Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The man held you, no, cradled you. It was the most vulnerability he’d shown since conquering Earth. He grit his teeth as he stared at your mangled body, tears burning the corners of his eyes. It was some solace he was wearing his black goggles. Your blood and flesh soaked the fabric of his black and yellow suit. You all but disintegrated before him, the remnants of you soaking into the stone below. A large hand slapped down on his shoulder, with mock sincerity and comfort. The man behind him was quiet, calculating, and closely studying the scene in front of him. He hadn’t known you—hadn’t cared to know you. 

“Come, Mark,” Omni-Man finally spoke, shaking his son softly. With a grunt, he turned to wade back through the rubble of the decimated rebel base. The one you’d been in. The one you’d been leading. “ We’ll find you another pet .”

Mark grimaced, anger rolling in his gut. Gods, he hated you—why couldn’t you have accepted the life Mark had given you?! You were so pretty and perfect when you’d been silenced and restrained. You’d been his little doll… His perfect reward. 

It was only right—it was only what Mark was owed as a Viltrumite. 

He hated you.

You were stupid and annoying and so fucking fragile.

He hated you. 

Hated you for making him weak and vulnerable. He’d never cried over anyone before.  

You’d warped him with your…Your… Humaness . 

And so, in a way, he was relieved you were finally dead. He was glad to be rid of your whining and pestering and your gods-damned persistent rebelling. 

But, yet, he’d loved you.

As unfortunate and inconvenient as that was. 

A part of him had been ripped from his chest with the loss of you. And Mark knew. Deep down, he knew. 

“There is no other.”

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Chapter Text

Mark wasn’t the same. 

You knew that. You knew he wouldn’t be. You’d spent your whole life with him, watching him grow and feel. You knew how badly he was being eaten alive. The guilt had nearly consumed him, and the grief swallowed the rest. 

Those days spent in the GDA hospital were like a blip in your mind now. He’d been high, surrounded by safety and his favorite people, and hidden. 

And then he’d had to face the real world. The world, half of whom hated him and the rest who feared him. 

The following month passed by like nails dragging on a chalkboard, messy, brutal, and with resistance. You’d barely seen Mark at all, as he’d decided to embark on a grand mission of rebuilding trust. 

Cecil reassured you that your boyfriend was fine and that he was doing what was necessary. 

And while you found his brush-off attempts suspicious, you merely moved on. You weren’t supposed to know all of Mark’s superhero business. Still. 

You could see his childhood leave him like paint chipping off a wall after bad weather, his glee and optimism being sucked from him with every mission. 

And then Ms. Debbie talked with him one night, on their roof. You’d watched, hidden behind your curtain, as they wept over their losses, under a moonless sky.

And Mark got better. Slowly, but surely. But he was never the same. 

Mark clung to you like you were his only reason for existing. And… maybe, you were. When Mark wasn’t redeeming his lineage, he was with you. “With you,” put it lightly. He was always there, touching you in some way. He mostly stayed pressed into your side, face nuzzled into your neck. Just there, quietly soaking in your presence. 

Mark slept with you, in your bed, the remnants of his tears wetting your collarbone. Or you slept in his bed, his arms a shelter around you as he pressed you against his chest. 

And you clung to him just as fiercely. Somewhere, you’d succumbed your soul to him, knowingly losing yourself. But it was worth it, you decided. You loved Mark Grayson. You’d do anything—anything to keep him safe and keep him with you. 

The days continued to pass. Mark and Debbie moved back into their refurbished home. You both applied for Upstate. Mark flew you to distant countries on the weekends. Life…Life was okay. 

And Mark would look at you, thumb tracing the ring he’d made for you, and you could see that twinkle begin to return. 

And yet, there were still rough days.

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“Do you have a black eye?” you whispered, a few weeks later, hiding your face behind a program. Mark glanced at you nervously, adjusting his graduation gown as he sat down. With a weak smile, he shrugged. 

“Got into it with a buncha twins and a particle collider.” 

You scoffed, lips quirking as you turned back to the speaker. 

“Thought Rudy dealt with stuff like that.”

“Yeah, well, Cecil didn't ask Rudy,” Mark bit back, voice tight. You blinked, taken aback by his sudden attitude. You found him staring at the speaker, fingers messing with his collar. Jaw tight. “Plus, Rudy has nothing to prove.” 

You opened your mouth, brows furrowed. You hadn’t meant it in any way.

“I…I didn't—”

“And now, the graduating class!” 

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The low bass line of a popular song thrummed through your bones, the crowd around you drowning out the treble. Your fingers clinked along the neck of the cider you grabbed when you first walked in. It was lukewarm now. Someone from somewhere was talking to you and Amber Bennett, who was beside you, but you’d long tuned them out. 

You could only stare at him—at Mark. Across the room, halfway listening to William. You assumed his friend was lecturing him. Your eyes found the black and purple bruises around his eye, the split lip that had crusted over. 

Today had been a bad day for Mark. 

An even worse day for both of you. 

“…Are you planning on doing a trip this summer?” 

Amber shouted over the clamor, bringing your attention back to her. You blinked, brain processing her question. It was still too busy, with Mark as the focus. You hadn't talked to him after he snapped at you, too swept away with pictures and family. And then you'd ridden with Amber. He'd ridden here with William. 

“I…” you began with a sigh. “No. We were considering it, but it's just not feasible.” 

Amber furrowed her brows upon hearing you, swirling the contents in her red solo cup. 

“What? But Mark loves trips!” She retorted. You shrugged with a grimace. He hadn't been Invincible when they were together. You were sure he did all sorts of things with her. 

You bit your tongue, letting the other person recapture the conversation. You weren't mad at Amber. She was harmless and had good intentions.  But you were a little jealous, for sure, over the time she’d had with him, uninterrupted and non-challenging. 

A pit grew in your chest. You wondered what it had been like. You felt guilt skitter up your spine. It was true, you wouldn’t change the world for what you had with Mark. But, you’d be lying if you said a teeny part of you didn’t long for the mundane. Getting unrestricted access to your very own boyfriend seemed greedy. And, the guilt grew tenfold. What Mark was doing for the world was amazing, and it was awful to even imagine a scenario where you took that away. But… Even still. 

Eyes heavy, they flickered over to the spot Mark had been. Only to find it empty. 

And then, soft and heavy as distant thunder, you felt him behind your back. “Savannah.” 

You turned slowly, stifling the hope and excitement that bubbled with his presence. You found Mark and William behind you, the latter already deep in conversation with the girls.

“Hey. Hey Charrisse. Amber,” Mark said simply, nodding to the other two girls. He kept his eyes on you, though. Even as Amber tried to catch his gaze. You swallowed the twinge of annoyance fluttering through you, turning to your boyfriend. “Can we go upstairs real quick?”

You swallowed, flashing lights sending rainbows dancing across Mark’s solemn face. He masked his intentions well, face stoic and unreadable. You internally sighed. Maybe you were in for it. Mark wasn't usually the one to explode on you and rip you a new one, but…

Who knew with the recent events that had happened? 

“Yeah,” you replied, a bit meekly, turning for the grand staircase. You grimaced with each step on the marble staircase, readying yourself for a battle of words and insults. 

Boy, were you wrong, you thought, as Mark now gripped your thighs harshly, tugging your core closer to his face. You yelped as he began sloppily making out with your pussy. 

He’d given you no warning, attacking you as soon as the door to a random bedroom had been closed. He'd launched for you, hands locking around your waist, dragging your lips to his. Much different from what you'd thought would happen. But you weren’t angry at all. 

He'd ripped your underwear in two before you could blink, one hand pressing on your middle to lay you back on the bed. 

“I’m sorry I was a dick, just stressed,” Mark whispered against your cunt, nose nudging deliciously against your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut, swallowing a groan. You gripped the sheets below you— whose fucking sheets were these? Mark continued like he couldn't have given two shits, nearly whimpering against you. “Please, baby, forgive me?”

You swallowed your moans the best you could, trapped behind the back of your hand. You slurred words together, weakly accepting Mark’s apology. The baseboards shook with the music coursing through them, the bed frame rattling with the bass and Mark’s efforts. You let yourself go. Yes, things were different. The world was changed, and the skies were darker. But, at least you had this—

 You gasped, arching your back as the pleasure crested within you.

“That’s my girl,” Mark praised gently. “It’s just you and me.” 

“Just you and me.” 

Chapter Text

“As if I’d ever consider joining a sorority,” you giggled, shifting a box onto your hip. With a grunt, you shimmied it further up, grimacing at the weight. 

“I’m simply saying,” Mark hummed, sweeping the box from your grasp and stacking it on top of the other three he was already holding. “How you managed to dodge a roommate is beyond me—I mean—a freshman, completely by themselves?”

You shook your head, grinning as you followed him up the steps. 

“As if that does not overjoy you—“

“I didn’t say it didn’t,” Mark snorted, opening the stairwell door and holding it open for you to pass first. “But I do think it would be wise for you to have some female interaction, and if Apple chai potato wants you—“

“ Alpha Chi Omega— ”

“—Like I said. If they want you, might as well, right?” 

You simply stared at your boyfriend as he settled all three boxes atop your bed, a smirk teasing your lips. And then a thought popped into your mind. Brow furrowed, you glanced around your room.

“Wait, did you end up bringing all of my stuff in yourself?” 

Mark winced as he realized he had, in fact, done that before your parents had the chance to park their car. You looked at him, incredulously, before bursting out in laughter. 

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You did not end up joining Alpha Chi Omega. It just wasn’t feasible, with the crazy schedules and wild fees. You did, however, join a few clubs—a women’s book club as well as a comic book club with Mark. 

You helped where you could while Mark and William moved in, mainly setting things up and smoothing things out with Debbie. She hugged you nearly as tight, if not tighter, than your mother had when she left. You’d turned away when she sobbed gently in her son’s arms. There were more than a few reasons for her grief that day. 

The first week at Upstate flew by quicker than you could blink. You spent nearly every empty moment with Mark, the other with William and a girl from your English class, just exploring the campus. You got lucky—extremely lucky—as you had early classes and most of them with Mark. You did have to convince him not to change the ones he didn’t have with you. You assured him you were plenty capable of being alone for an hour or two. And it wasn’t his fault; he was so much more intelligent than you and had landed accelerated courses. 

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“You got your books in?” Mark called from over your shoulder, adjusting his backpack further up his shoulder. You nodded, assuming he was watching you, tearing the Chegg package open. 

“Crazy,” you whisoered, thumbing through the textbooks you’d ordered for stupid cheap. With a smirk, you slid them into your bag, glancing toward your alarm clock. 

7:40 AM

You had twenty minutes. Should be enough time, you thought, although not enough time to stop for coffee. With a frown, you stepped over to your desk and gathered your laptop. You’d stayed lucky, it seemed, two weeks into this semester still without a roommate. You had spaced out your dorm accordingly, with your desk positioned across the room, rather than under or beside your bed. You—well, William —had designed and decorated your room, taking full advantage of the space you had. Cute frames decorated your walls, featuring photos of your loved ones, alongside lush rugs and bean bags snug on the floor. 

“How much time do we have?” Mark asked suggestively, suddenly pressed against your back with his face nuzzled into your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, shrugging him off. 

“Not enough for that,” You sighed, ignoring the small spark between your thighs. You really didn’t have the time. Mark groaned, dramatically collapsing against the wall as if you had stabbed him. His head lolled to the side, puppy dog eyes all but begging you. You tried not to get caught on the way his onyx hair fell into his eyes, or how his plump lips pouted. 

“Come onnnn, haven’t been inside you since—“

“A whole 24 hours? ” You mocked, breathlessly, as you walked over to your door. Nodding to him, you beckoned him out. Mark groaned, but followed. He waited as you locked your door. 

“Maybe we need to set some boundaries,” You giggled, shaking your head. “Like, maybe tonight we sleep in our own beds.”

Mark scoffed, kicking off from the wall and starting the trek to class beside you.

“Right, okay. As if,” He joked, gently flicking your cheek. ”Face it, baby, if I’m not climbing in your window, you’re climbing in mine.” 

You rolled your eyes again, stepping out onto the sidewalk. Mark turned his head as you walked, leaning down as he continued in a darker tone,

“Bet you’d like that too, huh, me climbing in your window? Catching you off guard? Having my way with— “

“Mark!” You shushed with wide eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. You got this way any time he brought up your… Darker tastes . Red and flustered. Mark just thought it was cute—well, he certainly thought it was more than just cute, but—

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts as you glanced around frantically. Thankfully, it was only the two of you at the shuttle stop. You glared at your boyfriend playfully. “Anyway, I am not that insatiable— you are!”  

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” You assured, stepping onto the small shuttle as it arrived. You and Mark greeted the driver and hurried to the back. You snagged a seat in the last row, Mark choosing to stand in front of you, gripping the railing above. You glanced up at him, but found him lost in thought. After a few minutes, the shuttle finally left the stop, with only two other students aboard. Clearing his throat, Mark decided to speak once more. Instantly, you knew whatever he had to say was trouble, if only from the glint in his eyes. 

“‘Kay. Let’s make this a bet then.” 

Your smile faltered. 

“A bet?” You kept your tone light, though your spine tingled. Mark’s lips quirked as his voice quieted. 

“We’ll see who can last the longest without breaking and initiating sex.”

You pondered for a moment, glancing around you to make sure your conversation was indeed private. With a sigh, you realized you needed more information.

“Stipulations?” 

Mark obliged instantly.

“No insertion of anything anywhere,” He emphasized by wiggling his eyebrows. “Teasing permitted, but no orgasming.” 

You hid your smirk then. He was going to allow teasing? Anticipation and excitement, along with something darker, filled your body. That man was toast. 

“Fine, and if you win?” 

Mark was already grinning, his burning gaze passing over you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he leaned in. 

“I get to use you whenever I want. Wherever I want.” 

A shudder passed through you. You blinked, swallowing roughly as you tried to stop from growing aroused.  

“You don’t already do that?” You chuckled uneasily. 

Mark huffed a laugh, leaning against the far wall of the shuttle and locking his arms behind his head. You stopped yourself from oggling at his biceps. 

“Baby, if that were the case, you’d be on your knees right now with my co—“

You shot up and slapped a hand on his mouth, eyes the size of saucers. Mark’s laugh vibrated against your palm, his hands coming to wrap around your waist and keep you stable. 

 The shuttle had finally come to a stop behind two others. You squealed as Mark licked a broad stripe up the soft skin, catching your wrist as you pulled away. With twinkling eyes, he brought your pulse point to his lips, kissing it gently before releasing it. 

“And you, pretty girl, what do you want if you win?”

You thought about it, really pondering what you wanted. After a few minutes, a smirk blossomed on your lips. The doors to the shuttle dinged before sliding open. Mark held out a hand for you, waiting for you to take it. 

“If I win, I want a threesome,” You stated simply, strolling out of the bus. 

“ With Rex. ” 

Mark’s laugh boomed across the campus, sending birds scurrying from their perches on power lines and into the big blue sky above. 

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Damn that stupid bet— damn it all to hell. And curse your beautiful, strong, and charismatic boyfriend, you thought. You glanced up at the clock above the whiteboard. 

8:25 AM

You nearly groaned. You glanced down at your fingers, white knuckled, as they gripped the side of the table. 

40 minutes left. 

You rolled your neck, eyes locking back in on your professor as you tried to relieve some of the tension in your muscles. 

Forty minutes normally would've felt like a breeze—a blink of the eyes. 

If only your boyfriend hadn't had his fingers moving at a blinding speed on your clit under the desk you shared. 

He’d taken the bet like the most personal challenge, starting immediately and with engines blazing. 

