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wordsofwhimsy · 3 months ago

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【Ｏｐｐｏｓｉｔｅｓ　

Ａｔｔｒａｃｔ】 - Part Three

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice of life

Word Count: 2,177

Chapter Synopsis: A conversation at lunch, and a car ride home~

a/n: this is probably gonna be the last part where y’all are in HS, unless you guys like it set there. i was thinking next part would timeskip into college. ALSO i can’t decide if i want to let Mark go full psycho in this or make it an au where he’s not so bad 😭 would love some in put from you guys 👀

Part Two

You floated through your next classes like a helium balloon on a breeze. Every time someone said "strong" or mentioned dodgeball, your brain instantly short-circuited back to the idea of Mark knocking out someone’s tooth with a single throw. The boy was walking around like a teenage tank with a smirk, and now all you could do was giggle to yourself and replay every syllable he’d said to you during gym.

By the time lunch rolled around, the buzz had dulled into a soft, persistent hum in your chest — the kind that made everything feel shiny and a little too real. You weren’t expecting anything else. One conversation was already the highlight of your month.

So when Mark dropped his tray onto your table and slid into the seat across from you, you almost died.

"You're eating air for lunch, or is that supposed to be food?" he asked casually, nodding toward the untouched tray in front of you.

You blinked. Looked at your tray. Looked at him.

"I—it’s food-adjacent," you said quickly, sitting up straighter like posture might make you look more competent. "I just got distracted. You know, thinking about how gym class might've been the end of me."

He huffed a quiet laugh, poking at his own mystery meat. "Pretty sure you did more damage to yourself than I’ve ever seen in dodgeball."

"You threw a ball so hard it knocked someone’s tooth out!" you exclaimed, your voice cracking mid-sentence like a vinyl record. “Meanwhile, I just tripped on my own excitement.”

"Yeah," he said, smirking. "That was kinda hilarious. You, not the tooth."

You flushed but smiled anyway. "I mean, I was excited to talk to you again. Childhood besties reunited after years of top-secret government isolation — it’s dramatic."

His smirk faded just slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "So that part’s real? You said something about being in government custody yesterday."

You stiffened. Serious Mark had entered the chat.

You looked down at your tray, your fingers instinctively curling around the little dragon keychain dangling from your backpack zipper. He was glittery and red, with tiny felt wings and wide plastic eyes. He’d been with you for years.

“I—yeah,” you said softly. “That’s real. I wasn’t supposed to talk about it, but... I didn’t want to lie to you. No good friendship ever starts with lies, right?”

He didn’t say anything right away, just tilted his head like he was waiting for the rest.

So you took a breath. And then—pop. With a tiny shimmer of light, the dragon keychain blinked to life in your palm, stretching like a cat waking up from a nap.

"Meet Pesto," you said, your voice soft but proud. "He's not very threatening, but he's got a killer glitter breath."

Mark's eyes widened. "What the fuck—did you just bring that thing to life?"

You nodded, cheeks warming. "It’s like, my thing. I can animate small objects. Toys, charms, dolls, stuff like that. But it only works on harmless things. The GDA tested it a thousand ways and said it didn’t have any real combat application. So… they shelved me."

Pesto blinked up at Mark, then sneezed. A tiny puff of glitter poofed from his snout.

Mark stared for a moment, then laughed. Not a condescending laugh—more like a surprised, what the hell is even happening laugh.

“That’s fuckin’ crazy,” he said, shaking his head with an amused grunt. “That would be something you could do.”

You blinked, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or not. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back in his seat, tray forgotten, arms crossing over his chest as a smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. “I dunno. You’ve always been kinda… weird.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “Excuse me? I am an eccentric delight. There’s a difference.”

“Oh yeah?” he raised a brow. “Cuz I distinctly remember you bringing half your stuffed animals to school in a stroller once. You told everyone it was their ‘field trip.’”

Your face went nuclear. “They deserved an education!”

He laughed again, and this time it was warm — like sunshine cracking through the clouds of his usual too-cool exterior.

