into your lap, the damp cloth a reminder of just how hard you were driving yourself—not just physically, but mentally.

He straightened, his demeanor shifting by degrees, as if he intercepted the undertone of your annoyance. "We understand what you're capable of. Your progress is... " He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Impressive. But I am not at liberty to ignore the risks of releasing you prematurely. You are not just a collection of skills—you're a person with a life ahead of you."

"Why do I feel like I'm in a cage, then?" you shot back, startling yourself with the venom in your tone. You could feel the tension building in the air, strained and charged.

Radcliffe's eyes softened as he took in a step closer. "Change is hard. I do know that. Yet every experiment started with a spark—your spark. We're preparing you for something more than you can presently see. You're not a tool. You can be a leader.".

You let his words hang, considering the weight they carried. Progress. Leadership. What would that even look like for someone like you? "I hope you're not just saying that to soften the blow," you said tentatively, the vulnerability in your voice surprising you both.

"Trust me, I'm not," he replied, his tone level and sincere. "But I need you to commit to the process. Training isn't about physical strength alone—it's about building the foundations of what you're capable of becoming."

You took the towel again, this time using it to wipe the sweat from your forearms. Maybe he was right. There could be more to this quest than you realized. "And if I fail?" you asked, your heart racing at the thought.

Radcliffe smiled, a hint of warmth breaching his normally stoic demeanor. "Then we learn. That's the beauty of experimentation—you can always adjust and try again."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The path ahead of you was still uncertain, yet maybe, just maybe, the light at the end of your metaphorical tunnel was closer than you thought.

—

The day had drained you, each test and trial bearing down on your shoulders like a pile of bricks, a reminder of the burden you bore as you struggled to discover what you could do. Thankfully, the only thing left was to take your end-of-day vitals. Perched atop the unforgiving surface of the chilly, sterile examination table, you were able to sense a chill send a shiver up your exposed thighs, the fabric of your shorts far too brief to shield you from the cold metal below. Wires from a nest of machines coiled around you like sinister vines, and electrode pads affixed to your skin, squirming leads to monitors that displayed your EKG and a maelstrom of bewildering readings—esoteric glyphs that appeared to be a code you were desperately attempting to interpret.

The soft, soothing beeping of the machines almost lulled you into a restful sleep, but the cold, hard lights overhead were pitiless in their glare. Surrounded by an army of physicians and researchers prodding and poking at your body, you knew the largest threat was not in their intrusive methods but what followed: the return to your chambers, the place you disliked most, except for the frigid, unyielding halls of this tyrannical institute. As your gaze shifted to the left, you noticed a couple of operators and managers observing the professionals at work, their glances flicking with a mix of curiosity and indifference.

Far away, beyond the big window, ordinary people went about their everyday lives, becoming part of the rhythm of normalcy. Longing arose within you to be among them; to experience the comfort of a humdrum existence—a good job, a quiet day, a loving family. Such longings lay in the realm of dreams, an illusion which you knew would forever be out of your grasp. Amidst this sea of onlookers, your attention was suddenly drawn to Director Radcliffe, conversing with a passerby.

Squinting your eyes in an attempt to slice through the distance, your super-vision eventually caught up with the young man who had caught your attention. His smooth-slicked hair and authoritative height were equaled only by his sharply chiseled features, which spoke to authority. The gravity of the meeting was sensed, the tension so powerful it sliced through the sterile air. Then, suddenly, the young man shifted slightly, his intense eyes fastening onto yours like a shot of electricity. His eyes, an electric blue, pierced into your very being with an intensity that produced a shiver racing along your spine.

It was as if he could look right through the glass wall of your room, cutting through the layers of your being, stripping away the facade to reveal the vulnerable core within. For a moment, all else in the world outside of you melted away, and you were left with the weight of his scrutiny—a refined blend of curiosity mixed with something darker and more profound. You ached to look away, to recede into the sanitary folds of your hospital robe, but some inexplicable pull kept you riveted. Pity or judgment? Or something worse?

The beeping of equipment faded into the background, drowned out by the mesmerizing hold of his unseeing stare, stirring within you emotions long suppressed in the shadows. It was as though, in the bottom of that stare, he saw your unspoken wishes, your dreams of flight from this antiseptic jail. While the heaviness of his glance nearly strangled you, he tilted his brow infinitesimally, ever so small yet incredibly powerful an action, so it conveyed something unstated in between the two of you that was at once exciting and scary, which passed between the freezing emptiness of the lab and united the two of you into something akin to communion.

And since the moment was trapped halfway between suspended and reality, time itself stumbled, confusing the manner in which it must divide your closed-in reality from his certain truth. The sterile white walls of the room melted away, and for an instant, you were no longer merely a specimen of study, but a contributing participant in an unspoken debate—a bond of trust that poured from mutual helplessness and individual comprehension.

