#mark grayson x gn reader

[tearvls]

HI I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!!! IF ITS POSSIBLE, CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE A MARK FIC WHERE HE GETS JEALOUS OF THE ATTENTION THE READER GIVES TO THE OTHER MSRK VARIANTS

"Jealousy Jealousy"

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Mark Grayson Variants x GN! Reader

Featuring: Sinister Mark, Mohawk Mark, Full Mask Mark, Shiesty Mark, Prisoner Mark, Viltrumite Mark, No Mask Mark

Synopsis: You find yourself caught between Mark's many very desperate variants.

The sky above the prison cracked and churned, smoke and screams threading through the thick, choking air. Around you, the ground was littered with rubble and fallen inmates, some groaning, some eerily still. You barely registered it anymore, too focused on dragging an injured guard to safety behind a broken wall.

Above, he was fighting.

Mark. Your Mark

His fists flew in vicious arcs, trading blows with a wilder, meaner version of himself — one with a mohawk and a wicked, wolfish grin that made your stomach turn. Each punch sounded like a thunderclap, shockwaves blasting the debris outward. Mark slammed Mohawk Mark into the ground hard enough to crack the concrete, and for a second, everything seemed like it was under control. You exhaled, steadying yourself against the wall— And then a screaming rush of wind nearly knocked you off your feet. Before you could react, another Mark — this one maskless, his hair a little longer, his face desperate — barreled straight into you. You gasped as his arms wrapped around you in a crushing hug, lifting you clear off the ground

"Oh my god," he breathed against your ear, his voice trembling. "I finally found you. You're even more beautiful than I remembered. I thought I lost you... I thought—" He pulled back just enough to cradle your face in his hands, staring at you like you were some kind of miracle he barely dared to touch. You opened your mouth to speak — "Wait—" — but the words stuck in your throat.

The moment shattered like glass

.

From behind, Sinister Mark appeared like a black storm, his expression twisted into something feral. Without a word, he grabbed you by the waist, ripping you bodily out of Maskless Mark’s arms with a brutal yank. "Back off!" Sinister Mark snapped, holding you so tightly against him you could feel the shudder of restrained violence under his skin.

Maskless Mark stumbled forward, face contorting in fury. "You son of a—!" He lunged — but Sinister Mark backhanded him so hard Maskless Mark went skidding across the rubble. "I said," Sinister Mark growled, voice dripping with venom, "back off!"

You barely had time to process the shock when another figure crash-landed nearby — Full Mask Mark, his dark visor flashing as he immediately stepped between you and Sinister Mark. "Release them," Full Mask Mark ordered coldly. "They're safer with me."

Then — as if the gates of hell had opened — more figures started descending one after another. Shiesty Mark vaulted over a wall with a cocky grin, landing next to Full Mask Mark and immediately trying to tug you free. "Come on, baby — you know you wanna get outta here with me."

Another Mark crashed down — Prisoner Mark, still in his grey jumpsuit, bruised and bloodied but smirking as he wiped blood from his lip. "Tch. You're all pathetic. They want someone real. Someone like me."

And then Viltrumite Mark floated down gracefully, arms crossed, looking eerily composed as he assessed the scene. "Clearly," he said mildly, "they’re overwhelmed. I'll take custody of them."

It was like a bomb went off.

Suddenly every single Mark was grabbing at you, shoving each other, snarling, punching — they swarmed over you like feral animals fighting over a single toy, claws out, snarling and snapping. You were jostled from one to the other — Sinister Mark’s brutal grip, Full Mask Mark’s iron hold, Shiesty Mark’s arms sneaking around your waist — each yanking you back and forth like you were the only thing keeping them alive. You could barely even get a word in — your mouth kept opening, but all that came out were tiny choked sounds as hands grabbed and pulled and voices screamed over each other:

"Let go!"

"They're mine!"

"You’ll just get them hurt!"

"They don’t want you, they want me!"

"Enough — or I’ll kill you all right here."

The prison yard was falling apart — debris raining from the sky, concrete cracked like broken glass under Mark's boots. He drove his fist into Mohawk Mark’s gut, sending the variant crumpling with a grunt of pain. Another hit, another grunt — just like every other fight before it. Mark pulled back, ready to finish it —but something caught his eye. Across the battlefield — past the smoke, past the rubble —

you.

You were struggling, trapped between a mob of familiar faces — faces that wore his own features twisted in desperation. His blood went cold. You stumbled back as Sinister Mark yanked you toward him, one gloved hand firm around your wrist. Maskless Mark barreled into him a second later, prying you free and holding you like you were something fragile. Then Full Mask Mark ripped you from Maskless, dragging you close with tense, gloved fingers. Shiesty Mark laughed and twirled you around into his arms, only to be tackled by Prisoner Mark a heartbeat later.

They were fighting over you like feral animals.

Like he wasn't even there. Mark froze, breathing hard, a deep roar clawing its way up his throat. Then he launched into the sky, fists clenched, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

"I'm coming—!"

He blasted toward you, faster than a bullet—

—but halfway there, a blur of motion smashed into him. Viltrumite Mark. He grabbed Mark by the collar and yanked him sideways mid-flight, spinning him out of control. "Stay out of this!" Viltrumite barked, shoving him hard. Mark growled and threw a punch, knocking Viltrumite back — only for Mohawk Mark to slam into his back next, driving them both into a spiraling dive. Before he could recover, Full Mask Mark was there, throwing a fist at his face. Shiesty tackled him around the waist, laughing.

"Welcome to the party, loser!"

Mark twisted free with a furious snarl, throwing them off — but by the time he looked up again, you were even further away, trapped between four desperate variants clawing and dragging at you. He could see you — wide-eyed, overwhelmed — getting pulled one way by Maskless, then the other by Sinister, then another as Prisoner Mark ripped you free. Mark roared and blasted forward again, elbowing through the chaos, getting grabbed and yanked every direction. Hands — all his hands — shoved and clawed and punched. Each Mark screaming over the other:

"They're safer with me!"

"You can't protect them like I can!"

"They don't love you the way I do!"

Mark finally got a hand on you — pulling you close — only for Shiesty to tackle him low, sending both of you tumbling. He barely kept you in his grasp, spinning midair, his arms locking tight around you. "I got you—!" he gasped — only for Sinister to crash into him next, ripping you from his arms with brutal force.

It was a mess. A storm.

Everywhere he turned, another version of himself was grappling, shouting, grabbing at you like you were the last star left in the sky. Mark groaned, shoving Full Mask Mark off his back, ducking under Shiesty's swinging punch, grabbing you again and getting yanked right back into the chaos by Maskless and Prisoner Mark clawing at his arms. You flailed, trying to keep your footing, groaning as you got pulled back and forth like a living tug-of-war rope. Mark gritted his teeth, chest heaving, blood pounding in his ears. This wasn’t going to be a clean save. This wasn’t going to be fast. He tightened his grip on you, glaring at the sea of versions clawing for you with wild eyes.

And through gritted teeth, he muttered: "This is gonna be a long fight."

[invoncible]

KEEP AWAY with the INVINCIBLE VARIANTS ! ✧˚. — after finding you in this universe, they're not gonna let you go! w/ mohawk, viltrumite, no goggles w/ gn! reader cw. suggestive. no goggles is a freak

— a continuation of running into the variants during the war :)

"donald, give me some good news." cecil had his hands on his hips as he stared at all the destruction broadcasted to the pentagon control room.

"uh... some variants seem to be slowing down on their escapades, sir."

"that could go both ways," cecil's eyes narrowed. "depending on what they've decided to do instead."

the big screen zeroed in on a version of mark dragging some random through the air. the blood drained from cecil's face as he walked closer, eyes narrowing at the footage.

"who the fuck is that?" cecil snapped. he deprived them of the chance to respond when he followed up with, "get me an ID on that kid. and prep the next squad of reanimen to go after them."

now, did cecil really think that was gonna do anything against him? he was hopeful, but his top priority was saving a life. but mark was not going to make that easy for him.

MOHAWK MARK

mark was having the time of his life! he was set to conquer dimensions, he'd killed so many people, and he was making out with the love of his life on the roof of some random building against the napalm skyline.

he was so content kissing you silly. imposing his body into your space, his forearm flattened against the wall behind you right next to your head, his other tilting your jaw up; being in your arms felt like coming home, and he'd kill anyone to stay there.

his eyes only broke open when he heard the wailing screams of cecil's undead soldiers in the distance. he sighed heavily, pulling away slowly and smiling proudly when he swiped his thumb over your swollen lips.

"c'mon, baby," he muttered lowly, pulling you in his arms. he scoffed amusedly at your dazed state, pressing one last kiss to the fat of your cheeks before his feet left the ground. "some bad guys are tryna take you from me."

"who?" you responded, wrapping your arm around his shoulders.

"no one you need to worry your pretty little head about!" he laughed, taking off into the sky. "i'm not letting anyone ruin this."

you could only hold on for your life as he wove through the clouds, avoiding the squadron of reanimen pursuing him.

"mark!" you screamed, ducking into his chest as one frantically launched itself into the air, swiping at your head.

"yeah, hold on, baby." mark's grin would scare you if you hadn't realized how devoted he was to you within the hours of meeting him. "i've got you."

an undead solider leaped into the air, clasping its metal hand around his shin and letting its weight drag him down. mark grit his teeth, swinging his leg in an attempt to shake it off.

but the soldier held firm, climbing up mark's body.

"are you fucking kidding me?" mark groaned in annoyance. he turned to you. "i'm gonna need you to trust me, y/n." you felt his grip around you loosen.

your body tensed, nails digging into his shoulder. "no—"

"trust me." he braced himself, muscles coiling as he prepared to throw you.

"mark, what—"

"it's gonna take a minute, tops, and i'll catch you."

"what the fuck?!"

"pretty please with a cherry on top?"

catch me? your eyes blew open, grappling at his arms even as he lowered you down before catapulting you into the air.

mark immediately turned to the bitch on his leg, grabbing its throat and twisting until its head popped off. he shifted his weight as he zipped through the rest of the hordes of reanimen, ripping them limb from limb.

all the while you were on the verge of passing out, falling from who knows how high back onto the abandoned streets. you regretted all your life choices in that moment, especially getting involved with this half-bald freak of nature.

your stomach lurched as the ground rushed up to meet you. you barely had time to scream before something caught you midair, arms locking around you like a vice. the impact rattled through your bones, but before you could process the relief, you realized it wasn’t mark—it was one of the sentries he was fighting. held in someone’s arms for the second time that day, you were whisked away from the battlefield, your head spinning.

"what the fuck is going on?" you whispered to yourself, dizzy and lightheaded from your some-hundred ft. fall.

mark's head turned as if he had a sixth sense. he saw the red light fading in the distance. he snapped the final limb before ricocheting towards you.

his hands curled around the base of its neck, stopping its escape in its tracks. "think you got something of mine..." he said lowly, lifting the cyborg off the ground.

its jaw snapped wildly, thrashing to try and dislodge itself from his grip. mark clicked his tongue, laughing. "aww, look, y/n!" he grinned and pointed his free hand to the reaniman. "it's trying to get away!"

you just stared at him, dumbfounded. thankfully, he got his satisfaction and snapped the neck of the soldier, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tossed the dead agent over the rooftop.

"there," he pressed his lips to the side of your head as he took to the sky again. "see? wasn't so bad. now, where were we?"

you rolled your eyes, but rested your head against his shoulder anyways.

VILTRUMITE MARK

"first, we'll get married."

"married?"

"as soon as possible."

"uh-huh."

"then kids."

"kids?!"

"at least... four."

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a smile. reaching over, you took a french fry from the package he was holding (the same one he’d terrorized a McDonald's to get for you). you two were sitting atop the golden gate bridge, and for some reason, the shitshow beneath your feet didn't make you feel queasy anymore.

mark, as you've learned, saved the softest spot in his heart for you and his mother. he was adamant on just talking to you, rekindling the love he knew he had for you.

"it seems like you're trying to replace your y/n with me." you hum, passing him a look. "we're not the same person."

he shook his head, resting his head in your lap. you softened against your will, dragging your nails against his scalp.

"you say that like it matters." he sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzled into your thighs. "you’re mine. you’ve always been mine. doesn’t matter what version of you i started with—i like this one just fine."

"that's—"

mark's head hit the cool metal of the bridge in the next second, his eyes flying open as he saw a squadron of reanimen bolting away with you in their arms.

his eye twitched, a crazed genre of rage rushing through his veins. not again. not my y/n. he shot off the landing after them.

other soldiers fell out of formation to slow him down, thrusting the reinforced soles of their feet into his face. he barely flinched, grabbing anything he could and throwing them off into the distance. carnage could come later; right now, he needed you back with him.

what was cecil thinking sending these zombies after the mark raised on viltrum? mark shut that whole thing down real quick, snatching you by your waist and throwing you over his shoulder as he mopped the rest of them up.

he held you in front of him, a frown on his lips as he asked oh-so-gently, "are you okay?"

brain rattled by being treated like a football, you settled for nodding. your eyes drifted behind him, too slow to warn him about the lone zombie throttling through the air towards him.

the sentry's feet slammed into mark's back. its hand grabbed onto you, preventing you from being sent to the ground with mark. you dangled in the air, watching the asphalt below crack under the impact of his fall.

"mark!" you yelled after him, gagging in disgust when you were brought closer to the agent's rotting flesh. "shit—"

below, mark stood slowly, letting the gravel fall off his white uniform. he exhaled in annoyance, like a bull grunting before charging. he watched you struggle in the soldier's arms as you were carried farther and farther away, and he's never felt his heart beat so erratically.

he zipped towards you. a sonic boom tore through the air as he slammed into the reaniman's side, driving it into the ground. right before the agent could be reduced to paste on the pavement, you were ripped from its grasp into mark’s.

he barely spared a glance at the corpse, scowling as he shifted his grip on you. his next words were muttered, spoken more to himself than to you.

"more reason this stupid planet needs our oversight. they waste their time with their arrogant pursuits." he sneered, flying to another location you two could be alone.

your pulse began to steady, body sinking against his.

mark exhaled, softer this time. his grip around you tightened, but his lips were gentle when they pressed against your temple. then your cheek, then your lips—languid, warm and slow, savoring the way you felt in his arms.

"they could never keep us apart." he murmured against your lips. "if they want to figure that out the hard way... so be it."

NO GOGGLES MARK

mark came back to you, like he promised. he wasn't going to miss the opportunity in front of him! you handled him so well.

there was nowhere he wanted to be other than under you, your hands wrapped around his neck. at first you were weirded out. he claimed you were together in another dimension, and with everything he knew about you, you believed him. now you were just... intrigued.

