lavenderhateswritting

[lavenderhateswritting]

Aaron Hotchner x Unsub Male Reader

Part 1

Catching you hadn't been a dramatic afair. There had been no victim to save. There was no evil lair you had been living in. They hadn't even found you writing one of your letters to him. Morgan has smashed your door down. It was a spray of broken wood that made way to an almost obsessively clean home. You had been sitting watching on the couch and had barely looked up when your door had been destroyed and dozens of SWAT officers had run in.

As you were dragged out of your house, the handcuffs pulled much tighter than necessary, you had made eye contact with him on your way out. Your eyes locked onto his as soon as he was in your line of sight and the intensity of it made looking away impossible for Aaron. You had the eyes of a man who had been given water for the first time after months in the desert. His focus on you had caused a cutting smirk to appear on your face sharp, dangerous, yet for some reason, satisfied. The smirk stayed on your face until you were manhandled into the squad car.

"It's him, but we've gotta find something to stick to him." Rossi and Reed had walked up next to him. Everyone was worried about his closeness to this unsub. They were worried it would make the deaths hit more because they were done in his name.

Hotchner watched as the squad car drove off toward the station. He couldn't say their beliefs were unfounded.

"He fits the profile. He met me in law school. A loner with no family or close relationships. And a history of obsessive control issues. House maticulous and clean to the point of over doing it." He feels the words coming out of his mouth, but they feel as though they are coming out of a different person.

"He's not going to have evidence just sitting out for us to find. He's to smart for that, and to maticulous. We're either gonna have to get him to confess or tear this entire house apart." Rossi said.

"The crime scenes and letters showed a high level of intellegence and order it's likey that if he doesn't tell us finding evidence will be nearly impossible." Reed looked into the house then.

"Then we'll get it out of him." Hotchner could feel their eyes on him then, likely, trying to see what his reaction would be. He walked toward the car to go back to the station, a tingle in his gut he worked to conseal until he was out of Reed and Rosi's sight.

He had told the team that he had known you in law school. Of course he left most of the details of how you knew each other out. When he thinks back to the first time he had ever met you, all he can think about is everything he missed. The tiks and behaviors that pointed to a concerning future neither of you could have even imagined. He can see it now. You had been top your class and in law school that got you a lot attention good and bad. But when you had been out sick for a week he had had to offer you the notes as you were to shy to approach him. He remembers sitting next to you after class, you had wanted to just take the notes home, but there were some things that he knew you wouldn't know just from his notes so he had explained them to you huddled in the warm lights of the almost completly empty library. You were neat your handwriting straight with little deviation almost robotic. Your notebooks were color coded and your notes were too, nearly every sentence had a specific sticky note or higlighter. You didn't talk about family or friends and you seemed almost ashamed of how poorly you reacted to his attention. You opened like a flower under the sun. In the present he could work through every quirk of yours and every piece of backstory you had given him and see exactly what kind of warning sign you had and how they turned you into the monster you were. But at the time the only thing he really noticed was your smile. You were awkward and your smile had stiffness to it that implied your mouth wasn't used to the movement. But as you guys sat together late into the night he watched it slowly creep up your face when he made a joke or complimented you. By the end of the night he had already decided he wanted to see as much of your smile as possible.

He was strck by how much you still looked the same. He was used to people saying that they couldn't believe someone they knew were capable of murder. But looking at you sitting their at the table you had this air around you. You were handcuffed to a table and yet it seemed like you thought you had won. He could believe you were a killer.

Reed and Rosi had stayed back at your house trying to dig through your belongings and find whatever evidence they possibly could. Now Prentis, Morgan and Hotchner were standing on the other side of the one way window watching you.

"I'll go in, shake him up, try and get him to crack and tell us something." Morgan put the file he was holding down.

"No, it won't work he's not gonna talk to you." Hotchner was glad that Prentis had made the effort to mention it. He didn't want to show how invested he was in you.

"We can't send Hotch in their. The object of his obsession in the same room as him, theirs no way to guess how he'll react. It's too volatile." He understood Morgan's point. You were already killing people out of some distorted sense of affection for him. Who knew what you do when he was in the room with him.

Well he did know. You had told him over the phone, your voice barely above a whisper dripping with want. You had told him exactly what you wanted to do if you were in the same room. He felt something warm pooling into his stomach.

He felt his legs moving before his mouth began to move.

"Prentis is right. He won't speak to anyone else it has to be me." He could hear Morgan make an effort to protest, but he was already opening the door.

He could see it in your body movements. The moment he walked in he had all of your attention. You were like a lion who had found it's prey. In your mind he was a gazelle who had seperated from the pack. You were certain you had won whatever game had been happeing in your mind.

Hotch sealed off every part of himself that might slip through if you provoked him. He was a put together man. He worked hard to be professional and make the world see him as the stable reliable Hotchner. He couldn't let you remove that air from him. Even if you both knew you had the power to do it.

A smug smile was firmly on your face as he walked into the room.

"Hello, Y/N my name is agent Hotchner." That got a reaction out of you. Amusment crossed over your face then.

"So formal Aaron, I'd feel hurt but considering the circumstances I guess it's to be expected." Your voice was calm. It was unnerving, you had been pulled out of your home and accused of murder and yet, you would have thought you were about to go to the grocery store.

"Where were you on the nights of the murder Y/N." He couldn't let you think there was a bond between the two of you. He needed to seem distant, use your need for his attention to draw out more information.

"At home, alone, watching TV. Though liking The Great British Bakeoff doesn't make me a killer." Your eyes darted from his to his throat then back up again.

"You fit the profile of the man we're looking for."

"Is that so?" You leaned backwards in the chair you were sitting on. Spreading your legs you leaned your head to the side. Your body language implied you were trying to take up space. You wanted him to follow the lines of your body he knew this. And yet he could help but swallow thickly.

"What kind of man are you looking for, Agent Hotchner." Your voice was deeper then. Huskier like you had just rolled out of bed.

His body was as stiff as he could possibly make it. Though he could tell that you had recognized that whatever you were trying to do was working.

"The man we're looking for is a loner, likely well educated. He's organized to a concerning degree. He's obsessed with me, which means he's probably spent sometime around me and slowly developed an idea of a relationship that we did not have. And their killing for attention which means they likely spent their early years allienated from his peers and ignored by his family." He could see how his words had affected you. The smugness of your stance had begun to wein, the smile was no longer on your face.

"Is that what you think Aaron that you were nice to me in college and now I'm obsessed with you? Little full of yourself Aaron." Your eyes were starring directly into your his with an intensity that would have made a lesser man stumble. It simply made a line of sweat roll down his back.

"I think, that you were alone a lot growing up and when you got to college, I was kind to you, and maybe you misinterpreted my attention, you thought that if you killed people it would draw me to you in some misguided belief that this would get me to start paying attention to you again." Your eyes never left his as you spoke.

"Did I misinterpret your attention toward me Aaron?"

After finals he found himself still strung tight like a wire and desperate for relief. And you had come up to him as he was entering his apartment. Your smile had been so sweet and you were fidiling with your fingers, he couldn't help himself. He pushed you into the door and slammed his mouth into yours. And he devoured you, one of his hands was attached to your waist digging into your hip as his other arm opened the door to his apartment. He pulled away from your mouth for air. Your eyes were blown wide and your breath was coming out in short puffs. "A-Aaron, I -" "Do you want this?" His heartbeat was loud in his ears. He could feel your erection rubbing against his leg. He pushed his thigh forward into it and listend as a breathy moan was let out from between your lips. "Yes, I want this" Before you had finished his mouth was already in your throat kissing along the length of it. He felt you burry your fngers into his hair and pull at the strands. His hands began working their way down your body until he had a grip on your belt. "I'm gonna bend you over this couch and fuck you, then we're gonna go out and celebrate getting through this semester okay." Your smile was light and almost shy. "Okay Aaron."

"You imagined a connection that wasn't there." The frown that crossed your face had struck him somewhere deep inside of him.

"And what was our connection Aaron." He could tell that you knew he had underplayed the connection the two of you had.

"We were study buddies, we've gone out for dribnks once or twice, but were never particularly close."

You turned your head toward the two way window.

"Is that what you told them? Told yourself."

"That's what happened. And it doesn't matter you want a plea deal you're gonna have to tell us where you're keeping the trophies you keep from your victims." The look in your eyes then was something dark almost violent.

"I want my lawyer."

[lavenderhateswritting]

Oh my God your recent post gave me so much happiness. I’ve been watching criminal minds and I was just thinking about looking criminal mind fanfic!

I'm glad you liked it. I love criminal minds and Aaron Hotchner is my main man so I saw the lack of Hotchner x male reader fics an dhad to fix that immediately. Although I'm thinking of rewatching so I can get some more inspo for more fics.

[lavenderhateswritting]

Aaron Hotchner x Male Reader

Hotchner with an unsub reader Part 2

Walking into the crime scene after the bodies had been cleared was a deceptive process because the crime that had been commited in the house was violent. Blood had splattered the walls in such a thick cover that most it would have been easy to think that was just the color of the paint. The smell had seeped into the house and even after the crime scene cleaners had been through there was still a deep smell of rot and iron rich blood seeping through.

“There was a party in the house the night before.” Rossi was walking the length of the dining room where much of the carnage had been centered.

Prentis had been walking behind him, her eyes scanning the scene for any extra messages that might have been left behind.

“They were all drunk. So they hadn’t heard him come in. No sign of forced entry though that could be because they had forgotten to lock the door." Rossi began to walk deeper int the house toward the kitchen.

"Not to surprising. Its a quiet neighborhood with low levels of violence they were celebrating and didn't realize they hadn't locked the door after the last guest. Is this where the first people were killed?” Prentis was stading in the kitchen next to the kitchen sink.

"Chissy Wilson and Theodore Milkavich were likely the first to drop. They were in the kitchen together likely the first to cut off from the main group."

"He comes in through the front door, but he doesn't go through the main room, he can't fifteen people are here, but they all know eachother they'd notice he wasn't supposed to be here." They are both flowing around through going through the process of the kill. Rossi continues forward.

"So he starts in the kitchen, he waits in the pantry until two people break off from the group. And then he kills them quick quietly too because the others don't immediately find the bodies. Then what?" Prentis begins to speak then.

"Then he moves out of the kitchen toward the dinning room and he takes the gun and starts to pick them off one at a time. He doesn't have a lot of time and he knows it. The people in the living room are going to hear and come in."

"Once he's killed all of those the people in the dinning room run in and then he starts killing them too. No one outside of the house hears a thing." Rossi has his hands on his hips when he says this.

"Likely had a silencer on." Prentis begins to walk toward the window in the living room.

"When he's done he gets to work, he has all of the time in the world and a goal to make as horiffic of a crime scene as possible, but to what end?" Rossi says.