You'd barely slid into your seat, missing how Mark had conveniently led you both to the back row, before his lips brushed against your ear. 

“ Spread your legs .” 

He’d ordered, quiet and brutal. You'd blinked, mouth dropping a bit, halfway in surprise and half in horror. He wanted to… here?! One look at Mark’s face had told you he'd been deadly serious.  

You'd swallowed roughly, but obeyed anyway. Of course you'd obeyed. 

You’d been all too aware of the short denim skirt you wore in that moment. 

How had he always caught you in a skirt?

Mark had grinned into your neck, gently placing a kiss under your ear. 

His talented fingers brushed up your thigh, and you’d had to bite back your sigh. You’d begun gnawing on your lip as the professor stood up. 

“No orgasming,” Mark had reminded with heavy breaths, his nose arched against your skin. His voice had been tight, constricted, as if his actions had affected his willpower and resilience more than he'd expected they would. “No penetration,” he'd continued, although more to himself. 

You'd willed your racing heart to calm, breathing deeply through your nose. But it was nearly impossible. Mark had never touched you or teased you during class before. This is how he'd planned to start?

He gave you a run for your fucking money for sure. Twenty-five minutes later, and you'd nearly passed out twice. You were beyond soaked, sweat beading above your brow as you tried to stay still. Mark was nothing if not thorough, and he'd edged you to the very end of that blissful cliff four times. Four times in under 30 minutes?!

You cursed him silently in every language you knew, so very close to leaning over and begging him to take you and ravage you. The pleasure was nearly blinding.

It didn't help he kept muttering naughty things in your ear. 

“You look so pretty trying not to come.”

“Just say the word, I’d love to bend you over this desk.” 

“Squeezing my fingers so tight.”

“Soaking the seat, my dirty girl.” 

You clenched your eyes tight, anger and resolve burning in the clear spaces when his touch left you. 

Get it the fuck together, you hissed at yourself, as Mark licked his fingers in your peripheral. 

Good god above , you thought, as your core clenched brutally. On nothing. 

And then the bell rang. 

You turned, after weakly gathering your things and wondering who you could bum the day’s notes from, to find Mark leaning back in his chair. The smug grin he had was enough to make your blood boil. You had your sweater tied around your waist because your denim skirt was beyond saving. 

“ What? ” You spit, adjusting your uncomfortable stance. Wet denim sucked. 

“Just thinking about how you’ll look under Mr. Kopari’s desk… Or maybe bent over it.”

Your eyebrows nearly shot through the roof, your mouth falling open in silent protest. You whipped around, making sure no one could hear you. Most of the class, including Mr. Kopari, had left already. Turning back around, you breathed deeply through your nose, balling your fists as he grinned lazily at you. 

With a huff, you slung your bag over your shoulder and dove down, grabbing the place right between Mark’s thighs. 

You'd never seen his expression drop so fast. It was like he'd been slapped in the face, skin pale and eyes wide. And you, you knew you'd regained your footing. You'd cemented your place in this race. And so, with a smirk and a squeeze, you whispered,

“Game. On. ”

You slid the manila folder onto your professor's desk. You smiled politely as the grey-haired woman walked over, setting her roster to the side. Her thin eyebrows arched in surprise as she thumbed through your resume. 

“Three months interning for Channel 6?” She read aloud, impressed. 

“Ongoing,” You added hopefully, although you knew very well it was already written. The professor hummed softly, glasses resting on the tip of her nose as she surveyed the rest of your portfolio. She couldn’t see the way your fingers were crossed behind your back for luck. It would’ve been frowned upon for sure if she had, seen as most childish. Professor Crest’s investigative journalism course was invite-only, for those she viewed held serious potential. It was a one-way ticket to prominent news outlet positions and a must for grad school. Freshmen rarely got a spot, but you were prepared to fight tooth and nail. 

Your heart was pounding as Crest thanked you neutrally, before gesturing for you to take your seat. More students piled in during the five minutes before class began, grabbing the professor's attention. You couldn’t get a read on her. Did she think you were adequate? Did you have the IT factor? The bell rang, and you began to lose hope as you watched your folder get buried under random papers brought in by students. 

You were all but wallowing in sorrow as Professor Crest placed her roster away, but not before scanning her desk. You bit back a gasp as she snatched your folder up and slipped it into the bag beside her desk. 

You could barely contain yourself as you borderline skipped from her class. The sun shone brighter, the air tasted sweeter, and the world seemed…Better. You were grinning ear to ear as you unlocked your dorm, spinning as you tossed your bag on top of your bed. 

Still grinning, you brought your buzzing phone to your sight. 

“How we doing, sweet girl? See you in 30 ;)”

   - M <3

Immediately followed by,

“Feel free to give in at any point, by the way.”

   - M <3

And your stomach flipped, smile faltering as you remembered. The bet.

And maybe it was because of the high you were on that boosted your confidence. Maybe it was because you were alone. Or maybe it was because Mark was a cocky fucking bastard. But you decided to give him a taste of his own fucking medicine.

With a shit eating grin, you stripped down and searched under your bed until you found a little Amazon box. You suppressed a giggle as you pulled out the white lace set you’d purchased last week in secret. A little bubble or nerves passed through you as you put the skimpy set on. You’d never done anything like this, but there was no better circumstance. This could very well end Mark Grayson. 

This was a bad idea,

A tiny voice shouted within you. It was quickly swallowed by the power-drunk, giddy, larger part that cheered you on as you started to record yourself. 

You’d started with a few scandalous shots, but nothing too crazy. Tasteful nudes, if that was even a thing. Your core had begun pulsing the second you’d imagined Mark innocently checking his phone during class, only to find these pictures texted to him. 

And that is what made you lose your top. And then, your bottoms. 

Until you were lying in front of your standing mirror, pretty legs spread with your hand between them, with your phone recording it all behind you. You only had twenty minutes to send him everything, but it was more than enough time. Especially when you couldn’t come—and you’d already been edged hours before. You gave a show for the camera anyway, letting your airy moans escape your parted lips, your breasts heaving as your fingers circled your clit. You were sure he’d be able to see the slick dripping from you, the way your thighs trembled, the way you bucked against your hand. 

And, maybe, you’d gone a little too far, you decided as you rewatched the video wide-eyed and gaping. You looked nearly unrecognizable. You looked… You looked powerful and sinful and—

You hit send before you could chicken out, squealing and throwing your phone onto your bed. 

You’d changed hastily with shaking legs, your stomach flipping the entire time. You settled for one of Mark’s shirts and some boy shorts, wiping your clammy hands down your thighs before beginning to search for your laptop. You'd distract yourself with some Netflix... Or, yuck, homework. 

You screamed as your door slammed open, papers and pictures flying from the force, his muscular body suddenly pressing you against the wall. You gulped as Mark stared down at you, one hand locked around your throat. Possessively. Covetously. His eyes were a shade you’d never seen, dark and blazing. Short and rapid breaths fell from his lips, his strong jaw set as he inspected you. He wasn’t angry, although his hold on you suggested otherwise. Or, maybe not angry. His hold was... Frenzied. 

He looked not furious...

No, he looked… His gaze fell down your body, eyes widening when he noticed you wearing his clothes. Another breath fell from his lips, this one much shakier than the ones prior. A smug sense of satisfaction grew within you. 

He was positively wrecked.

“Hi Mark,” You whispered innocently, making his eyes flutter closed. He stayed there for a moment, likely trying to calm himself down. With a deep breath, he lowered his head to your ear. You shuddered as his breath ghosted over your skin, your confidence quickly faltering.  

“You should consider yourself so fucking lucky that I’ve been called out, or I would have you spread out like my own personal feast, making you scream my name until the cops came.”

He leaned back, relishing in the way your pulse had fluttered, your wide eyes falling down to his collar—to the suit just peaking out from under it. You, still flabbergasted, stayed frozen as Mark captured your mouth in a heated kiss. His hands curled around your jaw, raising your face upward as he loomed over you. You moaned into the kiss, hands reaching to tangle into his hair. But it was too late, by the time you raised your hands, Mark was gone. 

You stood in shock for a few moments afterward. Your door was still open, probably with the handle embedded in the wall; the light from the hall was too bright and too exposing. You hurried over and slammed it shut from prying eyes, running a hurried hand through your messy hair. 

Fuck, you were overwhelmed. So much had happened in the last ten minutes. And, you groaned, falling against your door in frustration, you couldn’t even touch yourself while Mark was gone. You were sure he'd remember his sanity after the fight and continue the bet. That meant you couldn't even tackle him when he got back. Not if you wanted to win. 

And fuck it, you were winning if it was the last thing you did.

Chapter Text

You sat, cross-legged on your bed, laptop across your lap. You scrolled quickly, swallowing the panic that always lurked in your throat during times like these. 

You searched headlines and various news outlets. Where was the trouble? That's where Mark would be. 

And then, in the top corner, an email dinged your inbox. Your eyes skirted over it halfheartedly before returning to the main screen. You paused, your heart stilling. Brows furrowed, you clicked over to the tab with your inbox. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head, a scream ripping from your throat as you reread that last email. 

Ms. Savannah Fawn,

We are pleased to inform you that you’ve been selected for Professor Crest’s advanced course on Investigative Journalism. She is thoroughly impressed with your resume…

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“I knew you’d get in! That’s wonderful news, Sav!” Mark praised, causing you to blush. You called him just after he defeated one of the minor villains from the… What was it? The Amphibian Association? Gecko Gang…No—The Lizard League. 

Mark had answered your call not even five seconds afterward, prompting some reporters to question,

“Whether or not the might Invincible was seeing someone? And whosoever might be so worthy of Earth’s greatest hero—“

Blah blah blah—whatever, Mark would gabble, saying it was all nonsense…But it did get you wondering, weakly, if you were adequate for the job, at least, in the press’s eyes.

You blinked, reminding yourself this was a happy moment. 

“I know,” You smiled, biting your lip in excitement. “I start next Tuesday!”

You and Mark chatted for a few minutes before he abruptly asked you to meet him at the faculty’s parking garage. 

“What? Why there?” You questioned, even though you still slipped on your sneakers. Mark’s answer was as vague as they came. 

“Just do it, and hurry. Wanna show you something.”

And, so, that is how you found yourself in sleep shorts and mismatching sneakers in the faculty’s parking garage. It was empty, which was to be expected given the day was nearly over. 

You waited, rubbing your bare arms in the chilly air, watching the sun dip below the horizon. You wondered what on Earth Mark had to show you and why it had to be so immediate. 

You barely had time to register what was happening before a gloved hand was covering your mouth, the other wrapped across your front. A muffled scream erupted from your throat as you were tugged against someone’s chest. You huffed as you collided with pure muscle, panic sending tingles down your arms. And then, your captor spoke. 

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You nearly cried in relief as Mark’s chuckle vibrated against your back. You stopped struggling, almost collapsing against him. 

“Not funny, M-Invincible,” You chided, trying to twist from his hold. But your loving boyfriend, in his suit, didn’t let go. No, he only gripped you tighter. “Uh, Invincible?” 

You stilled as he pressed his node into your hair, inhaling deeply and humming in approval. The arm around your middle started to trail downward. You gulped, eyes wide, as you realized why he’d summoned you out here. 

“Mark!” You squeaked quietly, heart pounding as you scanned the garage once more. And just as his hands dipped past the waistband of your tiny shorts, you saw it. In the corner, it was focused right on the two of you. 

A security camera.

Mark made a satisfied noise, presumably from you noticing the camera, and pushed past your panties. You nearly doubled over as he began to circle your clit. 

“W-wait,” You mewled, bucking against his efforts. “ No .”

Your complaints were weak at best, and try as you might, you felt yourself grow wet. Mark’s fingers were just so incredibly skilled, dragging the pleasure from you with intention. And, fuck, you couldn’t deny the darker parts of you that delighted in this. You’d literally gotten off to porn like this before.

The strong man behind you stretched you out, almost presenting you to the camera as his fingers danced around your soaked entrance. Sparks skirted up your spine, your arousal beginning to seep from you. 

Mark’s husky voice did nothing to help the situation, either. With a growl, his hand left your mouth and cupped your chin, holding it in place.

“You think someone’s watching? A guard, maybe?” Your stomach flipped at the thought. Holy fucking shit.

 “Do you think they're surprised? They haven’t sent anyone to stop us yet, so maybe they like watching. Hmm? Think they like watching your pretty little body get used by me?” 

Your mind went fuzzy.

“I know I would. Gonna spread you out and give them a nice show, huh, savvy? Gonna make that pretty little pussy weep for me.”

You squirmed in his hold, eyes rolling back. You arched against him, not quite sure whether you were trying to push yourself closer or away from him. You bit your lip harshly as you realized you were getting extremely close. His dirty words had only urged you on, the ball in your core coiled tight. Too tightly. And, fuck, you were going to lose the bet. 

“A-ah, Invincible,” You cried out, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes.

“Yes?” He responded, voice smug. He kept his pace relentless, cementing you right on that edge to burn forever. You whined, realizing your options. Mark, the cocky bastard, knew precisely what was going on. “What? You wanna cum, baby?” 

You nodded fervently, his hand holding your chin, keeping your eyes locked in on the camera above you. Tutting softly, he kissed just below your ear. 

“Use your words,” He ordered softly, and your breath caught. He wanted your submission taped, the announcement eternal. Your core only burned brighter, tears beginning to stream from your cheeks. You knew Mark would wait here for hours if he wanted. And caught and lost in the heat of the moment, you realized you were all but doomed. 

“Fuck— fine!! I give, god, please let me cum!”

Mark’s grin was almost audible as he praised you before finally slipping two fingers inside of you. You nearly sobbed as he pumped into you with a renewed sense of hunger, sending you barreling over the edge. Fireworks exploded as you came with a cry, writhing against Mark. He prolonged your orgasm, wringing every ounce of pleasure from you that he could, whispering sweet and filthy words over you. 

When finally you were spent, he scooped you up in his arms, kissing you gently on the forehead. 

“You did so well, baby,” he cooed, tucking your face into his shoulder, brushing your hair gently back. You smiled lazily at his treatment of you. Always so gentle after sex. Constantly reminding you who he really was. You’d nearly succumbed to the sweet pull of sleep, but then you remembered. With a gasp, your eyes fluttered open. 

“Mark,” You called weakly, one hand raising behind you. His steps stilled, beautiful face turning towards yours. “The camera, Mark.”

You didn’t instruct him on what exactly to do, since you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted. While you thought the whole ordeal was hot, you didn’t know if you really enjoyed the idea of someone having that video of you, and if someone had indeed watched it well…

Jesus, the post-nut clarity was wild. 

It seemed Mark had that covered, though. With another shit-eating grin, Mark dusted a kiss on top of your nose. 

“It was never on. I win.”

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Only two weeks of school had passed when he came for Mark.

Night had long overtaken the world, the bustling city almost quiet for once. There had been no warning. There had been no preparation. 

In an instant, Mark was pulled from college and sent on another mission. Potentially the biggest one he’d ever face. 

Mark squatted on the edge of the Thraxan ship, a nervous frown playing on his features. Swallowing, he raised his phone to his ear, waiting for the line to ring. 

“H-hullo?” You mumbled, voice groggy and words slurred. Mark, despite his circumstances, smiled at the sound of your sleepy state. 

“Hey, baby,” He whispered, even with the wind whipping around him. He could hear the shuffling of your covers at the end of the line. You’d obviously sat up. 

“Mark? It’s the middle of the night. What’s going on?”