With each gasp of air, you felt the desire well up within you; the urge to flee the shackles of your existence. The world beyond your horizons, with all its mundane indulgences and small victories, beckoned you like a distant siren, promising freedom and a place of belonging. But as the electric blue of his eyes remained unmoved, a glimmer of hope was kindled in your chest. Perhaps, in that fleeting moment of comprehension, you could find the courage to dream once more—not just of a life beyond these bars, but of a world where your own desires were not on the fringes of fantasy.

With that in mind, you understood the weight of his eyes, allowing it to be a silent vow: to battle for freedom, resist the emptiness that wished to engulf you completely, and reclaim the vibrant life you had always imagined, no matter what.

-

Word Count:1869

[bananasplit133]

LITTLE FANFIC INSPIRED BY @radlovesfics 's SCENARIO/AU IDEA!!!!!

Alternate Invincible | Mark Grayson/reader

----

Mark Grayson is the kind of guy who’ll throw himself into the fire to save someone—whether they need it or not.

That’s what pissed you off the most.

Because you didn’t need saving.

But Mark never saw it that way. No matter how many times you held your own, no matter how many enemies you put in the ground, he always acted like you were seconds away from falling apart. Like you were her—the weak, delicate version of you that existed in every other reality.

You knew about her.

You’d seen how he looked at you sometimes, like he was waiting for you to break. Like you were an echo of someone he’d already lost.

And Mark never let go of things he lost.

That’s why, in the end, you had to make him let go of you.

----

Your last fight wasn’t with some world-ending villain. It was with him.

You’d told him a hundred times to stay out of your way. That you could handle yourself. That you weren’t his responsibility.

But he never listened.

So you made him listen.

You didn’t hold back. Not this time.

You hit him harder than anyone had before. Harder than his enemies, harder than his father, because they were trying to kill him. You just wanted him to understand.

By the time he was on the ground, coughing up blood, he finally did.

"Don’t ever get in my way again."

You never spoke to him after that.

And he never tried to save you again.

------

------

Mark is missing.

The world is falling apart, and for once, it’s not his fault. Variants—dozens of him—are tearing through dimensions, laying waste to everything in their path. The Guardians are scrambling to fight them off.

You? You’re the last line of defense.

They send you in to deal with them because there’s no one else left who can.

You drop into the battlefield, body tense, mind sharpened like a blade. And that’s when they see you.

And stop.

The carnage, the destruction—all of it pauses as those too-familiar eyes land on you.

They don’t look at you like an enemy.

They look at you like a miracle.

One of them steps forward, slow, predatory. “You fight?”

Another one, broader, blood dripping from his split lip, tilts his head. His gaze runs over you, calculating, hungry. “No,” he breathes, lips curling into a grin. “She won.”

A ripple moves through them. Not fear. Not caution.

Want.

Your stomach turns.

One of them takes a slow, measured step toward you. His voice is low, reverent. “You’re not like the others.”

The others. Her.

Your jaw clenches. “What, you gonna cry about it?”

They don’t cry. They don’t rage.

They smile.

“Oh my god,” one of them exhales. “That’s so hot.”

You stare.

"What the fuck."

And then they lunge.

-----

It’s chaos. It’s brutal. It’s perfect.

They’re stronger than anything you’ve ever fought. But so are you.

One of them tries to get behind you—you grab him mid-air and slam him into the pavement so hard the asphalt craters. Another swings at you, wild and desperate—you twist at the last second, his fist barely grazing your cheek before you break his wrist in your grip.

They’re laughing.

You land a punch so hard it caves in a Variant’s ribs. He stumbles back, wheezing, then wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, breathless.

Another, barely conscious, spits out a tooth and grins. “Marry me.”

Your stomach curdles.

You shove one of them off you, but he grabs your wrist mid-fall, his voice thick with admiration. “You’re so much better than her.”

That’s the last straw.

You drive your fist into his face, send him skidding across the ground, then storm toward the next one standing.

By the time you’re done, the battlefield is quiet.

They’re on the ground, breathing raggedly, some unconscious, some still grinning.

You step over their broken bodies, scowling. “Next time, send something that actually puts up a fight.”

From the shadows, unseen, Mark watches.

He should feel relief. The threat is gone. You’re alive.

But all he feels is an aching, twisting thing in his chest.

Because they got to see a side of you he never would again.

And he hates them for it.

[yuriosakawa]

Sinister!Invincible x Little Sibling!Reader - The Accident

It had been an accident…

Today was one of the rare days in which Mark brought you out. You both went to the nearby forest that surrounded the fortress that you called home. 