"squeeze harder, baby, come on." he gasped, winking up at you in his delirium. "i can take it."

you pouted, eyebrows knitting. "i don't like this game." you needed to work up to the level he was expecting from you, as much as you were enjoying this too.

he laughed hoarsely, curling his fingers around your wrists. "we got a couple more we can play. but i dunno if you'd want to do them all out in the open."

you rolled your eyes, a small chuckle slipping through your lips. you dragged your nails down his chest, noting the way he shivered. the maniacal grin you've come to know him for grew on his face once again.

"i wouldn't mind, of course." his eyes glinted with a twisted delight, his hands squeezing at the fat of your thighs. "don't think i can wait any longer, actually."

"you might just get lucky," you giggled so sweetly that mark's fucked up mind paused its depraved thoughts to really take it in.

he began to respond when the rooftop caved under you. soldier after soldier emerged through the hole, bombarding you with numbers. their half-metal bodies blotted out the setting sun. mark growled in frustration, swiping through the swarm. when the smoke cleared, you were nowhere to be found.

"fuck," he chuckled, cracking his neck. "making me chase you, huh?"

mark grinned, tilting his head as he watched them try to drag you away. fun! did they really think they could outpace him?

he shot forward, cracking through the air like a bullet. he didn’t even slow down as his fist caved into the first reaniman’s spine, sending it crashing into the pavement below. the next got a foot to the chest—its entire torso collapsing under the force, mechanical parts sparking and hissing as they fell.

you yelped as one tried to launch itself away, still holding you tight in its arms. mark barely had to think yet he caught its ankle, spun it mid-air, and slammed it into the ground so hard it cratered on impact.

you didn't have the time to register you were falling; you landed in his arms a second later.

"there we go," he hummed, dusting debris off your clothes. "still breathing?" he pressed his ear to your chest, heat blooming across his skin with every thundering beat of your heart, head rising and falling as you inhaled and exhaled.

your chest heaved, adrenaline buzzing under your skin. he laughed, delighted by the look on your face.

his fingers slid under your chin, tilting your face up. "hey, don't tap out yet. you said i was getting lucky."

"i said you might get lucky." you corrected, even though you already decided how the night was going to go.

he grinned. "will you actually choke me out this time?"

"i'll fucking slap you." you hummed, a pleasant breeze drifting past your face as he carried you off to a more secluded location.

"i love you so fucking much." he groaned, eyes fluttering shut. his hands tightened around you. when you looked up, he was biting his lip to conceal his excitement.

"this planet better give you a medal of honor or some shit the way you're saving lives right now," he chuckled, leaning down and gnawing on the fluff of your cheek. "how long do you think you can keep me occupied?"

he didn’t need to hear your answer—he was already planning to keep you up all night. but the look in your eyes told him he didn’t have to do much convincing.

© invoncible

[lovepotionsz]

Mark & Mark Variants x Viltrumite GN!Reader (Mohawk-No Goggles) (Suggestive)

CW: Minor pet death (not caused by you, mark or variants) , dubious consent from reader on the variant parts.

WC: 2.9k

You were sent to earth by the Empire as a child, to gather intel and return to Viltrum when you hit 25 in human years. You did as you were told, you did your best to be this cold-hearted, brutal strong viltrumite, but you couldn’t be what they wanted in the end. Your family was so loving, your friends were too precious, you got to learn what compassion and empathy felt like. You cried, you smiled, you felt your heart drop to your stomach, you laughed with your friends drunk out of your minds near a 7/11 at 3 am, and laughed so hard you threw up. You felt your heart get torn to pieces when you saw your first crush kiss another person, you grieved when your family cat passed away, and you felt anger at the drunk driver that took your precious cat — no, friend. 

You felt more alive than you ever could back in the Empire. You didn’t care about that selfish mission anymore, couldn’t give two shits about conquering and ruling, earth was amazing as is. Yes, it was full of corruption and suffering, but it also harbored love so undoing you never even thought to fight back. That’s why, when you were offered to protect the beauty of this world, you agreed instantly. Your parents were apprehensive, worried about you, but you convinced them after a heartful crying session on the family couch– the same couch that your parent had wrapped a bandage around your ankle so worriedly, not knowing your twisted ankle had already healed. You didn’t tell them that it did. Your canvas of this world was already full of colors of all the emotions you have lived through.

Though, somehow, the colors on the canvas shined brighter than any sun the day that you met him. 

“Hey, name’s Invincible, let’s do some good together, yeah? God was that– was that too corny?,” he awkwardly rubbed at his neck, you could sense his body temperature rise up without skin contact – viltrumite genes – you had chuckled at his awkwardness, introduced yourself and you two hit it off that day. Your missions together always went well, your quick wit and strategies plus your durability complimented his agility and strength– dancing with you as defense and him as offense, a powerful, impenetrable waltz to any enemy.

You went to shitty fast food places after missions, ate melted ice creams at 3 am close to that same 7/11, he stayed at your place until sun rose up playing video games and reading comics – you learned he was a huge seance dog fan as well – you went to huge comic cons, helping each other get into cosplay.

He looked deep into your eyes as you applied a tiny bit of blush on his cheeks, he honestly looked stunning, however the eye contact wasn’t helping your fast beating heart, and you’re pretty sure he can hear it. You don’t know where his powers come from yet, but, you just know he can hear your heart leaping from your ribcage every time your eyes catch his.

“I know I’m gorgeous, but you’re staring, Grayson,” you managed to roll out with a sarcastic tone, you watched as he blinked himself out of a trance– did he even know he was staring that hard?

“I’m so– so sorry, I just- I uh,” his eyes going everywhere but your eyes now, caught and too embarrassed to admit he was staring. 

“You can keep going, sorry uh– for the staring,” you chuckled softly at how red the tips of his ears had gotten, feeling a warm sensation envelop your whole being as you add the finishing touches to his makeup, you got your face closer to his so close that you saw how his eyes widened, and his pupils dilated just a bit– that made you smile softly, “you can look as much as you like, pretty boy,” you laughed despite yourself at how red his whole face was now despite the makeup, stopping yourself and apologizing softly as you heard him grumble. You teased him all day about it though, after all, the feelings you’ve harbored for months were not unrequited, for the first time since meeting him, you felt elated once again. 

After that, he asked you out after a particular rough mission where your comms were broken, and you couldn’t talk to him for almost the entire mission– he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to a freak accident on the job, and he really couldn’t lose you to his cowardice by not asking you out and watching you slip out of his hands. Your first date went as you’d expect– fighting a titan like being as you flirted with each other and stole a kiss or two in the air.

You both decided that you deserved a cheap, sugary and salty meal and grabbed food from burger mart, eating on the rooftop of a skyscraper, watching the sun set.

You laughed as he tried to stuff the fries into his mouth before they went cold and soggy, you let him have a sip of your soda– he drank from the same straw you used – your hands inching closer with each passing minute before they connected together with your lips, the sun was just setting, his mouth tasted like cheap burger and soggy fries, his lips soft and inviting as he followed your lead. The kiss was clumsy, filled with awkward chuckles and giggles, trying to angle yourselves properly, but it was yours. The moment, the kiss, each other's touch, it was all yours, he was all yours, the man that mad every hour of training and fighting villains worth it was finally yours.

Then he opened that stupid – pretty – mouth, 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but– are you a Viltrumite?”

You felt boiling water spill on your head, down to your whole body when your brain registered his words. 

He knew! He knew and he–

“How– How do you even know that?”

Without realizing, your entire body went rigid, your eyes wide and your heart was beating so fast it threatened to burst Mark’s eardrums, “I… guessed? Your powers are so similar to mine, the way you use them, the way your body moves in battle– and uh a gut feeling, you could say,” his explanation only made you realize how sloppy you had gotten around him, something a Viltrumite should never be, it’s all your fault, they’re going to find you, you need to get away now. 

You hadn’t realized how frantic your breathing had gotten, how much your body was shaking as your brain took a few seconds to realize you were being hugged and Mark was trying to talk to you. You took a breath and pushed him away, watching as his face contorted in worry, his eyes frantic as his mouth opened to say something, but you interrupted him,

“Are you going to take me to them? Why did you even let me kiss you if you knew– why did you let me so close if you knew? Oh god, I need to–”

“I’m a Viltrumite too!” 

His voice rang in your ears, his words ricocheting around in your brain as you finally process them, and you look into his eyes, “You… are?” you saw his form relax, and he shifted his body closer to yours, taking your hands in his as gentle as he could– god he’s so warm – “yes, that’s why I wanted to know if you were one as well, I’m not going to tell anyone if you don’t want me to–” he exhaled a shaky breath, “I could never allow anything to hurt you, and if you think this information is dangerous I will take it to my grave,” he pulled your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “you’re safe with me, baby, always,” you couldn't form words, you could only let him hug you as your body shook with each sob escaping from you, his soft words and gentle touches comforting you as you feel the weight of the world release from your shoulders.

He knew, he didn’t care, he still loved you. 

His face held such a gentle expression as he kissed you again, you felt like your body would shatter then and there.

Yet, your newly blossoming relationship wouldn’t have peace for long as they were here, the so-called Variants. 

Mark warned you to hide, that surely they would target you. However, you had a family to protect, a lover to defend, you simply couldn’t stand still and do nothing.

You leaped through the air like a bullet, your sight zoning on the variant not far from you as you took a deep breath and leaped down.

Mohawk Mark

His cackle as he was stomping some guys head in got cut short with a pained groan as you your feet landed on his back, the momentum from your leap making the hit more affective.

You squinted as the dust and the debris hit you in the face, along with the variants blood, your face scrunched up in disgust as you leaped back when you felt him move. He grunted as he got up, you turned your eyes to your back for a second to confirm that civilians were being evacuated. Good. You could fight properly, then. Your attention snapped back to him as he exclaimed your name with an astounded shout.

“Holy shit! You’re on Earth!?” 

When your expressions turned to a puzzled one, he sighed and put his hand on his hip– like you were the stupid one between the two of you.

“Y’know, you’re from the Empire, you never left, and you were sent to stop me but fell in love with me instead, duh!” 

“What the fuck are you talking about, spiky?” 

He barked a laugh at the nickname, “as foul-mouthed as always, aren’t you? Fuck, I missed that,”

You rolled your eyes, using the ground to gain momentum, bending your knees, forming an X with your arms in front of your face before leaping at him with full force. You both grunted in effort– well you did, his was from was pleasure unbeknownst to you – as you both went through the prison, concrete, debris, and the glass had you closing Yorubas to avoid damaging said organs, you really need them right now.

You coughed a few times while your eyes adjusted to your surroundings, breath ripping from your throat as you feel him kick you right on the stomach, which sends you violently flying through the building to the outside of it once again. You shake your head as you get up, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, this fucker was holding back, he was underestimating you. Your eyes locked on his with as much anger and spite you could muster as he whistled with that damn fucking smirk on his face, taunting you.

“Damn, you look as hot as I remember when you get angry like that,” 

You huffed, trying not to let his taunts get to you as he stepped closer, taking one, two as he sped up, and you blocked the incoming kick with your arms, hissing in pain as you got pushed onto your back to the ground, you planted your hands on the ground on the either side of your waist as you willed your body to get up, god your arms were burning– a gasp left you as the variant sat on your pelvis, planting himself there, unmoving even as your legs kicked. 

You finally looked up at him, his cheeks were dusted the faintest shade of pink as he looked down at you, his breathing hard as his chest moved up and down, pupils blown as wide as they could while drinking up your expression and how your body was twisting and turning to get away from him– he pinned both of your arms above your head with one hand, making you finally look at him fully instead of around him to look for an escape.

Fuck, “you look so fucking hot like that, I could get off just like this, what do you think hm?”

He cackled when he felt your entire body go rigid, “what, you a virgin?” he joked as his gaze never left your eyes, when your expression turned to one of shock and embarrassment, he felt his cock throb inside the spandex suit, “shit, you are!” he cackled once again when you looked offended but didn’t retort. He was right.

His face got so close to yours, your lips a breath away, “well, that dumbass should’ve been faster, then,” your eyes widened as he closed what was left of the distance between you as his lips latched onto yours. This wasn’t sweet, soft, or gentle like your Mark, it was rough, it hurt, it felt like he was tearing you apart in the best ways when his fang nipped your bottom lip– you groaned in pain as you felt him licking the blood seeping from the injury he made, your lips moving on their own as the smell, presence, and voice of Mark enveloped your brain, put a curtain over your judgment as said brain turned off, and your body took over.

You exhaled a breath when you felt his tongue enter your mouth, your body arching closer to him as you felt his chest rumble with approval. Your teeth and lips crashing into each other as your legs still kick at him as much as they can, he groaned every time you managed to hit him, the fucker likes it.

He chuckled breathlessly at your stupidly cute expression when he broke the kiss, he didn’t need to breathe but feeling your lips on his again felt so cathartic he didn’t give two shits about what Angstorm wanted from him anymore. You were as submissive, pliable and adorable as he remembered, with a lot less rough edges, but he could never complain when it came to you.

He’s taking you home.

No Goggles Mark

He squeaked in surprise as he felt your kick, hissing in pleasure as soon as he smelled you, disappointed when you bounced off from his back and landed in front of him with that expression that looked so sexy on you– he hasn’t blinked yet and that’s freaking you the fuck out. 

You watched in absolute confusion as he started giggling, biting down on his bottom lip so hard that it started bleeding, he didn’t seem to care about it though, getting up from the ground as those wild eyes never left yours. Okay, yeah, you were freaked out.

“Why the hell are you looking at me like–”

“How could I not? God, that was so fucking good, c’mon! Again! Again!”

You blinked a few times,

“You’re just gonna let me hit you–”

He groaned with impatience, “yes, yes I am! Fuck, come ooonnnn!” 

Well, if that’s what he wants.

You ran up to him and landed a kick right on his chest, he didn’t even blink, just watching you with as much attention a living organism could muster. It went on like this for a good 5 minutes, you hit, he moaned – which, hearing Mark moan that whiny did something to you that you do not want to unpack right now – you punched he begged for more, god you just looked and felt so fucking good. Your hits hurt so much, you actually broke a bone or two and the noise of them made you cringe, but they just made his cock throb and leak even more pre-cum inside the spandex suit.

You finally stopped to catch your breath as your foot planted him to the ground, his chest heaving and his body trembling with pleasure when you press your foot down harder on his chest, arching his body to get closer to yours. He looked down right mad, his face was bloody – his own, per his request – his hands now holding onto your leg, trying to reach your thigh as he slid himself up to get away from your grasp, he wants something more than this, and he wants it now. 

He yanks you down by the leg he was holding, – his heart rate spiking as he hears a sharp breath escape from your lungs – then, he does something that has your brain in alarm and your sex interested as he nuzzles your crotch with a groan. You try to push his head off of you, struggling to find words to make a retort or say something, as he pouts while looking up at you. 

“Whaaat? Don’t I get a reward for letting you have your fun?”

