Some Writings

Just doing whatever fr

[mockingjaydot]

Welcome!! Request open!!

Fandoms I'll Write for:

Marvel D.C Invincible ATLA

Genres

<3 = fluff * = Smut % = Angst

Invincible

Mark Grayson

~ Boyfriend? <3 % ~ Duty Calls <3 % (pt two to Boyfriend?) ~ Imagine <3

Rex Sloan

~ Marry me <3 % ~ Can we Dance? <3

Dividers @pixopix

[mockingjaydot]

What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Mark Grayson X Reader

Synopsis: Mark helps the reader with...a problem. Based on that one scene in Off Campus. IYKYK.

Wc: 1.7k

Warnings: MDNI!! Smut but with lots of plot and some fluff at the end.

An: This took forever, but I had to write this out once the inspiration struck. First smut, so hopefully it's not trash. Enjoy!

"Mark, I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

You sat on the edge of Mark's bed, your legs dangling over the side as you toyed with the hem of his comforter, replaying the events of the previous night.

You and Mark had gone to a frat party during his visit, and the two of you had consumed a little more alcohol than either of you probably should have. Alcohol had always acted as a kind of liquid courage for you, and last night had been no exception.

Unfortunately, that courage had led to a rather embarrassing conversation.

You had admitted two things to Mark.

First, a baseball player had asked you on a date, and you had said yes.

Second, you had confessed that relationships and intimacy made you nervous in ways you didn't fully understand. Aka, you had never finished with another person.

Somewhere between those admissions and your alcohol-induced confidence, you had convinced yourself that Mark should help you "prepare" for the date.

Looking back on it now, you weren't entirely sure what you had been thinking.

Walking beneath the glow of streetlights the night before, you had attempted to justify your request. "I mean, Mark, it makes sense."

You gestured wildly as you spoke. "I trust you. I've known you forever."

Mark had opened his mouth to respond.

You didn't let him. "Mark, please. I'm serious. Do you know how embarrassing it'll be if this guy takes me out and I completely panic and can't ya know, when the time comes?"

This time, Mark had interrupted. "Y/N, I'll help."

You had stopped walking so abruptly he nearly walked into you. "Wait. Really?"

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I mean... yeah. You're one of my best friends."

You responded with a goofy smile. "Yeah. Best friends."

At the time, neither of you seemed to realize how complicated that statement actually was.

Now, the next day, the reality of the situation felt much heavier. Mark sat across from you in his desk chair while you stubbornly avoided eye contact.

You had dressed up that morning despite the fact it was only Mark. Looking nice had somehow felt important. Unfortunately, the dress was uncomfortable. You tugged at the fabric, hoping to stretch it out the slightest bit.

Mark shifted in his chair. "Would you be more comfortable in something else?"

You finally looked up. "What?"

"The dress." He gestured towards your uncomfortable state. "I know dresses aren’t exactly your thing, and this is all about you being comfortable.” 

A small laugh escaped you. The absurdity of the situation hit all over again. "Yeah," you admitted. "I'd actually appreciate that."

Mark immediately stood and walked to his dresser. After a moment, he returned with one of his T-shirts. "This should help."

You accepted it gratefully. "Thanks." You stood to remove your dress, tugging it over your arms. Mark let out a yelp in surprise, turning around faster than humanly possible. 

You laughed. “Mark, you don’t have to turn around if you don’t want to. You’re going to see me naked in a few minutes anyway.” 

“It’s okay. I want it to be on your terms, when you’re ready.”

“Okay. Finished.” You had slipped on the new clothing item, feeling significantly more comfortable. The shirt hung loosely around you, falling nearly to your thighs.

Mark looked up. For a moment, he simply stared. "You look nice."

You laughed. "Mark, it's literally your shirt."

"No." His expression softened. "I mean it. You look nice."

The sincerity caught you off guard. You quickly looked away.

He was just being kind.

That was all.

Right?

You clasped your hands together nervously. "So... what now?"

Mark immediately noticed the tension. He stepped closer, gently lowering your hands. "Y/N." His voice was careful. "We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"I know." You swallowed. “I–I want to. I just don’t know, the whole idea makes me super nervous, and then when the time comes, I just can't.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Mark asked quietly. "Do you trust me?"

The answer came immediately. "Of course I do."

Something flickered across his expression.

Relief.

Affection.

Maybe both.

"Then let me help you." He took a brief pause before adding to the statement. "Can you make yourself finish?"

You responded quietly. "Yeah, that's not a problem."

"How about we do that then? Stick with what you're comfortable doing."

“Mark, I’m not just going to… ya know, in front of you.” You gestured vaguely.

“I’ll do it too.”

Your heart skipped. The room suddenly felt much smaller.

Mark took a step back and began slowly removing his shirt. You had no idea he was this jacked. He threw his shirt into a corner of the room before looking back at you. “Is this okay?” He asked.