His head fell back, gaze rising to the stars. He grimaced at the indigo sky, the diminishing clouds whisking away his safety net with him. Nothing was right about this. He never felt right leaving you alone. This—leaving Earth—was next level. But the risk of not extinguishing this threat on Thraxa—whatever it was—was greater than his fear of something happening here. 

While he’d considered calling in his favor with Cecil, he’d decided on simply asking him to…Watch over you while he was gone. Discretely. 

“Come to your window.”

You appeared, hair frizzy and eyes dulled with exhaustion. It warmed Mark’s heart anyway. You squinted, looking confused until he told you to glance up. You gasped abruptly, all sleepiness draining away. 

“Uh, I have to go away for a few weeks. To space again.” 

Your pretty lips formed a slight frown, a crease of worry forming between your eyebrows. 

“Like, right now?” You asked, voice small. 

Mark felt his stomach churn. But this was a good thing. These aliens needed him. There was no other option. 

“A lot of people are gonna die if I don’t. I’m sorry, but—“

“No, stop, stop. Don’t apologize—never apologize for saving lives. This is the deal… And I’m…. And I’m good with it. Go.” 

Mark tried to ignore the way your words sounded forced. He knew you really meant what you said. He also knew how disappointed you were that he had to leave again. But, he couldn’t fault you for it.

“Thanks,” He responded softly, heart fluttering as you smiled up at you. The ship began to float upward. “Can you tell my mom, please?”

You shook your head, smile growing.

“Yeah, of course,” You sighed, before growing serious. Your eyes glittered up at him, mesmerizing even from hundreds of feet in the air. “Be careful.”

Mark’s jaw set, nodding even though he knew you could barely see the action. 

“Always.”

A beat passed, and Mark realized his heart was pounding. 

“Savvy, uh, I…”

“Yeah?” 

Mark could tell you were still watching. 

“I love you.”

The line was dead silent for a few moments, leading Mark to believe it had disconnected due to the distance. But, then, quiet and grainy, he heard you speak. 

“I love you too, Mark. So much. ”

Chapter Text

So, you didn’t win the bet. Not that it mattered, of course, Mark was gone. Had been for four days. On the fifth, you were summoned to the GDA. Just you. Not Debbie, as you’d assumed, but she’d been through times like this before. She also wasn’t…Well, she wasn’t in the best headspace at that moment. Justifiably so. You, however, knew the gravity of a summons from the Lord of all,

Cecil Stedman.

You were practically a regular now, the guards raising the gate before you could even come to a complete stop. A tall, lovely, brunette-haired lady with aged olive skin met you at the door. She was new. 

“Who are you?”

You didn’t mean for it to come out as accusatory as it did. But, where was Donald?

“Follow me, please,” The lady said, politely ignoring your question. With a huff, you followed.

Minutes passed silently, with you studying the same walls you’d seen a dozen times before. You peeled off right instead of left at the intersecting hallways. An ache passed through you as you glanced down the left hallway—the hospital wing. 

Soon, you arrived at the grand elevator that would take you down to the monitor room. 

Still, the lady did not speak to you. Whatever. You played with a loose string on one of the sleeves of your sweater as you tried to pass the time…Awkwardly. 

You were ripped away from your thoughts as the elevator doors dinged open, and soft chatter invaded your ears. 

The room was spacious, accommodating multiple rows of computers and people. At least fifty people, you thought. There were at least two dozen screens, taking up the entire back wall across from them. They were running news reports, threat analyses, and monitoring space signals, all on the smaller screens surrounding one huge middle screen. It was, thankfully, blank. You assumed that meant there was no significant threat at the moment. 

You blindly moved toward the middle row, where you saw the familiar white haired man. He was facing the screens, but was quickly alerted to your presence by the speaker in his ear, surely, and turned to you. Just as a random agent approached him, looking mildly panicked. You stopped in front of Cecil just to hear the beginning of the agent's plea.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you asked us to keep a tab on Angstrom Levy—“

“Another time, Brian.” Cecil brushed off, eyes locked on you. “Miss Fawn, how good to see you.”

You simply stared at the Director, lips pressed tightly together. You barely noticed the agent scurry off.

“Why am I here?”

Cecil inhaled deeply through his nose. You wondered how fed up he was with teenagers after having to deal with them all the time. Or maybe his patience was unreasonably thick. You doubted it, though, as you watched his jaw tick. Perhaps it was because you weren’t under his jurisdiction, which meant he had no control over what you said or did. Or something like that. 

“Miss Fawn, I’m sure you’re aware that Mark has left Earth. Much to my disappointment,” Cecil began, adding the last part quietly. You blinked, glancing away from him. You knew all of this already—you’d actually been there when he’d said goodbye. Cecil continued. “We have heard no updates from him. In the meantime, I can inform you that you are under the GDA’s protection, and if any news does come, you will be among the first to know.” 

You eyed Cecil for a moment. There was something…Off about him. Off about all of this. The way he spoke, the way he followed your gaze, it was almost as if he were trying to tell you something while relying on hidden meanings. Did he know something you didn’t? Did it involve Mark? Why couldn’t he speak about it? 

You were confident Cecil had no one to fear, so…What was stopping him? If there was even anything to hide, you suddenly thought. You shook your head, physically trying to clear your thoughts. You were grasping at nothing. 

While the GDA was sketchy, they weren’t evil. Their intentions were, for the most part, for the better of all involved. 

With a deep breath, you turned away from Cecil. Facing the wall of screens, you felt yourself become small. There was a whole world of terrors and feats and threats, and you were just one person. One person who’d been picked to be loved by someone great. And it had landed you here, in a place most others dreamed…or dreaded, existing. And while your feelings remained unchanged about the GDA, you did worry for Mark. You worried a great deal.

 So, while the disdain you held for the man beside you and the agency he led was great, you still respected and were grateful that he kept you in mind. That he kept you in the loop. 

“Thank you, Cecil.”

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You wished you could say the time passed quickly and that you’d barely noticed Mark’s absence. If you did, you’d have been lying. Time scraped by, his absence rotting within you like an aching wound that refused to heal. Days slowly turned into weeks. You were nearly hopeless. You couldn’t eat, nor could you sleep, staying by your window at all hours with your phone in your hand. 

Cecil hadn’t reached back out since you’d first been summoned. You’d been thankful at first. Now, you were desperate for anything. 

It was in the dark, desolate hours of the night that you realized that you were nothing without Mark Grayson. You missed him terribly. You couldn’t imagine what would happen if he never returned. You’d likely become a shell of a person, a mirage of who you used to be. 

Three weeks passed. You no longer had cuticles. Your fingers were bloody. 

A month passed. You’d begun calling the GDA multiple times a day. Cecil rarely answered. It got to a point where there was a voicemail box set up just for you.
"If this is Ms. Fawn, he hasn't contacted us yet." 

Six weeks passed. You made yourself go to classes but barely paid attention. Your mother had stopped by. She was worried about your health. She’d just left after getting you to promise you’d eat dinner, when another knock sounded at your dorm. You swallowed your groan, too tired to voice it. You were too exhausted for anything, really. But you got up anyway. 

With a deep breath, you jerked the door open. 

"Look, mom, I don't know what else to tell you—

You trailed off as raven hair came into view. With a start, you realized it was not your mother but,

“Ms. Debbie.”

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Debbie comforted you in a way you feared no one else could. 

“Dear, these things happen,” she whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You looked into her warm gaze, at the worn lines that graced her face. She knew—if anyone knew, she did. “Mark is Earth’s strongest hero. He’s also cautious. He knows his limits and expectations well enough not to leave us here.” 

You nodded, tears blurring your vision. Debbie smiled softly, brushing away the tears that did fall. 

“I just worry so much. It’s… I’ve never felt this kind of pain before—“ 

You could barely finish your sentence, grasping at your chest. It ached there, like a ragged wound sprayed with salt water. 

“Savannah, love, he’s not gone,” Debbie affirmed, brows furrowed. You nodded, sniffling. You knew that. You really did know that. It was as if some disconnect lay between your mind and your heart. 

Mark… Mark had cemented himself in both. 

It was as if you couldn’t think logically about his departure. A voice in the back of your mind shouted that none of this was healthy—that your infatuation with Mark was bordering on obsession. That small voice of reason was snuffed out as quickly as it had come. 

“Mark will be fine, I’m sure,” Debbie encouraged, rubbing your back. After a moment, she cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “In the meantime, you cannot fall apart.”

You blinked, lips parting slowly in surprise. “Mark told me all about your journalism class, Savannah. You cannot give this up.”

You sniffled again, eyes falling to your lap. You almost felt shocked back into reality. With a shaky breath, you realized she was right. You’d nearly let the class you’d fought for slip right from your grasp. Cheeks reddening from embarrassment, you finally met Debbie’s gaze. The line by her eyes deepened as she recognized the determination flooding your expression. 

She was right. Mark would be fine. Now, you had to make sure you would be too. 

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You were doing better in your classes than you ever had before. Your homework was turned in early, you were acing quizzes, and even studying chapters that weren’t yet assigned. You weren't sure what had caused it exactly. But you felt like you'd gained your focus again.

Your investigative journalism class had been like a beacon, reigniting your passion for learning. Professor Crest was beyond pleased with your renewed vigor, allowing you to head the first project assigned to your class. 

It was, funnily enough, about the Guardians of the Globe and if they were more harm than help. While the topic made your stomach turn, you very well couldn’t defend the superheroes with personal experience. That would negate the whole purpose of anonymity. You reminded yourself that this was part of the job. 

In your class of six, you oversaw the progress. It started as a shared document online, but you quickly realized it was easier to co-work in person. You met with your classmates, two or one at a time. 

Two months to the day after Mark left, you were letting Tommy Moretti out of your room after finishing the project. You both were giggling at a joke you’d worked into the presentation, something you were certain the professor would like, when someone cleared their throat. You blinked, turning as you found Mark standing just outside your door.

He was here.

After two months.

He was here.

A thousand things flooded your mind at once: shock, relief, confusion from the weird ass grey dress thing he had on, and just a twinge of fear.

Fear, because he was staring at Tommy, or more, the way Tommy was standing so close to you. You blinked, processing.

He thought—oh, fuck—he thought you and Tommy? Your heart dropped as Mark’s gaze rose to you, his eyes almost glowing in anger. 

"Mark," You whispered cautiously, heart racing in your chest.

“Hey, Sav,” Mark said calmly with bared teeth. His gaze turned to Tommy, who visibly flinched.

“Who the fuck is this?”

Chapter Text

Mark wouldn’t say he enjoyed inflicting pain by any means. He did what he did to protect the innocent. If that meant dealing some dire punches, then he could stomach it…Even if it made his stomach turn.

But, now, in this moment, he could think of nothing sweeter than the crunch of Tommy Morretti’s face under his fist. He couldn’t help but smile as brain matter splattered onto the carpeted hallway — onto your brand new Upstate teeshirt and on the wall behind you. 

He couldn’t think of anything else. He couldn’t feel anything else past the all-consuming rage inside of him. Distantly, he heard your screams--your pleas for him to stop.

A new wave of anger rolled over him. Oh, he’d make you plead, all right. You’d have been wise to run. But you trusted Mark. Trusted that he’d be able to reason during this madness. 

You were dead fucking wrong. 

Mark stood, the blood of Tommy soaking his bones. Mark barely noticed the cracks in the foundation he’d made—the crater in the floor he’d created. He could only stare at you. 

You were shaking, mouth agape in horror. Tears streamed down your cheeks with no end in sight. 

Good.   

Mark began moving, the ground squelching as he walked through the human remains below him. It was too fast—too sudden for you to react. You screamed, flinching as Mark grabbed you by the nape of your neck.

Jaw set, he couldn’t focus on anything over the roar in his ears as he dragged you back into your dorm. 

“Mark, please! You’re confused—”

“No, you seem to be the one confused,” He hissed, tossing you onto your bed as he shut and locked your door. He turned back slowly, venom dripping from his stare. No one would have you--no one but him. It seemed even you need to be taught that lesson. Mark rolled his shoulders before starting for you. You had scrambled to the corner of your bed, trembling behind your pillows. He wrapped a bloodied hand around your ankle, tugging you harshly toward him.  “Allow me to enlighten you, lover.” 

At least, that’s what he’d wanted to do. 

Mark blinked, hands balled into fists by his sides, knuckles aching. There he was, Tommy Moretti. Whole, safe, and not beaten into the hallway carpet. 

Mark had decided he’d give you thirty seconds to explain before he gave over to his darker side. Only because he could neither smell Tommy on you, nor you on Tommy. Or in your room.

But he could smell the remnants of himself there. And that was the only thing keeping Moretti’s head attached to his shoulders.

And you knew it. 

Your heart leapt into your throat as you watched Mark—as you saw the anger begin to boil his blood.

Twenty seconds. 

You scrolled through the best explanations—ones that would be the most innocent. Not that you had done anything with Tommy. But you needed something that covered every base.  

Ten seconds. 

Your boyfriend sized Tommy up, hands flexing. It was as if he were discerning the best way to eradicate your project partner. When Mark finally took a step forward, you did the same. 

“Tommy Moretti is my project partner in my super esteemed and super fought for investigative journalism class. I’m leading it, and everyone’s been over here. I don’t have a roommate, remember?” 

You’d said it all in one breath, subtly putting yourself in between Mark and Tommy. While you were sure Mark wouldn’t actually hurt him, that look in his eyes frightened you enough to intervene. 

A tense moment passed between the three of you, with Mark glaring at Tommy over your shoulder as if you weren’t there separating them.

“Did you fuck her?” He growled, and you fought the urge to gasp. He couldn’t have been serious, right?

Tommy’s head was moving at the speed of light. Mark’s jaw tensed.

“You even think about touching her, I’ll grind you into dust and deliver you to the devil himself.”

You swallowed at the threat.

And then, thankfully, he stepped backward. Still silent. Still…watching.

You nearly collapsed against the wall in relief. 

Tommy Moretti left so fast you’d barely even blinked, and he was gone. And while the relief flooded your bones because of this, the adrenaline seeped away as well. You were left very uncomfortable and rattled. And then you looked to him, your boyfriend—he, who’d been gone for two whole months.

With no word. 

No sign.

No reassurance of his safety. 

And this is what had happened? He came with accusations? And threats? 

You couldn’t help but burst into tears.   

And it was like Mark snapped back into who he was supposed to be.

He surged forward suddenly, heart leaping as he cradled your face between both palms.

“Sav—“

“Mark,” you sobbed, trying to pull from his hold. His thumbs brushed your tears away. Your hands flew up to his biceps. They felt more pronounced. You blinked. He looked altogether stronger and taller. What on Earth had happened?!

“You… You left and were gone for months, and then you show up—“

Mark shushed your whimpering gently, scooping you up as he pushed into your dorm. 

“I’m here now,” he whispered, one hand smoothing your hair. And in the next second, his lips were on yours. 

Your mind whirled. Things were moving too fast. You still weren’t over what had just happened. And—

You gasped into his kiss as Mark dropped you on your bed. Fresh tears flooded your eyes as you leaned into him. 

He was here. Mark was here, finally. You’d cried and begged and prayed for him to return.

And even though the last five minutes were a blur of emotions, you couldn’t deny how badly you’d missed this. Him. 

Your brain was confused, and your heart ached. Mark didn’t help the first, falling in between your open thighs like a lost puzzle piece. 

“God, I fucking missed this so much,” He murmured, lips falling down the expanse of your neck. He sucked deeply near the place where your neck met your shoulder. It was unwise to leave hickeys there. However, you knew very well why Mark was doing it. 

“Wait,” you gasped as Mark all but ripped your shorts off. You were desperately trying to hold on to th questions you had—to the explanation of his actions you were to demand from him. 