His fingers went to your waist, his nails digging in as you hiss from the sting and see him smile with those wide eyes looking up at you–

“The you from my world always let me have my fun when they were done with me, so c’mon,”

You swallowed thickly as you bit down on your lip, thinking of anything to say as you heard him huff and bit down a scream of pain when he dug his nails in to your sides and rake them down so he could see you bleed as he went down on you–

“Hmm, your body was always more honest,” he giggled as you hissed in pain when he dug his nails in the freshly made – by him – scratches, as he lapped on the crotch of your spandex suit like a dog. His eyes never leaving yours, just like how you’re never leaving again. Angstorm could go fuck himself, he got what he wanted, he’s taking you back after this.

[cosmic-crashout]

Can I request Viltrumite mark (the one without the mustache) I don't see much fan art of him TwT and I love him

Of course!! Yeah I don’t think I’ve seen much stuff of him either,

I wonder if he’d be gentle with a human reader, thinking them so weak he has to be careful for fear of breaking them, maybe he’d take them away and keep them inside a place where they couldn’t leave so they wouldn’t get hurt, humans are so fragile and get into trouble so it’s only natural for him to put them in an enclosure where they be hurt, after all humans can’t be trusted to take care of themselves

[kultofkorii]

— Otherworldly Differences

mark grayson x saiyan! reader

• fic type: oneshot & fluff

• summary: crash landing on such a feeble planet wasn't on your to-do list. although this being whose nearly as strong a you confronts you, so you decide to humor him.

• word count: 5.8k

• warnings: mild canon typical violence, threat of violence, blood

• a/n: As you can see I got really carried away. 🧍‍♀️I like DBZ and I like Invincible, so why not combine the two!! Also I've just started watching invincible so sorry if he's ooc.

A shrill, wailing sound yanks you from unconsciousness, vibrating through your skull like an alarm gone haywire. You groan, forcing your heavy eyelids open, and are immediately greeted by the acrid stench of burning metal and scorched earth.

Smoke billows around you, thick and suffocating, curling from the shattered remains of your ship—a twisted hunk of alien steel embedded deep in the cracked pavement.

Your head pounds in protest, a dull, throbbing ache pulsing behind your temples. You press a hand to your forehead, then glance down at yourself.

Dust clings to your skin, mingling with smudges of soot and dried blood. Your armor, now riddled with scorch marks and gashes, groans as you shift.

Damn. That landing must’ve been rough.

Muffled shouts rise above the ringing in your ears. Blinking away the haze, you finally take in your surroundings.

Small, weak-looking creatures encircle the crash site, clad in identical dark uniforms. They hold strange little metal sticks, aiming them at you like they actually expect them to do something.

“Put your hands where we can see them!”

“Step away from the wreckage!”

“You’re under arrest!”

You arch a brow, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. They think they can arrest me? That’s adorable.

With a groan, you push yourself upright, rolling your shoulders. A shower of debris crumbles from your armor, scattering across the crater floor. Your hair, wild and voluminous as ever, whips around your face as you stretch.

"Where in the name of Vegeta am I?" you mutter, voice thick with irritation.

The humans stiffen. Their fingers tighten around their weapons, eyes flickering between you and the destruction left in your wake.

The boldest of the bunch—a man with gritted teeth and an unfortunate mustache—steps forward, barrel trained directly at your chest.

“I said put your hands up!” he barks.

You tilt your head, gaze flicking over him with mild amusement. “Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

Apparently, he doesn’t. None of them do. Because instead of answering, they just keep shouting, their voices a frantic mess of demands and threats.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. This is exhausting. If they refuse to answer your questions, perhaps a demonstration is in order.

Your eyes scan the wreckage, landing on the nearest object of interest—a large, boxy vehicle with shattered windows and blaring alarms.

Without hesitation, you grab it by the undercarriage, lift it effortlessly over your head, and hurl it toward a nearby building.

Glass explodes outward as the car crashes through the structure, embedding itself halfway into the second floor. The ground trembles from the impact, sending fresh cracks spiderwebbing across the pavement.

That gets their attention.

“Holy Shit!”

“She’s a freaking alien!”

“No shit,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “Now, which one of you is in charge?”

Before anyone can respond, a gust of wind nearly knocks you back. A shadow streaks across the sky, descending at high speed.

You turn just in time to see a figure land in front of you, kicking up dust upon impact.

An array of yellow, blue and back filled your vision, toned muscles flexing between the tight material of a suit.

You recognize the stance immediately. A fighter. Interesting.

“You must be the problem everyone’s freaking out about,” he says, arms crossed. His tone isn’t immediately hostile—more wary than anything.

You grin, rolling your shoulders. “Depends. You here to challenge me?”

The guy blinks, visibly thrown off. “Uh, not exactly.”

You frown. “Shame. I was hoping someone here would be worth my time.”

Despite yourself, you’re intrigued. He’s strong—you can sense it. Not nearly Saiyan strong, of course, but there’s something different about him. Something… familiar.

He studies you just as intently, gaze flicking between your tattered armor, your battle-worn knuckles, and—most notably—the towering mass of thick hair atop your head.

His lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something, but he hesitates.

“I’m Invincible,” he offers instead.

You snort. “Bit cocky, don’t you think?”

He sighs. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

A beat of silence. Neither of you moves.

Then, cautiously, he gestures toward the chaos surrounding you. “Look, I don’t want to fight you.”

“That makes one of us,” you say, cracking your knuckles.

Mark exhales through his nose, clearly trying to be patient. “Seriously, can we just… talk?” He gestures at the wreckage, the police, the frightened civilians peeking from behind cover.

“You’re obviously not from around here, and you seem kinda… lost?”

You bristle at the implication. You are not lost. Saiyans do not get lost.

But.

Well.

You don’t exactly know where you are, and it’s slightly concerning that your ship is currently a pile of molten scrap metal.

“…Fine.” You roll your eyes, shoving your hands into the tattered remains of your belt. “But if this is a trap, I’m breaking every bone in your body.”

Mark exhales in relief, though the corner of his mouth quirks upward. “Noted,” he mutters. Then, more amused than he probably should be: “You always this dramatic?”

You smirk. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

His lips twitch, as if suppressing a laugh. Instead, he just shakes his head and gestures for you to follow.

You crack your neck, glance at the still-stunned humans, and grin.

Let’s see where this goes.

••••

You hate this place.

It smells like sterilization and fear, the kind of artificially clean air that makes your skin itch.

The walls are a cold, metallic gray, pulsing with dim overhead lights. The whole facility hums with electricity, the kind that suggests they have restraints for things stronger than humans.

And the way they’re looking at you? Like you’re a specimen in a cage? You really, really don’t like that.

You sit in a metal chair bolted to the floor, arms crossed, one leg bouncing slightly as you stare at the wrinkled man in front of you.

His name is Cecil. You’ve already decided you don’t like him.

For the past ten minutes, he’s been droning on, asking questions about your species, your ship, your intentions—like you owe him answers.

You’ve made a game of not responding, watching his patience wear thin.

“You’re really not gonna talk?” he asks, finally, voice dry as dust.

You smirk. “Why would I answer to someone who can’t even fly?”

Cecil’s face twitches. Across the room, Mark—Invincible, as he insists on being called—snorts.

He tries to smother his laugh, pressing his lips together, but you see the amusement flickering in his eyes.

Cecil doesn’t react beyond a slow exhale through his nose. He’s good at this, you’ll give him that. A lesser man would’ve cracked by now.

“I’ll be honest,” he continues. “You’re not our first alien visitor, and you probably won’t be our last. But if you’re planning to cause problems—”

You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table, flashing him a slow, sharp grin. “I am the problem,” you say, voice dripping with amusement.

“And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

The silence that follows is delicious.

Mark shifts slightly. You don’t need to look at him to feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body tenses like he’s preparing for you to lash out again.

You’re not going to—yet—but the fact that he thinks you might is amusing.

Cecil just sighs and rubs his temple. “Get her out of my sight.”

You stand, stretching with a dramatic groan.

“Finally. This room smells like weakness.”

One of the armed guards by the door stiffens at that, knuckles whitening on his weapon. You give him a slow, pointed grin before turning away.

Mark steps beside you, shaking his head. “You’re so charming,” he mutters, voice laced with dry amusement.

You flash him a smirk. “I try.”

He gestures toward the exit. “Come on, oh mighty warrior. Let’s get you some fresh air before you pick a fight with the janitor.”

••••

Mark insists you need to learn about Earth.

Assimilate, he says. Blend in.

You think it’s ridiculous. Why should you have to adapt to them? You are superior in every way—stronger, faster, smarter. If anything, they should be learning from you.

But… well. You suppose humoring Mark is preferable to rotting away in that dreadful government facility.

So when he insists on introducing you to “the best thing Earth has to offer,” you allow yourself to be dragged along, arms crossed and skepticism at full capacity.

Which is how you find yourself sitting in a place called Mama Luigi’s Pizza.

The walls are plastered with photographs of grinning humans holding enormous, greasy slices of something that looks like food but definitely doesn’t smell like anything worth eating.

The air is thick with the scent of melted cheese and sizzling dough, mingling with the faint tang of tomato sauce.

Mark places a box in front of you with a dramatic flourish. “Alright, first lesson in being an Earthling, food.”

You narrow your eyes at the offering. The circular dish is sliced into uneven triangles, topped with bubbling golden cheese and a thin layer of something red.

You poke it with a finger. It squishes slightly. “What is this?”

Mark sighs like he was expecting this reaction. “It’s pizza. Just try it.”

You glance at him, then back at the pizza. It doesn’t smell awful, but it looks so… soft.

Your diet consists of meat cooked over an open flame, raw energy rations, and the occasional alien delicacy that most species wouldn’t dare touch.

This? This just looks like melted goo on soggy bread.

“Do humans consume nothing of nutritional value?” you ask, lifting one of the slices and examining it like it might try to escape. “How does this pathetic excuse for sustenance fuel you?”

Mark groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not always about nutrition. Sometimes it's about taste.”

You snort. “Taste is secondary to power.”

“Okay, Y/n,” Mark deadpans. “Just take a bite.”

You sniff it warily, then, with great reluctance, sink your teeth into the gooey mess.

The moment the flavors hit your tongue, your brain short-circuits.

Salty, savory cheese. Rich, tangy sauce. The warm, crispy-yet-doughy crust. Your taste buds—so accustomed to the harsh, metallic tang of survival rations—practically explode.

You don’t mean to make a noise, but something between a hum and a low growl of approval rumbles in your throat.

Your grip on the slice tightens, fingers flexing instinctively.

Mark watches with interest as your pupils dilate. “...Well?” he prompts, smirking.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, you devour the rest of the slice in two bites, grab another, and tear into it like a starving beast.

Mark blinks. “Oh. Oh wow.”

The next few minutes are a blur. The pizza—this godly, divine creation—is disappearing at an alarming rate.

You don’t pace yourself.

You don’t breathe.

You just consume.

Mark leans back in his chair, watching in a mixture of horror and awe. “Uh, you do know you’re supposed to chew, right?”

You ignore him, grabbing another slice, cheese stretching between your fingers.

Mark’s brows shoot up. “Are you—oh my god, are you actually growling?”

You pause mid-bite, realizing that yes, you are growling—a low, territorial rumble vibrating from your chest. Your muscles are coiled, posture slightly hunched as if guarding your prize.

You force yourself to relax, clearing your throat. “Instinct,” you say, voice muffled around your mouthful. “Saiyan biology.”

Mark stares at you.

Then at the emptying box.

Then back at you.

“That’s terrifying.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, completely unbothered. “It is efficient.”

Mark gestures to the now nearly empty pizza box. “That was supposed to be for both of us.”

You glance at the single, lonely slice remaining in the box, then at Mark. Then back at the slice.

You grab it.

“HEY!”

You take an exaggerated bite, chewing slowly, making direct eye contact with him as you do.

Mark groans, slumping back in his seat. “I cannot believe I just witnessed a Saiyan discovering pizza.”

You swallow and grin. “Alright.” You gesture to the crumbs and grease-stained box. “This planet might have some value after all.”

••••

Mark insists you need to learn human customs if you're going to stay on Earth.

You think human customs are stupid.

“Just try to blend in,” Mark says as he leads you down a crowded city street, his voice already laced with exhaustion. “No throwing cars, no threatening people, and for the love of God, no fighting the barista.”

You scoff, ruffling your hair in annoyance. “If this barista dares disrespect me, they’ll have earned the beating.”

Mark sighs. “I’m begging you to be normal for five minutes.”

You don’t dignify that with a response.

The place Mark drags you to is small and cramped, filled with the scent of something bitter and the low hum of human chatter. Coffee shop, he calls it. You call it a waste of time.

The line moves painfully slow. You tap your foot impatiently, arms crossed, eyes scanning the ridiculous menu full of nonsense words like macchiato and venti.

“These names are stupid.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to understand them. Just order something.”

Finally, you reach the front. A young man stands behind the counter, looking more exhausted than Mark. His uniform is wrinkled, his expression blank.

He sighs. “What can I get you?”

You lift your chin. “Your strongest drink.”

The barista barely reacts. “Do you want that hot or iced?”

You narrow your eyes. “Is there a difference?”

Mark nudges your side. “Just say hot.”

You roll your eyes. “Hot, then.”

The barista punches something into his register. “Name for the order?”

You blink. “Why do you need my name?”

“It’s so we can call it when your drink is ready.”

You frown. “You mean I have to wait?”

The barista, clearly dead inside, just blinks at you. “Yes?”

You lean forward slightly. “Do you know who I am?”

Mark audibly groans.

The barista, now vaguely alarmed, glances at Mark for guidance. Mark shoots him an apologetic look before turning to you, voice dangerously close to pleading. “Just give him your name and be cool.”

You stare at the barista. The barista stares back. Then, slowly, you smirk. “Fine. My name is Y/N the Warmonger.”

Mark visibly deflates.

The barista, now beyond caring, just types something into the register. “That’ll be $4.75.”

You blink. “That will be what?”

“Four dollars and seventy-five cents.”

Mark pulls out a small green rectangle and hands it over before you can start breaking things. “I got it.”

You watch as the barista takes the rectangle, swipes it through a strange machine, and hands it back.

You lean over, voice low. “Did he just steal from you?”

Mark drags a hand down his face. “That’s how money works.”

“Money is a scam.”

Mark gestures for you to step aside as the next customer moves forward. “Welcome to capitalism.”

You huff, tapping your fingers against the counter as you wait. “How long does this process take?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

Mark shrugs. “How busy they are.”

You look around. There are only three other people waiting. “This is pathetic.”

“Do you have to say everything you think out loud?”

“Yes, I do.”

Mark stares at you for a long moment, then sighs. “Just… stand here and don’t start a fight.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I won’t start a fight.”

Mark looks at you like he doesn’t believe you at all.

Minutes pass. The baristas move at a snail’s pace, making drinks with far more effort than seems necessary.

Your patience—what little exists—wears thin.

Finally, someone calls, “Y/N the Warmonger?”