You responded with action by removing your underwear in a similarly slow fashion. He smiled hesitantly and began to remove his pants, leaving only a pair of tight boxers that painfully revealed the erection that had formed during some point of the interaction.

He moved, only to grab his chair from his desk, placing it in front of the bed where you had previously been sitting. 

You took that as your cue, turning around to resume your earlier position, only this time you sat further back on the bed, legs propped up, heat still slightly hidden by the large T-shirt you wore. Mark sank into his chair, facing the bed, observing you. 

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, closing your eyes, letting yourself fully relax into the moment. You trailed your hands up your leg in a teasing manner, only now fully revealing yourself to Mark as the shirt drifted up following the curve of your arm. You heard Mark let out a soft whimper as he removed his member from its constraints. 

The noise sent a shiver down your spine that landed directly where your hands now desperately wanted to feel. Allowing yourself the pleasure, you let your two fingers trail up the sides, meeting at your clit. You began to rub slow, calculated circles. The stimulation made your back arch, an involuntary moan falling from your lips. Peaking through your half-lidded eyes, you saw Mark watching you intently, slowly pleasuring himself, feeling himself at a pace similar to your moments. 

You looked at him.

Really looked at him.

At the familiar face you'd known for years. The boy who always showed up when you needed him. The boy who listened to your problems. The boy who somehow made every bad day feel a little better. The realization hit you all at once.

A hunger released from within you. You felt a pit emerge from within your stomach. It encompassed a need, a want, a desire for more.

A desire for Mark that would outweigh any common sense or law of friendship.

You began to imagine what he would feel like. He was larger than you expected, much larger. You imagined how he would fill you, how your walls would squeeze around his size.

At the thought, you quickly pressed two fingers in, although it would never fill the desire encasing your entire body and mind. You let out an animalistic moan, quickly bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. 

Mark leaned forward, admiring. “It’s okay, sweetheart, let everyone hear how well you pleasure yourself.”

You let out a whine in response; it was all you could conjure up. The sound of his voice brought you closer and closer to your high. Eventually, you composed yourself enough to speak out a request. “Mark, please talk to me.”

You heard his fist momentarily halt before continuing, quicker this time. The slick noise he made was audible throughout the room.

He let out a deep groan at the request. “You want me to tell you how great you’re doing, baby?” He pumped harder. Faster. “How hot you are. How–How beautiful you are. How I–I’ve always wanted you.”

You moaned out his name, arching your back further into the sheets as you wedged in another finger, just a few moments away from your bliss.

Mark bit down on his bottom lip. “Fuck–Fuck. I can’t believe this is happening right now. Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?”

You squeezed your eyes closed, nodding out a response. 

Mark pleaded with you, voice jumping an octave as he approached his release as well. “Fuck–Cum for me, baby, please, I know you can do it.” 

Like your body instinctively listened to his command, you came undone, a whimpering mess of profanities and Mark’s name. Less than a minute after, Mark followed suit, releasing all over his chest, leaning back into his chair, head pressing over the edge as his back arched. 

You slowly sat up, trying to process the weight of everything that had been said and everything that had happened. “Mark I–”

He came to, cutting you off. “No–I’m Sorry.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I was just supposed to help you, and I made it weird.” 

You pulled your weight off the bed, grabbing a towel he had sat nearby, moving to sit on his lap. His eyes widened. You slowly began to clean him off. “You know, Mark, I’ve always wanted you too. I just agreed to go on this stupid date, because I didn’t think you would ever see me like that.”

The tension that had filled the room finally began to ease. Mark leaned into your touch. “I’ve always seen you like that, Y/N. I just didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

And suddenly, the date was far from your mind.

You talked about each other.

About the years of missed opportunities.

About feelings neither of you had been brave enough to admit.

Eventually, he brought a hand up to tuck a loose stand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

A smile immediately spread across your face. "Mark."

"What?"

"You asked permission after all of that? You just watched me finger myself."

His ears turned red. "I was trying to be respectful."

You laughed. “Want to try for real this time?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

What occurred next was worth every awkward moment that had led to this one.

An: I like how my first smut is my longest work

Dividers @@angeliicide

[mockingjaydot]

Can We Dance?

Pairing: Rex Sloan X reader

Synopsis: Y/N finds herself in a bar, and Rex just can't get enough of her. Based on the song 'Can We Dance' by the Vamps. Talk about a throwback.

Wc: 1.4k

Warnings: Drinking, mild inappropriate touching. Rex doesn't exactly ask permission before touching reader. Some fluff at the end.

An: Ya know, lowkey feel like I cooked with this one. Lmk. Once again, gotta show some love for Rex when it strikes. Also, just finished watching the show Off Campus, might make a Mark fic based on that one scene if you know what I'm talking about. Anyways, Enjoy!