"Garcia just texted me we've gotta head back to the sherif's office they found a letter in one of the victims torso's"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Dearest Hotchner, I know that I have to apologize to you my love. The last few years have been difficult for me, hard in ways I could never describe to you, though I’m sure you would understand. I’ve learned that you’ve gotten a promotion in the years of my absence. I’m glad that those in charge have begun to see how amazing you truly are. I’m sure you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you and so, in honor of our beautiful reunion I have left you a little treat. I’m sure you’ve noticed the mess I’ve made already. You know you think that the husbands will be the biggest issue in cleanouts like these, but it’s never the case. The wives are usually the biggest fighters especially if she’s a mother. I admire that about women the deperaton with which women fight for their survival. One of the women. I believe her name was Caroline got me pretty good while i was finishing up my masterpiece I assumed she was dead, but sadly she wasn't. I’m  sure you’ll find the blood somewhere around this mess of a scene though you’ll also find that I’m not on any system you could use to find me, sorry love what’s the point in making it that easy. I am a bit rusty I will admit .Neither of us are as young as we used to be though, it could also be because I went pretty big for my return. You know me love, I love the dramatics. Now come find me. Sincerely, Your Love 

The tension in Hotch's jaw as the letter was being read out was unmistakeable. His entire body had begun to tighten up of the course of the reading of the letter nad he looked like he was close drawing blood from how hard he was clenching his fists.

"So he's back then and has some grand ideas about catching up on lost time." Morgan is standing off to the side of the meeting room arms folded.

"He says the last few years have been difficult. Maybe he's alluding to a loss of employment or a medical crisis. He does reference his age and a victim being able to fight back enough that they were able to hurt him." Reed speaks into the tense room.

"Hotch are you sure you want to get involved with this one. This guys got you in his sights only." Morgan turns his head to look at their leader and his nearly statue like stillness.

"He's going to cut his way through the entirety of this town and move to another one. He wants attention and in order to get it he will go to extreme lengths." Hotch took a deep breath. "We need all hands on deck and to end this before he hurts anyone else."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hotch had decided to later in his hotel that day. The speech he had given his team had reignited the certainty that they could not let this unsub go underground again. He could not let it show, but it had shaken him to have this killer come back into his life again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back into his chair. He had already unbottoned the top two buttons of his shirt. The tension in his neck and shoulders was all consuming he couldn't think about that now though. He didn't have time to be tired not while you were out there plotting hurting more people.

As he began to gatehr his things to go to bed when the ringing of the phone cuts through the silence of the empty room. He picks it up and places it against his ear.

"Agent Hotchner." The response he got in turn was an almost pregnant silence.

"Hello. Who is this?" He heared the breathing of the person on the other end.

"You gave a rousing speech back there." He stopped himself from inhailing to quickly you had been watching him. Of course you had.

"How did you get this number?" You started to giggle from the other side of the phone.

"Do you miss it? The chase, the excitment, having someone know you."

"You don't know me. You're a sick man who kills people becase their is something wrong with you."

"Aaron" Your voice drops from it's sardonic lightness to a more serious darker turn. "Don't be cruel. I've missed you your voice, your face, your passion. Have you missed me."

"Why would I have missed you. I don't know you." His voice begins to rise then.

"There's no way you still beleve that. You think I don't want you to catch me? Don't be ridiculous. I mean why wouldn't I want you to slam my body into the ground those strong arms gripping down on me pulling me around, manhandling me like I'm filth. You think I don't want that. It's what I touch myself to every single night Aaron." Your voice took on a whisper like tone the further into the monologue you got.

"You want me to cach you fine then come to the station turn yourself in." He took a deliberate effort to not think about what you had just told him about your sexual fantasies. Though he could feel the way your voice had brought a tightness in his slacks.

"There would be no fun in that Aaron. Me and you we're animals, we need the fight, we need the hunt. No turning myself in won't do you need to work for it. Aaron come catch me." You hung up the phone.

[lavenderhateswritting]

Just finished watching xmen 97. Cried a lot, got very horned up for such a wide amount of hot ass men and women. Be prepared for fanficiton.

[lavenderhateswritting]

Magneto x male reader

Summary: Eric didn't just lose his hope in Charles' dream on Genosha he lost you too.

Walking toward the doors of Eric's room was a stomach curdling experience. The overwhelming oppulance of Genosha's capital halls only worked to further seperate your mind from the feeling of existing in your body. It would be easier for everyone involved if you disconnected from this experience emotionally if you viewed it as if it were happening to someone else and not you.

You stood outside of Eric's door and rolled your shoulders back. You needed to prepare yourself as if you were going into battle. Finally after dilibiration you knocked on the door.

"Enter." Eric's voice came through the door to you in than regal way he addressed everyone.

Opening the door even more revelead a room that was set up for a king and Eric stood in the middle of the room. He only had his dress pants and button up on. He was going through the motions of getting ready for the banquet. The banquet you had not been invited to.

You stayed on the edge of the door if you walked over the entrance it would be harder to disconnect.

"So, Rogue is going to be your queen." It wasn't a question, both of you knew it was just the truth of the situation you were in the. The sun sets in the East, grass is green, and Rogue was going to be Eric's queen.

His hands stilled from where they had been adjusting his collar.

"She is the best fit for being the ruler of Genosha. An empathetic person who would work to better mutant kind." His back was still turned to you. The light of the setting sun cloaked what parts of his face were facing you in blinding light.

"You know It isn't her I'm upset with." You inhaled and leaned against the threshold of the room. "My love I will create a world where mutants can be free and we can free from the fight that binds us." A smile creeped up your face tight and bitter. "You think I'm an idiot or blind willing to believe any pretty little things you sent my way."

You watched as the muscles in his back tensed up.

"I have never thought you a fool."

A laugh bubbled up from between your lips. "Then why did you lie to me? Why did you make me think you were in love with me?" You breathed in a shaky breath. "Why have you strung me along for so long when you knew you didn't feel the same way?"

His head turned fully toward the open window. You watched as he inhaled as though he was steeling himself for what was next. There was no need for that. You did not intend to scream and make a scene you just wanted some for of the truth from him.

"You of all people must understand that there are some things we must put to the side in order to do what is best for mutant kind." He turned away from the window then and began to walk toward you. "I have been fighting ths fight for many years and I have loved many and lost many more." He was standing in front of you directly now. He reached his hand up and gripped your chin. His thumb began to stroke the curve of your lip as his eyes looked at you as though he could see your very soul. "There are many things that I do that invoke questions, but my ove for you was never one of them." He leaned forward then to kiss you like you had done hundredsof times before.

"Eric, no" You stared back into his eyes as he had yours. He was surprised maybe hurt though he covered those looks up as fast as he could. Not fast enough. Never fast enough to truly hide them from you.

"We, whatever we were is done. I would apologize, but we both know it isn't my fault. Goodbye." His hold on your face was torn away as though it pained him to let go. You turned your back on him and began to walk towards the exit of this maze of luxury.

You hadn't been paying attention when you turned a corner and saw her standing there. Rogue. She was beautiful her hair in a bun with a dress on that allowed for her arms and hands to be free. She looked suprised to see you.

"Oh, I didn't know you'd be around sugar. It's probably good because I reckon we need to talk." You felt tears finally swell in your eyes.

"Rogue love there is nothing that needs to be talked about. Eric is a grown man and he has made his decision. And never in my life could I imagine denying you the abiltiy to be touched and loved because I am a jealous old man."

"Sugar. Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was on fire and it burned your throat with every deep gulping breath you took. The sentinal attack had been out of nowhere and it had brought with it death on a sclae you had never witnessed up close. Running from place to place throwing debris off of civilians with your super strength and trying to find anywhere safe enough to leave them before you dashed off to another area.

All of the running you had been doing had found you in the center of the fight, however, with Rogue, Eric, and Remy. You had been pushing civilians toward Eric for only minutes when the sentinal in the sky had sent a beam crashing from above that had sent its ffot down directly ontop of you and the group of civilians you were protecting. The weight of the leg was nearly enough to make your legs buckle. You watched as Eric came running for you.

"You can't stay here Eric you need to take the civilians and leave." You saw the horror truly grasping in his eyes. A man who can control metal not being able to save you from this of all things.

"Do not make me have to make this choice. Please." You had never once in your life heard Eric beg before. In a way you never really thought he could.

"There is no choice Eric. You of all people should be able to see. I'm not making it out of here." Tears began to fall down your face.

"Go. Make a better world." The ache in your muscles began to become unbareable and you dropped to your knees as the sentinal began to crush you even further.

Eric looked you in your eyes and you saw the grief the anger the fear everything he could never hide from you pulse from his very bones.

"There is no better world without you in it." He had begun to make a shield around the civilians you had saved.

You felt yourself smile up at him. The weght of the sentinal began to truly push down on you the bones in your arms began to crack.

"Don't be ridiculous Eric. There is and there will be. Promise me."

He looked you in the eyes then.

"I promise."

You felt your back finally give out as the force of the sentinal finally crushed you.

[lavenderhateswritting]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNdrb7BBc/

And what if I say this sound is Viltrumite Mark x male reader coded?

I love when you guys send me like this your brains are so good

[lavenderhateswritting]

Oh, you should totally make a continuous to Viltrumite Mark x male reader, where Mark maybe gets haunted by him and Nolan as a sign of regret while he's trying to move away from it all. If you want to of course

First Part

Mark and the reader are going to say Mark murdered reader in this story. It isn't a continuity error Mark is an unreliable narrator and reader is in his head

Once he took Earth there had still been resistance of coure there would be. Years of living on this planet had taught him one thing for sure and that was the unimaginable stubbornness of the human race. As he watched the row of rebels layed out in front of him squirming as though they were fish stuck in a cooler ramming against the side trying to reach freedom. He stepped in front of the first man in the line. His eyes were staring into Mark's and here was a deep hatred strumming through his soul.

""Why do you argue with them." You looked toward him frustraion still in your eyes. There had been a group of protestors on your campus. They'd bee carrying signs reading 'Fags will burn in hell' and 'Turn to Jesus before its to late'. He had found them annoying like a fly diving toward your face. They yelled and they shouted though he doubted they were capable of intelligent conversation. "What was I supposed to do just ignore them." You were angry at him. He had pulled you away when it became distinctly aware that the argument you were having was likely going to get physical very soon. "Nothing changed though you argued with them and they didn't even move further down the path." The group had grouped up on you screaming and yelling at you together. He had wanted to rip their throats out. Who did they think they were? Compred to you they were stains on the ground not even competent enough to speak coherent thoughts. "Yeah and why does that matter? I don't care if they stopped thinking about me as soon as I walked away." You were pinning him down with a level of intensity that would have made him guess you were a Viltrumite if hadn't known you. "When people just stand around an do nothing the people doing shitty things get free range to push as much as they want." And then you had marched toward your dorm with him trailing behind, all righteous fury and self assurance.

He lifted his arm up and brought it down on the neck of the rebel. It sliced through cleanly, the rebel hadn't even had time to react, his look of defiance was still firmly in place as his head hit the floor. He marched down the line beheading the rest of the rebels in kind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were few things he could say he enjoyed in his life these days his fellow Viltrumites being the lowest on his list of joy. The Viltruites who stayed on Earth were just as violent and self aggrandizing as they had always been. He found that being around them now after having seen your light was almost impossible. Especially as they discussed how many humans they were owed for their contribution to the invasion.