“I know, baby,” Mark breathed, cursing under his breath as he stripped you of your panties. He hurriedly dove down, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He gave you no time to comprehend what was going on. There was no room for thoughts in your brain, only the overwhelming forgotten ecstasy he brought when his lips touched your core. You yelped when he made contact, electricity zipping through your body. Your body brutally yielded to him, to the release he promised. And, god, he knew your body so well. 

Mark worked harder every time you found your mental footing, adding his tongue or fingers to the mix. Until he pulled away just before you orgasmed. He then adjusted the two of you beyond smoothly, shedding his gray garb. You babbled something incoherently as he lined himself up, head spinning. 

“Say you’re mine,” He growled. You blinked, the words processing in your mushy brain. Another moment passed before the fog began to lift. But…Hadn’t you already done this? Mark’s bulbous tip pressed into you. Your hips bucked as you hissed at the sweet burning sensation.

“Wha—?”

“Say it, Savannah. Promise me you’ll never take another man to bed. That you’re mine forever.” You began to push yourself up. He wasn’t kidding? No…He really wasn't kidding. 

Mark tended to throw in this possessive talk during sex from time to time… But, this… This felt serious. Like, he’d forgotten. Or, as if he no longer believed that you meant it anymore. Like he had to start over.  

“Mark, I don’t understand—if this is about Tom—“

“Don’t you fucking say his name,” He warned, deathly still. Your blood ran cold as he dropped his hold on you. “Unless you’d rather have him here.”

“What? No!” You shook your head. Mark was five steps ahead of you mentally, and you were desperately trying to catch up. “No, Mark I—“

“No, I understand. I can just leave.” He brushed off, standing from your bed. You gaped at him, heart pounding in your chest. He couldn’t be serious?! Mark never left. But, to your horror, you watched him dress. 

“No! Please don’t!” You shrieked, leaping from your bed in nothing but your t-shirt. You could hardly breathe as he reached your door. You began sobbing. “I just got you back—No—NO!”

The air hung heavily between the two of you, your chest heaving as you stared up at him, pressed in between the door and his chest. Mark couldn't meet your eyes—Fuck, he must’ve really believed you didn’t want only him anymore. With a shuddering breath, you reached up and pulled him down, pressing your forehead against his. Fuck your questions, fuck your arguments and accusations. This is what mattered—Mark was what was important. 

He was right. He was right. He was right. You’d basically abandoned him and mistreated him by doing nothing to reassure him. Truly, he’d returned after months of worrying about your well-being, and this is how you greeted him? Jesus, what had you done?! Heart pounding, you cupped his face. 

“I’m so sorry. You’re right—I’m so fucking sorry.” You cried, tears still streaming down your puffy cheeks. Mark finally met your gaze, brown eyes swimming. “It’s only you, Mark, truly. It always has been and always will be.” 

You pulled him back toward your bed. He let you. 

“…You swear?

You nodded fervently, not breaking eye contact as he lowered you back under him. 

“I swear. I’m yours, forever and ever. I’ll never touch—never want—another man.”

Mark nearly collapsed in relief. 

“It’s just you and me, Savannah.”

You hesitated, getting lost in his gaze. It seemed to swallow you whole. You gladly submitted to it…To him. 

“Just you and me.” 

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Five weeks and three days ago

You gripped your steering wheel, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you exited the GDA’s compound. You’d called Will almost immediately after leaving the building.

“It was weird. And…and cryptic. It was like he was trying to tell me something without being able to actually tell me.”

“What do you mean?”

“ Like your best friend trying to hint that your boyfriend is cheating on you, but your boyfriend told your best friend not to tell you—“

“Not this best friend.”

“ I know that! I’m just giving you an example,” You stressed, followed by Will whispering,

A poorly explained example. 

You ignored him, rolling your eyes. 

“He was acting shady, even for him.”

“I dunno, Sav. It was probably nothing.” 

A memory tugged on your mind from months ago. Back when you were last at the GDA. 

“We’re watching Mark, Miss Fawn.” 

Shock shot through you at the simple phrase. Shock tainted with betrayal, more like. 

“What, why?” You replied, taken aback. 

“Well, since…The incident, we’ve just decided to pay closer attention to…”

“To Mark,” You felt anger settle in your bones, annoyance heating your veins. “Because he’s Nolan’s son—“ 

“Because he’s a Viltrumite, Miss Fawn.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Mark had defended this planet, never once leaning toward allying with his father, even if it had almost cost him his life. And, yours. 

“Right. Well? Tell me instead of just staring at me!”

Cecil took a deep breath, arms diving into his pockets. He couldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Have you tried to talk to Luke Charterman recently?”

Now, that really caught you off guard. Your ex?

“What? My ex? Why would I…” 

“Mr. Charterman suffered a displaced transverse fracture of the mid-shaft humerus to his throwing arm, essentially ending his college football career.”

Your brain whirled at the medical terminology. If Cecil was trying to overwhelm you with big words, then it wasn’t going to work.  With a stubborn shake of your head, you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Okay? And?”

“Mark is the one who broke his arm, Savannah.” 

Your blood turned to ice in that moment, mouth falling open in shock before you could stop it. But, but—Mark didn’t even know your ex? Plus, you hadn’t spoken to him in months? 

“No, no, that’s impossible—Mark would never do that—“ You spluttered, taking a step back. This was ridiculous, and you needed to get out of here. You needed to tell Mark. You stopped, your back a breath from grazing the metal door. Your stomach churned. There was no way it was possible. But. There was the smallest, tiniest, most minuscule part of you that wondered. Your eyes raised slowly from the floor, locking in on Cecil. 

Mark had always been so possessive—No!

You shook your head, clearing those negative thoughts. There was no way on Earth he’d ever do that. And you couldn't believe you'd even entertained the idea. With a sharp breath, you readjusted your backpack, swallowing thickly. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Steadman.”

You turned, waiting for the door to open. You heard a dep sigh behind you, almost in resignation. 

“We can’t prove it for sure, but we urge you to use caution,” Cecil whispered, before the metal door groaned in front of you. You said nothing as you hurried out, clutching your keys like they were your life support. 

You blinked, unease settling in your stomach. Why on Earth had your mind pulled that? 

“Hellooooo, you there?”

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you refocused on the call with Will. 

“Yeah,” you chuckled awkwardly. 

“You okay, Sav?” Will asked, suddenly serious. You chuckled again, quickly. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m sorry,” you reassured, smiling weakly even though he couldn’t see it. A moment passed between the two of you. Taking a deep breath, you rolled your shoulder to ease some of the tension that had suddenly gathered there. “I shouldn't worry, right?”

Will sighed on the other end of the line. You could hear his smile. 

“Yes, Savannah. I’m sure everything is fine.” 

You nodded to yourself, letting that statement ease the worry in your stomach. He was right, you thought as you banished the memory completely. 

Everything was fine. 

Everything would be fine. 

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To your utter dismay, Mark had to leave after your…rekindling.  He’d promised to return and explain everything. He just needed to do the same with so many other people. Something about his dad and a kid? 

You were hardly reassured, but Mark seemed fine. More than fine. Glib, actually. And you? 

You weren't sure why, but you wanted to cry. You felt like you had years of tears stored within you, ching to be released. But you’d already cried so much that day. And, more confusingly, everything was fine.

Right? 

Your head hurt. 

Your heart hurt. 

Your emotions puzzled you beyond saving. 

You ended up simply staying in the spot Mark left you in. The lower half of your body sore, and your soul wounded. 

Until he returned, hours later. And suddenly, everything began to feel right. Relief soared through you, your body funnily light. 

You collapsed into his arms as he rushed over to you. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He whispered, brushing your hair back as he carried you back to bed. You shook your head weakly, tucking yourself into his chest. 

“I…I don't know,” You answered. Mark hummed softly, bringing your blanket to cover both of you. 

“It’s just been a busy day. We’ve missed each other so much,” He explained, rubbing your back. You nodded halfheartedly. That must’ve been it.   

It took a while, but eventually you felt fine enough for Mark to explain his trip. It was late into the night when he finished. You both had ordered takeout, showered, and were now sprawled out on the floor, picking at Lo Mein. 

You felt almost normal, able to laugh at Mark’s jokes and reciprocate poor attempts. Mark was back to his old self, any hint of anger or violence gone. His dimples were proudly on display as he showered you in affection. Everything was back to normal again. Except for a tiny pit in your heart, which ached strangely. 

You ignored it. It would go away, you were sure.  

“So you confronted your dad, gained a brother, and fought your own kind?” You repeated, shaking your head softly. His journey had been a wild one. A dangerous one. A painful one. 

Of course, he hadn’t been himself--

You cleared those thoughts away, focusing back in on your boyfriend. Focusing back in on the present. 

“Yep,” Mark said tightly, leaning back on his hands. “It was awful. Fighting as hard as I could and still coming nowhere near their power. For all I know, now my dad could already be dead. And I also have a brother. Fucking crazy.”

You sighed, pushing yourself to your knees before crawling over to Mark. His frown dissipated as you settled into his lap, his strong hands coming to wrap around your waist. You looked at him for a moment, studying his face and committing it to memory.  Lips pursed, you brought your thumb up to smooth the crease between his brows until his expression was at ease. 

Mark’s eyes glittered in response, his gaze flickering between yours and your lips. A thrill skittered through you. You reminded yourself that this moment was serious. 

“Whatever comes, whatever may happen, just know that we’re with you, Mark. We’ll get through this.” 

Mark smiled softly, one hand coming to cup your face. His thumb brushed gently across your bottom lip as he began to speak.

“I know, sweet girl. It will all be fine.”

He paused, blinking before looking back to you. 

“Except college. I’m pretty sure I’ve been kicked out.”

A snort escaped you, and you shrugged. 

“Well,” You grinned, standing up and pulling Mark with you. “Let’s go figure all of it out.” 

You both set off, basking in each other’s presence. And, just like William and Mark and Debbie and Cecil had promised, everything was fine. 

Everything was fine, you growled to the stubborn pit in your heart or the small warning bell in your mind. Try as you might to convince them, they both seemed to whisper back that…

No, everything was not fine. And it would likely get worse. 

Chapter Text

You smile down at the small bundle in your arms, wiggling your finger, and you babbled happy noises, getting a toothless grin from the baby. 

From Oliver. 

Mark’s brother.

Slowly, your smile faded. You swallowed roughly as that annoying, all too familiar pit returned to your stomach. It seemed to linger around your thoughts of Mark—especially when he wasn’t around to scare them away. Recently, those thoughts had been eating you alive. A sense of uncertainty skirted from your spine, poisoning your mind. You’d assured yourself it would’ve gone away by now. 

It hadn’t.

You set Oliver down in his playpen, your thumb coming to rest between your lips. Your other hand twiddled with the ring he’d given you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the object. 

Your eyes lifted at the soft laughter floating from the dining room, where Debbie was running interviews for nannies. You glanced back ot the purple baby below you. You wondered if you and Debbie felt similarly. 

Lost in the sea of what was, your lives miles away and drifting further, with you wondering where you were supposed to be. Who you were supposed to be. You longed for what life used to be and couldn’t face what it had become. 

You grimaced to yourself, biting on your thumb. At least Debbie was confronting it.

You, however. 

Your eyes nervously glanced back at Debbie, making sure she was still invested in her conversation. Your heart began to pound as you nestled yourself in the corner of the couch, slipping your phone from your pocket. Your palms were sweaty as you swiped up. 

“…And I’m sure Cecil already told you he ages quickly. He’s basically a toddler already…” 

Your head whipped up as Debbie entered the kitchen. To your relief, she was only grabbing two wine glasses and a bottle of red before returning to the dining table.  

You released a silent huff of relief, whispering to yourself to get it together. Unease swelled in your belly as your thumb hovered over the search bar. 

You looked to Oliver, whose eyes were locked in on the ceiling. 

Your heart tugged. What would he do when he was older? When he was first told about his father. Would he be lied to? Would he yearn for and try to unearth the truth? 

Were you doing the same? Was there truth to unearth?

Did you want to know the truth…

You sucked in a breath, realizing the small confession you’d silently made. You realized you’d admitted that something was, in fact, wrong.

With shaking hands, you clicked on the search bar. 

L…U…K….E—

You nearly jumped out of your skin as your phone rang and Mark’s face popped up on the screen. You panted softly, calming your racing heart. And in an instant, you felt yourself grow ridiculously foolish. What had you even been doing? Everyone was already trying to criminalize your boyfriend? And now you were one of those people because of what…A flicker of doubt? 

You were disloyal and disingenuous. 

Shaking your head and pushing down the rising bile in your throat, you answered the call. Mark began speaking animatedly almost immediately. 

“Just got done! Bout to go to the Dean’s office and….”

You took a few steadying breaths while he charged on with whatever speech he was making, trying your best to stay present. You felt like a traitor and a fraud. You felt like you needed to atone. You pushed yourself from the couch, wiping your free hand on your jeans. 

“…So you’ll meet me there?”

You blinked, brain catching up. 

“Uh—yes, yeah, I’m on my way,” You spluttered, swallowing your feelings. Mark needed you, and that was how you would secretly make it up to him. You hurriedly began gathering your things, catching Debbie’s gaze as you left the house. She bid you a warm farewell, brows creasing once she really got a look at you, but you’d already started for your car before she could say anything. 

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You laid on Mark’s chest, both of you naked. He’d gotten a stern talking to from the Dean. Not exactly what he’d wanted, but not terrible in the grand scheme of things. As usual, this--sex--was the right of passage that made either of you feel better after something stressful. Except, for the first time in months, it hadn’t. Not for you. 

Yes, your body responded, and you'd enjoyed yourself, but your mind was far off. That scared you.

Mark was long asleep when you finally sat up. 

You twisted the ring around and around your finger, trying to untangle the knot in your belly. 

You felt sick and wrong, but no matter what you did, you couldn't avoid it. And Mark seemed to not even notice your turmoil. You shook your head softly, slowly getting up from your bed. You grabbed a pair of shorts and a random sweatshirt from the floor. With trembling legs, you tiptoed over to your desk, slipping into the seat. 

You were gonna puke.

Fuck, you were going to throw up all over your desk. 

You buried your face in your hands, taking several breaths before you were able to sit up straight again.

You raised your chin, willing yourself to calm down as you turned toward your phone. 

There was something that had been pricking your mind for months, lurking in every minuscule corner of doubt you had for Mark. It was after Mark had fallen asleep that you’d realized you were protecting him… And yourself, by not investigating. You weren’t sure if you were ready to pop your little bubble of serenity. Which meant that a substantial part of you not only believed Cecil, but that Mark was indeed capable of doing terrible things. 

And so you did the one thing you swore you wouldn’t do.

You pulled up your text thread between you and your ex, Luke Charterman. 

But, strangely, you found nothing. Even odder was the dead space between the last conversation you two had and the text bar. Your brows furrowed as you looked closer. It was almost as if… A shock ran down your spine as you glanced up. 

No, you thought. Mark wasn’t crazy enough to do that. 

And yet, with a racing heart, you lurched for your laptop.

Dread filled your stomach as you flipped it open, hoping to God you were wrong—praying that your boyfriend was not behind this. You scrolled through your open tabs, closing them until you found your messages. With a deep breath, you scanned the page. And your heart sank. There, dated to the night you gave your virginity to Mark, were the previously deleted messages: 

Luke Charterman 12:03 am

“Hey. It’s been a while. Can we talk?” 

Savannah Fawn 12:04 am

“Send me your location.”

The same night, Luke’s arm had been shattered. 