You bit your lip, still flushed. “I was seven, okay? That’s, like, legally protected innocence.”

“No shame,” he said, reaching over to gently poke Pesto, who let out a soft little purr. “You turned out kinda cool.”

You blinked at him. “Kinda?!”

Mark grinned. “Don’t let it go to your head, Stuffy.”

Your jaw dropped. “You remember my nickname?!”

“You screamed at me when I tried to give you a new one. What was I supposed to do, forget the trauma?”

You laughed, full and unfiltered, feeling something warm spread behind your ribs like hot chocolate in the cold. He remembered. He remembered you.

“So…” Mark leaned in a little, just enough to make your breath catch, “you gonna make that dragon do tricks or what?”

You gave him a sly smile. “Pesto is a dignified creature. He only performs for snacks.”

Mark reached into his backpack, pulled out a packet of gummy bears, and set it down in front of you like he was bartering with royalty.

Pesto perked up immediately.

“He’s easily bribed,” you said with a shrug. “We have that in common.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

His voice had gone a little lower when he said it — casual, but there was something in the way he was looking at you that made your stomach flip-flop like a fish on dry land.

You blinked, trying not to combust. “So, uh, any other hobbies besides terrifying bullies and delivering gym class concussions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, reclining back in his chair with all the smugness of someone who definitely knew you were watching him and absolutely liked the attention.

You were about to fire back a witty retort (or at least a halfway decent one) when the lunch bell rang, jolting you just a bit. Students began filing out, trays clattering and chairs scraping.

Mark stood, grabbing his tray and casually tossing a gummy bear to Pesto, who caught it with an enthusiastic mlem.

“Later, Stuffy,” he said as he walked past.

You turned slowly, watching him go, then looked at Pesto.

“Wait, are we actually becoming friends again?” you whispered.

Pesto blinked at you. Glitter sneezed out of his nose.

Later That Day

You coasted through your last few classes with approximately three brain cells functioning — one dedicated to remembering to blink, another repeating Mark’s “Later, Stuffy” on an endless loop, and the third having a full-on meltdown every time you remembered the way he leaned in and called you cool.

Needless to say, no academic miracles were performed that afternoon.

You shuffled out to the parking lot a few minutes after the final bell rang, your backpack slipping off one shoulder, dragging your feet to your junker car — the same sad, metallic rectangle of disappointment the GDA had generously gifted you when you were released from their "custody."

You threw your bag onto the passenger seat, climbed in, and turned the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

You tried again. Still nothing — just a pitiful cough, a flicker of the dash lights, and then silence.

You sat there for a second, staring at the wheel. “Okay, rude.”

You slumped forward, forehead hitting the steering wheel. “Come on, you overpriced tin can…” You turned the key one last time with a final, desperate hope.

RrrrRrrrRrrRrrrrr—cough—click.

You sighed, and just as you were pulling out your phone to check the bus schedule a sudden knock on your window made you scream.

You looked up and saw Mark standing there, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyebrow quirked like he’d caught you doing something embarrassing.

Which, to be fair… he had.

You rolled the window down slowly, pretending you hadn’t just hollered like a horror movie extra.

“Hey,” you greeted casually, ignoring the fact that your voice cracked halfway through. “You’re still here?”

He shrugged. “Detention. Again. You good?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I mean, no. I think my car’s kicked the bucket.”

Mark glanced at the hood, then back at you. “Won’t start?”

“Not unless I sing it a lullaby and promise it a better life,” you muttered. Mark stared at you, then blinked like he wasn’t quite sure he heard you right.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ weird,” he said finally, shaking his head with a slight smirk quirking at his lips.

Normally, you would’ve had a comeback ready. Something clever, maybe a little sparkly, definitely ridiculous. But right now? With your car refusing to cooperate, your ride home disappearing with the daylight, and your one big chance at a normal day crumbling in real time?

You just sighed, slumping back in your seat.

“…Yeah,” you said quietly, without your usual shine. “I know.”

Mark glanced at you, and something shifted in his expression — his smirk fading into something softer. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes turning up to the sky.

“C’mon. I’ll give you a ride.”