"Well ain't that sweet my murderer missses me." His body stifened the Viltrumites that had been arguing about which of them deserved to have the entirety of South East Asia (neither) hadn't noticed.

"I mean I would have perfered to not be dead, but all things considered this is nice to." You were lounging over the arm of his throne your body just out of reach of his grasp. Your smile was languid and light as though you had just woken up from a nap. Your arm layed over the top of the throne just slightly to high to play through his hair like you used to.

"Get out." The Viltrunies who had been arguing in the room were getting ready to fight eachother and froze where they were standing.

"Fight each other for the land kill the loser and do it somewhere away from me. Now." They began to trail out one at a time until it was just him and you in the room alone.

"Mark that was rude-"

"You are dead." He kept his eyes forward trying as hard as he could to not look at you again.

"Yeah I know. I brought it up." He could hear the humor in your voice.

"This is in my head and it needs to stop." He clenched his fists to stop them from shaking.

"Am I in your head Mark?"

"Yes you are."

"Then why won't you look at me. You killed me Mark at least have the decency to look at me. "

He snapped his head toward you then. You were covered in blood and dirt. Your eyes clouded over with the haze of death and your neck was bruised where his hands had tightened. Turning his head down to look at the gaping hole in your stomach. Looking at you like this made him feel like he was knocked back to that day. His throat tightened and his eyes began to burn.

"There you go. Look at me Mark look at what you did to me." The burning in his eye threatend to turn into full blown tears. He couldn't look at you like this and he couldn't deny that it was his fault you were gone.

"I'm sorry." He whispered looking into your hazy dead eyes. Your face looked almost confused when he said it. He watched as it morphed and a smile began to inch across your face stretching to the point that it would be painful.

"Yeah and why does that matter?"

[lavenderhateswritting]

i hope your feeling better now school can be a pain 💔

thanks so much it really can be, but I'm back and I will be writing like I'm possessed.

[lavenderhateswritting]

Just finished reading Viltrumite Mark X Male Reader and it gave me kinda 'Now that you gone' song vibes idk if you know the song so uhm if you don't here just ignore the video and focus on the music

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNd2VHyRx/

You're actually a genuis and a visionary.

[lavenderhateswritting]

part three of speedster I need it injected into my blood stream

I haven't been answering my asks because of school, I'm so sorry :(

"You need to get a hobby both of you."

Mark and Markie were starring you down now like you had grown a second head. They were sitting on the edge of the bed and you could tell this was not the conversation they had been expecting to have.

"Don't look at me like that, all you both do is sit around all day, eat all the food, and argue. You need a hobby."

They both stared at you again and you could see the gears start to turn in their head.

"Don't lump me in with this freak I have plenty of hobbies." He tilted his head up and folded his arms looking huffy. The hair at the front of his mohawk began to fall into his eyes. He hadn't gotten a haircut in the months he had lived in your universe.

"Oh yeah and what are those?" You raised an eyebrow at him and put your hand on your hip. You watched as a smirk slowly started to slide form on his mouth.

"Well, I read comics, watch Tv, and-" he dashed behind you and wrappeed his arms around you " I make you almost every night."

You felt heat rise to your face. His hands began to drift lower on your buddy until he was playing with the hem of you boxers. You gathered up your dignity and sprinted to the corner of the room out of his arms.

"No, you will not do this. Every single time I try to have this conversationg you jump my bones you-you horny fuck."

A pout began to form on his face like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away.

"You really want to play the game of having me wondering around without you I mean you saw what I did to Chicago." Mark finally spoke up from where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed. He had leaned back on his arms and he had a lazy smile on his face.

They had a weird sense of pride for their violence that you had never really been able to stop. Though you have been working on thinking you can just kill people for mild inconveniences.

"You're a killer Mark not a rabid bear. I'm sure you'll find a way to contain your desperate need to eat people." You walked closer to where they were both at. As you got closer Mark wrapped one of his arms around you pulling you closer to him until his head was leaning on your hip.

"Maybe, I could find a way to control myself. If my pretty boy does something nice for me." He dipped his fingers below the waste badn of you pants fingers brushing agains the hair there lightly.

You leaned your head back pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Both you need to be neutered."

Markie walked closer ad began to slide his hand up the expanse of your stomach toward your chest.

"You heard the man. We'll go be functioning members of society if you give us a reward." His fingers danced up your chest until his finger began circling around your nipple. The bud harden under his finger and he felt heat pool into his stomach.

"Does every conversation have to end like this with you two?"

Markie leaned his head forward and whispered into your ear.

"I don't think you'd complain."

You'll allow for them to take you apart today and then tomorrow you'll force their asses to actually act like people.

[lavenderhateswritting]

reblog if you’re a writer who’s very terrible at responding to comments from your readers, but has read them all and loves and appreciates each and every single one of them very dearly

[lavenderhateswritting]

My asks are open, and I do love writing them if you guys want to send anything.

[lavenderhateswritting]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTj6S4hus/ This is any of the marks if reader doesn’t answer them because they are doing hero stuff or just working btw

Sinester, Eyeless, and Mohawk my loves

Sinister Mark

~ His first reaction when you miss his call is usually to just go wherever you are and "handle" whatever is keeping your attention

~ He has just appeared wherever you are and killed the villain you're fighting or jumped into the conversation you were holding. Sometimes you'll not even notice he's called you until he is just standing in front of you

~ He doesn't care if you find it weird either he actually finds it annoying that you made him take the extra effort to have to come find you. Could he just text you and wait for you to finish what you're doing? Of course, but he's never going to do that.

"Why didn't you answer my call" he was standing in front of you with his arms crossed covered head to toe in blood. He hadn't even had the decency to change into his superhero suit. "I was busy fighting the monster you just gutted" he looked over at the creature who he had just ripped the heart of as if it was nothing. "Don't be ridicoluos that thing was like an ant you could have finished this fight in 5 minutes." He looked huffy even though the last time you said that he threw a fit. "Cecil wanted to take this thing in alive." "Yeah well I wanted to talk to my partner and not have to come out here to the middle of nowhere." Sometimes this man pushed you to your limits. "Fine what did you need Mark" He looked at you without a hint of irony or shame and said : "I wanted to know if you wanted me to get Chinese food before you came home"

Eyeless Mark (20/20)

~ Such a whiny brat.

~ He stews in whatever made him mad and when you ignore his phone calls he definitely just sits at home stewing in how you've ignored him and how he's basically nothing to you.

~ You will come home to the silent treatment and passive agressive bullshit that you're going to have to be super nice to him and suck up to him to get him out of it.

"Mark, come on. I said I was sorry." You watched as he continued to fold his arms and ignore you. "I was working, and I didn't have my phone on me. I'm sorry." The fucker just picked up the remote sitting next to him and turned up the volume higher. "Really, silent treatment. Can we please act like adults?" Still nothing. This is how it went for the rest of the day until dinner. You tried your hardest, you begged, you bribed, and even did the silent treatment back, but Mark still ignored you. So you decided to bring out the big guns. He was back to sitting in front of the TV watching a show, but you could tell that you caught his attention when you walked into the room. You walked over to stand directly in front of him and then slid yourself onto his lap. "Mark," you kissed him on his cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't answer you." You kissed him on his forehead. " It won't happen again, I promise." You kissed him on the lips. He accepted it gladly, and he gripped your waist and pulled you even closer to him. He popped away from the kiss with a line of spit connecting the two of you. He smirked. "I guess I can find it in my heart to forgive you." He inched his hands further up and leaned in for a kiss, and then you pulled away and stood up

"Well, that's good." "Y/N, wait, where are you going?" He stood up to and watched you as you walked toward the front door. "Oh, I was gonna go eat out for dinner, didn't feel like cooking. I'm so glad we could make up, though, bye Mark." You opened the door and walked out. "Wait, I'll come with."

Mohawk Mark

~ Yeah, he's the type to leave you a voicemail, cursing you out.

~ Because why the fuck would you ever act like you can just not pick up his phone call? He will scream into the phone like a crazy person, and it will freak everyone out.

~ He will not scream that much at you. If anything, he did it because he thought it was funny and not because of any genuine anger.

"Oh fuck Mark called me while we were fighting." You were covered in sweat, and heaving even though Eve looked like she hadn't even broken a sweat. "Damn and he left a voicemail." "Oh, what did he say?" She leaned over your shoulder and watched as you clicked on the voicemail your boyfriend had sent you. "Y/N. DON'T YOU EVER IN YOUR FUCKING LIFE THINK THAT YOU CAN HAND UP ON ME YOU SON OF A BITCH. PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE." The line went dead, and you and Eve just stared at each other. "You should probably call him." "Yeah," You stared at the phone in silence as you called Mark until he picked up. "Hi Mark, what did you need?" You heard him shuffling around, and then the sound of him shoveling something in his mouth. "There are no more chips; you should pick some up on your way home." "That's all?" "Yep, see ya."

[lavenderhateswritting]

Viltrumite Mark X Male Reader

He had never known love until you and now he doesn't know if he'll ever know love again

In a way, he should have known this would happen. The Viltrumite empire, for as much as it allowed for you to keep pets, did not allow for weakness.

He had found you on his first exploration back to the planet. He had not been on Earth since the day of his birth. His father had taken him back to Viltrum the moment he could walk so that he could train with and not be weakened by the worms that lay on Earth.

He had been one of the few children on Viltrum at all, and he spent his hours fighting ruthlessly to survive. His powers had not come in as soon as the other children of Viltrum, a product of his human parentage. His days were spent being beaten into the ground until he could not move his body except to crawl back to his home. His father obviously found him to be a disappointment, his weakness a failure in the eyes of Nolan. Until his 17th birthday, his powers finally came in during a sparring session that left one of his classmates with a hole through their stomach.

Of course, as soon as he could prove that he was capable of fighting on behalf of Viltrum, he was sent to every corner of the galaxy to conquer planet after planet. He was good at it to one of the best. His father had begun to feel pride in his power and abilities until finally he decided he was strong enough to conquer his home planet.

Earth was strange in how different it was from Viltrum, but how similar the people looked. The people were weaker than any Viltrumite would ever be allowed to be. He'd seen it in his meeting with his mother. The way she fell to the ground when she saw him grabbing onto his shoulders as though he was going to disappear, the sobbing that made it so she could barely talk, all of it weakness that he would have been killed for showing on Vilrtrum. It disgusted him.

Living beside the humans, walking beside them in their lives, is when he finally met you.

Nothing at first about you had caught his attention. You weren't a standout among humans besides being decently attractive, he would admit. Compared to the average Viltrumite, you looked as weak as all of the other humans that he had seen on Earth, until, you bumped into him. He remembers it so clearly. The way you had been laughing about something your friend had said, walking forward, eyes and mind somewhere else completely, until your shoulder connected with his.

Both of you were sent stumbling back, and your head snapped toward him in an instant. How was that possible? He was almost certain that even the best of Earth's fighters could barely move him, but you hadn't even tried and nearly knocked him off his feet.