Mark had allowed you to wander off so long as you didn’t went too far. You were picking up so flowers that you thought were pretty, with the intention of making a flower crown with them and then give it to your big brother, when suddenly, you heard some shifting on some nearby bushes

Curiously, you went to check it out

It turns it it was a rabbit, with the fluffiest of white furs, looking up at you with big, red eyes and its pink nose twitching 

You cooed over how cute it looked. And as a fan of cute, fluffy things both big and small, you grabbed the rabbit to give it a big warm hug! 

And that’s when it happened 

You swear that you didn’t meant to hurt it, but you didn’t measured your newfound Viltrumite strength. So, when you squeezed more than you should’ve, the poor animal popped much like a balloon; letting out so much so as a pitiful whimper 

Its gory insides splattered everywhere; on your little face, on your clothes, on your arms and on the ground bellow 

You stared at your trembling hands, now caked with the rabbit’s still warm blood in horror. Big, fat tears began running down your eyes, petrified over what you just did 

"Sweetie?“ Mark’s voice called out to you, but you were still too in shock to stop looking at your bloodied arms 

Mark took a look at your bloody state. He initially thought you had been hurt, only to see the chunky remains of someone else hanging on your hair, and the ear of a rabbit laying pathetically on the side. He was quick to put two and two together 

"I didn’t meant to…" You whispered, looking up at your brother with tearful eyes "I promise I didn’t wanted to hurt the bunny! I just wanted to give it a hug, I swear…!"

"Shhh. It’s okay, sweetheart…" Mark shushed you gently, crouching down to your level and giving you a hug. He also wrapped his cape around you for an extra level of warmth, which always made you feel better 

“I know you didn’t mean it. You still don’t know the full extent of your strength" Your brother continued comforting you and gently running his fingers through your hair, not minding that it was messy with blood and the guts of the animal you just killed 

You continued to cry on Mark’s chest for a good while, and he all the while he continued to pat your head and whisper words of comfort. When you finally stopped crying, you wanted to give the rabbit a proper burial. 

Mark didn’t saw the point, as it wasn’t like there was a lot of the rabbit left to bury. Yet, you insisted; so in the end he gave in. 

Burying a shallow grave, you placed whatever remains of the animal was left and dedicated a moment of silence for it. Afterwards, you asked Mark to take you home. Your outing for the day has turned sour

Your brother didn’t argued. So, hand in hand, you flew back to the fortress 

Once there, Mark brought you into his arms and went to the bathroom to wash all the nasty animal blood out of you. Your brother made sure that the water was warm and filled with lots of bubbles, just how you like it. You smiled a bit as he lovingly rinsed your hair while you played with your rubber duckies, starting to feel better already 

When your bath was done, Mark wrapped you up in a warm and fluffy towel before putting fresh new clothes on you

"It’ll be okay, sweetheart…" Your brother told you softly, as he gently put you on your bed and covered you with your cozy blanket "Sometimes, this kind of things just happen. You’ll get used to it” 

“But what if I hurt you…?” You asked nervously, fresh new tears threatening to pour down your eyes yet again. Mark let out an amused chuckle as he kindly wiped away the tears 

"Oh, sweetie. I know you could never hurt me…" Mark said as an arrogant and borderline sinister smile crossed his face…

"I’m Invincible, remember?"

[notrobinsomethingworse]

Imagine Bruce Wayne as a grandfather. Imagine him holding his tiny grandchild in his arms, wondering how the hell he got here. Imagine the soft smile on his lips as his grandchild giggles in that way only children can. Finally realising that he has people who he cares for deeply, and they care for him just as much maybe even more. He finally has a family.

Don’t imagine him constantly on edge, trying to protect not only his children but this small child he’s somehow a grandfather to. Don’t imagine him trembling while holding this baby because what if something goes wrong? What if they die? What if they’re all vulnerable? What if… Using all that doubt to plan contingencies to keep his family safe.

Don’t imagine if he fails.

Don’t imagine Bruce Wayne’s grandchild becoming an orphan. That after the death of his own child, he has to replace them for the sake of their own baby. To raise this baby knowing every time he looks at them, all he’ll see is his own failures. To let his grandchild know how good his parents were. How stunningly brave and smart and talented they were. How proud they would be of them. How they died being heroes. How Bruce failed to save them.

Don’t think about how Bruce wishes he had died instead.

[mithaeesblog]

Haven’t finished season 3 of invincible yet, but am I the only one who thinks they could show more subtle signs of trauma from mark?

I specifically wanted to see him, maybe being afraid of trains ? There are many and different subtle things they could do but just seeing mark be sorta afraid of trains after that incident would really add more depth to his trauma and character. Like him hearing or even walking close to train tracks makes him freeze up a little bit. Maybe he even tries to avoid getting closer to it for no reason at all, he just unconsciously doesn’t want to be there. Makes him uncomfortable, makes him feel sick, makes him feel like he shouldn’t be there.

It just reminds you that trauma lingers even if you think everything is back to normal.