The messages blurred, tears falling from your eyes. You sobbed softly, chest seized in horror. You slammed your laptop instantly, shaking your head profusely. No, no, it couldn’t be true. Your Mark was gentle, kind, and considerate, and would never…

You choked, almost doubling over as you remembered that night. He’d woken you up sometime after midnight, edging you until you swore he was the only man who’d ever touch you. He’ made you cry out his name over and over and over—

And then that day he'd returned from space...What he'd said to Tommy Moretti—what he’d wanted to do…

“Oh, God,” You gasped, salty tears slipping into your mouth. 

Cecil was right. 

You pushed yourself from your desk chair, panic and dread making your knees buckle. With a whimper, you turned to the bed, heart tugging painfully at the sight of Mark buried in your blankets. He was serene and peaceful...

And a fucking liar.

“Mark,” You quavered, tears staining your cheeks. Your chest ached, and you felt nothing all at the same time. You wanted to scream and cry and raze the bridge between the two of you to the ground, fanning the ashes to the wind. Everything you had between the two of you was a lie. All of it. 

Mark hadn’t moved, only making your sadness turn to anger. With a jagged inhale through gritted teeth, you marched over and shook him by the shoulder. 

“Get. Up!”

Mark jolted at that, nearly leaping from your twin bed, disoriented and ready to attack. But then he blinked, and only found you there. And the look you gave him chilled him to the bone and broke his heart. 

You had your arms crossed over your chest, as if to protect yourself from Mark, a random pair of shorts, and a sweatshirt on your body. Your face cracked, betrayal pulling the corners down. 

Mark shoved his hair out of his eyes, blinking as if he could make sense of your body language. He took a step toward you, still very naked. You countered with a step back and raised your hand. Your tears glistened in the light from your laptop. Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him, your words deadly. 

“Get out.”

The pain and shock from your words were akin to being punched by his father, Mark decided. His heart seized in his chest. Taking a steadying breath, he held out his hands as if not to scare you away. 

“Savannah, what's going on?”

He’d said it like you were a baby dear caught in the middle of a roaring highway. 

You looked on the verge of a full breakdown. You fucking were on the verge of a breakdown. You felt like you'd given the deepest and most intimate parts of yourself for a fake--a facade. And now you couldn't take it back. Your shoulder trembled as you took another breath, tears slipping past your lips. You threw your hand behind you, toward your laptop, and pointed an angry finger back at Mark.

“What did you do to Luke?” You spat. 

In a flash, almost too quick for you to see, you saw realization dawn upon his face. It was cold and vacant, and far, far, from shock. Your heart cracked, and you knew it was all the confirmation you needed. Fresh tears flooded your eyes as you hung your head. You’d been such a blind fool.

With a sob, you held yourself tighter and nodded to the door.

“Get out, Mark. God, Cecil was right.”

You didn’t notice the flash of rage that passed over Mark’s features. He quickly calmed himself before reaching behind himself and grabbing his boxers. Once dressed, he took a tentative step forward. 

“Savannah, all I’ve done is protect you. Those people would've hurt you, and they tried to tear us apart. Don’t you see that’s me caring or you? Do…Do you not care for me?”

You scoffed, turning away from him.

“You lied to me!” You exclaimed, clenching your eyes shut from the pain. Mark was there suddenly, holding you by your arms. 

“I didn't lie—I just didn't want to stress you out. You always say I'm supposed to protect you, right? That's what I was doing. So now I'm the bad guy for listening to you?"

You pushed from Mark’s hold, mouth hanging open in shock. You shook your head at him, looking up at him incredulously. 

“No-NO—you always do this, Mark! You twist my words and—and…I’m not crazy. This is real—”

You pushed the palms of your hands harshly into your eyes as your head spun. Two sides clashed within you, the truth and what you wanted. You desperately wished that this was a dream—that you would wake up and it would all be okay and you could continue your life with Mark beside you. But, no. No, this was all agonizingly real. 

“Look, Sav, I know I messed up," Mark breathed, panicked as he gathered you in his arms once more. You tried to lean away from him, while your heart ached to stay. He brushed the tears away from your cheeks, and his other hand wrapped around your waist to hold you to him. “I just love you so much, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I’d do anything for you, don’t you see that?

A moment passed, and the silence grew torturously heavy. You stared up at him, quivering in his hold. And slowly, your gaze turned venomous and pain-stricken. He was a fraud—a fucking fraud, him and his father both. 

You loved a villain. 

Mark could see you beginning to crumble, and seemed to lose it himself as well. 

"You're shaking. See?” He spluttered, eyes pleading. “This is exactly why I didn't tell you—you can't handle this stuff. I was trying to take the burden off you. I did this for us. For love.”

Your chest grew cold, the chill fluttering down your spine. Your heart finally cracked into two pieces, and your gaze fell to his chest. 

“For love,” You repeated softly. The tears had finally stopped, leaving your eyes tender. You shut them, squaring your shoulders and breathing deeply. 

“This isn’t love. You did this for control. And I deserve better. You deserve to be better than this,” You breathed sadly, stepping away from him. “I shouldn’t have to fear who you really are, Mark. I shouldn’t have to fear the repercussions of having friends or a life that doesn’t revolve around you. And, so... I’m taking that life back.”

He was crying when you met his gaze, shaking his head with his bottom lip quivering.

“Baby, please—“ He cried, but you didn’t let him finish. 

“I want you gone, Mark,” You said calmly, looking at him in the eyes. “I want you and your things out before I get back.”

His sobs broke you in a way you knew would never heal from as you put on shoes and grabbed your keys. Everything hurt as you opened your door, but the light that spilled in from the hallway felt more like freedom than you would’ve imagined. 

“So you're just gonna walk away?”

You paused, trying not to let his words slice into you. You finally glanced down at the hand still on the doorknob, to the ring on that hand. Hidden tears pricked your eyes as you reached for it, slipping from your finger. Your hand shook as you put it on your dresser, your gaze lingering on the glittering gift for longer than you cared to admit. 

But finally, you let go of the ring and the door, drifting into the hall without answering and looking back. 

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Thanksgiving break, one week later…

You were a fucking mess. Five times, you’d almost reached out to Mark. He’d messaged you twice as many as that. Eventually, you gave your phone to your mom. You were barely sleeping, barely eating, and couldn’t even leave your bed to shower. Thankfully, your investigative journalism professor was originally from Greece and had chosen to spend the holiday there, giving you the grace to wallow. However, your other classes had not been as forgiving.

Whatever. 

You wanted to slap yourself. Hadn’t you wanted this?! Hadn’t you been the one who broke up with Mark? Yes, a weight had lifted off your shoulder once you’d done it, but you hadn’t expected it to land on your heart. 

Your eyes were constantly red and puffy from crying, and your lips were split and chapped. Your pillowcase was stained with tears and snot, but you couldn’t care less. The pit in your heart was a gaping wound. You had loved Mark…. Fuck, you still loved him. 

How were you expected to move on from this?

Your mom assured you that time would heal, and eventually you would, in fact, find the strength to move on. You tried to find solace in her words. But a week had passed, and it seemed you’d only gotten worse. 

William had stopped by twice, begging to see you, but you had your mother turn him away. You weren’t sure you had the willpower to keep from asking about Mark.

Thanksgiving was two days away. It felt like the time had simultaneously flown by and crawled with its nails digging into the ground.

Finally, sometime around lunch, your mother rushed into your room, flinging open your closet door. 

“Get up, baby,” She said sweetly, but it was no less an order. You blinked your sore eyes up at her as she approached you with a sweatshirt and leggings. “Go shower and go outside. Maybe downtown. Anywhere, really. But you have to get up.”

You knew she was doing it out of love. Sure didn’t feel like it, but you knew it was. 

So you sat in the shower and raked shampoo through your bird's nest. You slid leggings over still-damp skin. You grabbed your keys, passing the breakfast left out for you.

And you drove to the city. 

You were too preoccupied with your pain to notice the faint, human-shaped figure in the sky as you drove downtown.

The one that followed your car the whole way there.

Chapter Text

Mark had watched you from the moment you’d left your dorm. He was hurting—arguably more than you were, but he’d honed the pain and anger and grief into something lethal. He followed you, like a shadow that was hundreds of feet in the air, watching and suffering in silence. But in those moments where he watched you, he cataloged. He observed. Not unlike he had in the very beginning. 

Though there were times he wanted to unleash his fury upon the world and scream that it was because of you, that you were the reason for his brutality, he didn’t. He knew that wouldn’t win you back. A tiny voice whispered that doing that would also be wrong and evil. That reasonable part of him was drowned in the waves of his pain. Still, he did not choose to decimate the city of Chicago in retaliation. 

But there was one who would feel a fraction of his wrath. 

“Why?”

Smoke rose from the crater he’d created in the floor of the room, after plowing through several floors of straight concrete. He’d landed on a few computers, crushing both them and the desk—and had scared the shit out of the GDA agents working at them. He didn’t care. 

He didn’t stare at the slightly alarming number of soldiers lining the wall, pointing rifles at him. he didn’t stare at anyone but the white-haired man with the almost bored expression. His rage began to boil over. 

“What are you talking about, Mark—“

“You know what I’m talking about. Savannah. You’re the reason she broke up with me.”

Mark took a step forward. So did the soldiers.

“I don’t control, Miss Fawn, Mark. If she broke up with you, I think it’s safe to assume that you are the reason.”

Mark’s jaw ticked, his gloved hands flexing. 

“Don’t be fucking smart with me, Cecil. I know you said something. She said so.” 

“I just warned her of your…impulsivity and judgment,” Cecil explained, eyes narrowing on th room around him—at the rubble—as if to prove his point. “Look, maybe this is all for the better. I need you here, present, now more than ever—“

“Fuck you, I’m done.”

That got Cecil’s attention. The suited man took a step toward Mark in haste, forgetting his expression of calm.

“Wait, Mark. Be sensible—“

Mark didn’t want to hear any more of this. With a frown, he began wading through he rubble with growing annoyance. 

“No, find someone else to be your lackey—“

“Mark! Please—“

“Fine, you want me to work for you? I wanna call in our arrangement.”

A moment of charged silence passed between them. 

“Everyone out now.” 

Mark had never seen a room empty quickly. One of the suited soldiers remained, seemingly for Cecil’s protection—a joke, but still—but the director waved him off with a brisk nod. And then they were alone. Cecil glanced down at his feet, hands tucked into his pockets. 

“I’m not kidnapping Savannah, Mark,” He said with a soft shake of his head. “Not when you two aren’t even together anymore.”

“Fine, then I’ll just be on my way—“

“Wait.” Cecil barked. Mark turned to find his fingers pressing deeply into his temples, a grimace playing on his lips. With a deep sigh, he looked back at Mark. The words he said next seemed as if they had to be forced out. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.”

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Mark watched you as you left upstate, blaming it on the need to protect you and make sure you got home safely. You’d left your ring, so it was the only logical course of action. He kept your car in his sights as you pulled into your driveway, your mother meeting you there. You’d all but fallen into her arms, weeping. 

Mark couldn’t help but equate it to the notion that you didn’t really want this outcome and that it was his mission to get you back. But he had to do it quietly and cleverly. It had to be your idea. He had to make you realize your mistake. 

He watched you day and night, resting only when he was sure you did. It was torture—cruel and senseless torture. He could only watch what he couldn’t have. Well, it wasn’t as if anyone could stop him if he decided to… “Change your mind.”

Many times over the course of the week that followed, he debated busting through your window and making you listen to his explanation. Anger skirted around the edges of those thoughts, whispering of other means of getting you back. 

Really, it argued, you were selfish and cruel for revoking his heart the way you had. Mark had done nothing but love and care for you, and you’d had the nerve to treat him that way? He could just as easily show you what he was really capable of—what he’d toned down whilst around you. Maybe you needed a lesson in order to understand your wrongdoings. Maybe you needed… Convincing. 

There were nights when he’d sneak into your room, when you’d sobbed yourself to sleep, just so he could be near you. Just to smell your hair or run his thumbs across your cheeks. To let his eyes follow down the curves of your body, lingering on the expanses of skin that peeked out. Not that he ever touched you, even if he desperately wanted to. That usually smothered his anger and kept it in check. You would only respond to a gentle approach. Luckily, he—and a few others—had devised the perfect plan. If that didn’t work, well… Then maybe—just maybe—he’d revisit his darker ideas. In the end, he’d want it to be your choice, but ultimately knew you were not of sound mind. If you couldn't see reason, then he’d help you. He’d do anything for you. 

This was a testament to his love for you. 

Mark ultimately kept his mother in the dark. She didn’t need to know you had ever broken up with him if you’d be back with him in less than a day. You felt this way as well, Mark discovered, when you’d told your mother that you and Mark were simply “going through it,” and “you’d rather not get into it.”

In the week he spent stalking—no—keeping an eye on you, he noticed that your mother only ever said good things about him. That and that time would eventually heal you and help you to see things in a clearer light. You never once disagreed with her. 

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You wrapped your arms around yourself, clutching your quilted jacket tighter. You’d slipped a pair of handwarmers into each glove nearly fifteen minutes ago, your shivering finally starting to cease. But you liked the chill. It was a welcome shock to your nervous system. It felt good to feel something else—some other sort of pain. 

It was near midday, but you would've never been able to tell from the thick cloud cover. And the snow, which had started to dust the park you were in half an hour ago, was gorgeous, even if most of it wasn’t sticking. You’d caught a few in your palm to marvel at their intricacy. You were now back settled in under one of the many gazebos that dotted the edge of the park, watching the people who played in the broad field in front of you. 

You hadn’t originally planned to come to the park just beside your internship, but funnily enough, all the roads had been either closed or full of construction. So, naturally, you ended here. But it was a good place to rest, you decided, smiling at a group of children having a snowball fight. You were just about to get up and head to a cafe, when eyes passed over a group of kids your age, who were passing around a football. And your heart stopped right as a familiar face caught the ball not five feet from you. To your utter shock, it was none other than Luke Charterman himself. 

“Luke?!” You blurted out, eyes as wide as saucers. The boy whipped around upon hearing his name, floppy blonde curls icy with snow. Your heart skittered as you took in his appearance. Two years had done him well; his gangly frame now filled out strongly. He’d lost nearly all of the baby weight he’d held in his face, the weight you’d once called him cute over, his jawline now very pronounced. But what chilled you more than the snow did was the way he smiled at you before turning back to his friends and shouting that he needed a second… And then he threw the football back, with a perfectly healed throwing arm.  

Now, yes, you were well aware arms could heal. But the way Cecil had made it sound, you assumed he’d never be able to use it properly again—especially, not for football.

“Hey, Vanna,” He began warmly, cupping his hands over his mouth before breathing onto them. You blinked upon hearing that god awful nickname, but breezed past it. With a gaping mouth, you analyzed him once more. 

“You’re okay?” You whispered. Luke gave you a funny look, head cocking to the side a bit.

“Uh, yeah? Nice to see you too,” He snorted, stepping under the gazebo with you. “How’s life, man? Been a while, hasn’t it? Oh, shit, how’s your mom!” 

You blinked, overwhelmed by his surge of questions—which would've been normal, had you not thought he’d be terrified of you because of… Because of…

Mark. 

“Luke, what’s going on?” You breathed cautiously, heart beginning to race. A frown overtook his features, blonde brows furrowing in confusion. A second passed before he shook his head. 

“I… I don’t know what you mean, Vanna.” 

You took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder before meeting his gaze once more. Someone in the distance called for him, clearly annoyed he’d stopped their game. 

“Your…Your arm, Luke,” You gulped, eyes falling to the arm in question. Luke took a step back, brows furrowing further before he followed your gaze. And then, realization flooded his expression. 

