Pairing: Mark Grayson X Reader
Synopsis: You've gotten tired of being Mark's 'friend with benefits,' and Mark is stupid.
Warnings: A tiny bit of angst. Mark being really stupid. Mainly fluff, especially towards the end.
An: Honestly, I needed more fluff Mark content out there, so I'm dusting off my keyboard from my Wattpad warrior days to provide. First fic since I was like 13, so... enjoy! Lmk if anyone has any requests. I'm a teacher on summer break, so I have all the time in the world.
You began to fall into a rhythm, which, if we’re being completely honest here, you had brought upon yourself. Mark would tap on the glass of your apartment window, which you shared with a few semi-close friends, after a particularly grim battle. You would sigh as you clambered off your twin bed, knowing what the night would entail. Nevertheless, you never failed to open the window after seeing the boy in whatever beaten-down state he would show up in.
You knew Mark had access to way better aid than you could provide him with your tattered pink first-aid kit, which has, at this point, done way more than was intended of the small bag. Nevertheless, you patch him up, plastering small kisses on a few of his scratches as you work your way across his chest. Once finished, you would hand Mark a freshly washed T-shirt and shorts that carried the faint scent of vanilla, courtesy of your detergent. The same T-shirt and pants that you had to lie to your roommates about and tell them were from a one-night stand that you totally were having, because it's not like you were exclusive with Mark in any sense. Right?
It was strangely domestic, the way you now found yourself for the millionth time, tangled up with Mark as he read the newest addition of Seance Dog that you snagged for him at the bookstore across the street. Your head resting on his chest as he mindlessly played with your hair while you read whatever cheesy romance novel you had decided on for the night. Typically, you would fall asleep in such a position and wake to find Mark gone, his clothes haphazardly discarded on the floor and a text on your phone wishing you a great day.
However, tonight was different—you had stopped reading pages ago, occasionally flipping through the book to give the appearance of reading. Instead, your mind was elsewhere. On Mark, on your current situation, on what you were or weren't in this case. There was a flurry of conflicting thoughts clashing in your head—wanting to take things further with Mark, but also not wanting to mess up whatever weird sort-of friends-with-benefits thing you had going on.
“Hey, are you alright?”
You blinked to find Mark staring down at you, expecting an answer to the question he had just posed.
Realizing you had long forgotten your charade of pretending to read, caught up in your head, you nodded back at him, embarrassment creeping up to your cheeks.
“Um, yeah, I’m alright, just thinking about some things, I guess.”
He gave a tired smile, obviously half asleep.
“Anything you want to talk about, pretty girl?”
Instead of smiling or cuddling closer like you normally would when he called you a pet name, you pushed off of him, burying your hands over your eyes, covering up the tears that threatened to spill.
He quickly sat up, concerned, throwing his comic on the nightstand next to him.
You cut him off angrily, turning to look at him.
“Why do you always have to do this?”
He furrowed his brows in confusion.
“Act as if you care about me—like I’m important, like I'm somebody to you—and then just forget about me the next morning like we aren’t anything?” You threw your hands up in a motion of utter defeat at the current situation. “You never did this with Amber, and I-I deserve better, Mark.” You watched the realization dawn on his face. “I’m tired of lying to my friends, tired of being lonely, tired of rejecting guys who would objectively treat me better because I feel some sort of weird attachment to you.”
You stood from your bed and began pacing around the room angrily.
Mark watched you as he drew his lips into a thin line, running his hand through his hair, saying nothing.
“Say something!” you yelled, tired of him staring at you like a lost puppy.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, looking down at his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he restated, his bottom lip slightly protruding, a slight quiver noticeable. “I want to be with you, Y/N. I do. I’m just scared.”
“Scared of what? Being seen with me?”
“No! Scared you’ll get hurt, scared I won’t be enough, scared you’ll start to resent me, or that I’ll ruin your life.” He hiccupped, a few tears finally making their way down his cheeks as he built up the courage to look at you. Quite frankly, one of the scariest things he’s had to do, even as Invincible.