In Viltrum, this would have been the incitement for a fight that would have left one of you dead. He had already steadied himself and squared his shoulders, prepared to fight back against any assault that you leveled against him, but you didn't swing at him.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, being that distracted. God and I spilled your drink fuck," you slapped your hand against your head and then looked at him in the eyes. There wasn't a challenge in your eyes, though there was something different, something almost sincere, though at the time, he really didn't know what that looked like.

He stared at you after that, trying to figure you out. You were strong enough to make a Viltrumite stumble back, and yet you did not take a challenge to fight like a Viltrumite would have. It had to be some kind of ruse. Had some other empire come to attempt to conquer Earth while his father was absent? He didn't know, but he intended to get answers.

"Let me buy you a new drink, okay, as an apology," you were handing your drink to your friend after that. "I'll be right back, Amber, babe, promise," your friend (mate?) rolled her eyes, but took your drink from you and went to sit on a bench.

"Okay, so I saw you got it from the cafe up the street, and I'd give you money for it and get out of your hair, but I only have card," you talked. A lot. And quickly, like you had a million things to say and you just couldn't contain it inside. You marched forward sure of yourself and the fact that he was following you and he was. As you rambled on, he finally decided to attempt to get information out of you as you both began to approach the cafe.

"Where are you from?" he could see that the question had surprised you, whether because of the contents of it or the fact that he had not spoken for much of your journey or first meeting, he did not know yet.

"I'm from (city name), you know, but I moved out here for college," you smiled at him then. "What about you, strong, silent type, where are you from?" His eyes narrowed at you; he could not tell what you were getting at. There was no way you were simply a human, so what were you playing at?

"I was born here," he watched your face when he said it, looking for signs that you didn't believe him, but you seemed to have just believed him, like it was nothing.

"That's sick. You got any cool ass hangout spots I don't know about," a test you were pushing the line to cath him in lie he should have spent more time learning about the "hangout spots" of his area because nothing comes to mind. " No, I don't really go out much,"

The smile on your face stayed the same.

"Yeah, I get you, man. Amber and I were a bunch of nerds in high school too, I won't judge, promise," And then you simply walked up to the register and asked him what drink he had gotten. He couldn't remember; he wasn't really drinking it anyway, so he just picked a random one off the board.

"Okay, I'm gonna just stop beating around the bush," his entire body tensed. He knew that you would do something eventually; no one with your strength was just existing among these worms without something they wanted. He watched you pick up a napkin from the counter and write something on it. Why were you playing mind tricks? That was the way of cowards and weaklings.

" Here's my number. I am sorry that I spilled my drink on you, and you're like really cute. So if you'd like text me sometime okay," and then you just left out the door.

When he got home that day, he nearly told his father about you. If you were a threat to their fight to take over this world, you would need to be taken care of before the invasion began. He didn't though something in him just couldn't, so instead he turned over and texted you.

From there, his time on Earth changed from a job to be completed into something else entirely. You were like the sun, truly something to be looked at with awe. He did not understand how such a useless planet could create anything close to your radiance.

You two went on dates together that allowed him to see a part of Earth he had never experienced. You gladly showed him your favorite movies, took him to state fairs and waterparks, and conventions. There were days when he found himself smiling more in a day with you than he ever had on Viltrum in his entire life.

Spending time with you made him begin to love Earth as well. You were a superhero, working with the GDA, is what you told him after you had been seeing each other for a few months. You fought to defend the Earth, and he was here to destroy it. He couldn't tell you why he was here. Couldn't look you in the eye and tell you that he was here to destroy the planet you had committed your life to preserving. He could only hope that when the time came, you would forgive him.

After a while, though, he didn't just care about you. Your friends and their arguments, and bad jokes were fun, and they were ridiculous and not something that could have ever happened on Viltrum. How could a world contain so much love and joy? Things he had never even considered wanting to experience before.

It did have to end eventually, of course. You had been walking him back to his front door after a night spent at your dorm watching you as you worked through your homework for the night. College was useless to him, but some days, watching you laugh about your classmates and worry about deadlines instead of conquering the universe, it seemed nice. He had spent the entire night with you lying over his legs as you took notes out of a textbook and read them out loud to him. It had been a good night; he was still feeling light and airy like he usually did after a night with you. That's probably why he allowed you to do something so stupid as kiss him in front of his door.

He hadn't been thinking. You had leaned in toward him, your arms circling his waist, and taken his lips. It was soft and slow, like you were trying to map out every inch of his mouth. He had gotten so caught up in the feeling of your pulse beneath his fingers and the feeling of your mouth on his that he hadn't heard the sound of his father approaching the door until it had opened.

Nolan stood in the doorway, staring you both down as you broke apart. His back blocked the light from the front room from reaching the darkness you had both been standing in. He was already a large man as Viltrumites tended to be, but he had puffed himself so that he was more intimidating.

He pulled himself out of your arms and stood in front of you, trying to push you out of the view of his father. Nolan followed the movement, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.

"Mark what's going on?" You whispered from being him. A normal human would have been able to hear you, but Nolan wasn't a human.

"Yes, Mark. What is going on?" You flinched behind him like you hadn't been expecting Nolan to hear you.

"Y/N, you should go." He had to stop this from getting worse.

"Mark, don't be ridiculous, invite your friend in."

"He can't come in. He needs to get home." He began to push you, trying to get you to start walking away from the confrontation.

"Why don't we ask him then, huh?" He moved his head to look over Mark's shoulder and looked at Y/N behind him. He had braced himself. He could feel the fight brewing underneath the entire interaction.

He couldn't turn to look at you, but he hoped that you could feel how little he wanted you involved in this entire interaction. You could always read him, though, so he felt you take the steps back.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get home, I've got a test in the morning." Your voice was tight and short. Most days, you talked so much that it was easy for him to forget how little about social interactions on Earth he really understood. Now your voice was clipped, your sentence short, and you began to walk away as soon as you said the words.

"Is that so?" His father raised a single eyebrow and watched as you began to back up.

"Yes"

"Well then, have a good night, Y/N."

Mark could tell that it killed you to have to walk away from this situation. You were a hero. You saved the day and protected the weak. Leaving him here with his father, who looked ready to kill someone, wasn't in your nature. But he could handle himself against his father. You were strong, but fighting an angry Viltrumite was a different ballpark, and he couldn't live with himself if you were hurt trying to defend him. He felt that you were still standing behind him, so he decided to do something that went against his very nature. he turned his back on his father and looked you in the eye.

"Please go," there was a shimmer of sadness in your eyes, like you were leaving him to his death. But you turned your back on him and walked back to your car. He watched you drive off toward your dorm as the silence of the night began to engulf him.

"Come inside, Mark." The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. But he would not allow his father to see his fear. He turned and marched toward the front door. Walking past his father as he continued to stare out of the front door in the direction you had left. Finally, he closed the door and turned to look Mark in the eye.

"So, you've taken a pet," he felt himself tense. If it had been anyone else, he would have killed them for calling you that. A pet, like you, were an animal.

"His name is Y/N, he's my boyfriend. Not a pet." He watched as the words really rolled over his father.

"Not a pet. Don't be ridiculous, Mark. He's your boyfriend? And what do you intend to do with him? Because he can't produce more Viltrumites." His father began to walk closer to him as he spoke, trying to be as imposing as possible.

"I do not care about heirs. I care about him, and -" he had never said it out loud before "I love him."

"You love him?"

"Yes, Dad. I love him." He expected to be smacked in the face, but his father just began to laugh. Hard and deep as though in came from somewhere deep inside of him.

"And will he love you. After you rip through his home and enslave everyone he loves." The words hit him as though he had been punched in the gut. It was nice pretending to be a normal man with you, but at the end of it all, he would have to conquer Earth.

"He will understand." The words sounded like a lie even to his own ears.

"Will he? And what will you do in 500 years when you're in the prime of your life and he has been dead for centuries? Will you even remember his face?"

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to understand that this is a job and that if your feelings get in the way of us conquering this planet, I will kill him,"

He clenched his fists so hard his nails bit into them and began to bleed.

"If you touch him. I will kill you. "

They stared each other down in a battle of wills that neither was willing to lose.

"The invasion force will be here in a week. And when you do your job as a Viltrumite. We will see how much love he still has for you ." And just like that, he turned and began to climb the steps toward his bedroom.

He stood watching his father walk up the stairs. His phone buzzed in his pocket, likely you trying to check in on him. His gut felt like it was trying to eat itself. He was right, of course. You would never love him after he conquered your planet. For the first time in years, he felt fear.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you okay?" Your voice shocked him out of his stupor. He had been disappearing into his thoughts more in the last few days. He knew you could tell, though it was likely you believed it was only because of whatever confrontation he had with his father.

"I'm fine," he turned his head to look you in the eyes. You were both sitting on the roof of your dorm, which you weren't technically supposed to have access to.

"Mark, you know, I know what it feels like to have a parent who doesn't support you?" You grabbed his hand then and squeezed it." And if you need a place to stay or hide out because you don't feel safe, you can stay in my dorm. William wouldn't even mind; he loves you."

He was a monster.

"I'm not in any danger, my father, he just has expectations of me." Your eyes grew sad at that, like you felt bad for him for something he doesn't even understand.

"And I guess being gay doesn't fall into that expectation." He looked at you and your sad eyes and your dedication to saving whoever you could, and knew deep down that he wouldn't be able to convince you to join him if he tried.

"It isn't just that he doesn't approve of." He took a deep breath. Never before had he been scared of saying something before.

"What if there was something I haven't told you? Something that you might hate me for? Something that I'm, I'm not even sure I want anymore?" He turns his head away from you. He can't look at your eyes they were so sincere like you actually expected the best from him.

"Well, Mark, I think that we all have things that we aren't proud of and mistakes we make even when we knew they weren't good ideas. And, I also think that there is always a chance to change, even if it is the minute or second before we make that bad choice. You're never to deep. There's always a chance to do the right thing." And then you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and embraced him.

"You know I'll be here for you too, I can't say there will ever be a point where I'll always stick by you, but if you genuinely want to do good I'll be here."

He felt the tears fall before he could steal himself against them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the end his father was right.

When the Viltrumite army came to take Earth you were on the front lines. He had never been able to see you fight before. You were a force of nature that he had never truly been able to appreciate. He watched as you spun around killing Viltrumite's one after the other slowing down more and more with each fight you had to take.

You were going to lose if nothing else than because you were fighting against an entire army with very little help from the other heros of the world, who barely stood a chance.

As he watched you rip the arm off one of the Viltrumites that had attepted to take you down he felt his father come up next to him.

"It's time you handle this Mark."

"I know"

The look on your face when he flew in to fight you will haunt him for the rest of his days. The way the exhaustion on your face was stealed ready for another fight until you saw his face. Then it was only betrayal.

"Mark" you whispered his name as though you were scared to speak it into existence. Like this was a nightmare you were forced to live through.

"Y/N. If you stop fighting and I'm sure that I can bargin for your life you are strong and - would likely make strong offspring." Please he wanted to say. Please let me save you. Just take the offer even if it means we can't be together at least you'll live.