“Oh! Oh, yeah,” He sighed, shaking his head with a grim smile. “Sucks, doesn’t it. Nasty fall, but it’s really on me.”

You blinked, mind whirling at his words. What? Luke barely noticed your reaction, though, continuing his explanation. 

“I mean, I shouldn’t have tried to clean the gutter by myself, but… If one thing hasn’t changed, it’s my pride and determination.”

You were going to throw up, you realized with a shaky breath. Guilt and shock and confusion flooded your veins, clouding your mind and heart. Luke didn’t seem to see your panic attack, smiling softly at his own stupidity. You, before you could think, grasped the front of his jacket. His head turned back to you instantly, eyes widening at your closeness. 

“You—you fell?”

Luke looked at you like you’d grown three heads. 

“Yeah? That’s what I just said—and I thought you already knew, I mean, you brought it up—“

You shook your head, trying to clear the haze from your mind physically. 

“But, Mark..”

“Mark?” Luke questioned, trying to find the correlation. “Oh.”

He suddenly looked very embarrassed, using his healed arm to scratch the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, sorry about that, by the way. I shouldn’t have texted you.” 

He glanced over his shoulder just as one of his extremely pissed-off friends came jogging up, hissing something about getting back to their game. You felt your whole world spinning, shock and realization skirting up your spine like lightning. 

Had you been wrong? 

You swallowed the rising bile in your throat, hands once again grasping Luke’s jacket. 

“Okay, wait, just one more thing,” You pleaded, lips quivering. Luke turned, concerned once he saw your expression. “What did Mark do to you?” 

“Do to me?” Luke repeated, a frown on his face. “He didn’t do anything to me. He simply met with me and told me to back off, Vanna, which I probably would have done too, if the roles were reversed.” 

Your knees began to buckle, and you were forced to sit down. Luke had already started walking from the gazebo when you looked back up from the floor. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, slowly. You nodded, not sure if you could even speak in that moment. Luke seemed unconvinced, but another one of his friends had appeared, both clearly peeved. With a slight shake of his head, he started into the field. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Vanna. I wish you the best.” 

It took all of five seconds before you burst into tears, one hand clapping at your racing heart and the other clasped over your mouth. Your mind screamed ten thousand things at you at once, your stomach doubling over as you tried to keep from retching. One thing repeated louder than the rest, over and over until it fought its way up your throat and past your lips. 

“What have I done?”

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You barely had time to process the information pounded into your brain before you received a terrifying phone call. 

William was locked out of a one-night stand’s apartment, without clothes. Now, that was surprisingly enough the most manageable thing going on at the moment. After a short drive, you arrived at a very shady-looking apartment building, right in the heart of the sketchiest place in Chicago. 

You parallel parked, shaking your head as you wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck. William was nothing if not dedicated to getting himself into the most trouble. Entering the complex, you brushed off how weirdly quiet it was. It took you the first five floors to realize something was going on. It took you another five floors to realize that this wasn’t an apartment building at all. 

But it took you only one second to realize, upon stepping out of the elevator, that William had not been in danger at all; in fact, he wasn’t even here. 

The floor was vacant and bare, with only concrete support beams dotting the expanse of the room. A single worker’s light glowed in the middle room, highlighting the silhouette of someone. Fear seized you by the throat as the figure stepped into the light fully, his golden hair contrasting drastically with his scaly skin. 

King Lizard. 

The reptilian villain cocked his head at you, a foul smirk playing on his lips. 

“Miss Fawn,” He hissed, shapes materializing in the darkness behind him. “How wonderful of you to join us.”

Fuck.

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You groaned as your wrists rubbed against the prickly rope, burning as you attempted to once again wriggle them free. No luck. 

Two green goons had leapt for you the moment King Lizard had turned his back from you, wrestling you into submission and tying you to one of the concrete support beams just beside the workers' light. You could barely see anything, but you knew that you weren’t the focus. Not yet. But you would be soon. 

In your joy, it seemed that Mark—as Invincible—had shown too much interest and care in you, which had made you the perfect target. You wanted to scream. If only they knew how wrong they were now. 

King Lizard intended to use you as bait for Mark and, in turn, convince Cecil to hand over GDA Laboratory secrets. 

A brilliant plan, if only they’d picked any other day. 

But Mark Grayon was already dangling on the edge of insanity. And they’d just kidnapped his last thread. 

“Aw, look who’s all tied up,” A feminine voice slithered around the column, making your entire body freeze. Fear skirted up your spine, swallowing the mild annoyance resting there. The green woman—the Iguana—finally stepped into the light, red eyes glaring down at you. A green claw found its way under your chin, forcing you to crane your neck. “Tell us, little one, just how you’re involved with Invincible?” 

“Those questions are pointless!” King Lizard interrupted, his voice a trill from obnoxious. “Now get over here and let us go over the plan once more.” 

The Iguana lady sneered down at you, nails cutting into the skin under your chin harshly before she swiped them away. You grimaced to yourself, releasing a shaky breath as she sauntered off, ignoring the trickle of blood that now ran down past your sternum. 

It happened almost too quickly for the eyes to see, but in one second, everything was still. 

And then the wall furthest from you exploded. 

You screamed as rubble zipped past your face, light flooding behind it. The villains across from you cried out as well, clearly not expecting a rescue operation so soon. In the outline of the exploded wall, the smoke began to clear, outlining three figures. 

And you nearly sobbed as Rex, Eve, and Mark came into view. 

An eerie silence hovered in the milliseconds that passed.

Mark’s eyes were flying across the space before him, cutting through the dust and debris until…

A shock ran through you as he met your gaze for the first time in a week. His eyes flared upon seeing you, your bound hands, and then the trickle of blood dribbling down your neck. And you, even knowing how safe you’d now be, hunkered down. 

And then chaos ensued.

In the small blips of time you were able to sort out the fray, you panicked that your friends were clearly outnumbered. But Mark was moving like you’d never seen him before. Using non-lethal jabs and maneuvers, he cut through their defenses like a hot knife slicing through butter. 

And, you watched, in awe, as he decimated his enemies but did not kill them. And it solidified your fears that you had been wrong about Luke…About everything. And so you did the only thing when someone gets captured by their ex-boyfriend's enemies and then subsequently saved by said ex-boyfriend, who’s not an evil monster… You absolutely fell apart. 

Tears flowed from you with the force of ten dams bursting, sobs racking your chest. The world spun before you, and you were hyperventilating. Mark's head spun around the second you gasped for air, eyes wide with panic. 

“Eve!” You heard him shout distantly, over the clatter and clanging of battle. 

“Yeah, on it!” She responded, nearly beside your head. But your vision was so blurred that you couldn't see her. Not until your bonds were cut, and flaming red hair appeared inches from you. You blinked until you could make out her face. She smiled softly once you did, even with the fight still raging on behind her. “Hey, Sav. Are you hurt?” 

You sniffled, bringing your sore wrists in front of you before shaking your head. Eve visibly deflated in relief before grabbing hold of your forearms. The room shook as Rex Splode lived up to his name. He and Mark moved like a dream, working like a well-oiled machine. You watched deftly as Rex threw a bomb, knocking a Lizard member into the awaiting fist of Invincible. 

Distantly, you remembered a joke you made about involving both of them in a threesome. You would've laughed, had the adrenaline started to seep from you, leaving you suddenly very nauseous. Also, time and place, Sav, you hissed at yourself.

Eve took one look at you and wrapped her hands around your shoulders. 

“Okay, babes, let’s get you out of here.” 

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Two hours later, dusk fell upon an unassuming city. You were fine, if not a bit shaken.

Not too long after Mark revealed his superhero secret to you, he warned that his enemies might eventually target you to get to him. And even though that was scary, you were too in love to care. 

You couldn’t give two fucks about it now, either, surprisingly enough. 

You could only pace, glancing out your bedroom window every few seconds. The window that you’d wrenched open the second the GDA dropped you off. 

You’d almost flown through the first story of your house, until your mom caught your attention. And you’d turned, finding your whole family over for the Thanksgiving holiday. 

Right, yeah, you’d forgotten about that. 

You’d greeted them quickly, clearly distracted. Not that anyone questioned you, of course. The family over was from your mother’s side, and you were the only grandchild, meaning everyone was already past tipsy when you’d finally joined. 

Although even with their judgment clouded, you thanked the GDA’s medical serum they’d given you. It healed any and all minor injuries inflicted upon you by the Lizard League, leaving you all shiny and new again. 

You’d all but thrown a half-hearted goodnight over your shoulder before taking the stairs in threes. 

And here you were, pacing around after you’d hastily changed, biting the skin around your nails nervously. 

Another fifteen minutes passed, and you finally halted, the chill of the open window settling in your stomach. You turned to your shut bedroom door, brows furrowed in worry. 

What if he didn’t come?

“Sav.”

You gasped upon hearing his voice, tears already prickling the corners of your eyes.

And there he was, standing just inside your room, still in his, now filthy, suit. He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to lash out at him for coming. His eyes were guarded as they passed over you. “I’m sorry that I’m here, I know you probably don’t want me to be, but… I had to make sure you were okay… I…”

His head fell forward, most likely in exhaustion or sadness, and your heart lurched. You couldn’t keep any of it in anymore. Fuck finding your words or rehearsing over “what the best thing to say was."

You blurted the first thing that came to your mind. 

“Mark, I’m sorry,” You cried, grabbing his arms. The feeling of him underneath your touch was enough to make your breathing falter. His head snapped up upon hearing you, eyes hinting at hope. “For everything. I was wrong, and I know I was wrong. I’m sorry for the things I said to you and how I hurt you. But I’m most ashamed that I didn’t trust you.” 

A moment passed between you. Mark raised a shaky hand, as if he were debating the action, before he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and then lingered there, cupping your face gently.

And damn it all to hell, you swooned. 

“I’m sorry I ignored you, and I’m sorry I went into an obvious trap forcing you to save me,” You sniffled, causing his lips to quirk. You mirrored the action, one of your hands coming to wrap around his. His thumb began rubbing against your cheek. Your heart swelled at the action. “Do you think you can forgive me?”

Mark sighed, his hands falling to his sides before he swallowed deeply. Your heart pounded in your chest as he looked at the floor, clearly debating and finding his words. And then, he met your gaze. 

It was burning.

“Don’t ever do that again, do you understand me?” Mark said sternly, one hand coming to grip the back of your neck. He didn’t clarify what "it" was, but you didn’t care. You nodded instantly, tears wetting your lips as you looked up at him. Relief nearly knocked your feet out from under you. 

“Of course, of course. It was foolish of me not to come to you and hear your side.” 

Mark shook his head gently with a grim smile, leaning down. 

“It's okay, baby, don't beat yourself up. Everything's alright now,” he whispered against your lips, slipping his ring back on your finger. You could've sworn you felt a little pinch when he did, but you were too off kilter to put much thought into it. Especially not as Mark pressed his lips to yours. All the emotions of the week crashed into you, sparks soaring through you from where his lips brush against yours. 

Your hands were frenzied as they flew over his body, grasping at his shoulders and sides and weaving through his onyx locks. Mark let you, keeping his hands reserved at your hips and neck. It was truly as if the tables had turned. You were near desperate as he slowly lowered you onto your mattress, leaning back to watch as you ripped yourself free of your clothes. 

His eyes glowed softly in approval, and something else you couldn't name. Something near possession, but darker. But you couldn't be sure as you pushed yourself onto your knees, your lips dancing across the skin of his neck. He stayed stoic and still as a statue, even as your teeth grazed his earlobe. 

Finally, dejected, you leaned back on your feet. 

“What's wrong?” you whimpered, hands twisting nervously in the comforter below you. 

Mark watched you, conflict clouding his gaze before glancing to your door. 

“Your whole family is downstairs,” he reminded gently. Your shoulders sagged, disappointment soaking into your bones. Until you snapped your gaze up almost wildly, first to him and then to your door. 

With a huff, you raced over to lock your door before turning back to him. You stared at him for a moment as you walked back. He met your gaze with furrowed brows, trepidation dancing in his eyes. 

Your heart tugged. You'd done that to him.

Determined, you climbed back onto your comforter, your eyes pleading. 

“I don't care who’s here, Mark,” you whispered, your voice quiet but thick with resolve. A beat passed before you slowly spread your legs, Mark’s eyes falling there immediately. You could see the shaky intake of breath that passed through his body, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “You can have me wherever and whenever, remember?”

Mark contemplated you for another moment, his chest heaving from his exerted breathing. Until you once again climbed to your knees, hands latching onto his shoulders. With a deep breath, you kissed him deeply. 

After a moment, you pulled back, your forehead pressed against his.

“It’s just you and me,” you recited the line he always said when he was buried inside of you. Mark nearly flinched upon hearing it, his breath whooshing from him. Until he at last met your lips, hand diving into your hair as he kissed you. 

“Just you and me,” he whispered back, before lowering you back down. 

Mark made you come silently at least three times before he inevitably whisked you from your room. You'd sent a shitty explanation text to your mom before he’d tossed your phone to the side and pushed your chest into the frozen, blanketed ground, pounding into you from behind and making you bite into his suit’s mask like a gag for the hell of it. 

You took it, everything he gave you, you took it well. And he fucking gave it to you. Deep down, you imagined this was your penance, as he brutally stretched you and punished you with his pace. For hurting him. For not believing him. For risking his and his friend’s lives to come and save you. 

It was an enjoyable penance, though. Mark still kept you at the forefront for receiving pleasure. But he did not go easy on you. You could see it, there in the moments right before the sun rose over the mountain’s ridgeline, when his control would slip. 

His jaw would tick, muscles flexing as he’d weave his arms around you and put you into a headlock, your hips barking as he thrust into you from behind. 

There were times your vision began to tunnel, but you were too keen on making Mark feel good to care. And it also felt too fucking good for you to care. 

He would switch from making love to you gently, tears slipping from his nose as he kissed you, to pushing your face into the dirt below you, one thumb teasing your puckered entrance as your hips bounced off of him. He made you count the handprints he left, thanking him for each bruise he’d brushed onto you with his lips. You begged him to fill you up every time. Mark would only after you convinced him how wrong you were and how he was the only one for you—the only one that could make you feel this way. 

You’d said it all unprovoked and unprompted. You’d repeated it all, you were sure it was ingrained in your memory. You believed it—truly believed it now. And you were certain—with no possible room for doubt—that all was now right. 

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Mark watched you carefully as he wrapped you in your comforter sometime after dawn, jaw set. His fingertips danced lovingly along the side of your jaw, pure possession dripping from his gaze and touch. You were back exactly where you needed to be. And this time, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. Satisfaction bubbled in his chest as he checked you over for the hundredth time. With a brisk nod to himself, he turned toward your window before diving out of it. He shot into the sky silently, pulling his mask over his head.

“Thank you for your help, Cecil,” Mark finally said, fingertips adjusting the earpiece. He meant it. How he was able to affect that loser Luke’s memory and his lame arm was beyond him. But it had worked, and he couldn’t have been happier. 

“Hold up your end of the deal, Mark,” Cecil replied tightly. “Kaijuu 90 miles off the Atlantic.” 

Chapter Text

“Sir, doesn’t this feel a bit reminiscent of…”

Donald was silenced with a single glance from the director. He knew better. They had to be silent, not even uttering a word about what they were doing.

The Monitor room was vacant except for three choice agents, along with Donald and the Director. They were doing it differently this time in the hopes it didn’t crash and burn as horribly as the previous attempt. With a sigh, Cecil crossed his arms over his chest, swinging his attention back onto the primary monitor. The recorded footage consisted of surveillance of the Fawn residence. 