You blinked, not quite processing. “Wait—really?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m just offering to stand here while you suffer. Yes, really.”

You lit up like a string of fairy lights, the earlier gloom lifting just a little. “Oh my god, yes. Yes please. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t say that until we actually get there in one piece.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You reached for the door handle to get out—fully expecting to follow him to wherever his car was parked—but before you could push it open, Mark leaned in and gently—but firmly—closed it again.

You froze.

“…Uh. What’re you doing?”

He just gave you that same unreadable grin, one brow raised like he was having way too much fun with this.

“Sit tight.”

You stared. “Mark. What do you mean, ‘sit tight’? Why are you looking at me like that? What’s going on? Am I being kidnapped—?”

But he was already backing away, rolling his sleeves up like this was just another Tuesday.

You pressed both hands to the window as he crouched slightly in front of the car, stretching his arms and cracking his neck like he was getting ready to do something outrageous.

Which—spoiler alert—he was.

“MARK?” you shouted through the glass. “WHAT ARE YOU—WAIT—IS THIS—OH MY GOD—”

Then—with zero hesitation—he gripped the front of your car and lifted it. Off. The. Ground.

You screamed.

Like, genuinely screamed. Hands flailed, heart raced, every single organ in your body evacuated out of pure panic.

“MARK! MARK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING—OH MY GOD—”

And then—lift off.

The tires left the pavement and your car, your sad little tin can of a car, was suddenly soaring through the sky, held aloft in Mark’s arms like it was nothing.

You scrambled across the seat, hands splayed on the window, voice pitchy and horrified. “I’M NOT WEARING A SEATBELT—THIS ISN’T A ROLLER COASTER—THIS IS A TOYOTA—”

Mark’s voice rang out from outside the windshield, crystal clear and annoyingly calm. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

“YOU’RE HOLDING A WHOLE CAR!”

“Yeah, and you’re not dead. So… win-win?”

Wind rushed around you, whipping your hair into chaos as your apartment complex came into view below. You were screaming and laughing and gasping all at once — a ridiculous, adrenaline-fueled swirl of holy crap this is real.

And you kinda loved it.

Was this what flying felt like? Your heart pounding, the sky wide open, and Mark freaking Grayson carrying you through it like some twisted superhero Uber?

It was absurd. It was exhilarating. It was��

“—WE’RE GONNA GET ARRESTED!” you shouted out the window.

“Nah,” Mark called back. “I’m good at not getting caught.”

“THAT IS NOT REASSURING!”

A moment later, your car touched down with a soft bump outside your apartment building. Not even a scratch.

You sat there in stunned silence for three full seconds, then exploded out of the passenger side like a champagne cork, stumbling over your own feet as you pointed at him.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” you gasped, looking at Mark like he’d just personally rewritten gravity. “HOW—HOW DID YOU EVEN—THAT WAS A WHOLE CAR!”

He flexed casually. “Pretty strong.”

You stared at him, open-mouthed. “Y-You could’ve died!”

Then he leaned against the hood and said it—smooth and cheeky, like he’d been waiting for the perfect dramatic moment.

“Nah, I’m Invincible.”

You stared another beat. Then you laughed—loud, shocked, and a little hysterical.

“That is the dumbest and coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He just grinned, arms crossed.

“Alright, see ya tomorrow, Stuffy.”

You stared after him as he took off into the air again, leaving nothing behind but the faint whoosh of wind and a lingering smirk on your face.

Pesto peeked out of your bag, blinking at you with wide beady eyes.

You sighed. “Did that really just happen?”

Pesto sneezed. Glitter.

———————

Part Four!

———————

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic #variant!mark x reader #mohawk!mark x reader #mohawk mark x reader

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rosemariiaa · 6 months ago

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~A Family Christmas Eve~

˖˙ ᰋ ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosie’s note: okkk, i loved the prompts in my inbox but i had two that were my favs so i out those together, i live for pazzi as moms omgg! but sadly this is the last oneshot until after a few chapter of HS, which should be coming out soon hah.. anyway happy reading lovelies 💌

˖˙ ᰋ ── theme: fluff

enjoy!!!