"This is what you meant. THIS IS WAHT YOU MEANT." There were tears welling in your eyes. " I trusted you, comforted you and you were going to take over my FUCKING PLANET."

"Y/N, please," he hoped that you would be able to read him like you always could. He hoped that you would see in his eyes how much he truly loved you.

Instead you swung at him. He dodged out of the way and wound his fist up and punched you in the gut causing you fall forward. He would win this fight. You were tired and emotional, tears were starting to blur your vision. None of this made it an easy fight.

He didn't let you recover from the gut punch he kneed you in the face which made you fall to the ground.

"Y/N, just give up, you won't be able to win and you're tired. I could get you help and we could watch (show). You would never have to want for anything in your life."

"Shut up. You think I want that, to be your kept little dog who you keep around to breed. Were you even listening to me when I talked to you." He watched you slowly amble onto your unsteady feet. He had broken your nose and the blood was flowing into your mouth.

"No, you're going to have to fucking kill me because if you don't I won't ever stop fighting. So come on Mark."

You put a burst of speed into your step that he didn't even know you sill had and punched him across the jaw so hard he was sent flying into the building behind him.

You flew into the building and began to land blow after blow onto him before he could regain his balance.

You pulled your fist back to hit him again but he grabbeed it as it was launched toward him. "You won't win." He thought maybe it would stop you, but you just smiled. "I know." Your other face came out and pucnched him across the face again.

He took his arm and shot it up between the two of you and wrapped his hand around your throat. He kept his hand gripped around your throat as he flew into the air out of the building and into the sky.

Your hands began to scramble despearaetly against him as his legs kicked out. You were tried though and your fight was barely registering.

He looked you in your eyes as it finally hit you that you weren't going to be able to escape.

"Ma rrk, yoo u do n't haa ve ttto do thhhis" you reached your hand up to his face and held it there.

"Yes I do, you don't understand this is my destiny, my job as a Viltrumite."

"Yoou aren't just a a Viltrumite. You're Mark, and I know you're good."

He felt the grip on your throat loosen. Why was he doing this? What had Viltrum ever done for him? He had never even known love before you. And now he was killing you, his light, for a world that had never once accepted him no matter what he did.

Before he could let you go he watched as blood began to poor out of your mouth.

"NO" There was a hand in your stomach. His father had shoved his hand through your stomach.

"I could see it in your eyes Mark. You weren't going to make the right choice."

He switched his hold so you were bridal style in his arms and began to go back to the ground. He needed to find someone, anyone to help you.

"Mark, Mark stop" he watched as a wave of fresh bood flowed out of your mouth. "Just stop, you're not gonna be able to help this"

He felt you reach your hand up toward his face and wiped his face. He was crying he hadn't noticed.

"Do the right thing Mark its still not to late" he watched as the life left your body. Your arm fell from his face going limp and your head lolled to the side.

His father lowered himself next to him.

"You'll thank me for this. One day"

Killing his father had been the eaisest thing he had ever done. Taking over the Viltrumite empire had been harder, but easy still. Maybe you were right. Maybe for humans there was always a chance to turn back and make the better choice, but he wasn't human.

He was a Viltrumite.

[lavenderhateswritting]

Invincible’s special healing treatment | Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Summary: Your healing powers—marketed as “Revitalizers”—made you a vital asset to both heroes and civilians. They erased fatigue, sealed wounds, boosted strength, and mended broken bodies like magic. Everyone loved them. Especially Mark Grayson.

That is, until he found out the secret ingredient behind your power was… your spit.

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Heavy Making Out, sort of Spit Kink? (subtle), there’s some grinding at the end but nothing explicit.

Tags: Reader Has Healing Powers, humor?, Fluff, mutual pining, and Mark being totally whipped.

w.c: 7k  |  a/n: English isn’t my first language, so there may be some mistakes here and there. This was a draft I started ages ago and finally decided to finish. It was supposed to be kinkier than it turned out—I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote the first draft back in January... I was probably just horny or something. I guess I couldn’t live up to the expectations of past me. I don’t even like it that much but I wanted to get rid of it already!!! (And yes, I still owe you pt. 2 of ‘Now nothing’s the same’, but please accept this as compensation.) Hope you enjoy it!

It starts when Mark’s nose scrunches in disgust as he stares at the small plastic cup in his hand, the truth of its contents finally dawning on him.

“Oh my god, stop being such a baby,” you groan, rolling your eyes as you monitor his vitals on the med-bay screen. “You’ve been drinking this for months and never complained before.”

“Yeah—when I didn’t know it had your spit in it!” he snaps, pushing the cup away like it personally offended him. His face twists into a grimace, torn between horror and betrayal. “This is disgusting. Someone should’ve told me! I have a right to know what I’m putting in my body!”

You cross your arms, irritation prickling under your skin. “It’s just a bit of saliva, Mark. And it’s mixed with, like, 80% water. You literally can’t taste it.”

He pouts, eyebrows knitting together stubbornly. “Still…”

“You know what?” you snap, cheeks flushing—partly from anger, partly from embarrassment. It isn’t your fault your healing powers work this way. “Fine. Don’t drink it. Enjoy waiting a month for your ribs to heal naturally. I’ll let Cecil know you’re benched until further notice.”

Before he can protest, you snatch the cup from his hand and down it yourself, locking eyes with him in a silent challenge. It tastes exactly like water. No big deal. Mark is being ridiculous. When you finish, you set the cup down with a shrug, feeling refreshed and perfectly fine.

“There,” you say curtly, grabbing your things along with the report of his vitals. “Now suffer alone.”

“Wait, wait—!” Mark jerks forward, wincing as his injuries protest the sudden movement. “You can’t just leave! I—I need to heal fast! I can’t be sidelined for a month!”

“Oooh,” you drawl, mocking. “Well, that was the last one left. Too bad, Invincible—oh, wait. Guess you’re not so invincible right now, huh? Stuck in a hospital bed, bruised up, with broken bones…”

You shrug, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you turn for the door again. 

Mark’s face falls. “Wait. You’re joking. There’s no more?” 

“Nope,” you say, popping the p, watching as his eyes widen in panic. “I came here to make more stock for Cecil. Felt bad for you, so I whipped up one on the spot—but hey, you didn’t even want it, Grayson.” 

“Wait, Y/N—” he scrambles, voice turning desperate. “C’mon, I’m sorry, okay? I need that Revitalizer! I need to keep training! Please? Please?” 

You pause at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a slow, unimpressed stare. 

“So now you want my spit—the one that was ‘disgusting’ literally ten seconds ago?” You arch a brow. “Yeah, no. Have fun with the crutches. Later, Grayson.” 

Mark’s desperation instantly shifts to irritation. “Hey! You can’t just leave! This is your job! So do your job, Y/N, or—or else!”

You stop again, a brow twitching. “Or else… what, exactly?” 

Mark fumbles, his bravado faltering. “Or else I… I dunno—I’ll tell Cecil to fire you or something?” 

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, sure. Because firing me, the guy who keeps all his damn heroes—including you—on the field, is such a brilliant idea.” 

Mark crosses his arms, smirking like he’s found a loophole. “Well, you’re not exactly keeping me on the field now, are you? And by the way, I’m his best guy. Cecil’s not gonna be happy you’re refusing to heal his best guy.”

You press your lips into a thin line, irritation bubbling in your chest as Mark’s cocky, self-assured smirk grates on your last nerve. He was already pushing it, eating up time you didn’t have, and now he was really pissing you off. 

But there was no more stock left. Making a new batch would take at least ten more minutes—minutes you couldn’t spare. What could you do?

Then a dark, petty idea slithers into your mind.

“Fine,” you mutter, shutting the door and stepping back into the room. “If you insist.” 

With swift strides, you move toward him, grabbing his face between your hands, fingers pressing into his cheeks just enough to squish them together. His smug expression falters, confusion flickering across his face—just as you lean in and kiss him. Full on the mouth. Tongue and all. 

Mark makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, his whole body jerking as your tongue slips past his parted lips, brushing against his demandingly. You don’t give him a chance to react, to pull away, to breathe—you just press in deeper, holding him still, making sure he gets a direct dose of your healing power. 

Because, yes, your saliva contains the ability to heal. That’s why you dilute it in water—so heroes can take it without things getting… weird. It works. It’s enough, and really, Cecil would never ask for more from you.

But this—this direct contact, exchanging spit with Mark, making sure he’s drinking it straight from your mouth instead of a diluted version—is the raw, unfiltered version of your power. The kind that knits bone and flesh back together in seconds.

And if Mark was that desperate for it, then here. Take it. 

His breath hitches, throat bobbing as he instinctively swallows the saliva between your entwined tongues. Under your fingers, you feel the swollen bruises on his face smooth out, the lingering pain vanishing in an instant. Only then do you finally break the kiss, a faint line of spit still connecting you both before it snaps. 

“There. Happy?” you pull away completely, scowling as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “You’re dismissed. Go home.” 

“W-what?” Mark’s mouth opens, then closes. A flush creeps up his neck. “I—you—what the…?” 

You look away, your own face heating up. “This is the last time I’m doing this. Don’t tell anyone—” your voice drops to a dangerous whisper “—or I’ll kill you.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk out, leaving a spluttering, red-faced Mark behind.

The second time it happens is while you’re both on the field.

Mark is in the air, fighting off the bad guys. You’re on the ground, checking on injured civilians and offering help. 

You’re not really paying attention to what Invincible or the other heroes are doing. Your focus is entirely on offering assistance, stabilizing wounds, and evacuating as many people as you can from the area. You don’t worry. You never worry. Not when it comes to them—and especially not when it comes to Mark Grayson.

The boy’s basically a force of nature wrapped in a spandex suit. Inexperienced, sure. A little reckless at times, yeah. But strong, strong. The kind of strength that makes his skin impenetrable, his body durable, and his raw power overwhelming.  The kind of strength that makes you believe, really believe, in corny hero names like invincible.

That’s why you’re so surprised when he suddenly comes crashing down from the sky, his body slamming into the asphalt like a meteor, carving a trail of shattered pavement before slamming through the side of a building. Concrete buckles. Steel bends. The whole structure groans under the impact.

One second passes. Then two. Three. Ten.

And he doesn’t get up.

Panic grips you, and you’re already sprinting before you realize it.

“Invincible?!” you call, voice cutting through the air as you swipe the dust from your face and enter through the whole he made. “Shit—Invincible?” 

The building creaks ominously around you, but you push forward until—

A low groan echoes from the rubble.

There, buried in a mess of rubble and twisted metal, lies Mark.

Your eyes narrow, instincts kicking in as you assess his condition with clinical precision while carefully making your way over. He’s in bad shape—bruises swelling across his face, blood smearing his skin, breaths ragged and uneven, and one of his arms is bent at an angle it definitely shouldn’t be.

The sight twists something sharp and awful in your chest, but you bury the feeling beneath your professional mask. You can’t afford to panic.

“Invincible?” you mutter, kneeling beside him and brushing debris off his chest and shoulders. No answer. Just a weak, pained sound—barely more than a groan. “Mark?” you try again, softer now, a hand slipping behind his head to lift it gently. He lets out another weak noise, eyes fluttering, but there’s no real awareness behind them.