Cecil may have sold his soul to the devil that was Mark Grayson, but he wasn’t a monster. And, this old dog still had a few tricks. And he was nobody’s bitch—Nobody's. Everyone in this room had been checked three times, sworn to utmost secrecy. They would monitor your house, your movements, and especially anytime Mark was there. Those same agents researched and devised means of attack and weapons that could potentially stand up against a Viltrumite. Though they were failing, more than Cecil would care to admit, their efforts still continued. There had to be something. 

As for now, Cecil would begrudgingly hold up his end of the deal if Mark called it in. There was a pretty little bunker apartment with your name on it, a few miles directly below him, a GDA SWAT team on standby at all times to take you there. And Cecil would take you there without a second thought. 

In the meantime, their secret team devised away, restlessly searching and combing for answers and other means. 

To not only free the GDA from Mark's hold... But also his hold on you.

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You stood in front of your mirror, combing through your hair. Your mother had raised you thirty minutes before noon, fussing about how you were going to sleep the whole holiday away, and that your family had driven over….

Blah blah blah.

You’d brushed her off and scurried into the shower before she could have lectured you more.

And now, here you stood. It was strange, you thought, blinking at your reflection. 

There were no bruises or marks left on you from the night before. Mark was by no means gentle with you, you thought with a smirk. And yet, there was close to no evidence he’d even been with you. Other than the ring that was back on your finger. 

That GDA’s serum had been no joke. Of course, it could’ve been argued that it had all been a dream. 

But you knew better. It was real, if not for the aching still in your heart. You sighed, throwing the brush haphazardly on your desk before you continued to your closet. You slipped on a cozy sweater, followed by a pair of thick leggings. You didn’t bother with much makeup or your hair. And that was strange. It was all strange, really. With an annoyed huff, you slouched onto your made bed. 

You had everything you wanted back. You had the truth and the comfort of his love back. So, why…? You swallowed thickly, squirming in your spot. You felt so heavy and wrong and…Raw. You felt gloomy and sick and rotten. But why? 

You racked your brain, eyes locked onto a random pattern on your carpet. Distantly, you heard your extended family downstairs, giggling and enjoying the merriment of the day. Your mind extended to the house next door. What was Mark’s family doing today? Would he be there? 

You shook your head, scoffing. You were insane! You could just call and ask—it wasn’t as if you weren’t together!

But…But it felt as if you couldn’t call him. Or, more, shouldn't call him. Like you had to earn that privilege. 

But why on Earth did you feel the need to punish yourself ike that?

You gasped, head snapping up at the realization. You were overwhelmed with guilt.

Well, fuck. 

You collapsed back against your bed, arms flailing above your head. Yup, that was it. You were being eaten alive by the guilt of the whole situation. Even though Mark had already forgiven you and had assured you it was all in the past, your heart couldn’t find it to do the same. 

Just then, your phone began buzzing on your bedside table. You blinked, swallowing your unease as you reached for it. Your heart seemed to simultaneously drop and swell at Mark’s picture, your finger hesitating before answering. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, sweet girl. How are you feeling this morning…Or, afternoon,” Mark snorted. You slipped your thumb between your lips as the guilt within you began to bubble. You stood on shaky legs, eyes locked in on your plush rug. 

“Savvy?” Mark questioned when you didn’t answer. But what did you say? What did you not say? It wasn’t just one thing you felt guilty for; it was all of it? How did you summarize the mountain of sin that fought for space in your soul? 

Your mouth opened when another moment passed, but you couldn’t find the words. Your eyes began to burn. 

What if Mark had already moved on? Would bringing it all back up be detrimental to him—to you both? 

A broken noise passed through your lips as your vision blurred. 

“Savannah.”

You shrieked when his voice came from just beside you, instead of over the receiver. You whipped around, finding him standing just past your open window. His eyes were cold and calculating, ready for battle. And then he met your gaze, and it softened instantly. 

“How—“ You stuttered, eyes drifting to his open window just across your yard. How had he moved that quickly and quietly? You stared at him in utter shock, lowering your phone slowly. Mark exhaled sharply after sending an appraising look over you—obviously, to make sure you were alright—brows furrowing as he took a step forward. 

“God, Savannah, I thought…” 

More guilt flooded your system, your eyes casting downward. Mark didn’t finish, but he didn't have to. He thought someone had taken you again. Your chest began to ache, your arms coming to cross over it as some sort of protection. 

“I’m sorry, Mark,” You whispered, rubbing your left arm up your right forearm. 

“What’s going on, Sav?” Mark asked carefully. You finally glanced up to see him watching you with one brow quirked. You nearly bristled under that knowing gaze. With a curt shake of your head, you spun around and started for your desk. 

“Nothing,” you chuckled unconvincingly, setting your phone down next to your laptop. You were facing perpendicular to him as you braced your hands on the back of your desk chair, only the side of your profile visible to him. “Go, Mark. Be with your family for Thanksgiving.”

“I am and I will. But first, I will take care of you,” Mark countered softly, eyes locked on yours. “Don't lie to me, Sav. Please.”

You shut your eyes as another sickening wave overtook you. He was right, and you knew it. With a defeated sigh, you let your head fall. 

“I can’t shake this heaviness in my chest—I feel awful for not trusting you, like I failed you when you needed me to believe in you the most.” Tears escaped the corners of your eyes, but you couldn’t look at him. “I keep replaying in my head, wishing I had trusted you instead of letting my doubt speak louder than my heart. It’s consuming me, and I don’t know what to do. I…I don't know how to make it better. How to make us better—”

Mark was in front of you before you could blink, turning you and cupping your face with a tenderness unmatched. 

“We,” Mark shushed earnestly, pressing his forehead against yours. “Are fine. No one faults you for your actions, least of all me.”

You released a shuddering breath, your chest pressing into his front. His proximity alone was enough to break your mind free from the spiral it had been locked in. But it wasn’t quite enough for you to forget.  Your bottom lip was pulled in between your teeth as Mark leaned back. He could see the war within your head; he could smell the remorse dripping from you. 

With a sigh, Mark stepped you both back a few feet, turning your back to your door. One hand cradled your head, wrapped around your neck, while the other gripped your chin to gently force you to look at him. Your core tightened when you finally met his gaze, finding his chocolate brown eyes nearly molten. His gaze fell to your lips, honing in on the way Mark’s thumb brushed over them, before darting back up. 

“Are you going to let this go and forget, or should I use other means of distracting you?” 

Warmth blazed between your thighs at his suggestive words, but you swallowed and shook your head as much as you could while still in his hold. 

“Mark, I’m serious.”

Mark’s smile bordered on dangerous.

“Who said I wasn’t?”

A moment of charged silence passed between you, your brows creased, eyes gleaming, and chest heavy. Mark’s gaze fell on your face, thinking, before his jaw set. His tongue darted out to wet his voluptuous lips, and he nodded, a small—but very damning—move.

He began backing you towards your door. 

Your back collided with a soft thump, the muffled commotion of your family downstairs pricking your awareness. You took a staggering breath, eyes darting down to your door handle. 

“Mar—“

“I can hear absolutely every little thing going on down there,” He began, his voice little more than a purr. You found his pupils dilated, unable to break from his gaze as his hands fell to your wrists. He gathered them preciously, bringing them to his lips to dust kisses on the inside of them. And then, with a smirk quirking the corner of his sinful mouth, he pressed them above your head with one hand. “I can hear the squeaky part in the kitchen floor that your mother just stepped on. I can hear your father and uncle discussing whether or not the Bears deserve a spot in the Super Bowl, along with their whispers on whether they’ll bet this time—without your mother and aunt’s knowing, of course. They won’t, though.” 

You were in a trance as Mark lowered his face down to the crook of your neck, his nose dancing along the arch. Your back arched slightly as he brushed a kiss just below your ear before he continued with,

“I can hear neighbors and the turkey they're beginning to fry, and I can hear my mother getting ready in her room, before she comes over to join your family here.” 

You snapped through the haze at that. 

“She’s coming over here?” You grinned, elated as Mark nodded. The grin formed by your lips quickly formed an “o,” as Mark took your earlobe into his mouth. 

“I can hear all of that, but what I want to hear is the sounds your pretty little cunt makes while squeezing my fingers,” You gasped at his filthy mouth, but Mark didn’t stop there. His free hand began to dance along your hip before it dipped underneath the hemline of your sweater. His smirk grew at your body’s reaction as he played with the top of your leggings. “I wanna hear your heart make that pretty little fluttering sound it does when I touch you, or those god-forsaken sounds that pass through those beautiful lips when you come for me,” He all but growled. 

You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you as he dove into your leggings. Mark leaned back just enough to watch you as his fingers passed your underwear, slowly stroking up your slit. 

“Already so wet for me,” He grinned devilishly, bringing his middle finger to brush against your clit. You bucked against his hand instantly, nearly yelping at the contact. Mark chided you softly, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “Keep those pretty sounds just for me, baby.”

You nodded as he resumed circling your clit. He kept his pace slow and agonizingly steady. Those little sounds he wanted to hear so badly fell from your mouth like uncorked wine, spilling into the limited space between the two of you. Mark merely hummed in approval, his left hand gripping your wrists a bit tighter at times. The pleasure skirted up and down our spine, your hips beginning to undulate on their own. He praised you when you started to rock against the two fingers that played with you. Your eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open as Mark used one knee to spread your legs wider. 

And then, he brought his middle finger down to the soaked entrance of your cunt, before pushing in—

“Oh my god—” You cried out softly, head falling back against the door. Mark merely devoured you with his gaze as he pumped into you.

“Look at me,” He suddenly said, voice gravelly. You did, just as he added a second finger, swallowing a shriek. His pace was relentless, and you felt yourself begin to near that oblivion, meeting his thrusts with fervor. And Mark waited until you were nearly dangling upon that cliff, until white-hot ecstacy danced to the edge of your vision. And then he spoke. 

“Tell me you forgive yourself,” he ordered hotly as his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes rolled back at his tone, his fingers curling deep inside of you. 

“Mark,” You whined, suddenly remembering. But Mark was persistent, beginning to rub his thumb over your clit while pumping into you. You inhaled sharply, now barreling toward that edge. 

“Let it go,” He demanded lightly, kissing the tip of your nose. His words and actions on the top half of your body were drastically different from the bottom half. Your mind spun, but at your core, you knew he was right. And you knew he wouldn't let you come if you didn’t agree with him.

“Fine! Fine,” You sighed, meeting his gaze. “I forgive myself.” 

Mark smiled triumphantly before scooping you up. You squeaked as he lifted you as if you were a feather before plopping you on your back. He continued his efforts in earnest, his hand abandoning your wrists to press across your lower belly. It was right above where his fingers were inside of you—

“Fucking hell,” You choked as the pleasure tripled. Mark watched you, eyes nearly greedy as his fingers moved faster—if that was even possible. 

“That’s right, pretty girl. Now go ahead and make a mess on my fingers.” 

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Thanksgiving went by without any problems. Your family was more than welcoming to Mark and Debbie as they joined you for the afternoon and evening. During dinner, you sat beside your boyfriend, wondering how on Earth you were so lucky. Mark smiled at you the entire dinner, eyes nearly glistening as his fingers stayed intertwined wth yours. 

The weekend passed in a blur, with you pulling up to your dorm a bit reluctantly. Mark was still undecided about school, especially since Cecil seemed to deem him the only superhero for Earth. 

It was weird, but you didn’t question it. 

Your relationship only grew stronger as the months passed, especially now that there were only truths between you. You were much more confident in the days Mark was gone. You knew he’d always end up back where he needed to be, which was usually your bed. 

One weekend, Mark flew—yes, flew—you both all over Chicago for your 8-month anniversary. 

“I mean, everyone says it’s the best Italian they’ve ever had,” Mark said, sprawled across your comforter.

You smiled excitedly, turning to him as you were brushing your hair. 

“Then we have to go.” 

You twirled your fork around the angel hair pasta, your eyes honing in on the meatball you were going for next. 

“I guess if I do decide to stay at Upstate, I'll have to absolutely work my ass off.” 

You smiled, resting your chin on your palm as your gaze met his.

“I guess you can’t push your way out of everything,” You mused, lips pressing into a smile. Mark gazed back at you, eyes twinkling. His eyes fell on your face, down the expanse of your neck, and to the exposed skin under. You’d dressed up tonight, feeling more confident than ever, and clearly it was paying off. Mark looked at you like he couldn’t wait to devour you. 

“I love you,” He said tightly, biting his bottom lip. 

“I love you,” you said, your smile fading as your brows furrowed. Random, but not unwelcome. “What made you say that?”

“'Cause in a few hours I’m gonna treat you like I don’t.” 

 Heat flooded you at the suggestion, you swallowing your gasp as Mark turned his attention back to his pasta, as if nothing had happened. You shook your head, heart fluttering.

It was quick, too quick to stop. One second, you were blushing furiously, daydreaming about what Mark had planned to do to your body. Next, you had a hand around the back of your neck, with a grip stronger than steel. You couldn’t scream or move or run as the hand tightened, a silent promise to split your body in two if you decided to try anything. Horror dripped down your locked spine, ice swelling within your chest. Blinking, you found a perfect reflection of emotions on Mark’s face. All color had drained from his face, terror gripping his features before rage began to seep in. 

You didn’t know who was restraining you, but it seemed it wouldn't matter. 

“Mark Grayson,” a female voice announced cold and precise. “Invincible, come with me, or this woman dies.”

A precious moment of silence passed. You, gaping at Mark, all too aware of the blood rushing in your veins under the woman’s hold. Fear made your chest grow tight, your pulse skittering in your ears as you glanced sideways. 

The woman was of average height, obnoxiously built, with short dark hair. Her outfit, or dress, was gray. Her grip tightened once more, and your neck bulged. Your eyes clenched shut, your body desperately fighting every urge to flinch away. You blinked; time resumed. 

“Did you not hear me?”

Mark threw his hands up, voice meek. His eyes, however, nearly glowed with hatred. 

“Who are you?” 

Silence passed, with the woman seemingly appraising Mark. 

“My name is Anissa, and I am an agent of the Viltrum Empire.”

Your heart seemed to drop from your body, your frame suddenly weightless. Mark had warned you of he possibility of the Viltrumites attacking after his actions on Thraxa. Panic stole your breath, threatening to send you into a spiral. They were here—they had to be. 

Your ears began to ring, your vision tunneling as you lost touch with reality. Were you going ot be the first to die? Tears pricked your eyes, for the terror of what was to come. And then, as quickly as Anissa had come, she left. A broken sob slipped through your lips as you collapsed from your chair, time and sound and reality rushing back to you. You fell, but you did not crash into the ground. 

He was there, tucking you into his calming hold. Mark tucked your head under his chin, one hand cupping the back and whispering into your hair. And the tears came, and they wouldn’t stop. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Savvy, please I—“ 

One heartbeat.

“You’re gonna be okay—we’ll be okay, please—“

Two heartbeats.

“I have to go—I. Fuck, I’m so sorry, it was never supposed to be like this.”

Three heartbeats.

“I love you. I’ll come back. Stay safe.” 

You blinked. Your vision adjusted.

And you were alone. 

Chapter Text

The roads seemed a blur of color and panic, but you knew it was just you. You pushed your little car to its max, swerving the Chicago streets with near reckless abandon. Outside, the world settled down to sleep or enjoyed its evening. None knew of the danger that lurked through the galaxy, most likely on its way to Earth. Your heart lurched in your throat as the city grew small in your rearview mirror. You swallowed the bile rising. You kept the tears at bay.