I talk a lot of shit when I'm drinking, baby I'm known to go a little too fast Don't mind all my friends, I know they're all crazy But they're the only friends that I have I know I don't know you But I'd like to skip the small talk and romance, girl That's all I have to say, so baby, can we dance? 

You weren’t necessarily the kind of girl who loved hanging around bars or clubs or anything of that nature, but somehow you always found yourself caught beneath neon lights after one too many drinks.

Tonight seemed to follow the same pattern most of your nights did. You got dragged to the newest club by your roommates, drank too much, and then found yourself on the dance floor fending off "potential suitors," as your roommates liked to call them.

You preferred to call them drunk assholes who couldn't keep their pants on.

As if on cue, a man with his hair loosely tied into a bun, a reddish tint visible beneath the lights of the bar, approached you. He offered a smile similar to every other man who had approached that night—a smile that practically screamed, I want to get into your pants.

Eyeing him up and down, you spoke. "Can I help you?"

His smile didn't falter in the slightest. "What? I can't talk to the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen?"

He offered his hand. You hesitated for a moment before placing yours in his, much to your own surprise and, judging by the slight widening of his eyes, his as well.

Normally, you wouldn't give a man like him the time of day.

Maybe it was his confidence.

Maybe it was his smile.

Maybe you had simply had one too many drinks and weren't thinking clearly.

Whatever the reason, he slowly guided you onto the dance floor. Bringing you closer with a twirl, he continued the conversation. "So, what's a gorgeous woman like you doing in a bar like this?" He gestured toward the surrounding crowd.

You rolled your eyes. "You sure talk a big game for someone under six feet tall."

"What can I say? I know what I've got, baby."

You mocked his tone. "Sure you do, baby. That's why I can see your friends over there cheering you on."

You glanced over his shoulder at a group of people around his age—and, strangely enough, two children, though you weren't entirely sure how they had gotten inside—as they pretended not to notice what was happening on the dance floor.

His hands slipped from yours and settled at your hips. He pulled you a little closer. "Don't mind them, baby. It's just you and me."

Your composure slipped for a moment, though not enough to go unnoticed.

"If I really get you that flustered, baby, we can leave right now."His gaze drifted briefly toward the club's glass doors before returning to yours.

You bit your lower lip. "You sure move fast..." You trailed off, waiting for a name you still hadn't received despite your current proximity.

"...Rex," he supplied.

"Rex." You tested the name on your tongue before realizing he was patiently waiting for yours.

"Y/N."

His voice lowered. "Y/N. I love the sound of that."

He swayed gently with the music. "Listen, Y/N, I know I don't really know you, but I think we can skip all the small talk. I think we both know what we want right now—or maybe what we need."

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you considered the proposal. He wasn't entirely wrong. You knew what your body wanted—or at least what it thought it wanted. Still, you weren't the type of girl to follow some random guy home for a one-night stand.

At least not that easily.

You pressed a hand against his chest and stepped back. "Hmm, maybe. But I'm not that type of girl."

"But you want to be."

Here we go again, another drink I'm caving in Stupid words keep falling from my mouth You know that I mean well My hands were meant for somewhere else Your eyes are doing naughty butterflies

"I don't know, man. Maybe it's something you said."

Rex turned to his friend Mark while holding his head in his hands dramatically. "No offense, Mark, but I'm not taking relationship advice from you."

Eve chimed in from beside him. "I don't know, Rex. He might have a point. Maybe you came on too strong. You do have a tendency to do that."

Rex grunted. "Yeah, but she knew what I meant!" He abruptly stood. "I need another drink. You losers are no help."

He made his way toward the bar and leaned against the counter while ordering another drink. As he waited, that's when he saw her again.

Sure, Rex had hooked up with plenty of girls before, but she felt different.

Sure, he'd said that before, too. But this time, he actually believed it. She was beautiful. Mesmerizing. Enchanting. Every adjective he could think of for something extraordinary.

He watched as she chatted with her friends, a drink in one hand while she tossed her hair over her shoulder with the other.

For a brief moment, Rex swore their eyes met.

Looking down at the drink in his hand and swirling it absentmindedly, he thought, Maybe I should just leave.

One more drink and I should go Oh, oh, but maybe she might like me, though Oh, oh, just can't think of what to say Should I go? Should I stay? Just can't let her slip away 

Rex did not leave.

Much to the protests of his friends, he stayed, ordered another drink, and continued to ponder what he should say to the woman who had completely captured his attention.

Maybe Mark was right.

Maybe he'd come on too strong.

Maybe he'd been too rude.

He thought they had shared a connection, but perhaps he had misread the situation entirely. The lingering buzz from his drinks only made him more determined.

He couldn't just let her walk away.

What they had shared, even for a brief moment in the crowded club, had felt special. Or at least, it had to him.

Finally, he worked up the courage to approach her once more.

I've been a bad, bad boy Whispering rude things in her ear Please, say she'll break Please, say she'll change Her mind, and bring me back to her place 

Feeling a hand settle against your waist, you turned around, only to find yourself face-to-face with Rex again. "I thought I told you I wasn't that kind of girl."