No, you realize quickly, the Revitalizer won’t cut it. Not for this. Not fast enough. Mark’s breathing is shallow and quickening—too quick, too sharp. Collapsed lung, maybe. Add that to the concussion and the internal injuries you’re certain he’s hiding under the surface. The diluted solution of your power works on minor injuries and fractures, but this is beyond that.

You pause, weighing your options, the conflict mounting in your chest. Outside, the battle still rages—the heroes definitely need Mark’s help if the panic and screams are anything to go by.

Which means this calls for a direct transfer. Maximum potency. And you know exactly what that means.

Your jaw clenches.

“Goddammit, Grayson,” you whisper to his barely-conscious form, already making the decision. “People need you out there.”

The building groans and creaks ominously above you, dust raining from the ceiling. But you pay no mind, heart hammering.

One hand slides behind his neck, the other tilts his chin up. “Sorry for this,” you mutter, even though you doubt he can hear you. Your gaze flickers briefly to his lips, the sudden thought making your stomach churn. “Trust me, man, I don’t want this more than you do. So when you wake up… no hard feelings, okay?”

And then, without another second of hesitation, you’re sealing your mouth over his. Your tongue pushes past his lips, shoving the raw, undiluted potency of your power straight into him. It’s messy, desperate, laced with the taste of blood and grit. Mark jolts under you, a weak groan trapped between your mouths—but you don’t stop. You count the seconds in your head, focusing on the transfer, making sure he gets enough. Enough to mend everything.

Then you feel it—the sharp, deep breath he takes as his lung reinflates. His ribs shifting under your palm, bones snapping back into place. His arm realigning itself with a sickening crack.

Then, the soft gasp you swallow when his consciousness starts to return.

Mark makes a confused noise, his tongue brushing against yours, clumsy and startled. You freeze, heat rushing to your cheeks in a mix of embarrassment and shock, and pull back immediately.

“Y/N...?” Mark’s voice is hoarse, and it makes your skin burn. “What... did you just—?”

You glance away, quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “Can you stand?”

Mark blinks, still dazed but healed, already flexing his newly-mended arm. “I… yeah. Yeah, I think—”

“Good,” you snap, grabbing his arm and hauling him upright. “Then move.”

But Mark just stands there, staring down at himself—then at you—then back at himself. And then, with a breathless laugh, he beams.

“Oh-ho-ho, I feel amazing!” he exclaims. “I feel great! Like, better than great!”

To prove it, he hovers a foot off the ground, spinning in a gleeful pirouette like a complete idiot. You fold your arms, glaring at him as he flexes his muscles and stretches, putting on a ridiculous display of his newfound energy.

Then the building groans again—a low, warning sound that cracks through the air.

Mark halts mid-spin, looking up at the ceiling. “That... doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you mutter, eyeing the unstable column just behind him. “We better go before—”

You don’t get to finish.

The ceiling gives out with a thunderous crack, and before your brain can catch up, Mark’s arms are around your waist, yanking you off the ground. Your eyes squeeze shut instinctively, arms wrapping tight around his neck as he blasts up through the collapsing hole he made when he crashed through earlier.

The world whips past you in a blur, and when you blink again, you’re outside. The building is falling behind you, collapsing in on itself, sending up a cloud of dust and debris that engulfs the area.

You both land a safe distance away, unscathed, while the building continues its dramatic descent.

“Aw, shit,” Mark mutters, pouting as he stares at the wreckage. “I did that?”

You hum, shooting him a side glance. “You’re lucky I evacuated that thing before it came down.”

Mark turns to look at you, his pout deepening like a sulky kid. But this time there’s a shift. He’s... uncomfortably close. Closer than you realized. You can feel his breath against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest syncing with yours. That’s when you realize—his hands are still curled loosely around your waist. And your arms are still looped around his shoulders.

Both of you seem to notice at the same time.

Mark drops his arms like he’s been burned, quickly turning away to scratch the back of his neck and coughing into his hand. You shift your weight, eyes darting anywhere but him.

“Well—” his voice cracks, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks for, uh. The whole. You know. The thing with the—” he makes a vague gesture toward his mouth.

“Sure,” you reply, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “Anytime.”

A mutual, full-body cringe.

The moment is mercifully shattered by Immortal calling out to Mark, urging him to get back in the fight.

Mark jolts like he’s been electrocuted. “Right! Yeah. Duty calls. Gotta—” he gestures weakly toward the fight, already floating backward. “So, uh. Thanks. Again. For the—”

“Go,” you interrupt, already turning toward a group of civilians still trapped in the area.

He throws you a final awkward half-wave, then rockets away—but not fast enough to hide the way his ears burn crimson. You watch him fly away, cheeks heating up, too.

The third time it happens, Mark isn’t bleeding, broken, or even remotely in danger.

No—he’s bored, crashing into your workspace at the GDA’s hospital wing, apparently done with his hero duties for the day—and, shockingly, with catching up with his college classes too. How he manages both, you have no clue. But here he is, picking up and poking around your things like a kid in a candy store.

“What does—”

“I swear to god,” you cut in sharply, patience already fraying, “if you ask one more time what anything in this lab does, I’ll gut you, Grayson.”

Mark pouts, carefully placing a large syringe back where he found it. “You’re no fun.”

“This isn’t a damn playground,” you mutter, returning your focus to the screen in front of you. “Now, unless you’ve got a severed limb or third-degree burns, get out.”

Mark flops into the nearest chair with a groan, legs sprawling like a petulant teenager. “Okay, fine. I’m here for, uh… a headache.”

“Oh no, how tragic,” you don’t even glance at him. “Take a pill.”

There’s silence.

An unnaturally long silence.

Long enough that you sigh and finally drag your gaze from the screen to find Mark staring at you with the most pathetic puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“What,” you ask flatly.

Mark fidgets under your stare. “I just—” he sighs. “They take forever to kick in, okay?”

“So?” you arch a brow. “Suck it up, Invinci-boy. I’ve seen you take a hell of a lot more and never flinch once.”

“Yeah, but—” he glances away, wincing while pressing his fingers to his temple exaggeratedly. “This is a migraine. Like, brain-melting pain. Totally screwing with my focus.”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicion flickering in your gaze. But as he keeps avoiding your eyes, fidgeting awkwardly, wincing every time he shifts—one hand pressed to his temple—you finally sigh and lean back in your chair.

“Fine,” you mutter.

Mark straightens up immediately, his eyes wide with surprise, cheeks flushing a faint pink. “Really?”

You blink at the sudden change in energy, head tilting. “Yeah…?” you say slowly, reaching into your desk drawer. Inside are several little Revitalizer cups—80% water, 20% your saliva. You grab one and set it in front of him with a soft thud. “Here. Thank me later. Cecil’s weirdly strict about the inventory—he hates wasting these on stupid things like a damn headache.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn back to your computer, resuming the work you’d been organizing before Mark decided to drop in unannounced.

Silence falls again—long, lingering, and just awkward enough to pull your attention back.

You turn to him, exhausted. “What now.”

Mark’s expression sours into a pout, his shoulders slumping as he stares down at the little cup, as if it’s the most disappointing thing he’s ever seen.

He sighs, closing his eyes before weakly reaching for the cup. “Nothing. It’s—nothing.”

Mark pops the lid off, staring at the clear liquid with exaggerated contemplation before drinking it all in one gulp. You watch silently, noting the way his throat moves as he swallows. Finally, Mark exhales, setting the empty cup on the desk.

Then he blinks, licking his lips with a curious hum. “Huh. Now that I’m really paying attention... it really does taste like nothing.”

“It tastes like water,” you point out distractedly, returning to your task.

“And water tastes like nothing,” Mark grumbles. He puts a hand to his chin, like he’s suddenly contemplating life’s biggest mysteries. “But it’s weird… did you know your spit has a taste?”

Your fingers freeze on the keyboard. Slowly, you turn your chair to face him fully. “Huh?”

“Yeah!” Mark springs up, suddenly animated, twirling the empty cup between his fingers. “It’s got this...I dunno, this flavor. Kinda—I can’t describe it.”

In all your years working with the GDA, through countless medical exams and power analyses, never—not once—has anyone mentioned your saliva having a flavor.

Your brows knit together in confusion. “You mean... like how everyone’s spit tastes?”

“No, no way,” Mark insists, shaking his head vigorously. “This is different. It’s like—” he waves his hands around, struggling to articulate. “Sort of... sweet? But not too much. More like—a feeling. But also a taste? And it lingers. You really can’t tell? It’s your spit after all.”

You tilt your head, gaze drifting in thought. “Not really.” Then your eyes narrow. “Can you taste your own spit? I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, fair,” he admits with a shrug, though his cheeks are now dusted with a light flush. He glances back at you, this time with a different kind of glint in his eye. “Hey—so. This thing—” he shakes the empty cup, “—hasn’t really worked yet.”

“It’s been, like, fifteen seconds—”

“The other method was instant.”

You glare. He looks away like he finds the ceiling lights particularly fascinating.

“The other method?” you repeat slowly, raising an eyebrow. “You want me to kiss your migraine goodbye or something?”

Mark chokes on air, spluttering. “No, no, I didn't say that! I just want, uh, I want—I just want to know what your spit tastes like!”

A long beat.

“For science!” he rushes to add, flustered beyond salvation. “I wouldn’t want to kiss you! I mean, ew, eugh, no, I—that’s—I don’t—”

You hum thoughtfully, tuning out the rest of his babbling. The scientific implications are intriguing. Flavor? In your saliva? That’s a whole new variable. Could you isolate whatever this is? If there’s something in the taste that links to your power’s effectiveness, maybe you can concentrate it, increase the strength of each Revitalizer beyond the current 20% dilution. If Mark’s being honest about all this… it could be groundbreaking.

“—and kissing dudes? Not my thing! Not that there’s anything wrong with that! I just—”

“Alright,” you cut in sharply, standing up from your side of the desk. “C’mere.”

Mark’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click. “Hmm?”

“Come here,” you repeat, already grabbing a notepad. “You’re going to describe this supposed ‘flavor’ in exact detail.”

Mark’s mouth hangs open, eyes wide in disbelief, and for the first time in the last five minutes—he’s finally silent.

“Wait—so you’re saying—does this mean we’re…?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you think, Grayson? Unless you’ve suddenly changed your mind.”

Mark scrambles to his feet so fast he almost knocks over his chair. “No! I mean—yeah, I want to,” he says, and you catch the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple as he adds, weaker, “for science.”

“For science,” you echo with a slow nod, watching him as he rounds the desk with nervous, rigid movements. “Then I need you to be very attentive, okay, Mark?”

“Sure,” he says quickly, voice lower now, eyes flicking over your face before landing—and staying—on your lips. “Super. Attentive. So... how exactly do we—”

You reach for his chin, thumb pressing lightly on his lower lip. “Shh.”

He goes still, sucking in a sharp breath.

