Mark grayson x reader (venom symbiote)
The rooftop was slick with rain. The kind of rain that clung like oil, running in rivulets down your back, soaking through the seams of your clothing even before the fight began. It made the city below look like it was drowning in static. Blurred lights. Distant sirens. A thousand fragile lives unaware of what was about to break loose above their heads.
Markâs feet didnât touch the ground.
He hovered just inches above it, arms tense, fists half-clenched at his sides. The air shimmered slightly around him, the faint distortion of raw, suppressed power pressing outward like heat from an invisible furnace.
You werenât sure if he was stalling⌠or if he was giving you one last chance.
Either way, it was almost worse than a punch.
âIâm going to ask one more time,â he said, voice low. Steady. âWhy should I trust you?â
Venom stirred beneath your skin like something waking from a bad dream. Muscles tensed. Your heartbeat grew louder no, not louder. Doubled. Two pulses now. Yours and his.
You felt it ripple up your throat. The need to scream. To run. To tear something apart just to prove you still could.
âI didnât come here to be trusted,â you said, voice rough with restraint. âI came here because Iâm out of options.â
Mark tilted his head. âAnd Iâm supposed to believe that?â
You opened your mouth but Venom beat you to it.
âWe are tired of explaining ourselves to gnats.â
The voice your voice echoed with something not entirely your own. Twisting. Amplified.
Markâs body tensed, pupils narrowing. âThat thing doesnât get to speak for you.â
You didnât answer. Couldnât. Not fast enough.
And thatâs when he moved.
One instant, he was across the rooftop. The next, he was in your face, fist already moving. The sound it made was louder than thunder his knuckles collided with your jaw like a sledgehammer. You spun with the momentum, shoulder crashing into a rusted air duct that caved inward like paper.
Black tendrils exploded from your back like wings of tar and fury, catching you mid-fall and slinging you forward. You hit the ground, rolled, sprang up not like a person. Not anymore.
Mark came again. Another punch, this time a feint. You ducked, claws slashing upward in a blur. He weaved back just in time but not fast enough to avoid the tip of one jagged edge. It cut across his side, barely grazing his suit.
You both froze for half a second, as if surprised.
âYouâre bleeding,â you said, stunned.
He rocketed forward again, slamming into your chest like a missile. The world turned sideways you were airborne, then crashing through a rooftop sign with a shatter of neon and glass. Pain exploded behind your ribs.
You stood, panting, fingers flexing as the symbiote armored your arms again. Rain hissed off your shoulders. Your head spun.
âMark please,â you rasped. âYou donât know what itâs like. Itâs not just in me it is me. I canât shut it out. I canât shut me out.â
But he was already moving.
He circled like a hawk hovering above, scanning for weakness. Eyes sharp. Emotion dulled by survival instinct.
âThen maybe youâre already gone,â he said.
And that broke something.
Venom shrieked as you launched, claws dragging sparks from the rooftop as you charged. You leapt claws swiping, teeth bared and he met you in the air.
The clash of your bodies was seismic. You tumbled mid-air like two meteors colliding, crashing to the rooftop in a tangle of limbs, snarls, and blasts of raw kinetic force. Every punch sent shockwaves. Every impact buckled the structure.
You could feel him pulling punches.
âStop holding back!â you screamed, eyes flaring white as the symbiote fully enveloped your form. âYou think Iâm some victim? Some charity case?â
Tendrils whipped out, snagging his ankle mid-flight. You yanked and slammed him into the roof like a ragdoll. Concrete exploded. Rebar twisted.
Mark roared, heat glowing in his eyes, and shot upward bursting free with raw Viltrumite strength. He circled back in a wide arc, then dove like a meteor.
Claws to fists. Power to power.
The sound was indescribable. A sonic scream of pressure and fury. Lightning cracked the sky above you as if the gods themselves were watching.
You both hit the ground at the same time.
You coughed, falling to your knees, the armor peeling back in places. Exposed. Breathing ragged.
He stood over you again. Blood at the corner of his mouth.
âStill think youâre in control?â he asked.
âI have to be,â you whispered. âBecause if Iâm not⌠thereâs nothing left.â
Venomâs voice was quieter now.
âHe is strong. Like the ones who broke us. But he is not them. Not yet.â
You looked up. And for the first time, Markâs expression changed.
Something closer to fear.