He stepped closer. "I know." A sheepish smile crossed his face. "But I figured I should try again."

You couldn't help laughing despite yourself. "And why's that?"

"Because I think I'd regret it if I didn't."

For the first time all night, he sounded completely sincere.

You studied him for a moment before smiling. "Come back to my place?"

Dividers @dollywons

[mockingjaydot]

Duty Calls

Technically, a part two to Boyfriend? But could also be read as a standalone!

Pairing: Mark Grayson X Reader

Synopsis: Your and Mark's relationship after becoming official is going great...until it isn't.

Wc: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst towards the middle, but ends in fluff, I promise!! Some kissing, nothing much. Mark is stupid again.

An: I love writing, Mark being slightly clueless and stupid, but totally in love. Enjoy!

It had been a few weeks since you and Mark had made your relationship "official," and it quite honestly had been everything you had hoped for. No longer did you follow the same routine that led to painful mornings and unspoken desires. Instead, it had been replaced by something much more—something fuller, something raw and careful.

Since the fateful night he had introduced himself to your friends, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The most powerful of them all was love.

You loved Mark.

Not that you had told him, yet.

Mark would show up at your apartment door—only occasionally using the window now—with flowers in tow. He would greet your friends with the most charming smile before setting a floral arrangement on your kitchen table, admiring how perfectly it matched the rest of the decor.

He would entertain your roommates' horror stories about terrible dates, offering advice and remembering to bring flowers for them as well the next time he visited.

You had met his family soon afterward, too.

Standing nervously on his front porch, you toyed with the hem of your dress while waiting for the door to open. From inside, you heard a loud crash followed by:

"Oliver! I said I would get the door!"

Moments later, you were greeted by an older woman with a sweet smile. She invited you inside, chuckling at the sight of two boys tangled in a headlock behind her.

Dinner at his house quickly became a weekly occurrence, often ending in a sleepover. Not that you minded.

Sometimes, he would get called away whenever some alien decided it was their turn to attack Earth. During those times, you would bake with his mom, Debbie, or play video games with his younger brother, Oliver.

Debbie deeply enjoyed your company, as well as the happiness she could see you brought her son.

You helped with his laundry and kept his room tidy—not because it was your job, but because you enjoyed helping your boyfriend. Especially during difficult weeks, when he came home battered and exhausted from a fight.

Even then, he would spend the evening plastering kisses across your face, thanking you for the help and promising to make it up to you, calling you his love, sweetheart, or whichever pet name he had decided on for the night.

However, all of those good moments seemed far away as you now found yourself the target of Mark's anger.

Or frustration.

Or hurt.

You weren't entirely sure.

The boy threw his hands up as he paced around your bedroom, mirroring the way you had paced during your last major argument. He still wore his blue suit, mask included, with fresh tears running along the fabric from his latest battle.

He let out a wounded sigh that sounded close to a whimper. "I—I told you this would happen. I told you that you'd get h-hurt if I wasn't careful."

You had been targeted by Mark's latest enemy. Kidnapped and tied up in some dingy basement until Mark arrived to rescue you.

Not that it took him long.

He would never let anything happen to you. You were the love of his life. Not that he had told you that, yet.

You reached out and grabbed his arm, halting his relentless pacing. "Sweetheart, look at me."

Mark hesitantly turned toward you. "I'm fine, okay?"

His eyes drifted to the scratch that ran across your chest.

"Mark, it's a scratch. It doesn't even need a Band-Aid."

He opened his mouth to argue. "I know, but—"

You cut him off. "But nothing. I'm fine. I knew what I was signing up for, Mark."

You reached up and pulled his mask from his face, immediately noticing his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Carefully, you

wiped away a few tears with your thumb.

Your voice came out softer than intended. "...Baby."

Mark looked down, embarrassed. "I-I'm s-sorry," he stammered.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. It's okay to cry. Even superheroes need to cry sometimes. It just shows you care."

"I do care. So fucking much." He ran his hands through his hair, making the mess even worse. "I care so much about you, Y/N. I can't stand seeing anything happen to you. I don't know what I would've done if something had happened to you." A strangled sob escaped him.

"Nothing happened to me."

"But it could have."

"But it didn't. You squeezed his arm gently. "And it won't, as long as I have my big, strong boyfriend to protect me." You offered the joke in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"This isn't funny, Y/N." He furrowed his brows and crossed his arms like a stubborn child.

You sighed. "...Yeah, I know."

Your gaze traveled over his battered figure. "Let's get you changed and cleaned up, okay?"

He mumbled something that sounded like a yes, though he was clearly still upset.

You guided him to sit on the edge of your bed before carefully peeling away pieces of his damaged uniform. Fresh bruises and cuts covered his skin, and he occasionally winced as you worked.