Then you guide him in, sliding your hand to the back of his head as you draw him into a kiss. Mark comes willingly, lips already parted. The moment your mouths meet—warm, tentative, tongues brushing in a slick, electric glide—it sends a jolt through you both. A quiet groan rumbles from deep in his throat as his body melts into yours, tension giving way to something softer, needier. You take a single step back from the force of it, your breath catching, but neither of you pulls away.

You move slowly, letting your tongue sweep languidly against his, the taste of him mingling with your own as saliva slicks between your mouths. As the seconds pass, Mark’s movements grow more eager, his confidence rising with the heat between you. Then, without warning, he licks and sucks on your tongue in a way that makes your whole body shiver, goosebumps scattering across your skin.

“Mmh,” you groan softly into the kiss, one hand drifting to his chest—his firm, toned, distractingly solid chest—and you try to pull back just enough to catch your breath.

But Mark whines, his grip tightening, pulling you back in.

“Mmph?!” you mutter, muffled and breathless. 

His hands, which had been awkwardly hanging by his sides, finally move, fingers sliding up to your hips. His touch is hesitant at first, then turns urgent, twitching with anticipation. Your heart pounds in your chest, lungs burning from the lack of air, as his lips move hungrily against yours. His grip tightens, drawing you impossibly closer, until you feel every inch of him pressed against you—the steady beat of his heart syncing with your own.

Hell, you can even feel the bob of his throat as he drinks from you.

When you finally wrench your mouth free, a glistening thread of saliva connects you for one obscene second before it snaps. Mark chases after your lips like a man starved, but you press a cautious hand against his mouth.

“Grayson,” you pant, “that’s enough. I need—data.”

Mark blinks, dazed. “Huh?”

“The flavor,” you remind him, voice rougher than you’d intended. “The point was to, y’know, describe it.”

His pupils are blown wide, lips parted and panting. He looks confused for a second—then realization dawns across his face.

“Right! Right. It’s, uh—” his tongue darts out, licking his swollen lips. “Definitely... sweet. But like, honey-sweet? Only—more subtle. I think—” he clears his throat, voice rough, “I think I might need... further testing. For accuracy.”

“Accuracy,” you repeat flatly, raising a brow.

At this point, you seriously doubt he came here out of curiosity about the taste of your spit, or that he gave a damn about the ‘science’, or that he ever had a migraine to begin with. That realization makes your cheeks burn hot, your heart thudding harder.

Still, you pull him closer, noses brushing. “Well,” you murmur, “it can’t be helped, then. We do need to be extra accurate. So pay attention, yeah?”

His breath hitches, forehead resting against yours as his fingers flex on your hips. “Yeah…” he breathes. “I’ll be super attent—”

You cut him off with another kiss.

Science demands repeat trials, after all.

It keeps happening as the weeks go by, for reasons you can’t quite understand.

If Mark’s seriously injured, it’s become your go-to method—because, really, the world can’t afford to have its strongest hero benched for weeks just waiting to heal. If he’s just feeling sore or tired, it’s your method too—because otherwise, he’ll whine and mope and follow you around all day. And if he says he just needs an energy boost, claiming your powers make him feel like he could fly to another universe and back, then yeah, it’s your method again—because he won’t stop asking until you finally snap and kiss him just to shut him up.

But this time, it’s not Mark who’s critically injured.

It’s Rex.

Somehow, he survived a bullet to the head, severe blood loss, and an amputated hand. And even now, after all the surgeries and treatments, still confined to a hospital bed, he has the nerve to act cocky and cheerful.

“C’moooon,” Rex groans the second you step into his room to check his vitals. “You’re my only hope here, Y/N. I can’t take another day in this prison—I’ve read every magazine Eve brought me twice, and I’m dying of boredom.”

“No,” you reply, not even glancing up from his chart. “You know Cecil—”

“Cecil doesn’t let you waste your powers like this because it’s ‘pointless,’ because he’s got it all covered, blah blah blah,” Rex mocks, rolling his bloodshot eyes. “I just don’t get why we have a healer hero who’s not actually healing me, y’know?”

“You are healed,” you mutter, irritation seeping into your voice. “You just need to stay in bed, rest, and let it be.”

Rex glares. “That’s not being healed. That’s the boring process of healing!” Then he squints at you, brows scrunched. “Why are you even here if you’re not gonna do your job?”

You scoff and drop the clipboard onto the end of the bed with a thud, fully turning to glare at him. “For your information, the only reason you’re still alive is because my Revitalizers kept your dumbass brain together while they rebuilt your skull.”

“Oh, those little cups?” Rex shrugs, unimpressed. “Yeah, they’re fine, but we both know there’s a way faster method to get me out of here.”

You press your lips into a tight line, brow twitching as he gives you a pointed look, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

“No.”

He sighs dramatically. “C’moooon, Y/N. It’s not like I want to do it either, but if—”

You don’t hear the door slide open as you continue glaring at him.

“—a kiss is all it takes to fix me up, then get over here, baby,” Rex puckers his lips, closes his eyes, and starts making exaggerated smooching noises. “One little magical mouth-to-mouth and we’re both outta here. C’mon, lemme taste some of that miracle spit, mmh?”

You open your mouth to go off on Rex, but another voice cuts in, sharp and disbelieving.

“What.”

You whip your head around, glare softening instantly as your eyes land on Mark. He’s standing at the doorway in his civilian clothes, wide-eyed and frozen.

“Oh, hey Mark!” you say quickly, snatching the clipboard from Rex’s bed as you move to leave. “Came to visit Rex? Good luck—he’s extra insufferable today.”

“Hey!” Rex shouts, trying to prop himself up, waving his good arm like a flag of protest. “Don’t bail yet! What about our special healing session?”

You scoff, eyes still fixed forward. “Didn’t promise anything, asshole. Bye now.”

Mark doesn’t move. He stares at you, then at Rex, then back at you again with a look of wide-eyed panic and something suspiciously like betrayal. Just as you reach for the door, he suddenly jumps forward, blocking your path.

“Wait—!” his voice cracks, just slightly. “Do you—do you do that a lot?”

You blink, thrown. “Do what?”

Mark pouts, hesitating for a second before glancing over at Rex, who’s watching the scene unfold with curious eyes. Mark scowls, jaw tense, then puts both hands on your shoulders and pulls you close, not taking his eyes off Rex.

“You know…” he mutters, voice low and pointed, “that.”

Your still confused, baffled expression only makes Mark deflate. He sighs, looking away shyly, his cheeks turning pink, though his face is still tinged with a touch of disappointment.

“You know…” he mumbles again, quieter this time. “The  ‘special treatment.’ I didn’t know it was… Rex, too. I thought I was the only one you kisse—mmph!?”

Mark is swiftly silenced when you slap a hand over his mouth with an echoing clap, panic rising in your chest as it hits you halfway through what he’s talking about. But by then, it’s too late. You know it’s too late.

Five seconds of pure silence drag on.

Then, behind you, Rex gasps dramatically. “No way…” he whispers, eyes widening with dawning comprehension. And then, louder, “No way!”

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god…”

“Dr. Y/N!” Rex clutches his chest in mock outrage, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Kissing your patients? That’s highly unprofessional! What would Cecil say if he knew? You know he hates wasting your power like that.”

“Oh my god,” you groan again, dragging your hands down your face, trying to hide from the embarrassment.

You whip around to glare at Mark, who shrinks under the intensity of your glare. But whatever you were about to say dies in your throat as Rex’s obnoxious cackling rings through the room, making your last nerve snap.

“So you are into special treatment, huh?” Rex laughs, eyes squeezed shut in amusement. “You were all high and mighty, denying it to me earlier. Well, look at you now!” Then he pauses, blinking in confusion, tilting his head. “Wait wait wait—so why does Invincible get the premium package, but I’m stuck with the watered-down version? That’s some bullshit favoritism! I don’t wanna be stuck here any longer! Hey! Do your job!”

Your jaw clenches. In one fluid motion, you throw the door open, grab Mark by the collar, and turn back to Rex with your most dangerous glare.

“Your treatment is called shutting the hell up.”

And with that, you drag Mark out of the room, slamming the door behind you with a resounding bang.

It’s silent at first—just the pounding of your heart and the flush burning across your cheeks. Embarrassment, dread, and the terrifying thought of Cecil ever finding out. You flinch just imagining the long, agonizing lecture he’d have locked and loaded if Rex opened his mouth. You have to make sure he doesn’t. And oh, you can think of several ways to ensure Rex’s silence—each more creatively painful than the last, all of them tempting—

“I’m sorry,” Mark says softly, cutting through your dark thoughts. “I didn’t—I didn’t realize there were... others.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and damn it all, when he looks up with those wounded puppy-dog eyes, your anger dissolves into mist.

You cup his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Mark. There are no ‘others.’” Your thumb brushes his cheekbone. “You seriously think I go around swapping spit with every hero who gets a paper cut?”

He winces. “No...”

“You think I’d kiss Rex of all people?”

His nose scrunches. “No.”

“Think that—” you pause, suddenly aware of the barely-there space between you. Of how your breaths mingle, how he’s leaning in without realizing it. Drawn to you like instinct. Like gravity. The next words come out softer than you mean them to. “That I’d do this with anyone but you?”

Mark’s eyes widen. His lips part—whether to answer or ask for clarification, you’ll never know, because you choose that moment to shut him up the only way that ever really works.

Closing the distance and kissing him.

Your lips crash together, deep and intense and hungry. His tongue meets yours halfway, practiced and eager, moving against your mouth in the way he’s learned you like. His arms wrap around you, hands slipping down your back, pulling you in closer, pressing you tight until there’s nothing left between you—not air, not space, not thought.

Your heart stutters and then races, excitement surging through your veins, raw and electric, leaving you lightheaded and weightless.

You hum into his mouth, slow and content, before finally pulling away—only to place one last, lingering peck to his lips.

Mark grins at you, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, that familiar giddiness and energy radiating from him—just like always when he feels the effect of your power. You can’t help but grin back, your chest warming at his boyish enthusiasm, before letting your forehead drop against his shoulder with a dramatic groan.

“Cecil’s gonna skin me alive if Rex blabs about this,” you mumble into the crook of Mark’s neck, feeling him shiver at your breath against his skin. “That little bastard’s definitely gonna hold this over me...”

Mark stays quiet for a long moment, his hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. His warmth and steady presence grounds you, but you can feel the slight tension in him—the guilt he’s trying to hide, stretching the silence longer than it should.

Then—

“What if...” he starts, hesitates, then tries again, voice low and unsure. “What if we just... dated?”

You blink, pulling back just enough to study his face. He’s red. Like, really red. Avoiding your gaze like it physically hurts him to meet your eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows, clearly nervous.

“I mean,” he rushes to explain, “Cecil can’t exactly lecture you about healing kisses if they’re just... regular boyfriend kisses, right?” He nods to himself, clearly pleased with this flawless logic. “Totally normal couple behavior. He can’t be mad if your power just happens to work that way…”

You stare at him for a few seconds, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. You notice the way his lips pout slightly, the hopeful look in his eyes, and how his fingers twitch lightly where they rest on your waist.