The living room is alive with the warm glow of Christmas lights reflecting off the shiny ornaments scattered on the coffee table. The smell of pine mingles with hints of hot chocolate from the kitchen, and the faint sounds of Christmas music play in the background. Azzi is kneeling in front of the couch, wrestling a tiny red pajama set onto a squirming two-year-old who has ideas of her own.

“Evie,” Azzi says patiently, holding up the pajama top. “Arms up, baby. Come on.”

Evie, soft curls framing her round face and lips set in a pout, crosses her arms instead. “Cookies,” she declares firmly, her voice carrying the kind of conviction only a toddler can manage.

Azzi sighs, sitting back on her heels and glancing toward the bedroom door. “Paige!” she calls out, clearly trying not to laugh.

“What?” Paige yells back from the living room.

“Your daughter’s holding me hostage,” Azzi shouts, her voice light but full of mock frustration.

Evie gasps dramatically. “Not hotage!” she insists, her little face scrunching up in indignation.

Paige appears in the doorway, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, wearing a matching red pajama set. Her grin is immediate as she takes in the sight of Azzi kneeling on the floor and Evie sitting on the bed, stubbornly bare-armed. “What’s the problem?” Paige asks, crossing her arms.

“She won’t let me get her dressed because she wants to bake cookies right now,” Azzi explains, giving Paige a helpless look.

Evie points a tiny finger at Azzi. “Cookies now, Mama!”

Paige bites back a laugh and crouches to Evie’s level, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, Evie,” she says, her voice conspiratorial. “How about this—if you let Mama get you dressed, I’ll let you pick the first ornament for the tree. Deal?”

Evie narrows her eyes, clearly weighing her options before finally relenting with a dramatic sigh. “Fine,” she says, lifting her arms.

Azzi mutters a quiet “thank you” under her breath as she slips the pajama top over Evie’s head.

Just as they’re finishing, the sound of loud banging echoes from the front door. Paige groans, standing up quickly. “Oh my God. Who’s about to break our house down?”

Azzi stands, scooping Evie into her arms, the little girl’s curls bouncing as she giggles. “I have a guess,” Azzi says, smirking.

Paige opens the door to find the entire team—Caroline, KK, Ice, Morgan, Yanna, Sarah, Nika, and Amari—crowded on the porch in matching Christmas sweaters and grinning like maniacs.

“Twin!” Nika shouts, barging in first to give Paige a huge hug that nearly knocks her over.

“You can’t just—” Paige starts, but before she can finish, the rest of the team is pouring into the house, hugging both her and Azzi, and exclaiming over how festive everything looks.

“Where’s the star of the show?” Ice asks, looking around dramatically.

As if on cue, Evie wiggles out of Azzi’s arms and bolts toward Ice. “Auntie Icey!” she yells, throwing herself at Ice, who catches her with practiced ease.

“There she is!” Ice says, spinning Evie around.

The room quickly turns into a loud, chaotic swirl of hugs and laughter. Caroline helps Evie unwrap a candy cane, KK heads straight for the snacks Paige left out on the counter, and Amari spots the tree and claps her hands. “Alright, where do we start?”

“Nika, you’re slacking,” Azzi teases as Nika sits on the couch, already holding a mug of hot chocolate. “I thought you were her favorite.”

“I am her favorite,” Nika retorts, holding out her arms. “Right, Evie? Come to Auntie Nika.”

Evie scrambles out of Ice’s arms and runs to Nika, who picks her up and holds her close. “Told you,” Nika says smugly, sticking her tongue out at Azzi.

“Rah!” Evie says suddenly, spotting Sarah next.

Sarah grins, holding out her hand for a high five. “What’s up, Evie girl?”

“Moogan,” Evie says, pointing at the brunette, her small brow furrowed.

Morgan crouches down with a patient smile. “Mooorgan,” she says slowly, exaggerating the sounds. “Can you say it?”

“Moooo-gin,” Evie tries, frowning when it doesn’t come out right.