You tended to each injury carefully, cleaning and bandaging them one at a time, trailing kisses as you worked. Eventually, you finished. 

After helping him into a T-shirt and a pair of loose shorts, you stood in front of him, attempting to continue the conversation from earlier.

"Mark?"

He avoided eye contact. "Hmm?"

"Are you feeling better?" You reached for his hand, only for him to pull away.

"Y/N." His tone was cautious.

"Mark, I'm confused."

He swallowed hard. "Y/N, I-I don't think w-we can do this anymore."

Tears immediately welled in your eyes. "Mark, please don't do this." Memories of your previous fight flooded back. "Mark, you—you promised me."

He stared at his hands as tears continued falling. "Y/N, I know, but—"

"But what, Mark?!" Your voice cracked. "You're a liar! I trusted you, and—and I love you, and you're breaking my heart. You're hurting me more than any stupid alien ever could!"

At the word love, Mark finally looked up. "I—I love you too, you know."

"Then why are you doing this?!" You ran your hands through your hair in frustration.

He stood abruptly. "Because I love you! I love you more than you could ever know!"

"If you love me, then why are you hurting me?!"

"I'm protecting you!"

"You're not protecting anything except your own feelings, Mark!"

The words lingered heavily between you. Finally, Mark wiped away another tear. Clearing his throat, he spoke up. "You're sure?"

"Sure about what?" You stared at him for a moment. "That I want to be with you? Yes, Mark. I actually don't think I've ever been more sure of anything in my life," you admitted.

He chewed nervously on his lower lip. "What if you get hurt again?"

"Then so be it!"

You stepped closer. "Relationships are hard, Mark. Even if ours is a little more complicated than most, that doesn't make it impossible. But you can't keep running away from me every time things get scary or difficult."

A long silence followed.

"Okay."

You blinked.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

He took a tentative step forward and rested a hand against your cheek. "I want to keep trying. If you still want to, of course."

You leaned into his touch. "Stop being stupid, Mark. Of course I do."

"I'm sorry."

You pretended to consider it, already having made up your mind as soon as the words left his mouth. "...Apology accepted."

Mark leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he was smiling.

You laughed softly.

"I can't believe you tried to break up with me after I almost died for you."

His brows shot upward. "Hey! I thought you said you weren't hurt."

"I'm kidding, dumbass."

"Oh." He glanced around the room before adding quietly. "I love you."

A smile spread across your face. "I love you too, Mark."

For a moment, you simply looked into each other's eyes. Then a loud banging erupted from the other side of the door.

"Are you two done fighting?! I need relationship advice from Mark!"

Mark looked toward the door and shook his head. "Be right there!"

You laughed. "Duty calls."

"I suppose it does."

He pressed one final kiss to your lips before heading toward the door to assist your distressed roommate.

An: Trying to write for other characters, but I can only think of Mark smh. Zuko, my love, I will write for you one day, I promise.

@angeliicide dividers

[mockingjaydot]

Marry me? Blurb

Pairing: Rex Sloan X reader

Synopsis: Rex gets jealous of Mark and annoys reader

Warnings: Fluff???

An: He deserves love, too. Enjoy!

You ran your hands through your hair in utter frustration and disbelief at the current situation you found yourself in. "Please stop being stupid for one second, Rex—"

He interrupted.

"All I'm saying is you've been spending an awful lot of time with Mark lately, and we know what happened last time one of my girlfriends cozied up to Mark." He took a stride closer to where you were currently sitting, his voice rising.

You threw your hands up in defeat. "You cheated on her, Rex!"

"That's beside the point—"

"What point?!"

He sat down next to you, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm whatever storm of emotions was brewing within him. "I just don't want to lose you."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. "I'm not yours to claim, Rex."

"I understand that, but—"

"No, you clearly don't."

You stood up, ready to walk away. "I'm not your girlfriend, and you made it pretty clear the last night we spent together that that's not on the table."

"I was wrong, okay!?"

He stood and followed you out the door, much to the amusement of the rest of the team—and Mark.

Grabbing your hand, he spun you around to face him. "Please, Y/N, don't do this to me."

His bottom lip protruded, uncharacteristically vulnerable for the man before you, as tears threatened to spill.

You pressed your lips together, maintaining a feigned anger you could never truly feel toward the auburn-haired man standing before you and begging. "I'm not doing anything!"

He buried his face into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Don't leave me!" After a brief pause, he continued. "Be my girlfriend. Better yet, let's get married."

He dropped to one knee, selfishly gripping your hands.

You immediately pulled him back to his feet.

"Get up, dumbass." You glanced around, hoping no one on the team had witnessed that embarrassing display of affection.

"I'm not going to marry you, but..." You smiled despite yourself. "I will be your girlfriend. If you stop acting so stupid."

His eyes lit up immediately. "I promise I'll be good. I'll do anything for you." He practically pleaded the words.

"Okay, good. Let's go to my room, sweetheart."