“Is this your subtle way of asking me out by pretending it’s not a big deal?” you ask, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mark Grayson—oh, my hero, swooping in to do the favor of dating me so my boss doesn’t scold me for kissing one of his heroes an unnecessary number of times, just because he whines and cries like a total baby when I don’t?”

“Hey!” he protests, though there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It was justified! I was—y’know, in severe pain and everything…”

“Oh yeah?” you tease, tilting your head. “Like that time you said you needed extra energy and a good luck kiss before your Mars mission? Was that also you being in pain?”

“Well—that—I did get lucky from that, okay?” he stammers, cheeks flaring red. “And we succeeded, didn’t we? Thanks to your power enhancing my power.”

You can’t help but laugh, and soon he’s joining in, the sound warm and bright as you stay wrapped in each other’s arms. His laughter does funny things to your heartbeat, sends warmth blooming across your cheeks.

Then he sobers, his expression turning uncharacteristically shy. “So... is that a yes? To the... dating thing? Or…”

You smile softens, fingers brushing along his cheekbone with tenderness. “Well,” you murmur, eyes flickering to his lips, “we did skip a couple of steps, didn’t we?”

He huffs a breath of laughter, relaxing a bit. “Yeah… I guess we did.”

“Then why are you even asking, Grayson?” you murmur, lips brushing just barely against his as you lean in. His breath catches. “Of course I’ll date you.”

The kiss that follows is sweeter than any before it—slow and certain, filled with promises rather than excuses. Mark sighs into it, his arms tightening around you as if to say mine, finally mine.

You smile into the kiss, kissing him back with just as much eagerness, heart full, lips willing. You weren’t going anywhere.

It happens late at night, when Mark’s bruised, battered, and still trembling after a draining fight with Angstrom. The man hurt his mother, his little brother, and left him stranded in some godforsaken alternate universe. Mark’s body is shaky, yet he’s profoundly grateful to be back, grateful that your healing powers pulled his family together in minutes as soon as you learned of it. Grateful that you’re here now, with him tonight, wrapped in his arms, sharing a bed, and sharing kisses, because there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

His kisses are desperate things—raw, needy, equal parts gratitude and desire, as if he’s trying to imprint the feel of you beneath his hands into his memory in case the universe decides to be cruel again.

“You know,” you murmur against his mouth when he pauses to breathe, “sometimes I think you like my powers more than me.”

Mark nips at your lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp, his hands sliding down your sides with possessive certainty.

“Course not,” he growls against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver through you. His knee slots between yours as he rolls you gently onto your back. “I like you because it’s you.” His teeth graze your jaw, sending a shudder down your spine. “Because you’re stubborn.” A soft kiss to your pulse point. “And brilliant,” he adds, as his hands mold to the curve of your waist, fingers slipping beneath your shirt like he’s desperate for more contact. “And you taste like warmth.”

You hum, rolling your tongue against his in a slow, deliberate movement, a tease that leaves his breath hitched and ragged. The slick slide of your mouths against each other fills the quiet room, punctuated by Mark’s low, guttural groan when you suck gently on his tongue. His hips buck instinctively, pinning you deeper into the mattress. His body is warm and heavy and grounding. His hands roam, bolder now—urgent with the need to feel you, have you, anchor himself to you after almost losing everything.

And you let him.

Because you need it too.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway,” you whisper, breath hitching as you rock your hips up, seeking the delicious friction of his body against yours. A soft moan escapes his lips in response. “Even if you didn’t… like me back or whatever. I’d still let you have me. Give you anything you needed.”

Mark’s head snaps up.

“But I do like you,” he says, like it physically hurts him to think you’d believe otherwise. His hand slides down, purposeful and shaking just slightly, squeezing the growing bulge in your jeans. He swallows your gasp in a hungry kiss, lips messy and desperate. “Shit—I love you. I love you so much.”

The second the words escape him, Mark freezes. His whole body stiffens, eyes going wide with panic, like he hadn’t meant to say it at all. Like the confession yanked itself out of him before he could stop it. He pulls back, breath catching, lips parted  like he’s about to take it back or apologize—

But you just laugh softly, even as your heart slams against your ribs.

“I love you too, Grayson,” you murmur, pulling him back down by his collar, lips brushing lightly against his. “So don’t go getting yourself trapped in some alternate wasteland again, okay? You scared the shit out of me.”

Mark’s entire body sags with relief, the tension melting from his shoulders as he nuzzles into your touch like a starved man.

“Okay,” he says with a breathless laugh. “I’ll try. I mean—I’d really rather not be stuck in a version of reality where I’m not with you. Or where you don’t exist. That’d suck.”

You huff, amused and affectionate. “Then be more careful next time.” And before he gets a chance to reply, you seal your lips over his.

Mark groans against your mouth, his forehead pressing to yours as you tug him flush against you.

“Yeah,” he breathes between kisses, his voice rough with longing, his hips rolling against yours in a way that makes your vision blur. “Yeah, I’ll—mmph—be real careful next—”

The rest of his promise dissolves into the hungry press of lips and the slick slide of tongues—but the way his fingers lace through yours, squeezing like he’s afraid to let go, says everything he can’t put into words.

Then, of course, Mark ruins the moment.

He pulls back with a breathless chuckle, eyes locking with yours—dark, dilated, cheeks flushed, forehead damp with sweat, and chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Hey so—” he rolls his hips deliberately against yours, drawing twin groans as denim strains between you. “The way you keep kissing me like that?” Another teasing grind. “Think I might have enough energy to last all night and morning.” His lips brush your earlobe. “What d’you say, baby?”

You stare at him, heat blooming across your cheeks like fire—but you can’t help the smirk that creeps in.

“Well,” you say, playing along easily, “I don’t exactly have anything better to do the next couple days… Might as well give the world’s strongest hero all the healing treatment he needs.”

Mark’s answering kiss is filthy—all tongue and teeth and saliva, like he’s trying to drink every last drop of your power straight from the source.

Then he pulls back just enough to pant, “God, I love your powers.”

You grin cheekily. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember who they belong to.”

He huffs a laugh—and before you can say anything else, he steals another kiss. There’s nothing patient about the way Mark moves—like he’s got something to prove, and you’re the only one he wants to prove it to.

No matter—you’re happy to let him.

A/N: Oof, I know... I didn’t really know where I was going with this either. I swear this was supposed to be worse—like, a lot kinkier, definitely 18+—but here we are. Thank you for reading!

[lavenderhateswritting]

I've been loving your Divorced Batdad series a lot. I was just wondering how the other heroes/villains (from Gotham or elsewhere) plus Alfred reacted to the divorce. Sorry if this is incomprehensible.

I'm gonna be honest in this AU, Alfred is either dead or doing something else completely.

This is a bit of a complicated question, mostly because I think it really depends on whether they even knew Batdad existed at all, and if they got to meet and get to know him, or only saw him as an extension of Bruce. To a degree, I think that, for the most part, most people don't know that BatDad existed. He wasn't really a fighter or nearly as good with computers as Oracle, and since he managed so much of Bruce's civilian life, if you didn't know Bruce well, you likely had no clue BatDad existed at all.

A large part of the isolation and frustration that BatDad felt in the relationship was that he was isolated from civilians, but he wasn't considered a hero. People didn't know he existed, and if they did, they didn't really get to know him often. I think, for the most part, the people in the superhero community who did know about you were surprised about the divorce.

You and Bruce seemed like a perfect relationship at first glance. He was a husband guy; he loved you, and you took care of him. He only tells Diana and Clark about the divorce, but word does spread eventually. Most people will not have seen it coming which I think is sad because it means that no one really cared enough about BatDad or got to know him enough to know how upset he was in the relationship.

[lavenderhateswritting]

*cough* *cough* im gonna need a aprt to of the speedster yn x invincible variants, like maybe how life is like withsome of them

Please 🙏

Nicknames for the Marks Mohawk Mark - Markie Sinister Mark - Mark (he does not fuck with nicknames)

Ring, Ring, Ring

The sound of your alarm filled the bedroom with collective groans from everyone. God, you had to stop getting so many morning classes. You attempted to detangle yourself from the mass of limbs wrapped around you to turn your alarm off, but were trapped by the limbs of surprisingly cuddly viltrumites.

"Turn that shit off," Markie groaned into your ear. For all his complaining, he definitely wasn't helping the problem as he kept his arms firmly locked around your waist.

"I'm going to break your phone if the alarm doesn't get turned off." Right, okay, and now Mark was upset to great. He had his legs interlocked firmly with yours and an arm thrown over your chest, keeping you pinned to the bed.

"You guys have to let me go if you want me to turn it off." You thought that was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, which you quickly learned was not the case, as they both let off groans, and the arms encircling squeezed you harder.

"I think I'd prefer he just breaks your phone." They were both so dramatic.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing with this idiot, but I am ready and willing to break it,"

"Break my phone and I'm not fucking either of you for the next month. " You felt them release their grips on you for only a brief moment, but that was all you needed. You used your super speed, and in the blink of an eye, you went from being pinned between the two of them to holding your phone on the other side of the room.

Sometimes you forget that you weren't the only person with superspeed in your house now, because they were up just as fast as you, and now you were placed between the wall and Markie's outstretched arms. On your right, Mark was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and an absolutely sinful smirk on his mouth. All three of you were naked from your previous activities the night before.

"You wouldn't be able to survive that long, pretty boy." Markie was leaning forward, and the smile on his face was a cruel one. Shit, you shouldn't have provoked him. He turned his head to look at Mark.

"I think he's getting a little bold since you let him bend you over," Well this was going to quickly become a pissing contest between the two of them.

"If I remeber last night you were screaming like a little bitch for him," Mark got that look in his eyes that he always did when he knew he was trying to hurt someone." What was it you said 'Y/N please harder, I need you' I mean if anyone the bitch I'd say it's you." He was casually leaning on the wall next to you, which really betrayed how much he loved riling Markie up.

"You think you're so funny, huh, because I wasn't the one watching the whole thing like a freak in the corner, you cuck." he was trying to act nonchalant, but his face had broken out into a blush across his cheeks.

You loved both of them quite a lot, but the best aspect of having them both was the ability to let them argue so you could do what you wanted. As they argued about which one of them took your dick better you used your superspeed to finally get your shower in and get ready for your college classes for the day.

Finally getting dressed and leaving the bathroom, though, showed that the argument had continued through the entirety of your morning routine.

"Are you two still arguing?" You couldn't help but let a smile rise to your face. I mean having two gorgeous men debate about which one of them took your dick better was definitely a dream you had in high school at least once.

"And why have neither of you put on clothes yet?" God, you really needed to figure out something for these two to do when you weren't around. They spent so much time just waiting for you to come home and trying to get into your pants. Mostly because you were the only connection they had to this universe.

"The real question is, why do you have clothes on?" Markie had crossed his arms and tried to project a level of disgruntlement that his naked body kind of took away from.

"Because I have school to get to and I can't just spend my days fucking you two and watching trash TV."

"Yeah, well, we'll see you when you get home."

"I know, babes."