You smirk, stepping forward. “Ah, finally.”

The barista places a small cup on the counter.

You eye it. “That’s it?”

Mark claps a hand over his face. “Please don’t—”

You grab the cup and inspect it. It’s small—far smaller than you expected. And it’s hot, heat seeping through the flimsy material. You narrow your eyes at the tiny opening in the lid. “This is ridiculous.”

Mark nudges your arm. “Just take a sip.”

You do.

And immediately gag.

Mark snorts. “Not a fan?”

You shove the cup back at him, wiping your tongue on your sleeve. “It tastes like burnt dirt.”

“That’s coffee.”

“Why do humans drink this?”

Mark shrugs, taking a sip of his own drink. “Some of us like suffering.”

You glare at the cup. “This explains so much.”

Mark is laughing now, shaking his head. “Okay, maybe coffee isn’t your thing.”

You sneer at the cup as if it personally offended you. “I will destroy this establishment.”

Mark grabs your arm. “We are leaving.”

••••

Mark should’ve known better than to mention Halloween in passing.

The moment the words leave his mouth, you stop walking, whip around, and grab his shoulders so fast he barely has time to react.

"Wait, wait, wait—" Your grip tightens, eyes burning with intensity. "So you’re telling me there’s a day—a whole day—where I can wear anything I want, and people just… give me things?"

Mark blinks, looking mildly concerned for his well-being. "Uh… yeah? That’s… basically Halloween."

Your expression is deadly serious. "This is the best planet in the universe."

Mark sighs, prying your fingers off his shoulders. "You really don’t need to be this dramatic."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "I absolutely do. This is groundbreaking information, Mark. Do you understand how insane this sounds? Where I’m from, if you want something, you take it—or you beat someone into the ground until they hand it over."

"Yeah, we call that robbery," Mark mutters.

You ignore him. "But this? This is a sanctioned event?"

He shrugs. "Pretty much. Kids dress up, go door to door, and get candy."

Your head tilts. "Candy?"

Mark pauses, realizing something horrifying. "Wait. You’ve never had candy before?"

You raise a brow. "Should I have?"

Mark grabs you hand, a new found conviction stirring his heart. "Okay, new plan. We are absolutely fixing this."

The next thing you know, you’re standing in the middle of a store filled with costumes.

Mark drags you through the aisles, dodging plastic skeletons, fake cobwebs, and a disturbing number of severed limbs. You pick up a dismembered hand, inspecting it with mild curiosity.

"Humans celebrate death?" you ask, turning it over in your palm.

Mark huffs a laugh. "Kinda. Halloween’s all about spooky stuff. Ghosts, monsters, horror movies—"

"Horror movies?" you echo, dropping the fake hand.

"Yeah, it's filled with things that's supposed to be scary—like, creepy stories, jump scares, murder-y villains—"

Your eyes light up. "You have a murder holiday?"

Mark sighs, rubbing his temple. "That’s not—never mind. Just pick out a costume."

You survey the wall of options, eyes scanning the bizarre selection.

"What’s a ‘sexy nurse’?"

Mark chokes, face growing warmer. "Not that one!"

You grin, baring sharp canines. "Ohhh, so it's not just a murder holiday."

Mark groans, dragging you toward another aisle. "We’re not doing this."

After an obnoxiously long debate (and Mark vetoing several of your more violent ideas), you finally settle on something appropriately intimidating.

A black cape, sleek armor, and a terrifying mask with glowing red eyes.

Mark squints at the tag. "Darth Vader?"

You tilt your head. "This man—he was a warrior, yes?"

"Uh… kinda?" Mark hesitates. "More like an evil space dictator."

You grin. "So, a king."

Mark sighs. "I feel like I should stop you, but… honestly? You’re weirdly perfect for this."

You flick the cape over your shoulder, nodding in approval. "Yes. Lord Vader is ready to conquer this...Halloween."

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose. "Please don’t start referring to yourself in the third person."

You smirk, already deep in character. "Lord Vader does as he pleases."

Mark groans.

Hours later, you’re stalking the streets with a plastic skull bucket (Mark refused to let you carry an actual skull), and your energy is through the roof.

"Look at them, Mark!" You gesture wildly at the groups of costumed children. "They fear me!"

"They don’t," Mark corrects. "They think you’re cosplaying."

You scoff. "They should fear me."

"That's called fear mongering."

You ignore him, marching up to a door and pounding on it like you’re issuing a challenge.

A kindly old woman answers, beaming. "Oh, what a lovely costume! And who are you supposed to be, dear?"

You puff out your chest. "I am Lord Vader! Kneel before me, mortal!"

Mark, standing behind you, mutters, "I can't do this."

The woman chuckles, unbothered, and drops a handful of candy into your bucket. "Well, Lord Vader, enjoy your treats!"

You stare down at the loot. Then at Mark. Then back at the candy.

Your voice drops to a whisper. "It worked."

Mark claps a hand on your shoulder, smiling lightly at the child like wonder in your expression. "Welcome to Halloween."

••••

Mark fascinates you.

You don’t know when it happened, or how, but somewhere between the endless sparring matches, the insufferable Earth lessons, and the way he constantly calls you out on your arrogance, you started… caring.

It’s infuriating.

He’s not a Saiyan. He’s soft. Idealistic.

Sentimental in a way that would get him killed on any real battlefield. Yet, he doesn’t break. No matter how many times he's knocked down, he always gets back up.

He’s stubborn. Stupidly determined. And worse—so much worse—he’s kind.

And every time he smiles at you, your stomach does this weird thing that you refuse to acknowledge.

You blame it on Earth’s atmosphere.

You’re sitting on the edge of a rooftop, the city sprawled out beneath you, golden from the streetlights. It’s late—too late—but neither of you seems particularly eager to leave.

Mark leans back on his hands, staring up at the stars. “Y’know, I used to think I was strong.”

You snort, swinging your legs over the ledge. “Used to?”

He gives you a sideways glance. “Yeah, and then I met you.”

You smirk. “Ah. A humbling experience, I’m sure.”

Mark groans. “I hate that you’re so smug about it.”

“But I earned the right to be smug,” you counter, grinning. “Besides, I’m doing you a favor. You should thank me for showing you how weak you are.”

Mark scoffs. “Oh yeah, thanks so much, Your Highness. I love getting my ass kicked on a regular basis.”

You shrug. “You should. It builds character.”

Mark huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “You love messing with me, don’t you?”

You tilt your head. “Of course.”

“Why?”

You blink. The question catches you off guard.

Mark watches you expectantly, but there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you—less irritated, more curious.

You feel a strange warmth creeping up your neck.

You click your tongue. “Because you react.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

You wave a hand at him. “Most beings—weaklings—would just fear me, but you? You get angry. You argue. You fight back.” You smirk. “It’s entertaining.”

Mark shakes his head, exasperated but smiling. “You are so weird.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He leans back again, gaze shifting to the sky. “It’s not.”

Something in your chest tightens.

You don’t like the feeling.

The next time you spar, it’s different.

You’ve fought Mark dozens of times now, and it’s usually predictable. You win. He loses. He gets slightly better each time, but the outcome never really changes.

Except… today, he lasts longer.

His movements are sharper, more controlled. His dodges are precise. His counters actually make you work.

You grin, blood pumping, excitement thrumming under your skin.

“Finally,” you breathe, dodging a punch by a hair. “I was starting to think you’d never improve.”

Mark exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, well, I’ve had a very aggressive training partner.”

You smirk, throwing a kick that he barely manages to block. “And look at you now! Almost respectable.”

“Almost?”

You grin. “Let’s see if you can prove me wrong.”

He lunges again, and for the first time, you let yourself enjoy it—not just the fight, but him. The way he moves. The way he refuses to back down. The way he looks at you, like he’s actually enjoying himself too.

And then he smiles.

Not a smirk, not a cocky grin, but a real smile. Bright. Genuine.

And something in your stomach flips.

You stumble.

Not much—barely a misstep—but enough. Mark seizes the opportunity, slamming into you with enough force to send you skidding backward.

You catch yourself before you hit the ground, flipping midair and landing in a crouch. Your heart is pounding—not from the fight, but from the fact that you hesitated.

You never hesitate.

Mark grins, slightly out of breath. “Hey, did I actually get you just now?”

Your fingers twitch. You force your expression back to neutral. “No.”

Mark raises a brow. “Are you sure?”

You glare. “Absolutely.”

He smirks. “You totally hesitated.”

You stand up, rolling your shoulders. “You wish.”

Mark chuckles. “Oh, I know I did.”

You hate that he’s right.

You hate that you let him be right.

And most of all…

You hate that your stomach does that thing again.

••••

You don’t care about Earth.

That’s what you’ve told yourself, over and over again, ever since you crash-landed on this ridiculous planet full of weaklings. You don’t care about its people, its customs, or its foolish attachment to peace.

But then someone hurts Mark.

And suddenly, none of that matters.

It happens fast.

One moment, you’re watching him trade blows with some costumed idiot—some third-rate, no-name waste of oxygen who dares to think they can beat him.

And then—

Mark hesitates. Just for a second.

And in that second, the bastard slams a fist straight into his ribs with enough force to send him crashing through a building.

Your vision goes red.

Your usual smugness—your sharp, teasing quips—vanish. There's no room for anything but pure, feral rage.

You don’t think.

You react.

The air around you crackles as you launch yourself forward, faster than the fool can process. One second, they’re standing there, smug over landing a hit on Mark—

The next, you have them by the throat.

Their eyes widen, hands clawing at yours, feet kicking uselessly in the air. You squeeze, just enough to make them panic.

“You think you’re strong?” Your voice is low, almost a growl, vibrating with barely restrained fury. “You think you can just touch him?”

They make a choked noise, eyes bulging. You hate looking at them. This weak, insignificant thing that had the audacity to harm what’s yours.

Your grip tightens. The building behind you trembles from the sheer force of your energy surging outward. Hair flickering between its normal color and golden for a split second.

Mark coughs somewhere in the rubble. "Y/N—"

Your head snaps toward the sound. He’s trying to push himself up, one arm wrapped around his ribs, blood smeared across his cheek.

He’s looking at you now, eyes wide, expression torn between disbelief and something else—something softer.

You don’t like it.

You scowl, then turn back to your prey. You could end this fight right now. Just a little more pressure, and they’d be nothing but a crumpled mess of bone and flesh.

But Mark—damn him—is still watching.

And for some stupid reason, you care about what he sees.

With a growl, you throw the bastard across the street. Their body smashes through a lamppost before skidding to a limp halt. You don’t bother checking if they get up. If they know what’s good for them, they won’t.

The moment they’re gone, you stalk over to Mark, who is still gawking at you.

“Did you just—”

"Shut up," you snap, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to his feet.

He stumbles slightly, and you automatically shift to steady him, one hand gripping his forearm.

He’s warm under your fingers, his breath still uneven from the fight. His eyes lock onto yours, searching.

Your jaw tightens. "If you die, I’ll be very pissed off."

Mark blinks, then—despite the blood on his lip, despite the bruises already blooming across his skin—he grins.

“You care about me,” he says, tone dripping with amusement.

Your eye twitches.

"You care about me," he repeats, sing-song, like he’s delighted about it.

You shove him, hard enough to make him stumble back. "I will end you."

Mark just laughs, wiping blood from his mouth. "Yeah, sure. Right after you finish avenging my honor."

You hate him. You hate that he’s right. You hate that you let yourself care.

And most of all—

You hate the way your stomach flips when he looks at you like that.

••••

It’s late—too late for anyone else to be awake—but you don’t sleep much. Not like humans do.

So you sit alone on the edge of his rooftop, arms resting on your knees, staring up at the sky. The stars above are bright tonight, scattered across the inky black like shattered glass.

They stretch endlessly, far beyond Earth, far beyond this tiny planet with its weak gravity and fragile people.

Somewhere out there, a long time ago, there was a place you should have called home.

But Planet Vegeta is gone.

You don’t remember it. You were too young when it was destroyed, sent away before the blast could reach you. By the time you were old enough to ask questions, there was nothing left to return to—just empty space where your people once stood.

You should be used to it by now.

But some nights—like this one—your chest feels hollow.

The soft thud of footsteps behind you barely registers. You already know who it is.

Mark drops down beside you, not saying anything at first, just watching the sky with you.

The silence stretches between you, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected months ago.

Then, quietly, he asks, “You ever think about going back?”

You exhale slowly, gaze never leaving the stars. “Not really an option.”

Mark tilts his head. “Why not?”

Your fingers clench slightly. “Because there’s nothing to go back to.”

His expression shifts. "Oh."

You don’t like the pity in his voice. You shoot him a sharp glance. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t lose my planet—I never had it to begin with.”

Mark studies you, his expression unreadable. "Still. That’s… a lot."

You scoff. "I manage."

Silence.

Then, softly—“Then maybe Earth is your home now.”

Your head snaps toward him, expecting mockery, but there’s none. No teasing, no sarcasm—just sincerity. Just Mark.

He looks at you like it’s an obvious answer, like it doesn’t matter that you’re not human, that you don’t belong here.

For the first time, you don’t scoff.

“…Maybe.”

••••

Mark is fidgeting.

You’ve been watching him shift awkwardly in place for the past two minutes, and you can’t decide whether you’re more entertained or secondhand embarrassed.

His hands keep clenching at his sides, like he can’t decide if he wants to put them in his pockets, cross his arms, or just gesture wildly. He rubs the back of his neck so much that you’re convinced he might actually rub his skin raw. And the way he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot?

Pathetic. Yet...cute.

Your brow arches. “Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there looking constipated?”

Mark flinches like you just punched him in the gut. “I—I have something I need to tell you.”

You cross your arms, tilting your head, unimpressed. “Clearly.”

He takes a deep breath, like that might somehow help him, then lets it out in a rush of air that makes him seem even more stressed.

His shoulders are too tense, his expression too strained, and his heartbeat—oh, his heartbeat is practically hammering through his chest. Is he nervous?

He’s never like this during fights. Even when he’s getting thrown through buildings, he usually keeps his cool, and pushing through with sheer stubbornness. But right now?

Mark looks like he might actually pass out.

“So, uh…” He drags a hand down his face, sighing. “I think I—no, I know I—uh—”

Your smirk widens. You can’t help it. “Spit it out, Invincible.”

That seems to make it worse. He groans, eyes squeezing shut, head tilting back like he’s begging the universe for patience.

Then, he just blurts it out.

“I like you, okay? A lot. A lot more than normal, And I know you probably think I’m beneath you, but—”

You don’t think.

You act.

Before he can finish whatever self-deprecating nonsense he was about to say, you grab the front of his suit and yank him forward, crashing your lips against his.

It’s instinct. It’s reaction. It’s the only thing you can do when faced with something that makes your chest feel tight.

For a second, he freezes.

Then, he melts into it.