You took Rex by the hand, guiding him toward your sanctuary, grinning at the possibilities that lay ahead and reminding yourself to thank Mark later for helping you make Rex jealous.

@angeliicide dividers

[mockingjaydot]

Imagine

Pairing: Mark Grayson X Reader

Synopsis: Donald and Cecil make you and Mark kiss for publicity, but it doesn't quite go to plan

Wc: 1.2k

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst if you squint. Mainly Fluff.

An: #2 for the books. I'm a sucker for fake dating, so here's a short one. I have a longer fake dating fic brewing based on Funny Story by Emily Henry, one of my all-time fav romance books. As always, lmk if you have any suggestions. Enjoy!

Beaten down physically from your last fight, you now sat in front of Cecil, taking a verbal beatdown for your "recklessness," as he would consider it.

Brows furrowed, voice raised, scar protruding from his side, he continued his tirade about being careful and not destroying buildings, among the many other things you had supposedly done wrong.

"Kid, you can't keep doing this. Your public rating is at an all-time low, and between you and Mark, people are going to start rioting soon."

Mark had just recovered from his initial fight with Conquest. Hundreds of thousands of people had been killed and just as many structures destroyed in the wake of their violent battle.

You grabbed at your mask, a mix of anger and anxiety coursing through you. "I'm not sure what you want me to do, Cecil. I'm saving the world here, so what if a few buildings get destroyed?"

He took a step toward you, his voice lowering an octave. "It's not just buildings, kid, and you know it."

Interrupting the conversation, Donald raised a hand. "If I may, sir."

Cecil nodded, signaling for Donald to continue.

"Perhaps if the two—Y/N and Invincible—forged some sort of romantic bond, it would placate some of the anger from the general populace."

You opened your mouth in protest. "You want me to date Mark?!"

Donald elaborated. "Well, fake-date. And no, not Mark—Invincible. Your normal life would be largely unaffected."

He pulled up a few metrics on the glowing screen behind him.

"Studies show the general population is much more sympathetic to a figure when they display a romantic partnership. I have reason to believe the same attitude would apply to, well... you and Mark."

Cecil placed a hand on his chin, pondering the idea, though clearly in favor of it. Whether for the intended purpose or your own embarrassment, you weren't sure.

Waving a hand, he spoke.

"I like the plan. Donald, get right on it."

Caught up to speed on Donald's brilliant plan, you and Mark sat side by side on a bench in front of both men.

Heat radiated from Mark, his cheeks a rosy pink that outwardly demonstrated his embarrassment. You were no better off than the boy. You felt like you might get sick thinking about the plan laid out before you.

Sick because they wanted you to kiss Mark—well, Invincible—after a "battle" staged by the two of you to garner support from the public.

It's not like you didn't want to kiss Mark. Quite the opposite, actually.

But not like this.

Not now.

And certainly not in front of the entire world.

In truth, you had liked Mark for quite a while. The way he wholeheartedly cared for the people around him and continued to fight while going through hell himself. The way he would giddily share the newest addition of Seance Dog with you while you studied in your dorm—one of the few out-of-costume moments you were able to share together.

Now here you sat, face-to-face with the truth that you had to kiss him in front of the world and act like it didn't mean anything when it veritably meant everything to you.

You let out a huff, finishing the fight with the robots Cecil had staged for you and Mark.

Following the surprisingly detailed plan, you made your way above the crowd, hovering right in front of the large news station camera conveniently positioned to capture the scrimmage.

Mark, following your lead, hovered in front of you, placing a delicate hand on your cheek. "We don't have to do this, you know. If it'll make you uncomfortable."

He looked to meet your eyes, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

You grabbed his other hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "No. I want to."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Okay, good. I want to, too."

He let out a half-hearted chuckle at using the same phrase twice.

Shaking your head at his childishness, you slowly leaned in, your free hand making its way toward the back of his head, gripping where his suit met his hair.

Mark let out the faintest groan, sending a shiver up your spine as your lips finally met.

The kiss lasted far longer than the required twenty seconds—"and not a second less," as Donald had ordered.

Apparently, that was the statistically ideal amount of time to send a message while remaining family-friendly.

Mark followed your lead once more, moving his hand from your cheek to the hair not contained within your suit. Your other hands remained tangled together.

Melting into the kiss, you quickly pulled away when you heard static and Cecil yelling through both of your headsets to end it.

You pressed your lips together, trying to process what the kiss meant—if it meant anything at all, or if it had simply been a ploy for publicity.

Before you could figure it out, Mark flew off, leaving you to simmer in embarrassment as you soon flew in the opposite direction.

Lying on your bed and staring at the popcorn ceiling of your dorm room, you continued to ponder the same question.

Was that Invincible or Mark?

He had to have felt something too.

Maybe I scared him off?

Your thoughts were interrupted by rapid pounding at your door. You scrambled off your bed to answer it. "Geez, I'm coming," you muttered, not really caring whether the person on the other side heard you or not.