Because he saw it now not just the monster. Not just the threat.
He saw the person underneath.
The one being eaten alive by something she never asked for.
He didnât reach for you.
But he didnât fly away either.
And for now⌠that was enough.
The rain hadnât let up.
By the time Mark touched down outside the Pentagon compound, his suit was torn across one shoulder, and blood slicked his knuckles. His boots squelched slightly on the polished tile of the main corridor as he walked, dripping with stormwater and exhaustion.
The fluorescent lights overhead felt too bright. Too clean.
Too removed from the rooftop heâd just left you on curled in the debris, bleeding black, your voice cracked and hoarse as you whispered that you didnât want to be a monster.
But the words kept echoing.
âThen help me. Or kill me.â
And he still didnât know which one he shouldâve done.
âInvincible,â a cold voice greeted over the intercom. âHeâs waiting.â
The door to the briefing room hissed open.
Cecil was already standing. Hands clasped behind his back. Expression unreadable behind the lines of his face and the gleam of the screens surrounding him.
Mark stepped in, but didnât sit.
There was a long pause before either of them spoke.
ââŚYouâre hurt,â Cecil said finally, glancing at the blood soaking through Markâs sleeve. âThatâs rare these days.â
âIâm fine,â Mark muttered. âIt wasnât her.â
Cecilâs eyes narrowed slightly. âHer?â
Mark shifted, jaw tightening. âThe⌠symbiote. Whatever it is. Thereâs someone underneath it. A girl. I donât know her name.â
Mark kept talking, faster now, like he needed to get it out before he lost the nerve.
âShe said sheâs not here to hurt anyone. Said she came for help. But⌠sheâs dangerous. Strong. Stronger than almost anything Iâve faced sinceâ He cut himself off. He didnât say since Dad.
Cecil picked up on it anyway.
âNo,â Mark said too quickly. Then, with a bitter scoff: âYes. Kind of. It was both of us. I pushed first. I didnât believe her.â
Cecilâs voice was calm, but it cut like glass. âDid she lie?â
Markâs silence spoke volumes.
Cecil tapped a few keys on the console behind him. One of the screens shifted to satellite footage grainy, top-down imagery of the fight. Of you. The moments when the symbiote had overtaken your body. The feral silhouette of your form as you and Mark had collided like animals in a cage.
âDo you know what this reminds me of?â Cecil asked, turning slightly. âD.A. Sinclairâs failed experiments. The Reanimen. Weaponized monstrosities. All of them started as people. All of them ended in pieces.â
âSheâs not like them.â
Cecil raised an eyebrow. âYou sure? Because from where Iâm standing, that thing is eating her alive.â
âSheâs fighting it.â
âSo was your father,â Cecil said quietly.
The silence stretched like wire between them.
Cecil exhaled through his nose. âIâm not saying she canât be helped, Mark. But people like us donât get to play optimistic. We play smart. Cautious.â
Mark looked down. His fists were shaking again. Not from pain this time. From anger. Frustration.
âSheâs scared,â he said, voice tight. âAnd whatever that thing is⌠it wants to fight. But she doesnât. She was holding it back the whole time.â
He looked up again. And there was something fierce in his eyes now.
âShe didnât want to hurt me. If she had⌠I wouldnât be standing here.â
Cecil studied him. Quiet. Measuring.
Cecil gave a slow nod. Like he expected that. âAlright. Weâll find her another way.â
Mark stepped forward. âDonât hurt her.â
Cecil met his gaze without blinking. âThat depends on whether she gives us a choice.â
The door slid open behind Mark.
The conversation was over.
That hadnât even begun.
The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle by the time Mark left the Pentagon compound. Heâd barely said a word to Cecil as the conversation wound down more like a formality than a discussion. Heâd reported the basics: an unusual being. A symbiote. A girl underneath it. Dangerous, unpredictable, but not a mindless monster.
But it was the way Cecil had listened that made Markâs stomach twist. There had been no sympathy. No understanding. Just cold pragmatism. Like everything was part of the plan, and the girl whatever her name was was just another complication to deal with. A threat.
Markâs boots hit the wet pavement with a hollow echo as he walked toward his usual hangout the high school he hadnât visited in months. It wasnât that he had any reason to go there, but something about the familiarity, the distance from the hell heâd just experienced, made it feel like the only place he could breathe.