His lips are warm, slightly chapped, and he’s so still. You realize he’s holding his breath, and maybe you are too. The world around you fades into nothing, like the only thing anchoring you to reality is the heat of his mouth against yours.

And then it’s over.

You pull back so fast you nearly trip over your own feet, letting go of his shirt like it just burned you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your face—damn it, why does your face feel hot?

You clench your fists, resisting the urge to cover your mouth, your brain screaming at you for what you just did.

Mark just… stares.

His mouth is slightly open, his eyebrows raised, his lips still parted like he’s still processing what just happened. There’s a deep flush creeping up his neck, painting his ears red, but—he’s not speaking.

Oh, universe.

Why isn’t he speaking?

Panic creeps up your spine like a slow-burning fire. You shouldn’t have done that. What if you—what if he—

“…You kissed me.” His voice is dazed, barely more than a whisper, and that’s when you snap.

You stiffen, looking anywhere but at him. “You were—talking too much.”

Slowly—too slowly—something shifts in his expression. The stunned silence fades, melting into something smug. His lips curl at the edges, the flush on his cheeks still present but no longer uncertain. It’s a look of pure, unfiltered victory.

His voice is annoyingly triumphant. “You like me.”

Your entire body locks up.

“No,” you say immediately.

Mark steps closer. “You so do.”

“I don’t,” you insist, but the way you’re backing up is not helping your case.

Mark follows, his confidence growing with every second. “You totally do. Oh my god.” He drags a hand down his face, but it’s not exasperation—it’s exhilaration. “I knew it.”

“You don’t know anything,” you mutter, face burning.

He grins. “You are so cute right now.”

Your hands clench into fists. “I will end you.”

“Oh, sure,” he teases. “But not before I kiss you again.”

You whip around so fast your hair nearly smacks him in the face. “I hate you.”

He has the audacity to laugh. A full, bright, obnoxiously victorious laugh.

“No, you don’t.”

Your mouth opens—probably to snap something back—but Mark just leans in, smirking.

“If it makes you feel better,” he muses, “I really enjoyed it.”

You go completely still, face burning impossibly warmer.

Mark grins wider, “And I know you enjoyed it too.”

Your eye twitches.

He laughs again, and you hate how much you don’t hate the sound of it.

[swtheartz]

“ LIKE STRAWBERRIES. ” — M. Grayson

Part one Info : Suggestive content, implied spit kink, healer reader, reader is lowk oblivious, slow burn

W / C : 2k A / N : found the PERFECT strawberry divider off of pinterest from a rentry source i lit need to find it again because it’s sooo cute??? like what. anyway here’s ur guys’ treat eat up

You’ve noticed that Mark lingers.

Not even from a distance, either. No. He has to be a fucking weirdo about it. As pretty as he is, because handsome simply isn’t enough to describe him, he isn’t that bright when it comes to you. There is nothing subtle about it. Sam notices. Rex notices. And of course, Stedman notices. Everyone. Notices.

Except for Invincible himself.

And it pisses you off. Because for someone like him, he could at least be more aware outside of combat. You knew he was a dork, but not even you believed it to be this bad—it’s almost embarrassing. No, scratch that, it is embarrassing. Mostly embarrassing for you. Because Mark Grayson simply never. stops. staring.

Especially now.

“You redecorated,” Mark notes, staring at the newer posters on the wall and a new vase with honeysuckle placed inside as he sits on the usual bed you demand he sits on, waiting to be healed. “It’s nice.”

“If you don’t shut the hell up and let me work.” You groan, staring at the samples you’ve been testing. It’s something you’ve been working on for some time, a little over two months now. After accidentally crying over one of your plants, and yes it was because you’d been too busy to water it, you’d realized that it wasn’t just your hands that could heal. For now. . . You were limiting the experiments to tears.

Finding out new ways to cry was getting tiring, though. And your eyes hurt. If Stedman realized what you were working on, he’d be elated; in his own weird and subtle way. A more efficient approach to healing had been found simply because you forgot to water a plant.

To be fair, they were your prettiest African violets that you simply refused to let go of. And you could proudly say they were now thriving.

“What are you working on?” Mark questions, peeking over your shoulder as you test the percentage of how much is necessary for effective healing. You paused for a second, thinking about the fact you had a test subject right there. One that would be more than willing.

Slowly, you set down the tiny cup that had your tears mixed in with water, leaning back into our swivel chair with as calm of an expression that you could muster—before looking up at him through your lashes.

“Mark,” you hum sweetly, immediately, his eyebrows furrow. You’ve been calling him by his full name for half a year, and that was only because he begged you to stop calling him by Invincible for three weeks straight. The confusion in his face made you tilt your head, blinking innocently.

“I need you to test something for me. Nothing life threatening, unfortunately, but it is important. And I would rather be roasted on a spit than have anyone else test it.”

“. . . I feel like you’re trying to poison me.”

“If I wanted to do that,” you smile, grabbing a cup with a higher potency, “I would have done it the second time around when you ended up here. Just drink this.”

Mark takes the cup from your hand, incredulous and curious all at the same time. It’s clear that he’s going over his options here, and he’d much rather die than let someone else be your lab rat, you know that much. A sigh leaves him as he drinks it, and he blinks.

“It’s just water.” He mumbles, confused. It must be tasteless, maybe a little salty, but probably not even noticeable. At first, you think it’s a failure, before he makes a noise and that new gash on his cheek mends itself back together, the bruise on his neck from basically being choked fades away in a matter of moments. Not as quick as your usual method, but still effective and efficient.

The result is satisfying. Though, you sit in your chair and think about how you should’ve given him a lower dose just to study it for a little longer. Regardless, it’s still the effect of you, and that is more than enough in your eyes. Just. . . You didn’t want to waste time trying to make yourself cry and mixing it with water, just to heal some wounds on heroes that could surely wait it out. Heal naturally.

“What was that?” He seems almost dazed, still confused, but somewhat fascinated.

“My tears mixed with some water.”

“Wha-? Your tears? I just drank your tears?”

“I’m gonna try spit next time you come here,” you say absentmindedly, writing something down so you can store away the data for later and even more research. You believe you gave him some that had twenty five percent? Something like that. It’s a rough estimate, but a little more practice and you’ll get something more accurate. No, you don’t notice the way Mark nearly chokes on air at your blunt statement, having to stop himself from making any more noise.

He doesn’t want to ask if you’re serious or not. Knowing you, you’d just stare blankly at him and tell him to figure it out, so instead, he slowly nods and sits back down, finally letting you work in silence as he spaced out.

The next time he does end up there, you decide it’s perfect to test your newer mixture. Arguably, it’d worked pretty good on another plant that you had sacrificed, even better than it did on your beloved violets. It was nothing but a fern, but the result was amazing.

You were excited to see the results on a human. Hell, the first time you’d felt actual excitement in forever. This was, for the first time in a long time, something new. Saliva was most definitely your limit in this little experiment of yours, however, and then you’d let Stedman know of your discoveries after.

After—you have your fun with your annoying fucking lab rat.

“Are you sure this is safe? You could, you know, always heal me the usual way?”

“Mark, are you saying I have a nasty mouth?” You stare at him, holding the small plastic cup in your hand. You’d had the decency to mix it in with water, the same as you did with your tears, and figured he wouldn’t even taste it. The way he softens up as you say his name is something you can’t miss. But it is something you can ignore.

He shakes his head and sighs, but still seems reluctant.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. If my tears worked just fine, then I’m pretty sure this will too; this is just for confirmation at best.”

Mark stares for a few moments, before he ultimately takes the cup and stares at it. Now, usually, you can read him quite easily. He’s the type to have the worst poker face known to man, and you’re not quite used to the almost contemplative look on his face. It’s quiet for a few moments, before he drinks it.

Slowly.

Your nose scrunches at that, because whether or not he realizes it, he’s drinking it at what you consider a snail’s pace for no reason. Still, you say nothing, simply crossing your arms across your chest as he finishes. As you thought, the effect is much more immediate than it was with your tears. Quicker. Comparable to when you use your hands. A good result—hell, an even better result than you expected.

He takes a second, before shrugging. “Tastes like water.”

“It’s supposed to, dipshit.”

“Strawberries.”

“Yeah.”

“You were grocery shopping,” You glance between him and the random two pound container of strawberries he’d given you, dark red and ripe. “And decided that it’d be a good idea to get your coworker. . . Strawberries.”

Mark exhales, mask and goggles still on, yet you can tell he’s pouting.

“I would prefer it if you just called us friends.”

“We’re coworkers, Markus. And even calling us that is pushing it,” You roll your eyes, opening the container and staring at one of the larger, darker strawberries that looked just perfect enough to bite into. But you had some decorum. You were gonna go home, wash these, let them soak,  and try not to eat them in one sitting. You don’t like how well Mark has started to understand what your tastes were. Especially when you had made it such a point not to tell him anything.

“Mark. Just, for the love of whatever god is out there, call me Mark.”

“I condemn you, Grayson. I curse you.” The groan that leaves him at the fact he’s seemingly downgraded from his full first name back to last name nearly makes you crack a smile, but you refrain from doing so. Letting him know that you didn’t want him to perish in the slightest would make him want to be around more, and you needed to work, and you can’t work with a 5’11” man with pure muscle constantly in your personal space.

The GDA was swamping you with more patients, more frequent incidents, and now you feel like an office worker; which, as stupid as it sounds, is what you were trying to avoid by working here. What you hoped to avoid, because you were different. You were a goddamn healer.

The two of you stare at each other—at least, you’d like to believe it’s a staring contest. You can’t tell if he’s looking or not, but he sure can tell with the way you purposely hold eye contact, not even daring to look away. Like he deserved to be scolded for thinking about you when he saw some fruit.

“Would you have, I don’t know, preferred peaches or something?” Mark’s question is genuine, and he’s the one pinching the bridge of his nose this time, like a disappointed parent. You scowl at that. Again, you plop down in your swivel chair, glaring at him as you cross your legs.

He knows the answer to that. No, you wouldn’t have preferred peaches, even though you have a tendency to inhale any fruit placed in front of you. Strawberries were, frankly, put on a pedestal by you. It undeniably showed, and you didn’t like that one bit. You didn’t like being able to read. And while it isn’t your fault that he stubbornly refused to leave your side, refuses to stop analyzing and staring at you, you’re still upset.

“I want you out. I have work.”

“You always have work!”

“Of course I always have work, do you see what my job is?! You know what, I’m gonna feed these to your little brother in front of you, and then I’m gonna withhold him from you for the rest of the week.”

“His name is Oliver, memorize names. Please, just memorize names and use them,” he pleads, pulling his goggles and mask off with an exasperated noise.

“Oh, I know everyone’s names. And their birthdays, including yours.” You state bluntly, waving your pencil at him, “I just don’t care. I want you to know how stupid your hero name is, too.”

“To hell with you.”

“I cursed you first!”

Later on, Mark watches as Oliver eats the slice of strawberry shortcake you’d given him after the incident with the Mauler twins, which you’d given him in exchange for a promise that he’d listen to his older brother. He watches as Cecil takes you purposely out of earshot, watches the two of you argue, watches Cecil end the argument on his terms and walk away while you give a resigned shake of your head.

Later on, Mark can catch the scent of strawberries coming from your ward as you work late at night, and he smiles to himself. He remembers the taste of that diluted water you’d given him, uncaring for the healing factor of it.

He was more focused on the fact that you tasted like strawberries.

TAG LIST : @lxluvsmoney @koilikesthefishy @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha @tokoyamisstuff @pookiei-bookie @treeteaofversailles

[vampireimiko]

Mark Grayson (with a water bending partner) Headcanons !!

warnings, none :3

note, writing this made me wanna do my monthly atla rewatch 🫡

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He constantly asks you to show him cool tricks. “Okay, but what if you made, like, a giant water fist and—oh, oh! Can you surf on it?!” He’s basically your personal hype man ^_^

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Mark absolutely loves your powers, being able to control water and blood to your will? He watches in awe every time you demonstrate them.

He loves watching you manipulate water in combat. The way you fight is so smooth and controlled—it reminds him of the way he flies, always flowing, never rigid. "You’re literally the most badass person I know."

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He knows how you feel about your blood-bending powers and not wanting to use those unless necessary. He’s 100% supportive about it and can understand where you’re coming from.

 "I get it," he says, holding your hand. “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. And I know you—you’d never use it for the wrong reasons.” You were so grateful to have such a sweet boy in your life. 

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° That being said, if you ever do use blood-bending to protect yourself or others, Mark has a lot of feelings about it. Half impressed, half a little terrified, and fully in love. “Okay, that was both the coolest and scariest thing I’ve ever seen. Remind me never to piss you off.”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ °  Sometimes, if you’re distracted or deep in thought, the water around you reacts to your emotions. Mark has 100% been caught in a surprise wave because you got surprised by something he did.

“Babe, I love you, but if you don’t warn me before you do that next time, I swear—” He says, dripping wet as you try to hold back a laugh.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° You have used your abilities to mess with him before. Whether it’s making his drink float just out of reach or sneaking in a few cold water drops down the back of his shirt, Mark always falls for it. 

 “You did not just—OH, IT’S COLD!” Cue you laughing and running away as he tries (and fails) to grab you.

”I am so getting you back for that!” He’d giggle.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° If he ever gets injured, you’re the first one there, using your healing powers to heal minor wounds. He’ll pretend he’s fine, but secretly? He loves the way you fuss over him.

"Be more careful next time, Mark! This is such a careless injury! I cannot believe the nerve of you—!" And the whole time he’s sitting there with a dopey smile on his face as you scold and tend to him.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ °  You actually tend to scold Mark more than you realize, being the eldest sibling brought out that maternal side of you, and while he might grumble about it later, he secretly cherishes every bit of your protective concern.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° When you’re feeling down, Mark takes you somewhere peaceful, maybe a quiet lake or the ocean. Just so you can be surrounded by water. He knows it makes you feel more at ease. “Take your time, I’m right here.” 

Sometimes, if you’re feeling up to it, he’ll ask you to do something small with your powers like, creating tiny floating fish out of water—anything to bring a little light back into your eyes. And when you finally smile, even just a little, he feels like he won the day.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° IN CONCLUSION, Mark Grayson supremacy 😼

additional note ! im trying to get these requests out while my creative juices are flowing but school is actually pissing me off 🤒

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[arieswritez]

is this a safe space !

fuck it, i'll say it, anyway.

warnings; MDNI!! DARK CONTENT! yandere!underwear/panty thief mark grayson x gn!reader. thats it. that's literally it.

childhood friend mark goes through your hamper & steals your dirty underwear/panties whenever you're in the bathroom. he goes through your drawers, too, always making sure to take a clean one. just stuffs them in his pocket and smiles at you when you're back. and he's just soooo sweet and so cute you wanna pinch his fcking cheeks.

but when he's alone in his room, he locks his door and bites down on his lower lip until it bleeds to muffle the sounds he makes as he jacks off with your underwear/panties in hand. brings them to his face to smell you and the scent of you gets him right at the edge almost immediately. whenever he feels like he's about to cum, he grabs your clean underwear/panties and cums right against the seat of them.

then, when he's back at your place, he stuffs your dirty underwear/panties back into your hamper. and the underwear/panties he marked with his cum go into your dresser. he always makes sure to grab the most comfortable ones, too ;( white ones you wouldn't notice. . suspicious stains . . on.

and when the two of you are studying and you bend over to grab something. . mark catches a glimpse of white underwear peeking out from your waistband and nearly blows in his pants at the thought that his dried cum is snuggled up against your sex.

yea.