You opened the door only to be met face-to-face with Mark.

Your Mark.

Not Invincible.

Just Mark, dressed in his Seance Dog shirt that fit him a little too tightly now and basketball shorts that hung low across his hips, revealing a sliver of his boxer band

He scrambled to say something—anything.

"I'm really sorry I left earlier!" he half-yelled. "I just got caught up in everything, and I took it too far, and I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable or embarrassed you or anything. I just really like you a lot, and that's not how I wanted our first kiss to go at all."

The words spilled from his mouth faster than he could process them.

You smiled. "So you've thought about our first kiss?"

"Of course I have—" He cut himself off immediately, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"It's okay, Mark. I have too."

His eyes widened slightly. "I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not forced, or in front of everyone."

You paused before offering "Come in?"

Mark slowly stepped into your dorm room as you moved aside to make space for him.

He turned to face you, still embarrassed and still unsure how to fill the silence that settled between you.

You took both of his hands and looked him in the eyes. "Describe it for me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Describe what?"

"What you imagined our first kiss would be like."

If you could have painted the walls of your room the exact shade of red that now encapsulated Mark Grayson, you would have.

He looked down, a faint smile breaking through the wall of embarrassment.

"Well... I imagined you would look as gorgeous as you do right now." He took a step closer, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "And I imagined that it would be just us."

You smirked. "No Cecil."

"Definitely no Cecil," he confirmed.

He laughed as you fell backward onto your bed together, tangled up in each other and the tension of what was to come.

An: Considering writing smut... maybe a continuation of this story?...

@angeliicide dividers

[mockingjaydot]

Boyfriend?

Pairing: Mark Grayson X Reader

Synopsis: You've gotten tired of being Mark's 'friend with benefits,' and Mark is stupid.

Wc: 1.6k

Warnings: A tiny bit of angst. Mark being really stupid. Mainly fluff, especially towards the end.

An: Honestly, I needed more fluff Mark content out there, so I'm dusting off my keyboard from my Wattpad warrior days to provide. First fic since I was like 13, so... enjoy! Lmk if anyone has any requests. I'm a teacher on summer break, so I have all the time in the world.

You began to fall into a rhythm, which, if we’re being completely honest here, you had brought upon yourself. Mark would tap on the glass of your apartment window, which you shared with a few semi-close friends, after a particularly grim battle. You would sigh as you clambered off your twin bed, knowing what the night would entail. Nevertheless, you never failed to open the window after seeing the boy in whatever beaten-down state he would show up in.

You knew Mark had access to way better aid than you could provide him with your tattered pink first-aid kit, which has, at this point, done way more than was intended of the small bag. Nevertheless, you patch him up, plastering small kisses on a few of his scratches as you work your way across his chest. Once finished, you would hand Mark a freshly washed T-shirt and shorts that carried the faint scent of vanilla, courtesy of your detergent. The same T-shirt and pants that you had to lie to your roommates about and tell them were from a one-night stand that you totally were having, because it's not like you were exclusive with Mark in any sense. Right?

It was strangely domestic, the way you now found yourself for the millionth time, tangled up with Mark as he read the newest addition of Seance Dog that you snagged for him at the bookstore across the street. Your head resting on his chest as he mindlessly played with your hair while you read whatever cheesy romance novel you had decided on for the night. Typically, you would fall asleep in such a position and wake to find Mark gone, his clothes haphazardly discarded on the floor and a text on your phone wishing you a great day.

However, tonight was different—you had stopped reading pages ago, occasionally flipping through the book to give the appearance of reading. Instead, your mind was elsewhere. On Mark, on your current situation, on what you were or weren't in this case. There was a flurry of conflicting thoughts clashing in your head—wanting to take things further with Mark, but also not wanting to mess up whatever weird sort-of friends-with-benefits thing you had going on.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You blinked to find Mark staring down at you, expecting an answer to the question he had just posed.

Realizing you had long forgotten your charade of pretending to read, caught up in your head, you nodded back at him, embarrassment creeping up to your cheeks.

“Um, yeah, I’m alright, just thinking about some things, I guess.”

He gave a tired smile, obviously half asleep. “Anything you want to talk about, pretty girl?”

Instead of smiling or cuddling closer like you normally would when he called you a pet name, you pushed off of him, burying your hands over your eyes, covering up the tears that threatened to spill.

He quickly sat up, concerned, throwing his comic on the nightstand next to him. “What’s wro—”

You cut him off angrily, turning to look at him. “Why do you always have to do this?”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Do what?”

“Act as if you care about me—like I’m important, like I'm somebody to you—and then just forget about me the next morning like we aren’t anything?” You threw your hands up in a motion of utter defeat at the current situation. “You never did this with Amber, and I-I deserve better, Mark.” You watched the realization dawn on his face. “I’m tired of lying to my friends, tired of being lonely, tired of rejecting guys who would objectively treat me better because I feel some sort of weird attachment to you.” You stood from your bed and began pacing around the room angrily.