The city felt quieter now, even though the streets were still bustling with life. The hum of the storm, the distant clamor of traffic, the murmur of voices, all faded into the background as Markâs thoughts consumed him.
What the hell have I done?
He hadnât lied to Cecil. Not exactly.
When he reported the details of the fight, he left out the moments that made him second-guess everything the hesitation in his own punches, the pity in his gut when he saw your eyes flash with something more than anger. It wasnât the symbioteâs rage that had hurt him. It was the girl underneath. The person who was still there, struggling, fighting back.
He shook his head, frustrated with himself. He didnât have the luxury of doubt. He couldnât afford it.
But now that the fight was over, there was only the aftermath.
The sound of his phone buzzing cut through the quiet. Mark pulled it out, expecting a call from his mom, or maybe Eve checking in. But it wasnât either of them. The number on the screen was blocked. Probably another one of Cecilâs connections, trying to get more information.
He almost ignored it. Almost.
But the memory of you of the way you looked at him before he left compelled him to answer.
The voice on the other end was cold. Calculated.
âInvincible. Youâve reported in, but we need more information. Did the symbiote speak directly to you?â
Markâs jaw tightened. He knew who this was. The tone was unmistakable.
âCecil?â Markâs voice was flat, like he was already tired of the conversation. âI told you everything I could. The fightâs over.â
There was a brief pause. âYou left something out, though.â
Mark stopped walking. The streetlights flickered above, casting sharp shadows across the sidewalk.
âI donât know what you mean,â he muttered, his eyes narrowing. "I gave you everything you needed. Youâve got the data on the fight. You can analyze the rest."
Cecilâs voice came through, distant but heavy with control. âYou didnât tell me what she said. What you said to her.â
Markâs pulse quickened. âI didnât talk to her.â
âDonât lie to me, Mark. You heard the symbioteâs voice. And itâs clear from the footage that sheâs not as much of a âmonsterâ as youâd like to believe.â
Markâs grip tightened around the phone. âThatâs not what Iâ
âI know,â Cecil interrupted. âBut youâve already made your decision, havenât you?â
Mark felt a chill run down his spine. âWhat are you talking about?â
âThe moment you attacked her, you made a choice. And Iâll make mine,â Cecil said, his tone shifting to something colder, more dangerous. âYouâll follow orders, or you wonât. But the choice is mine now.â
Markâs mind raced. He could hear the faintest hint of a threat in Cecilâs words, something unspoken but clear. It wasnât a warning. It was an order.
He turned away from the streetlights, his footsteps echoing louder than before. âI didnât ask for this.â
âNone of us ever do. But this is the world we live in.â
Mark snapped the phone shut, breathing heavily. He stood there for a long moment, trying to steady his racing heart.
What am I supposed to do now?
The next few days were a blur.
Mark couldnât stop thinking about the girl the one whose name he didnât know. The one who had warned him, pleaded with him, and yet he still struck her down. He still left her in the ruins of that rooftop, just as Cecil demanded.
Even now, he didnât know. There were moments when heâd lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he couldâve done something different. If he had the power to pull back, to see beyond the black armor, to see you as a person.
Was she really the monster, or was it the symbiote?
Days later, Mark found himself walking back to the edge of the city, where the sounds of the streets faded into the distance. The air was colder than it had been earlier, and the sky was a dull grey. He felt like he was walking in a fog.
He was alone. It wasnât by choice.
He could feel it the weight of his decisions pressing on him. It wasnât just the guilt. It was the realization that the world was too complicated now, too dangerous, too alive in ways he didnât understand. Maybe thatâs why he had reported you so quickly, without hesitation.
If I keep moving, maybe I wonât have to think about it.
But deep down, he knew it wasnât that easy.
And as much as he tried to push you out of his mind, one thing was clear: you wouldnât go away.
The city felt wrong in the aftermath of the fight. Every step Mark took, every corner he turned, felt like it was pushing him further into a world he didnât recognize. He had always fought for what he believed was right, but now? Now everything was blurred, like ink bleeding into water until there was no telling where one thing ended and the other began.
He didnât even realize how far heâd walked until the cold hit him. It wasnât the crisp chill of the evening air it was the shiver that ran through him every time he thought of that rooftop, and of you. You were the one thing he couldnât shake.
Why canât I forget her?