[digitald0rk]

SPOILED ROTTEN.

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader. [ established relationship ]

synopsis — in which you spoil your boyfriend mark with a well deserved warm bath and lots of love ♡ after he comes home tired from a mission, filled with doubts.

warnings — slight cursing. angsty? as in nolan continues to haunt him and his doubts, so mentions of blood. also gets kinda suggestive, mention of reader getting wet because im ovulating okay 0_o mark being babygirl as usual.

w.c — 2.1 k.

a/n — TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ON MY PREVIOUS POST OMG BSJHJMPS. ALSO THAT FINALE WAS SO GOOD! and i have a final in an hour LOCK INN. again, english is not my first language so apologies for mistakes in advance :D

knock.

knock.

a knock on your window? at this hour? well you know who that is, your beloved boyfriend, the one and only mark grayson or well invincible, invinciboy if you feel like being a little shit :]

as soon as you slide your window open he's on you immediately, almost knocking you down onto the ground as he clings onto you for dear life. his face in your neck and arms wrapped around you tightly almost as if he's afraid.

"baby?" you ask, concerned but slightly amused.

you're met with silence.

so you try again. "love?" a little less amused this time.

he doesn't say anything, breathing you in as he buries his head further into the crook of your neck, as if trying to fuse his body with yours.

then it hits you, ah the fight on the tv.

you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him, he's all tense. you know he's hurt, both physically and mentally. mostly mentally.

he was once again forced into a situation where he had to hurt someone again, badly. he had no other choice, it's not his fault.

"sweetheart, you know it's not your fault right?"

you hear him sigh, he nuzzles his head against your shoulder like a cat, the action making your heart flutter.

you can't help yourself but kiss his forehead, cupping his face gently like you're the viltrumite here, not him, like you'll break him if you're not careful enough, like he's the most precious thing in the whole world, screw that in the whole universe.

and to you he is indeed the most precious thing in the whole universe.

you look into his warm brown eyes which look so unsure, unsure of himself and it breaks your heart. your thumbs lightly stroke his cheekbones while you press sweet soothing kisses all over his pretty face, hoping to take away some of his pain.

your onslaught of kisses and affection does bring a soft smile on his face, he's holding back a giggle as you keep peppering kisses on his face, showing no mercy.

his eyes seem a little brighter now, which is progress!

playfully nuzzling your nose against his, his face still in your hands, you kiss the tip of his nose, laughing when his nose scrunches a little in reaction, god he's so adorable.

"i love you invincib-" you start cheekily.

"don't." he warns with a knowing look, a small smile still adorning his lips. he knows you too well.

"-boy" you're never gonna let that go, are you?

"oh fuck off" he lightly shoves at your shoulder, feigning offense before pulling you in for a kiss.

"love you too dumbass" the banter's back, he's already feeling so much better. how do you do it? he honestly doesn't know.

a few kisses and sweet words later, you're running him a bath. he can't say no to you, you both know this. plus he could really use a nice warm bath right now, he needs to relax his tense muscles.

you put in his favorite scented bathbombs and make sure the temperature is just right before telling him to get in.

he lets out a small bashful chuckle at your whistle when he strips out of his clothes, making a show of flexing his muscles somewhat cockily and almost ends up falling face first on the cold wet marble of your bathroom floor.

he's such a dork.

you can see the way his muscles relax under the hot water once he gets in, the way his face is all blissed out is actually really cute or maybe you're just crazy whipped for mark grayson, a bit of both maybe.

you sit on the edge of the tub, watching him almost doze off, he must be really tired.

gently carding your fingers through his hair, you can't help but admire him.

"my beautiful boy" you whisper, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

the little flustered giggle he lets out has become one of your favorite sounds ever since you've started dating him.

his pupils turn into hearts when you offer to wash his hair for him, you're so sweet, a literal angel.

he doesn't deserve you.

he's killed people.

he has blood on his hands.

he has a part of his father in him.

as you lather your favorite shampoo and work it through your boyfriend's hair, feeling giddy at the thought of his hair smelling like yours, you can't help but think he's being awfully quiet. it seems even the soothing sensation of you massaging his head oh so gently like that isn't enough to drown out the voices.

he's usually rambling about something, well it's either you or seance dog usually but still.

he's overthinking again, you're sure if you close your eyes and focus hard enough you could almost hear it.

"markus sebastian grayson." you say in a playfully serious tone, squishing his cheeks and leaning in a little to peck his now puckered lips because of you smushing his face with your hands, "stop thinking for a bit baby."

"what if i turn out like my father" he doesn't hold back, voice cracking a little.

"mark-"

"no, you don't understan- what if i end up like him? god what if i end up hurting you-"

a beat of silence passes before you speak.

"what if you don't? "

that gets him to stop, mouth agape, his gaze on you. he forgets what he was going to say and the way you're washing his hair, rinsing the shampoo out, your nails softly raking against his scalp just right, the way you put a protective hand against his forehead so none of the shampoo goes in his eyes, it does nothing to him to remember what he was going to say.

"you are not your father", you press a kiss to his forehead.

"just because you're his son doesn't make you him", then a kiss to his cheek.

"you are not undeserving of love because of something your father did, not you", then your lips brush against the spot between his eyebrows, easing the tension between them.

"your father's action have nothing to do with you, my love", you press small kisses to his shoulder, his neck, his chest, over his beating heart.

you hear him suck a shaky breath in at the action, his shoulders slightly shaking, the unshed tears releasing without warning in the form of a small sniffle, it rips your heart in two :(

"because you are you, you are still mark grayson no matter what."

you are going to be the death of him.

your lips gently brush against his before pressing firmly against his soft lips, hoping to convey more with a tender kiss than your words ever will, knowing they don't do your feelings for him justice. your lips move in tandem with his, he pulls you close by the back of your neck, your hands resting on his chest and neither of you want to pull away from this moment.

his grip on you is desperate, the kiss feels searing on your lips, your heart is pounding against your chest, convinced it's gonna beat right out.

you refuse to let go of him, hands sliding slowly up and down his body, almost reverently.

it's intoxicating and dizzying, you feel like you're floating with the way he's kissing you, like an inch of space is going to kill him.

when you do manage to get your gears working, eyes opening up a little, you gently wipe his tears, pulling away only slightly to breathe because you don't want to die- actually, on second thought, that's not a terrible way to go out.

"no- please-" he begs, don't leave him please. he's chasing your lips and slipping his tongue in your mouth, he needs this.

he needs you.

soft moans are muffled between your mouths, his hands are everywhere, everything's too much yet not enough at the same time, his touch leaves a trail of fire behind that leaves you wanting more.

and of course, he ends up "accidentally" pulling you in the bathtub with him.

"mark!" you let out a small squeal, followed by a small laugh from him.

"sorry babe" oh he sounds real sorry alright.

your attention falls on the small, thin string of saliva, still connecting both of your mouths, your heavy lidded eyes lock with his, he's all flushed, lips swollen and shiny.

"that was hot" he sheepishly admits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, all bashful like you aren't literally going crazy because of him. and now he's looking at you like you've hung the stars and the moon in the sky.

yeah, you're wet and not from the water i'll tell you that.

but that can wait, this night is all about pampering your beloved alien boy!

you see him open and close his mouth a couple times. words fail him, so instead, he grabs your hand and places a kiss to each of your knuckles one by one, a silent confession of the affection and love he holds for you that is downright overwhelming.

his eyes never leave yours, the whole thing feels raw and intensely intimate, no words are exchanged but rather they are felt, the unconditional acceptance from you and his immense gratitude, need no words.

"thank you" the sincerity in his voice is undeniable and so is the look of love in his eyes, that's reserved only for you.

you roll your eyes fondly when he playfully smears some of the bubbles from the bath onto your nose, typical mark behavior right there.

once he's all clean, both emotionally and physically for the night you help him out of the tub after getting yourself out first, trying and failing miserably not to stare at him. more like gawking but oh well that's his fault for looking like that okay.

he drys himself with the towel you gave him, wrapping it around his waist once he's done.

because of his earlier mischievousnes, you also had to change out of your wet pyjamas into new dry ones. his ass is not sorry about that, the annoying little smirk is proof.

the domesticity of it all however warms your heart, the way he's in nothing but a towel around his waist while you're in your pjs, brushing teeth together and giggling over dumb stuff, oh how you wish it could always be like this.

that little glint in his eyes is back again and you couldn't be more happy.

you even help him dry his hair with your trusty hairdryer, sitting him down on your bed as you work it skillfully through his soft hair which now smells like your shampoo, the blissful expression on his face is enough to make you melt right then and there. laughing when he shakes his head like a puppy, he's not beating the puppy boy allegations anytime soon. not that he minds as long as you're the one teasing him about it.

and he may or may not have a thing for you calling him that but you don't have to know that, well atleast yet.

he slips into a pair of sweatpants and boxers he left at your place awhile ago, picking you up easily and tackling you to your bed.

now it's his turn to return the affection, or well as sleepily as one can.

he kisses you like there's no tomorrow, like you're the only thing keeping him sane and alive, which wouldn't be too far from the truth.

good luck trying to tuck him in bed, he's so stubborn, "babe i'm not sleepy!" he says, he almost slept on your shoulder like a baby a minute ago. this fucker.

he's only doing this because he wants to spend more time with you, he still feels guilty, he knows he puts being a superhero over everything else, meaning he barely gets to send time with his beautiful partner.

however all those thoughts are out the window the second you trails kisses down his neck, his eyes flutter shut and he sighs, clearly pleased.

and when you do manage to tuck his ass in bed, a kiss to his forehead and countless "i love you's" are exchanged between you both, he rests his head on your chest and listens to your heartbeat, a firm reminder that you're here and all his to cherish.

he almost lets out a small moan when your nails gently scratch at his scalp and lightly at his nape, he loves when you play with his hair, nuzzling against your comfortable chest. he's in heaven.

soon enough he surrenders himself to sleep and to you, one last kiss right over where your heart is beating which belongs to him and him only, the action making your breath hitch and chest tighten with affection and before you know it, he's out like a light.

he's so grateful to have you. he knows he doesn't deserve you, eventhough you say otherwise but he'll be damned if he ever lets you go.

you're all his.

and he's all yours <3

and yes, he will drool all over your chest like a baby so good luck with that :3

© digitald0rk 2025. please do not steal / repost any of my work! thank you for reading :] want more? click here ★

[fungifaggot]

Sub!Mark Grayson Smut ABC's

A/n: Tried to keep it gender neutral, but it’s heavily implied to be male reader (reader has dick/strap)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*: ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mark is adamant on doing most of the aftercare, even if he bottoms

"it's just easier if I do it" he'll claim.

And before you can even protest, he’s already moving- using his quick-flight abilities to change the sheets, clean you up, and fetch water for you both, all in the blink of an eye.

Other than that, aftercare is all warmth- consisting of soft praises, gentle touches, and the comforting weight of his body in between your arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Mark loves your hands, he wants to feel them around his neck or in his hair during sex. He wants to watch you jerk him off and glide your long fingers in and out of his puffy hole.

Even outside of sex the warmth of your touch is a quiet comfort. Whether your fingers are laced with his or resting gently on his thigh, it grounds him in a way you don’t realize.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Mark is an absolute cum slut and you can't change my mind.

He loves the flavor of it and will lap up anything that dribbles from your slit.

He's not a big fan of facials, because they're dirty and he doesn't like the feeling of cum drying in his hair, but aside from that, he's more than happy to feel you cum on his tummy or all over his back.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Mark enjoys dominance play, regardless of whether you have powers/are as strong as he is. He gets excited when you’re combative- he especially likes when you thrash and kick at him.

Secretly he wants you to fight back and take control over him- muzzle him, tie him up, and put him in his place like some sort of mutt- but he’s too embarrassed to ask.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mark isn't very experienced. He's watched plenty of porn and he learned a bit during his relationship with Amber. However, he never bottomed before you came along, so taking his anal virginity was a process that you had to help walk him through.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Now I know this is a boring answer, but Mark loves missionary- regular missionary, laying down sideways, or up against a wall. Anything that involves making eye contact with you really.

(He'll still let you hit it from the back though, he knows how much you love his sculpted ass.)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Mark has always been a little awkward when it comes to anything romantic. Especially in the beginning of your relationship, he struggled to take sex seriously- not because he didn’t like it, but because bottoming for you was intimidating. To ease his own nerves, he’d crack jokes or laugh at himself whenever he did something embarressing, hoping to mask his fear with humor.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Mark doesn't grow a lot of body hair in general. His chest is completely bare and he is hardly covered on his arms and legs.

He keeps himself trimmed but not fully shaven.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like I said before, in the beginning of your relationship Mark was especially awkward and goofy during sex.

But over time- through a handful of near-death experiences and tragedies- he’s come to understand the beauty of intimacy. He knows now that every time you have sex it could be the last, making each touch, each whispered word, all the more precious.

Sometimes, when you hold him close while fucking into him, he swears he can feel your souls collide as if in that moment, he understands all of your thoughts and feelings more deeply than anyone else ever could.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Mark Grayson may be a Viltrumite, but at the end of the day, he’s still human- a young horny human.

Mark jerks off daily, even with how busy his schedule is.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Mark has a praise kink.

The poor boy is always so stressed and overworked, sometimes all he really needs is a few words of reassurance from the person he loves.

He never realized how much he craved praise until he met you.

The first time you held him close, whispering sweet nothings into his ear while bullying your way inside him, he felt something shift. Overwhelmed by the warmth of your words, he teared up, letting the euphoria wash over him. Cumming all over himself as tears dribbled off his chin and onto his chest.

Since that night, you’ve made a conscious effort to shower him with kind words, knowing just how much they affect him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Literally anywhere that isn't his mom's house.

He'll fuck on the bed, on the couch, on a counter, on the floor, in your car, or in a secluded public area- he doesn't really care he just doesn't want to be caught.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mark loves the sound of your voice. Dirty talk him in public or whisper praise into his ear and he'll be so embarrassed.

Besides that, just looking at you is enough to get him worked up. He loves the sight of you after a workout- all flushed, sweaty, and glowing. And fresh out of the shower? That might be his favorite view. He loves to see you wearing nothing but a towel with your v-line just barely poking out.