Mark watched you as he drew his lips into a thin line, running his hand through his hair, saying nothing.

“Say something!” you yelled, tired of him staring at you like a lost puppy.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, looking down at his hands.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he restated, his bottom lip slightly protruding, a slight quiver noticeable. “I want to be with you, Y/N. I do. I’m just scared.”

“Scared of what? Being seen with me?”

“No! Scared you’ll get hurt, scared I won’t be enough, scared you’ll start to resent me, or that I’ll ruin your life.” He hiccupped, a few tears finally making their way down his cheeks as he built up the courage to look at you. Quite frankly, one of the scariest things he’s had to do, even as Invincible.

You slowly moved back toward the bed after seeing his tear-stained cheeks, guilt from your earlier outburst creeping into your consciousness. Sitting down and crossing your legs in front of you to match his position, you began to use the pad of your thumb to wipe away a few tears.

“Mark, I won't get hur—”

He cut you off, gently pushing your hand off his cheek. “You don't understand. It happened once with Amber, and I still haven't forgiven myself.”

He looked back down, building up the courage for his next statement as he found a loose string of your comforter to toy with.

“What I feel for you is ten times what I felt for Amber, and I can’t imagine putting you through what she had to deal with,” he sighed and continued. “And my mom—my dad was never home, and she constantly worried and—”

“Mark, I worry now,” you chimed in.

“Yes, and you shouldn't have to worry about your boyfriend dying every day.”

He fell back with a frustrated groan onto your pillow.

“Boyfriend?”

“And I thought that maybe if I limited contact with you during the day—” He paused, cutting himself off. “Yes, am I not your boyfriend?”

He propped himself up on an elbow to face you.

“Um... I don’t think we ever established that?”

“Are we not currently breaking up?”

“Well, no—”

“Wait—am I confused here?”

His eyes widened, a small glint of hopefulness breaking through at the fact that he had clearly misread whatever current predicament you two found yourselves in.

“Mark, we aren’t breaking up—”

“Oh, thank God.”

“We aren’t breaking up because we were never together, Mark. You never asked me to be your girlfriend.” You pointed between the two of you as you spoke. “Please don't get this wrong. I want to be with you, but we currently are not, and will not be, if you continue to treat me like some hookup for you to hang around at night and leave in the morning.”

“Wait—if we aren’t together, does that mean you’ve been hooking up with other guys this entire time?”

“What? No, of course not—”

“Okay, good.”

“Mark, please focus.” You sighed, frustrated with the current conversation. “I can’t continue doing whatever this is—girlfriend, not-girlfriend, whatever—if you keep treating me like something to be ashamed of. I understand that may not be your intention, but keeping me in the dark about any semblance of your real life hurts more than if we weren’t... whatever this is.”

“What I was saying earlier,” Mark said, sitting fully upright again, “I thought that maybe if I limited contact with you during the day, it would protect you. Protect you from actual threats. But I also thought that maybe if I didn’t see you all the time, you wouldn’t be as upset if something were to happen to me.”

“Mark, I don’t care about any of that. I want to be with you, but I need more from you.”

Mark grabbed both of your hands, looking you in the eyes. “Y/N, I can’t promise that I won’t get hurt, or that I won’t be gone for days or weeks on some mission.” He squeezed your hands. “But I can promise to be yours in every way that counts, if you’ll still have me.”

You squeezed his hands back in reassurance. “I would like that very much.”

Mark leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. You could feel his smile begin to emerge through the kiss.

He leaned back, smiling in that adorable way that always made you melt. “So, just to be clear, I am your boyfriend now, right?”

“Yes.” You smiled back.

A knock came at your door, interrupting the moment you had cultivated.

“Y/N, is that the guy you’ve been hooking up with for months?” your friend questioned through the door.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you attempted to answer, only to be cut off by your boyfriend in a hushed tone.

“I thought you said you weren’t hooking up with anyone?”

“She means you, dumbass,” you quipped back in the same hushed tone.

“Oh.”

He nodded in understanding, a cheeky smile replacing his confusion. Raising his voice, he answered for you. “Yeah, we’ll be out in a minute.”

Your eyes widened as you heard your friend laugh from the other side of the door.

She responded, “Y/N, he sounds hot. I can’t wait to meet this mysterious man of yours.”

Still reeling in embarrassment, you looked at Mark. “Why would you do that?”

“What? I’m ready to meet your friends.”

He shrugged off the question before adding, “I'm yours, Y/N. I’m ready to let the world know.”

He kissed you gently one last time before you headed to the living room, greeting your roommates, excited for what was to come.

Edit: Pt 2 Posted!!! Here!!

An: Maybe I'll add on...? Meeting his parents and friends?? Who knows

@angeliicide dividers