Mark had stood in that Pentagon room, telling Cecil everything, holding nothing back except the parts that made him doubt his own actions. And now? Now he was haunted by the thought of what had happened. The words youâd said to him⌠how had it all escalated so quickly? Why didnât he pull back when he could have?
He should have believed you.
Markâs steps led him to the edge of a park, the one spot in the city where things still seemed natural. The trees stood like silent sentinels, and the hum of traffic was muffled by the distance. He barely noticed it, though. His mind was consumed with the same image the girl, struggling with the symbiote, caught in a battle she wasnât sure she could win.
Cecil doesnât care. I donât care what he saysâŚ
His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He pulled it out without checking the caller ID, but he already knew who it was.
âMark,â Cecilâs voice came through, sharp and demanding. âYou didnât finish your report. Where is she?â
Markâs stomach twisted, and his heart thudded a little harder in his chest. The pressure was suffocating. He could feel Cecilâs eyes on him, even through the phone.
âI told you everything,â Mark replied, his voice tight, strained.
âNo. You didnât,â Cecilâs tone was colder than ice. âYou didnât tell me how you felt. About her. About what you really saw when you were fighting her. And you didnât tell me if youâre still standing by your decision to leave her.â
âIâŚâ Markâs words caught in his throat, and he cursed under his breath. âIâm not sure what you want from me, Cecil. I told you the truth. I reported everything. I did what you asked.â
But Cecil wasnât satisfied. Of course he wasnât.
âI want you to be sure. I want you to be certain. If you let her walk, if you let her get away, then youâre making a decision that youâll regret. We donât have the luxury of uncertainty, Mark.â
Mark gritted his teeth, stepping away from the parkâs edge and into the shadows. His footsteps echoed in the empty street, as cold as the conversation itself.
Regret? What did Cecil even know about regret?
âIâm not doing this anymore, Cecil,â Markâs voice was softer now, but there was a dangerous edge to it, something broken underneath. âI canât just keep throwing people away because they donât fit into some neat little box youâve made. I canât be the hero you want me to be.â
There was a pause on the other end of the line, an unsettling silence that hung between them like a heavy fog.
âMarkâŚâ Cecil began, his voice almost too calm. âYou think youâre still the boy who can save everyone? Let me tell you something. This isnât a game anymore. People like her people who have the power to destroy cities in the blink of an eye they donât get the luxury of mercy. If you let her live, if you keep standing in the way, youâre just as dangerous as she is.â
Markâs grip on the phone tightened, his nails digging into the screen. He was shaking now, anger flaring in his chest.
âSheâs not a monster,â Mark said quietly, the words thick with emotion. âSheâs not what you think she is.â
âThatâs the problem, Mark,â Cecil shot back. âYouâre seeing her as a person. Iâm seeing her as a threat. And Iâm telling you, if you want to keep pretending thatâs all she is, then youâre going to regret it.â
Mark snapped the phone shut, his breath heavy as he stared down at the cracked pavement beneath his feet. The cold air pressed in, and the sounds of the city buzzed in his ears, but they felt far away. Everything felt distant, like he was stuck between two worlds, neither of them his.
He had thought Cecil was the answer the one person who would always steer him in the right direction. But now? Now he wasnât sure anymore.
The days passed in a haze of confusion and unresolved guilt. Mark didnât go home. He didnât go to Eve. He just⌠existed. Flying over the city at night, wondering if you were out there somewhere, trying to figure out how to survive. The symbiote had to be consuming you by now, tearing you apart from the inside out. Mark had seen it the violence, the raw power.
He couldnât shake the image of your face, tired but determined, when you begged him to help you. It had stayed with him, lodged in his mind, like a splinter he couldnât get out. The girl inside you was still there, still human, and it didnât make sense to him that heâd left you to fend for yourself.
But if Cecil was right if this was a threat that couldnât be reasoned with then what was he supposed to do?
He didnât know anymore.
In the meantime, the weight of his decision still pressed on him. His loyalty to Cecil was crumbling, piece by piece, and the more he thought about what had happened on that rooftop, the more he felt like he was slipping like he was losing himself in the process.
He didnât want to be the monster. He didnât want to make those cold, calculated decisions.
But he couldnât save everyone.
The night was dark unnervingly so. The city sprawled beneath you, but it felt distant, unreal. The rooftops were cold beneath your bare feet, the air thin, the constant pulse of humanity seemingly far away. You could feel them, the people, the life moving around you, yet you stood apart from them now, a monster. A weapon.