“It’s okay, baby,” Azzi teases, stepping forward and resting a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Morgan’s just the least favorite, anyway.”

“Wow, Fudd,” Morgan deadpans, narrowing her eyes as the group bursts into laughter.

Paige bites back a grin, watching Morgan attempt to recover her pride as Evie plants a soft kiss on her cheek to make up for it. “See? She loves you,” Paige says through her laughter. “You’re just not Nika.”

“None of us are,” Ice chimes in, throwing a fake glare at Nika, who’s still smugly cuddling Evie like a prized trophy.

“Alright, alright,” Azzi interrupts with a laugh, clapping her hands. “We still have a tree to decorate, stockings to hang, and yes,” she shoots a look at Evie, “cookies to bake.”

“Cookies!” Evie squeals excitedly, squirming until Nika sets her down. She dashes toward the kitchen, only to be intercepted by Caroline.

“Hold up, Evie. Ornaments first,” Caroline says, scooping her up and spinning her around.

Paige watches it all unfold with a fond smile, her arms crossed as she leans against the wall. She and Azzi have hosted team gatherings before, but this—everyone together, laughing, filling their home with chaos and love—this feels different. It feels special.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Azzi murmurs, stepping up beside her and bumping Paige’s shoulder lightly.

Paige turns her head, grinning. “Just thinking about how lucky we are. Look at this.” She gestures at the scene in front of them—KK and Amari tangled in lights, Sarah sorting ornaments while Ice takes an entire strand of garland for herself like a scarf, and Morgan carefully helping Evie pick the first ornament for the tree.

Azzi follows Paige’s gaze, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Yeah. We are lucky.”

“Also, you should’ve named her Christmas Eve,” Paige jokes, nudging Azzi again. “Because then it’d be Evie on Christmas Eve.”

Azzi groans, rolling her eyes. “Paige, that joke was awful.”

“No, no, it’s brilliant,” Paige insists, grinning even wider. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Azzi deadpans, but there’s no hiding the affectionate gleam in her eyes.

Before Paige can respond, Evie toddles over to them with an ornament clutched in her hand—a glittery silver star. “Mommy, Mama, look!”

Paige crouches down, holding out her hand so Evie can proudly place the star in her palm. “Perfect choice, baby,” she says, ruffling the little girl’s curls.

“Hey, Eve,” Nika calls from the couch. “Can I pick the next ornament?”

“No!” Evie says immediately, turning to look at her auntie with wide, scandalized eyes.

The entire room erupts in laughter, and Paige scoops Evie into her arms, peppering kisses on her cheeks. “Don’t worry, baby, you’re in charge tonight.”

Azzi watches them with a soft look on her face, her heart swelling at the sight of Paige laughing with their daughter. It’s loud and chaotic and entirely imperfect, but it’s theirs—this is home.

Just then, Evie runs to the window and presses her small hands against the glass. “Mama, Mommy! Deer!” she shouts excitedly, pointing outside.

Azzi and Paige exchange a surprised glance, walking over to the window just in time to see a small herd of deer grazing in their front yard, the snow lightly dusting their backs. The scene is serene, almost magical against the Christmas lights twinkling around their home.

“Well, looks like Santa’s helpers are here early,” Paige says with a grin.

Evie’s eyes light up. “Deers! Santa’s deers!”

Azzi wraps her arm around Paige’s waist, leaning in to whisper, “This is the Christmas magic I wanted for her.”

“Me too,” Paige replies softly, her voice filled with emotion as she pulls Evie into her arms, kissing the top of her head.

As the night goes on, the team makes themselves at home in every corner of the house. The tree gets decorated, stockings are hung, and the smell of cookies soon fills the kitchen as Evie proudly stands on a stepstool, helping Sarah and Caroline cut out shapes from the dough.

Paige sneaks a piece of cookie dough when Azzi isn’t looking, only to get swatted on the arm when she’s caught.

“Mommy!” Evie scolds, her little brows furrowed. “No eat dough.”

“Yeah, Mommy,” Azzi adds, giving Paige a pointed look.