Watching the beads of water drip down your abdomen and on to the floor will have him on his knees almost instantly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won't outright say no, but Mark doesn't like wearing his suit or roleplaying during sex.

He spends so much of his life hiding behind a secret identity, with you, he just wants to be himself. He doesn’t want to be Invincible- he just wants to be Mark.

(if he comes back in a ripped suit though its free game- its not your fault he looks so good after getting his ass beat.)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This boy is a munch- no questions asked.

He will be on his hands and knees for you before you can even get a word in.

He enjoys receiving too, dont get me wrong. He loves the view of you engulfing his cock in your mouth. He loves the warmth of your lips and the way your moans make him shiver, but nothing beats the weight of your cock in his mouth.

Sometimes after a hard day he'll want to cock warm you with his throat, sucking you down to the base and keeping you there while he rests his eyes or scrolls on his phone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both- depends on the day.

Slow intimate sex with Mark is great, but more often than not the two of you are pent up and will fuck like rabits.

Mark is insanely resilient. You can be as rough as you want, and he will never even think about tapping out or making you slow down.

Slap him, spank him, whip him, choke him, spit on him, tug on his hair- literally no matter what you do he can handle it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

The both of you are very familiar with quickies. You probably have more quickies than you do actual sex. Time with him is often cut short because that god damn beeper is always going off.

The two of you will usually attempt to squeeze out at least one quick orgasm every time you're left alone with each other.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Mark hasn't really had the chance to explore his own kinks, so the more time he spends with you, the more he begins to understand what he’s into.

He wouldnt like anything outright disgusting and he’s definitely not an exhibitionist. However, other than that he’s willing to explore pretty much anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Marks stamina is genuinely never ending. He could pump out load after load after load and will have barely worked up a sweat.

If he had the time and if you could keep up he could probably go at it for a full 24 hours.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s never owned a sex toy before, he’d rather be caught dead than have Debbie stumble across it while cleaning his room.

From what he’s experienced with you, he enjoys cock rings and vibrators.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not a major tease, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know what you like and won't use it to his advantage.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When you’re having rough sex- lots of incoherent babbling and loud moans

alternatively- during slower nights lots of suppressed groans and quiet whimpers close to your ear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Mark can be a crybaby. Sometimes he’ll shed tears from the overwhelming pleasure he’s feeling. Other times he cries from the weight of his responsibilities, shedding tears as you help him relieve his stress and replace it with pleasure.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Relatively average in length- like 5 1/2 inches but girthy and veiny.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Mark is young and relatively inexperienced so he is extremely eager to fuck.

At some points he’s practically begging for you dick him down- and if you complain about being too tired he’ll ride you until you physically cant take it anymore.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can fall asleep after if he tries, but sex doesn’t necessarily make him tired.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*: ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡

A/n: These head cannons are self indulgent don’t shoot me if you disagree ;)

[xjulixred45x]

INVINCIBLE

English

Rant about AU Yandere!Mark

Some situation with AU Yandere Mark Grayson/Invincible

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Starfire Reader (Drabble)

SinisterMark Grayson/Invincible x Evil Reader (Drabble)

Platonic Yandere! Sinister Mark Grayson/Invincible x Gn! Younger Sibiling Reader

Platonic Yandere Mohawk Mark Grayson/Invincible x Sibiling Reader: You..(Drabble)

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Scarlet Witch! Reader

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Raven! Reader

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Yui Komori! Reader

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Viltrumite! Male Reader

Immortal x Immortal! Reader: Eternity

Español

Lluvia de ideas sobre AU yandere Mark

Algunas situaciones con el Yandere!Mark Malvado/Invencible

Mark Grayson/Invencible x Starfire Lectora (Drabble)

AU sinister! Invencible/Mark Grayson x Lectora Malvada

Yandere Platónico Sinister Mark con hermano lector

Yandere Platónico Mohawk Mark x Mainstream! Lector: tu...

Mark Grayson/Invencible x Lectora Bruja Escarlata

Mark Grayson/ Invencible x Lectora Raven

Mark Grayson/Invencible x Yui Komori lectora

Mark Grayson/Invencible x Lector Viltrumita

[invoncible]

I’d love to see Invincible!variants meeting OG reader with powers/super strong because in their world, their reader is normal. I’d like to see their reaction when they’re expecting someone weak and then they suddenly fly off or get decked in the face!

INVINCIBLE VARIANTS & reader who can put them in their place ✧˚. ft. nogoggles!mark, mohawk!mark, viltrumite!mark, the surviving 8 cw. canon typical violence

— this is so funny ily nonnie but uhh rereading this i feel like i lost the plot, hope u enjoy nonetheless lol <3 ! — reader is with MAIN!mark & has scarlet witch type powers

when multiple versions of your boyfriend were zipping around the planet causing indescribable amounts of destruction, you were a little confused. all of these guys... were mark? what mark could've been if things went a little different?

you held back a little when fighting them because they had the face of the boy you loved so much, but after seeing them in action... they had to go.

you were flying beside your mark, the only good one apparently, when cecil barked in your ear.

"y/n, i need you." your comm buzzed to life with cecil's instructions.

"kinda busy, cecil." you muttered under your breath.

"please, i know you're done with me. i know both of you are. but don't turn your back on the people who're in danger."

"what does he want?" your mark snapped, the distaste evident on his face.

"help." you answered him with a sigh, your moral compass guilting you into seeing where you were needed. you promised mark you'd be back soon.

"just tell me where the problem is." you shot back at cecil.

NOGOGGLES!MARK

"i need you at guardians' HQ."

you narrowed your eyes in concern. "the guardians are down?"

"it's a batshit crazy version of mark, what do you think?"

you rolled your eyes and rerouted your flight path to guardians' base. within minutes you warped right in the middle of the action.

"what the fuck..." you whispered in horror. kate and her duplicates were out, shapesmith was ripped in half—immortal was the only one still going and even he was struggling.

"nice, they sent someone else!" mark stopped immortal's punch nonchalantly with one hand, grinning down at you from where he hovered in the air. he squinted then gasped, throwing immortal to the ground.

"y/n? why would they send you?" he floated down to you, approaching you like a wild animal.

"you know me?" you stalled, eyes darting around your periphery to make sure that the others were at least alive.

"do i know you?" he laughed, figuring that was a good enough answer to your question. he circled around you with an approving hum. "aww, you playing dress up? i like this color on you—"

activating your power, your tendrils of chaos magic snaked around his body, picking him up and throwing him across the room. you flew to where he landed, lifting the debris of his prior battle telekinetically and sending the slabs of concrete crashing into his body.

your feet touched down on the ground as you walked calmly towards his fallen body squirming under the projectiles. he shot up and out of the pile of rocks with a feral grin on his face.

"holy shit. you're nothing like my y/n." he set his fists and accelerated towards you.

you stopped him with the raise of your hand. his punch stuttered in time and space as he tried his hardest to push past your power and land a good one. you ducked under him, yanking at his ankle and slamming him to the ground so hard he bounced.

"yes," he chuckled lowly, wiping the blood dripping on his chin. "yes. can i take you home with me?"

"no."

"i'll fight you for it," he stood up, rolling his neck. you cringed when you heard the cacophony of cracks that followed. "wanna fight me for it?"

"s'not gonna be much of a fight." you smiled, shifting your weight before taking off again, gaining altitude and using your power as a jet engine to collide your leg with his face.

to your shock and horror, he just stood there and took it with a smile, his body skipping across the floor like a rock over a lake .

"oh..." he grinned, sliding to a stop and licking the blood off his teeth. "oh. i love you."

you blinked in confusion, tilting your head. your body warmed as you channeled your power again, a ball of energy accumulating over your palm. "i'm... going to kill you."

"i know!" he laughed, punching his fist into his palm as he got hyped up again. "that's the best part."

"you're actually enjoying this." you meant it as a question, but there was no room for debate. this mark was 100% delighted by the fact you were trying to kill him.

mark swayed on his feet, blood dribbling from his split lip. his breathing was uneven—you couldn't tell if it was from exertion or excitement—and of course that fucking grin was still there.

"you’re so fun," he groaned, licking his teeth. "i love my y/n, but i bet they could learned a thing or two from you—"

you didn’t let him finish. with a flick of your wrist, your energy surged forward, wrapping around his throat. his words choked off into a strangled gasp as you lifted him into the air.

"i'm not them," you said, voice steady even as you watched him gasp for air.

then, with a sharp twist—you snapped his neck. his body dropped to the floor, limp. you stared for a second, waiting for any signs of movement. nothing. finally, you let out a breath and turned away.

"ugh..."

you froze and spun around. his voice was wet, choked with laughter.

"you're not making it easy to stay away from you."

MOHAWK!MARK

"the penitentiary. prison's getting ransacked."

you were at the scene within the minute, zapping into existence just to see mark with a fuckass mohawk fighting off some heroes tasked with taking him in. they were unsuccessful of course, as when you arrived they were in piles of limbs and blood on the concrete.

his eyes flickered to you, widening in recognition. "y/n..?"

you raised your eyebrow. guess he knew you, or a version of you in his world. it didn't matter to you.

he lit up and tossed a severed hand to the side. "oh, hey!" he walked towards you. "what're you doing here, babe? i know you love when i go crazy but this is a biiiiit dangerous—"

you restricted his movement, pulling him towards you with your magic. you squeezed and squeezed until you heard his breath hitch. "i'm not your y/n."

"yeah, i can see that." he crooned, feigning an impressed tone. "you got a little power now? if you wanted me close, you don't have to be rough. just ask. i'm happy with any version of you." he failed to hide his little grunt, squirming in your hold.

if your grimace was any indication of your sentiment, he didn't take it to heart. he took it as motivation. he broke through your magic, pummeling through the air towards you. unfazed, you slapped him off course with a bolt of magic. he crashed into the wall with a groan.

mark stood up, the dust and rocks falling off his back. "my y/n was a sweetheart."

"i can be sweet," you mumbled more to yourself, brows furrowing as you strategized how to finish him off quickly.

"just not for me, though." mark grinned. "i see how it is. is it the hair?"

"kinda." your eyes flickered up to his hair and you couldn't stop the little smile on your face. all you could think about was your mark with that style. it worked on him, not that you'd admit it.

you picked him up and slammed him down, picked him up and slammed him down again, over and over until he was hanging limp in the air.

satisfied, you synthesized restraints from imagination and fastened them over him. you barely climbed out of the sunken crater you carved with his body when he coughed up blood, eyes fluttering.

you pressed a finger to your ear. "cecil, send someone else to bring this guy in. i've got to get back."

"you just gonna throw me around and leave?" he scoffed, words slurring together from the beating.

"someone's gonna take you in, and you're gonna tell us everything about how you got here." you sigh and barely spare him a glance over your shoulder.

"i won't talk." he sang teasingly.

"you will."

"i'll do it maybe if you come a little closer." he egged you on, a stupid little smirk on his face. "got something real special to say to you."

"shut up."

he groaned petulantly and started to push against your magical binds.

"stay." you narrowed your eyes.

his eyes darted up to yours, staring for a moment before huffing a short laugh. he leaned back against the caved-in pavement, man-spreading and getting comfy against the slope. "yes, ma'am."

VILTRUMITE!MARK

"he's off fighting spawn. the poor guy's probably already dead."

"got it."

"watch out for this one, y/n, he's..." cecil sucked in a breath. "i dunno. full viltrumite indoctrination?"

"i can handle him." you reassured him before phasing over to the variant's location.

you watched as he ripped the hero apart, flying him into the highway below for good measure. you soared down behind him, saving all the cars that were launched from the road and setting them down at a safe distance.

mark watched as the cars were gently rescued. he turned around like he had all the time in the world and looked pained upon seeing you.

"please no." he sighed softly. "they shouldn't have sent you."

"why not?" you humored him, stepping gracefully over the rubble.

"i won't stop all this. not even for you, my love."

"i'm not your y/n..." you pursed your lips, getting a faint sense of deja vu. you felt like you said this a few times already.

"don't worry, it'll be over soon. why don't you wait all this out—"

you teleport before he can finish, reappearing behind him mid-air. a surge of energy coils around your hands as you slam a concussive blast into his back. he stumbles forward, muscles tensing from the impact.

he spun around in a flash, hand gripping your throat as he shoves you back-first into the nearest building. the collision sent shockwaves rippling through the complex, glass shattering, debris crumbling to the ground.

"cute tricks." he breathed against your ear. "this is new. but don't make me fight you."

you stabbed your fingers into his pressure points, channeling your power through his nerves. his grip faltered for a fraction of a second, enough time for you to flip, plant your feet on his chest, and kick him off you.

mark spiraled back, barely catching himself mid-air. he wipes the blood from his lip from being effectively electrocuted, chest rising and falling.

"join me," he whispered, watching you in awe. "join me. we can rule the universe together."

"the fact that you think you can ask that and get a good answer proves that you don't know me at all."

"i do."

"you don't."

"we could have everything." he floats towards you. "power. control. be reasonable, won't you?"

you phase behind him again, placing one hand on his back and charging up your energy. he tries to turn around, but you're a second faster, releasing the pent-up force directly into him. mark grimaces in pain as the blast sends him spiraling into the air, flipping and tumbling before crashing into the ground below with a deafening thud.

you crashed onto the ground, unwilling to let him have another opportunity to get up. he saves you the trouble and holds a hand up in surrender.

"i won't fight you." he says simply.

you shake your head incredulously. "it's not a choice."

"i'll come find you when this is all over." he dismissed you easily, walking off your attacks.

"what—?"

he took off at supersonic speed, leaving you in the dust.

THE SURVIVORS

"they're all hovering over mark's house."

"what?! is—"

"debbie and oliver are fine. they're safe elsewhere." cecil cut you off.

you groaned and teleported over to mark's house. unfortunately, they were in your usual spot, hovering over the roof. you hung there in the air for a split second before they all pounced on you.

"we can't all have a y/n, can we?" full mask mark exclaimed, being the first to grab you and spin away from the group with you hidden safely behind him. "i'm taking them and mom back with me."

"you lost mom and y/n?" omnimark shook his head, like a father disappointed in a child. "how can you be trusted with this one?"

you narrowed your eyes. "i'm literally right here—"

"shut the fuck up." prison mark snapped at full mask mark, pushing past omnimark and jabbed a finger at the soft one of the bunch. "i'm tired of your bitching and whining. keep mom, i guess, i don't fuckin' care. but give 'em back."

"i hate you guys." sighed omnimark.

"who said you were getting them?" unmasked mark scoffed and crossed his arms.

"no one's getting me." you broke up the fight, momentarily forgetting that they were all mass murderers just cuz they had your pretty boyfriend's face.

"yeah, cuz you'd rather settle for that stupid fucking mark from this world."

"why'd you say his name like it's a slur?" you deadpanned. "aren't you all technically mark?"