You were no longer the person you had been before. Not completely. The Venom symbiote was inside, and it was growing.
The bond had deepened since that first night when it had claimed you its voice, its hunger, its need. It hadnât been a choice. Not at first. You had been desperate. But now, the hunger⌠the thirst for power, for destruction, for freedom⌠it was intoxicating. You couldnât ignore it.
It is... so much better now, isn't it?
The voice slithered into your mind, deep and malevolent, twisting every thought. It felt almost like a whisper, but the reverberation of it shook you to your core.
You want him. You want to make him suffer. Venom's voice curled around the edges of your consciousness, seductive yet monstrous.
âNo,â you muttered, shaking your head, trying to push it away. âIâm not like you.â
Not yet. But you will be.
The symbioteâs power surged through you, coursing through your veins like fire. You felt strong. Stronger than you had ever felt before. The suit wrapped around your body like an extension of yourselfthick, dark tendrils of living armor, alive and breathing. You were not weak anymore. The girl you had been, the one who had been vulnerable, uncertain, lost in a world that hadnât understood she was gone. In her place was something far more terrifying.
You had always known fear. You had always known weakness .But now, that fear had been replaced by something far more primal. Something that gnawed at the back of your mind, urging you forward.
The memory of Mark was a sharp, painful wound in your chest. You could still see his face, the hesitant look in his eyes as he stood over you, unsure whether to believe the plea in your voice. You had tried to warn him tried to explain that you werenât the enemy but it had all come crashing down in that chaotic moment. The fight, the rage. And when it was over, when you had both been left standing in the ruins, he had
Mark doesnât care, Venom's voice rasped again, dark and bitter. Mark doesnât care about you, about what you need. He only cares about what he wants .He doesn't see you.
You recoiled at the words, but they felt true .You could still feel the sting of his rejection, the brutal weight of it, digging into your chest like a deep, jagged wound. He had let you go. Let you remain a monster in his eyes.
But Venom understood .It always had.
Letâs make him regret it, Venom purred, a malicious promise laced into the words. We will show him the truth. We will show him what happens when you betray us.
You clenched your fists, your nails digging into the symbioteâs slick surface as the anger began to grow inside you. Yes, you thought. Yes, Iâll make him regret it.
And then there was the hunger. The gnawing emptiness inside you. It had been growing .You had felt it ever since the symbiote had first wrapped around you, taking hold. You couldnât ignore it anymore. It wasnât just the hunger for power, or revenge it was something deeper, something that needed to be fed .Venomâs insatiable desire to consume, to feed on the fear, the chaos⌠the weakness of others.
It was a need. A craving.
You hadnât realized how badly it had festered until tonight. The hunger was overwhelming.
Feed. Destroy. Break. Rip apart. Take.
The voice was a constant hum, whispering your desires into your ears as you stood on the rooftop. You could feel the familiar pullthe rush of power as the symbiote surged forward, searching for something, someone, to satiate it. To feed it.
Mark. The name echoed through your mind like a drumbeat. He is still weak. He will fall.
You let out a breath, half a laugh escaping your lips. The very idea of Mark Grayson the golden boy of Invincible falling before you was intoxicating. You could still hear the hesitation in his voice when he had first met you, the doubt in his eyes when he had looked at the creature you had become. He hadnât seen you. Not really.
Youâll make him see. And when he does, heâll know.
The symbioteâs tendrils stretched out from your back, like serpents in the dark, feeding off your emotions. You closed your eyes, letting the sensations take you. You could feel it then the call to hunt. The call to hunt him down.
But first, Venom murmured, its voice growing fainter, you need him to see you again. You need him to understand that you are the monster now. That you are no longer the one who begs for help. That you are the one who takes.
The world shifted around you, your mind growing hazy with the power that surged through your veins. You reached out with a hand, fingers elongating into claws, the black suit pulsing and writhing in time with your heartbeat.
Back in the city, Mark was trying to hide the uncertainty in his chest, trying to bury the guilt under layers of responsibility and cold logic. But he wouldnât be able to escape it for long. Venom wasnât done with him. Not yet.
And soon, you would make sure he understood that.
You donât get to walk away.
I know this is not accurate for cecil to behave this way but trust me brođđ
Some of the sentences got deleted soo some parts might not make sense