“Traitors,” Paige mutters under her breath, though she can’t stop the grin tugging at her lips.

As the chaos swirls, Paige’s eyes narrow slightly as Morgan subtly nudges Azzi toward the dining room. “Az, can you help me for a second? These lights are tangled, and it’s a disaster.”

Azzi frowns, clearly suspicious. “Why can’t you ask KK or Amari?”

“They’ll just laugh at me,” Morgan says, pouting. “Come on, teamwork.”

Paige watches them disappear, her smirk growing as she turns back to the group. “Alright, you guys have five minutes, tops.”

“Five minutes to what?” Caroline asks, already grinning as Ice pulls a roll of wrapping paper out from behind the couch.

“To wrap Paige as Azzi’s present,” KK says gleefully, tearing a piece of tape with her teeth.

“Not this again, that’s not what we talked about,” Paige groans. “I swear—”

“Shut up it’s tradition,” Ice insists. “The wives have to be presents.”

“It’s dumb,” Paige grumbles, even as Nika swoops in to lift Evie. “Evie, do you want to help wrap Mommy?”

Evie gasps, her little hands clapping together. “Mommy’s a pwesent?!”

“Yep,” Nika confirms, pulling Evie into her lap with the red ribbon in hand. “Special delivery for Mama Azzi.”

“Traitors,” Paige mutters as Caroline and Amari start clearing space, KK expertly lining up wrapping paper. “Every single one of you.”

“You’ll survive,” Ice grins, pulling Paige toward the center of the room.

—————

Meanwhile, in the dining room, Azzi is watching Morgan fiddle pointlessly with a string of lights. “I still don’t understand why you needed—”

“Almost done!” Morgan blurts out nervously. “Just—wait here for a second, okay?”

Azzi squints at her suspiciously. “You’re stalling.”

Morgan flashes an awkward smile. “Team spirit?”

Azzi mutters under her breath as Morgan blocks the doorway again, a little too obviously.

Back in the living room, Paige stands awkwardly, her arms wrapped tightly against her body under crinkled red and white paper. Ice slaps a giant bow onto her shoulder while KK sticks the finishing tag to Paige’s chest. In wobbly toddler letters, it reads: “To Mama, From Mommy.”

“Perfect,” Caroline says, grinning at her work.

“Azzi’s gonna kill you,” Paige mutters as Evie bounces excitedly.

Amari peeks toward the dining room. “She’s coming back! Get ready.”

The lights dim slightly, and Evie squeals in anticipation as the team scurries into position.

Morgan finally gives up and pushes Azzi toward the doorway. “Go see your surprise.”

Azzi steps into the living room, freezing as her gaze lands on Paige—fully wrapped, ribbon-tied, and looking both annoyed and amused. “What… is happening?”

“Merry Christmas, Mama!” Evie cries gleefully, pointing at Paige. “Mommy’s pwesent!”

The team bursts into laughter as Paige shuffles forward, the paper crackling loudly. “Your wife is the best gift you’ll ever get.”

Azzi blinks, then breaks into a soft, helpless laugh. “Oh my God. You guys did this?”

Evie scrambles over to hug Paige’s leg, her little arms patting the paper. “Mommy’s pwetty,” she declares proudly.

Azzi walks over, shaking her head as she cups Paige’s face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige smirks. “So… do you like your gift?”

Azzi leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s lips. “I think I’ll keep you.”

The team erupts into cheers, Evie clapping happily as Paige grins triumphantly. “Told you I was the best gift.”

“Wrapped and all,” Azzi teases softly, her gaze warm as she takes in the chaotic scene of their family. “Merry Christmas, P.”

Paige’s smile softens, her voice equally tender. “Merry Christmas, Az.”

—————

˖˙ ᰋ ── taglist:

@thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @juspeaks @sierrale8ne @imaginespazzi @makethemhoesmad @kmoneymartini @pazzilover101 @starlighttsv @lupinqs @absolutelydreadful @ashortyluvsports @melpthatsme @d3arapril @heyitssells

#asks ❣︎#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #fic talk #pazzi fics #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆

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