You slowly moved back toward the bed after seeing his tear-stained cheeks, guilt from your earlier outburst creeping into your consciousness. Sitting down and crossing your legs in front of you to match his position, you began to use the pad of your thumb to wipe away a few tears.
“Mark, I won't get hur—”
He cut you off, gently pushing your hand off his cheek.
“You don't understand. It happened once with Amber, and I still haven't forgiven myself.”
He looked back down, building up the courage for his next statement as he found a loose string of your comforter to toy with.
“What I feel for you is ten times what I felt for Amber, and I can’t imagine putting you through what she had to deal with,” he sighed and continued. “And my mom—my dad was never home, and she constantly worried and—”
“Mark, I worry now,” you chimed in.
“Yes, and you shouldn't have to worry about your boyfriend dying every day.”
He fell back with a frustrated groan onto your pillow.
“And I thought that maybe if I limited contact with you during the day—” He paused, cutting himself off. “Yes, am I not your boyfriend?”
He propped himself up on an elbow to face you.
“Um... I don’t think we ever established that?”
“Are we not currently breaking up?”
“Wait—am I confused here?”
His eyes widened, a small glint of hopefulness breaking through at the fact that he had clearly misread whatever current predicament you two found yourselves in.
“Mark, we aren’t breaking up—”
“We aren’t breaking up because we were never together, Mark. You never asked me to be your girlfriend.” You pointed between the two of you as you spoke. “Please don't get this wrong. I want to be with you, but we currently are not, and will not be, if you continue to treat me like some hookup for you to hang around at night and leave in the morning.”
“Wait—if we aren’t together, does that mean you’ve been hooking up with other guys this entire time?”
“What? No, of course not—”
“Mark, please focus.” You sighed, frustrated with the current conversation. “I can’t continue doing whatever this is—girlfriend, not-girlfriend, whatever—if you keep treating me like something to be ashamed of. I understand that may not be your intention, but keeping me in the dark about any semblance of your real life hurts more than if we weren’t... whatever this is.”
“What I was saying earlier,” Mark said, sitting fully upright again, “I thought that maybe if I limited contact with you during the day, it would protect you. Protect you from actual threats. But I also thought that maybe if I didn’t see you all the time, you wouldn’t be as upset if something were to happen to me.”
“Mark, I don’t care about any of that. I want to be with you, but I need more from you.”
Mark grabbed both of your hands, looking you in the eyes.
“Y/N, I can’t promise that I won’t get hurt, or that I won’t be gone for days or weeks on some mission.”
“But I can promise to be yours in every way that counts, if you’ll still have me.”
You squeezed his hands back in reassurance.
“I would like that very much.”
Mark leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. You could feel his smile begin to emerge through the kiss.
He leaned back, smiling in that adorable way that always made you melt.
“So, just to be clear, I am your boyfriend now, right?”
A knock came at your door, interrupting the moment you had cultivated.
“Y/N, is that the guy you’ve been hooking up with for months?” your friend questioned through the door.
Heat rising to your cheeks, you attempted to answer, only to be cut off by your boyfriend in a hushed tone.
“I thought you said you weren’t hooking up with anyone?”
“She means you, dumbass,” you quipped back in the same hushed tone.
He nodded in understanding, a cheeky smile replacing his confusion. Raising his voice, he answered for you.
“Yeah, we’ll be out in a minute.”
Your eyes widened as you heard your friend laugh from the other side of the door.
She responded, “Y/N, he sounds hot. I can’t wait to meet this mysterious man of yours.”
Still reeling in embarrassment, you looked at Mark.
“Why would you do that?”
“What? I’m ready to meet your friends.”
He shrugged off the question before adding, “I'm yours, Y/N. I’m ready to let the world know.”
He kissed you gently one last time before you headed to the living room, greeting your roommates, excited for what was to come.
An: Maybe I'll add on...? Meeting his parents and friends?? Who knows