"we're getting off topic." omnimark held out a hand to calm the congregation. "for what it's worth, i have my y/n safe and sound back home—"

"oh for fuck's sake."

© invoncible

[ambcass]

Hi! I was wondering if I can request mark grayson dating a fem!reader who’s like raven from dc? Like powers and all that also maybe can she have a soft spot for kids and mark? (May it please be hc’s? Please and thank you🫶🫶🫶)

okay!! i made these lowk gn reader but there's some parts that show reader is fem.

🍂 ᴍᴇᴛ ʜᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴀʀᴋ. ʜɪꜱ ᴠɪʙ�� ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ…ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ.

🍂 ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʙᴀʙʏꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ! ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴋɪᴅꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʜᴇʟᴘꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀʙʏꜱɪᴛ. ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪᴅꜱ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴅᴅɪᴇꜱ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴏᴍᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴅᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴋɪᴅꜱ.

🍂 ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ ᴀᴛ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ.

"ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰʟɪɢʜᴛ, ᴛᴇʟᴇᴘᴏʀᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴘᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴏɴɪɴɢ, ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴀꜱᴛʀᴀʟ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ… ᴇᴛᴄ." ʜᴇ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ.

"ʏᴇꜱ, ʏᴇꜱ, ʏᴇꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ! ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ?" ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴀᴜɢʜ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴊᴀᴡ ᴅʀᴏᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴏʀ.

🍂 ᴘᴀᴛʀᴏʟ ᴅᴀᴛᴇꜱ>> ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʙᴜꜱʏ. ᴍᴀʀᴋ'ꜱ ʙᴜꜱʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ʏ'ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴜꜱʏ? ᴘᴀᴛʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ!! ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʙᴜʏɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱɴᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ. ᴘʟᴜꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ꜱɪᴅᴇ.

🍂 ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏ ɪ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴀꜱᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ʀᴀᴄᴇ? ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ. ꜰʟʏ ʀᴀᴄᴇ? ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ? ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴇʟᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴀᴅ, ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ-ᴇʏᴇᴅ, ꜰʀᴏᴡɴʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ.

🍂 ᴅᴀʀᴇ ɪ ꜱᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ? ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʙᴀʙʏꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ? ʜᴇʟʟ ɴᴏ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜʏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴅᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜʏ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ (ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴅᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ.)

🍂 ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛ, ᴍᴀʟʟ ᴅᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ. ʜᴇ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪᴄ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ. ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ꜱʜᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜱᴋ ʜɪᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴ ᴏᴜᴛꜰɪᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴏɴ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʙᴜʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ. ʜᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪꜱ ɢɪʀʟ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ.

[graywaynewriter]

Would you write gn!reader x mark meeting at UU perhaps during a class and hitting it off 😌 season 2 mark has me in a chokehold

Classmates

A/N: OH believe me ik what you’re talking about 😫

It wasn’t exactly the most exciting lecture, but you were trying your best to stay awake. The professor’s voice was more of a steady drone than anything else, and your notes were slowly turning into doodles on the side of your page.

You glanced around the lecture hall, hoping for some kind of mental reset, when your eyes landed on someone sliding into the empty seat beside you — a guy you hadn’t seen in this class before. Messy dark hair, warm brown eyes, a backpack slung over one shoulder like he hadn’t decided whether he was staying long or not.

He gave you a quick, slightly awkward smile as he settled in, and somehow, it was way more charming than it had any right to be.

"Hey," he whispered, glancing toward the front of the room before leaning slightly toward you. "This is Intro to Political Science, right?"

You bit back a grin. "Yeah. Unless we’re both in the wrong place."

He chuckled — a low, genuine sound — and you felt the corner of your mouth tug upward in response. Something about him felt... easy. Familiar, even though you’d just met.

"I’m Mark," he said, offering his hand for a quick shake under the table, like you were sharing some kind of secret.

You took it, feeling a little spark of excitement you couldn't quite explain. "Nice to meet you, Mark. I’m Y/N"

Maybe this class wouldn’t be so boring after all.

Now, the political science class was indeed very boring. However, sneaking in small jokes during the lecture made the two hours pass much more quickly. At one point, the class had fallen silent, and Mark accidentally chuckled from a note you had passed to him.

After class ended, you both replayed those moments in your minds, finally letting out a joyful laugh.

“Oh my god, my stomach!” Mark embraced himself by a wall as he laughed at a joke you had made about the professor’s taupe.

As you laugh at your own joke and Mark’s reaction, he had suddenly asked

“Hey, would you like to grab some coffee? There’s a really nice place just across the street from campus,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder without specifying a direction. You couldn’t help but feel a slight blush at his offer. Of course, he was incredibly attractive—tall, intelligent, and incredibly sweet. Compared to many of the guys here, he was actually pleasant to interact with.

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart picked up at the offer.

“Yeah,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steady. “That sounds nice.”

Mark’s lips curved into a smile before he motioned for you to follow him.

“C’mon. It’s not far.”

-

The two of you crossed the campus lawn, weaving through clusters of students. The sky had shifted into that late-afternoon gold, and everything around you felt a little softer, a little slower.

For a few steps, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. If anything, the silence felt easy—comfortable in a way that surprised you. Mark shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing over at you with a small, amused look.

“You know,” he said, “I think you might’ve saved me from falling asleep in class today. That note—” He laughed under his breath, “—was dangerously close to making me lose it.”

You grinned. “Honestly, you handled it better than I expected. I thought the professor was going to catch you. You giggle in such a high pitch” you tease him

Mark groaned dramatically. “If he had… I would’ve blamed you immediately.”

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully. “Coward.”

He gasped in mock offense but didn’t move away, and something about the casual closeness sent a flutter through your chest.

By the time you reached the little coffee shop, tucked between two bookstores, you were laughing again. Mark held the door open with a slight, almost shy gesture, and you stepped inside, surrounded by the smell of coffee and fresh pastries.

Deep down, you knew this could’ve been just another ordinary afternoon. But with Mark’s lingering gaze, it felt like something more was about to happen.

Suddenly, your peaceful coffee break was shattered by a loud crash outside. It appeared that yet another supernatural villain had set its sights on the campus, and your immediate reaction was to turn to Mark, to seek refuge in a safe place.

Only when you turned around did you find an empty seat, his coffee, and a napkin that read,

“Sorry had to run! Uh call me?->”

With his number at the end adorned with a smiley face, of course, your concern was for Mark’s safety and whereabouts. But before you could even utter a word, everyone was pointing at the sky, as if it were invincible. And just like before, invincible came to the rescue, saving the day once again.

-🧚🏼

[oystermark]

mark x gn!reader - silly texts

what boredom, exhuastion and yearning for mark invincible does to a mf

[swtheartz]

“ LIKE STRAWBERRIES. ” — M. Grayson

Part two

Info : Reader is a healer, canon typical violence, slow burn, one sided beef to lovers type beat W / C : 1.6k.

A / N : silas actually uploading an entire fic??? this is unheard of!! uncharted territory!!!!! jk though. i was burnt out for NO reason and suddenly got a surge of spite against my depression and wrote this. lol. it WILL in fact be a series, this is only part one i fear

The first time Mark meets you is after the fight with his dad.

Cecil had told him he’d be fixed right up—in the physical aspect, at the very least. “The kid hates sob stories. Try not to say too much.”

So, he took the old man’s advice, and hadn’t said much to you while you were healing him. He’d argue that the silence was awkward. Foreign and strange, and he didn’t know how to not sit there and manage to not look out of place. The room you primarily worked in wasn’t like a hospital room, no.

It didn’t have those weird posters of kittens with something that said ‘believe in yourself,’ or something dumb like that, it wasn’t just pristine white walls with blinding fluorescent lights that gave patients headaches, and it didn’t smell like pure bleach and chemicals. No. It smelled of something floral and sweet, almost like fruit; but not quite there. The walls were more a peach color than anything, easier on the eyes than the standard American hospital. Not to mention that the walls were decorated.

All in all, it was strange. Like someone as bruised and bloody as Mark didn’t belong in there. Somewhere sweet and almost gentle, and the wounds that had made him feel as though they’d stay forever—stay etched into his skin, down to the bone, alongside the blood that wasn’t just solely his—mended themselves back together. The bruises and aches faded away.

The smell of blood lingered.

“Well,” the sound of your voice nearly startled Mark off the bed you’d had him laid across. “Take a shower and do a rain check with Stedman, and you’re all good to go, Invincible.”

“. . . What? Just- that’s it? That’s all?”

You’d stared blankly at him, arms crossed in the chair you were seated in. Though you were a healer, you did look as though you belonged amongst the official medical staff that’d be seen literally anywhere else. The slightest tilt of your head had him shifting uncomfortably.

“Did you want there to be more?” The question comes across as somewhat annoyed. Mark could see why you’d probably be agitated—but it was a genuine question!

“It’s just, uh,” he starts, swallowing nervously. “I expected it to take longer or something. Like an actual healing process, precautions I’d have to take and stuff.”

The hum of acknowledgment you let out as you nod your head makes him look at you again, and you speak. “Not when I’m the one healing you. My power is called that for a reason, and it’s so heroes like you can get back out on the playing field. To skip the healing process. If I hadn’t been here, it would’ve taken you months.”

Right. A healer. Mark himself had never really thought someone like you could exist. He’s seen powers like that only in his comics, and there weren’t any other supers capable of doing whatever you just did. The way you move is skilled and practiced, years of experience and heroes in and out of your ward showing through it.

“Huh. Okay, wow. Thanks?”

“Go home, Invincible.”

“Invincible.”

Mark grimaces. “I am begging you—literally just call me by my government name.”

He doesn’t miss the way your nose scrunches ever so slightly as your eyes never leave the clipboard in your hands, clearly focused; but not too focused. “You and I are not on friendly terms. We’re associates by definition.”

“Okay, okay,” he puts his hands up slightly in mock surrender, contemplating his response. Over the past few months, he’s noticed that you don’t quite like him. At all. You’re annoyed by how thick his file has grown in such a short amount of time, annoyed by all the times you’ve documented the amount of injuries he’s had, how much energy it takes you, and whether or not you want to quit working for the GDA after making his acquaintance all those months ago.

“. . . But hear me out.” Mark adds on, noticing the way your hands clutch even more at the wood and paper. “We’re associates when we’re on duty. By definition.”

“And I am on duty,” you retort, setting your papers down and pressing a hand to the bridge of your nose. “Constantly. The same way I’m on duty while watching you get your ass beat on live television, all because you seem to love pulling your punches. Like a fucking idiot.”

He winces at that, unable to deny the blatant distaste in your tone as you remind him of all the times Cecil has sent him your way, all the times you’ve scolded him and downright berated him because you watched as he actively held back.

“Your strength went up over one hundred percent, and you don’t even use it properly. Every fight you have, your file gets ridiculously thicker, Markus.” The way you say his name—

“Don’t say it like it’s a slur.” Mark pleads, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks, “and it’s Mark. Just. . . Just Mark.”

“Get. Out.”

“Markus.”

“Mark.”

“Why are you here?” You sigh out the question with exhaustion, annoyance, and a dire need to rip your own hair out as Mark sits there on one of the patient beds, uninjured this time—shockingly. He’s sitting there like a lost puppy, just. . . Much larger, more awkward, and disgustingly pathetic.

He hesitates for a moment, choosing his response carefully. “I’m benched for a while. At least until Cecil figures out what to do with me.”

The sound you make is unsurprised. “Good. Sick of seeing you bleeding whenever you come here.”

“I know.”

“So stop doing it.”

Mark’s lips purse into a thin line. You’re so mean, and it’s not like he can’t see why. But you haven’t asked him to exactly stop talking to you (yes you have), and it’s not like you genuinely hate his guts. . . At least, in his eyes, you don’t. The Teen Team would beg to differ after seeing the way you speak to him.

“I’m just wondering,” he starts, unwilling to leave. “Are there like, any other heroes you’re sick of seeing? Besides me?”

You pause at that, and turn your head towards him. As always, your eyes are narrowed and tired, a little scrunch in your brow and a slight frown on your lips as you look at him. He’d really give anything just to see you smile—just once. He wonders if you have dimples. What your laugh sounds like, what you look like when you’re peaceful and calm for just a moment.

“Why?”

“Morbid curiosity,” Mark states simply. And to be fair, it is just that. Surely you don’t just dislike him and solely him, there has to be another hero you hate. Maybe even multiple. Mark likes hearing your voice, even if you’re just talking about the things you dislike.

He wonders what you do like. What you find solitude in.

“Hm.” For a moment, you exhale, and push away from your desk to think about your answer. “. . . Immortal,” you hum, thinking about it. “Can’t seem to keep his head on. Or stop charging into fights he can’t handle.”

“Like me?”

“No,” you shake your head and go back to focusing on your work. “You can handle your fights. It just seems to be a deliberate choice of yours not to handle them.”

“Ouch.”

“I hate it when Rex comes in here.” You ignore his little comment and continue, actually giving some thought to your responses. Usually, your conversations with Mark consisted of you insulting him endlessly before telling him to go home and sleep it off. Rinse and repeat.

“He can talk someone’s ear off. It’s sickening, really,” the last part is a mutter as you sort through a barrage of papers, clearly going back to focusing on what you were doing before he’d come and interrupted your rather quiet day. He’s been dropping by more often, and over time, you’ve began to hold actual conversations with him that didn’t involve you telling him how you should let him heal on his own, and him begging you to not leave him stranded in such a state—

“What’s your favorite kind of food?”

You pause for a second, pretending to not have heard, before ultimately you set your papers down again and turn your swivel chair to face Mark. “What?”

“Your favorite kind of food,” he repeats, staring right back at you. “Like, do you like spicy, or?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.” You grumble, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. Just for a moment, you glance back up at him, watching him pout ever so slightly at your answer.

“I’m serious. It’s just a genuine question, y’know?” The two of you enter a staring contest of sorts when you glare at him, looking genuinely offended at the fact he was asking about something so minuscule and stupid. As though the two of you were friendly. . . .

“Fruit.”

Mark blinks at your response, opening his mouth to say something before closing it again, gears turning in his head. “Okay. . . So, sweet stuff?”

“Sweet stuff,” you mutter, turning back around. “Not artificial sugar. Natural. It’s better for my energy, helps me heal better.”

He nods as though that makes sense. You seemed the type to prefer natural things over the overproduced, sickeningly and overly sweet candies that left a bitter aftertaste. It makes sense in Mark’s mind—as though he should’ve known, should’ve been able to tell. The room you work in smells soft and sweet, just like honey and strawberries.

You smell like strawberries. Ripe, sweet. Tinted a dark red and soft when bitten into.

“Okay.” Mark whispers, more to himself than anything. A confirmation. A new alignment in the stars, the very universe itself as a whole. “Yeah, that seems like you.”

“Don’t stereotype me, Invinci-Boy.”

“Oh my god.”

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