That woman—Anissa—if she genuinely wanted to talk, then why were they missing from the sky above? You’d heard the sonic booms as they’d flown somewhere toward the coast. What did that mean?

If she wanted to just talk, was she able to give the same order that Omni-Man gave Mark?

Would he say no this time, too?

Your stomach tumbled, palms growing damp as they squeezed your steering wheel.

Of course, he’d say no.

If the Viltrum Empire was truly attacking, then it was safe to assume that you had minutes before the horizon was swarmed with them. Mark had told you that on Thraxa, they’d taken his father into custody. He was sure Nolan was to be sent off for execution. But what if he’d somehow earned back his honor? What if—you swallowed—this would be his test. He’d destroy everything—everything but the one thing he most likely still cared about. So, you were going thirty over, running red lights, and praying that you’d get to Debbie before Nolan Grayson did.

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Annisa watched Mark with faint amusement as he rolled over onto his stomach, spraying blood on the sand below him. She’d tried and failed to convince him to join the mission. But, maybe…Just maybe she was trying the wrong approach. She arched a thin brow, stepping closer to the broken body of Invincible, the soft cries of evacuating humans prickling her ears. She cocked her head to the side, the coastal breeze fluttering her short hair.

“Maybe you do only respond to brute force,” She began thoughtfully. “Maybe, you are too human. Maybe, if I were to visit that human girl you were with—“

“You so much as lay a finger on her fucking head—“

Anissa turned, ignoring him with a bored expression, eyes honing in on the humans descending the escape ladder onto the beach before him. She wiped her smirk before turning back, composed.

“A pity your father never explained life under Viltrumite rule,” She explained, her arms locked behind her uniformly. “You need not worry about the protection of your pet. Our custom dictates immunity for that which you claim as yours, Mark Grayson.”

Invincible blinked. Anissa hid her smile.

“She’d be stored in your home, where she’d stay until you had use for her. The biometric sensors we developed centuries ago are not only good for entry, but for keeping certain things…Contained,” Annisa whispered, squatting right in front of the boy. From the look on her face, she’d already won. Men were so easily predictable—especially human men. “Humans are perfectly compatible for breeding, as you obviously know. She would be treated most delicately. Stored and secure for all time.”

Mark, deathly still, slowly raised his head and met her gaze.

Anissa did not hide her smile then.

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You’d never run so fast in your life, car door still open, tripping over the bushes and flower beds belonging to Mrs. Grayson. You barely noticed the already-opened door as you barreled in. Your chest burned, lungs and heart stinging as you called out for Debbie once. Twice.

And then the roar in your ears quieted. The blood rushing in your veins slowed. And you realized two things.

The house was completely dark.

It was deathly quiet.

You paused, just barely inside the foyer, glancing around the living room and to the kitchen. Confusion knitted your brows and apprehension skirted up your spine, slowly melting into fear.

A second later, and you were back, brandishing a textbook for a weapon.  

You found yourself creeping into the living room, eyes focusing on an object on the coffee table. You stepped between the table and the couch. There on the table, resting open on Mark’s contact, was Debbie’s phone.

You blinked, your body suddenly becoming very aware of everything going on in that house. Or, better, what wasn't happening. Something was very, very, wrong here. With a shaky breath, you turned to the house behind you. Something had shifted.

“Mrs. Debbie?”

Suddenly, the air swirled around you so violently that it all but pushed you onto the sofa. You yelped as a shadow skirted behind you, abnormally fast and strong. You whipped around, facing the darkness near the fireplace. Your heart had leapt into your throat, piercing your chest with nails. And then, to your horror, the darkness moved. And it wasn’t darkness at all.

You froze, gripping your textbook in front of you as if it were a shield. You bit back the scream that bubbled up your throat as the malformed creature neared you. And the darkness—the beast—was a man. A disfigured, veiny, gnarled man. You were already trembling; your breaths clipped and scarce.

The man studied you in disbelief, the mass behind his head pumping. His figure swallowed up Mark’s living room, his eyes nearly glowing in the dim lighting.

His expression morphed constantly. Shock turned to anger—he looked like he hated you.

How could someone unknown harbor so much hostility toward you? And yet, as he tracked dirt onto Debbie’s perfect carpet, you watched as his expression turned into something malicious. You fought the urge to cower against the couch. You should never have come over alone.

“Savannah Fawn, Mark Grayson’s girlfriend,” He began quietly, sending shivers down your spine. His voice was icy. He seemed almost amazed by your existence. “You’re alive in this universe?”

You held your breath as he grabbed onto the couch arm, yanking your body closer to him for inspection. Your heart pounded in your ear, bile rising in your throat.

And then he straightened up, brows smoothing.

“You’ll do nicely,” He continued, more to himself than you. With a vulpine smirk, he extended a veiny hand.

“Angstrom Levy. I am the man who’s going to kill your lover.”

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You were numb with fear, body aching as you knelt by the fireplace. Debbie and Oliver were behind you, untouched—thank god. You were relatively unscathed as well, if not for the ring of red and purple bruises around your throat. Angstrom had superstrength, clearly, but also an extreme loathing for whoever he thought you were. He’d brandished you like a rag doll, but only to take a picture of you. To say you were confused would be an understatement.

You glared up at the man, skin burning as you swallowed. You knew the chances and risks. Your fear dulled in comparison to your anger. He'd threatened two completely innocent people. He’d harmed you in the name of revenge.

You were swarmed with emotions and adrenaline.

Angstrom smiled down at you darkly, ending the call with Mark. You probably had all of a few seconds.

“I hope you've made peace with whatever god you serve,” you hissed.

Angstrom merely watched you, eyes glimmering as he threw Debbie's phone to the side. The device clattered loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

“He’ll destroy you,” you continued, your throat on fire.

Angstrom’s gaze flared, white teeth bared in the moonlight.

“Oh, I'm betting on it, sweetheart,” He purred, eyes falling down your form. You repressed a shudder. “But in doing so, he’ll also destroy himself.”

Your heart stilled.

“And that will be sweeter than anything I could ever do—”

You, Debbie, and Oliver screamed as the door flew open. Mark flew in like a tornado, shoulders squared and jaw set. The room grew colder with his presence. His gaze fell to his mother and brother. And then it fell on you.

And his eyes widened, and your heart lurched. Mark’s gaze went from a cold stare to an icy, murderous glare.

It happened too quickly: the conversation, the ultimatums, and the professions of revenge. But suddenly you were surrounded by green, screaming as Angstrom sent Mark through something that resembled a portal.

And then Mark—

Your heart lurched.

Mark was simply gone.

Debbie squeezed her eyes shut, seemingly swallowing her fear and honing it into rage.

“Stop this,” She pleaded through gritted teeth. Angstrom whipped back around, eyes flaring in response.

“You think you’re innocent in all of this? In so many other dimensions, you join your husband and son when they slaughter millions—

Your mind spun, so many words and phrases that confused you.

Dimensions?

Mark joining Omni-Man?

Slaughtering Millions?

Your body trembled with rage and horror, intertwining and mixing into something usable. The man closed the space between him and Mark’s mother, smearing blood on her face. And you couldn't help it.

You leapt for him—

And were backhanded, crashing into the bookcase along the opposite wall.

Pain blossomed through your jaw as you heard a faint crack, making a faint whimper leave your lips. You were too disoriented to gain your bearings, the malformed figure blurring into two different forms… and then three. You groaned, body aching, as you tried to push yourself up.

You had to help Debbie and Oliver. Shit, you had to do something—

“God, you annoying, good-for-nothing, whiny Fawn Alternates and your undying loyalty,” Angstrom growled as he trudged over to you, ripping you skyward by your hair. You cried out, hands reaching up as he dragged you back over to Debbie. You couldn’t stop it—he was far too strong. Your stomach dropped as your legs knocked against the hardwood. You were helpless, and no one was here to save you.

Oliver was crying.

Debbie had begun praying.

Mark was gone—

Angstrom halted, his meaty fingers still locked in your tresses.

“I wonder…”

You dangled, wincing as his grip tightened.

He called another portal, and Mark came crashing back into the living room, lodging himself into the far wall.

“You look unfortunately whole, Mark Grayson. Wonder how she’ll fare. Shall we test it?”

You couldn't breathe or even blink before neon green filled your vision. And you were in an endless free fall.

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You gasped, your knees colliding with hard asphalt. Sudden sunlight flooded your retinas, making you cry out as you brought your scraped palms to cover your broken and bruised face. You blinked once, trying to rein in the rolling nausea. Twice.

Finally, your eyes adjusted. And your stomach dropped.

You looked up and beheld your beloved city. Only, it was in pieces. Skyscrapers and high rises were nothing but rubble, smoke wafting quietly from the devastation. You turned slowly, almost on autopilot, as you were force-fed the disaster. A broken sob tore through your chest. Your grip on the place over your heart as tears rolled down your swollen cheeks, the pain in your knees and hands and jaw a mere blip. It hit you like a train. A terror-filled, slow-moving, and unstoppable train.

This was not your home.  

You couldn't help as your knees buckled, your skin beginning to roast from the sun above, and the heat still radiating from the rubble around you. You flattened your aching hands on the road beneath you as you sobbed. You were still fucking reeling from Anissa. Now this?

You wished you weren’t so helpless. You wished you weren’t so fragile. You wished you were stronger, both mentally and physically. And Fuck, you wished you weren’t so important to Mark. Then, not only would you not be a weakness to him…. But….

You leaned back in anguish, teeth bared. Then, you might be left alone.

And there it was, the bitter, horrible truth that lived secretly by your spine. You let it escape and shatter around you.

You wished you could live a normal life. And, that sounded more alien than anything—or anyone—you’d encountered so far.

You grieved, there alone for the first time in close to a year.

You grieved everything the Graysons had endured. You grieved the death of Mark’s innocence. You grieved the death of yours. You mourned the life you had, the blissful ignorance you once carried. You missed when you were safe. You missed your childhood. You missed who you were before you knew about superheroes.

You loved Mark. So fucking much.

But you hated Invincible.

But he’d picked you and you’d picked him. And love was so damn fickle.

So what then? What now?

Distantly, you heard a scrape of rubble behind you. You blamed it on the wind.

“…Savannah? You’re alive?!”

Your eyes shot open, wide and teary. Your mouth fell open as you registered that voice. Tired and old, but still familiar. Mark. Mark was here. But, how—

But before you could turn around, the ground disappeared from underneath you. And you were, once again, falling.

But not before yellow and black flashed in your vision.

A soundless scream slipped from your throat as you dissolved through reality and appeared instantly back in Debbie’s house. Black crept in the edges of your vision, nausea creeping up your throat.

And you were back.

But you were not the same.

Chapter Text

Your sense of hearing came back first. Foggy and muffled, like wading through quicksand. There were beeps and buzzes around you—around your head—on a near constant loop. Your awareness slowly started to trickle in, just enough that you didn’t remember the need to be afraid.

Your sense of touch came next, tingling in the tips of your fingers and toes. The feeling prickled up your arms and legs, settling near your spine. Your heartbeat was painful…And loud. You cataloged—that which was rational.

There was a thin, scratchy blanket over your body.

Another paper-thin gown covered your body under that.

You had socks on your otherwise cold feet, the seam digging a bit into the tips of your toes. You tried to move your foot. You couldn’t.

You stifled the panic and catalogued more.

Your hearing had become clearer. Not that it mattered much. There really was nothing to hear.

The loop of beeps and alarms was really nothing more than a faint annoyance. But it did give you insight as to where you were. That, plus the shitty garb you had on, made it obviously clear.

You were in a hospital.

You couldn’t remember why, though. That most likely should’ve scared you, but for some reason, you’d grown deliciously numb. Fine by you.

Your sense of taste came next, and you instantly regretted it. A bitter, metallic taste filled your dry mouth. If you could’ve made an expression, it would’ve been one of disgust. But, once again, as the minutes passed, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Strange.

Seconds or days could’ve passed after that thought. You didn’t know, nor did it bother you. But, eventually, your sense of sight began to return. Or, instead, the strength to open your eyes.

It felt like opening a giant garage door that hadn’t been oiled in far too long, resisting every tug. Until, at last, you succeeded.

You blinked slowly, resisting the urge to flinch as white light poured in.

Well, you’d been right about the hospital part, you thought dully.

Your gaze shifted choppily around the bare, uniform room, finding nothing of interest. You turned your attention instead to the hallway directly in front of you. The far wall was half window, half wall, with all the blinds open. Perfect for you to look into the room opposite you.

The one that held two beds like yours. One with Mrs. Debbie and the other with Oliver.

A beat passed. A spike ran through your blood.

Shouldn’t you have felt some way seeing them there? Logic told you that you shouldn’t have been nearly this calm in the presence of all of this. But…But you simply couldn’t make yourself feel.

Your gaze swapped between the two like a dance. No one else was in their room. Would they be waking up soon, too? Were their injuries more extensive than yours? What injuries did you have, anyway?

What the fuck had happened?

The blood in your veins seemed to spike again, tingling in your veins like ice. You distantly heard the machines behind you speed up, their rhythm growing unstable. Your awareness prickled, the feeling washing over your body like rain. Another moment passed. And then the fear found you, clawing its way out as if freed. Your pulse skyrocketed, not helped by the now incessant alarms. Your hands twitched, desperate to rip the tubes and IVs off your body. 

Your chest began heaving, your eyes blinking a mile a minute, lungs burning as you searched for a way to free yourself. You had to get out, out, out, out—

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as that icky, iron taste filled your mouth once more, much stronger this time. You winced at the taste, trying to resume your efforts to free yourself. But…But, as the seconds passed, you couldn’t help but lose interest. Numbness crept back up your skin, dulling your emotions. Your eyelids began to droop, and your vision blurred. Why had you suddenly become so sleepy?

You tried to fight it, giving a valiant effort before eventually, your world descended back into darkness.

And all was silent once again.

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You stared at yourself silently, the small plastic mirror they gave you fracturing under your tight grip. There was no physical evidence of the abuse you’d endured left, not after the GDA administered that serum again.

“You should feel lucky,” the nurse had said after you’d been successfully awake for an hour, “it messes with a superhero's metabolism so they can’t use it. And also since it was made specifically so your parents don’t find out—those pesky civilians, right?”

Lucky you, indeed.

“Visiting hours start soon,” She continued in a cheery tone. “I’ll…I’ll let you hang on to that mirror for now, sweetie.”

You hadn’t looked up when she left, and you didn’t look up now, some twenty minutes later. You didn’t fucking feel lucky, or grateful, or anything of the sort. You felt… You felt.

Angry? Used? Afraid? Vengeful? Anxious?

No, you thought as your jaw set. The mirror hit your lap silently, your hands coming to cover your face.

Tired.

You were so fucking tired.

Something flashed in your peripheral, and you jumped out of instinct. And quick as lightning, you were back, bleeding and bruised and at the mercy of Angstrom Levy,

You coughed as the air was knocked out of you, lungs aching and chest queezing as your vision blurred. Half of your stomach was still in a different…Dimension? The other half was fighting not to empty itself on Debbie’s living room carpet. You blinked the dots out of your vision, your gaze catching on splatters of scarlet. You groaned, pushing yourself to sit back on your knees. Your gaze settled on Debbie—or more, on her arm, which was hanging from a strange angle.

“Mrs. Debbie,” you whimpered through your aching jaw, beginning to crawl.

Angstrom was faster, one hand wrenching you back by your shoulder and then other latching onto your throat. You seized as he raised you, slamming you against the wall next to the fireplace. 

“Fucking nuisance is what you are,” He spat, hatred dripping from his words as his fingers tightened around your neck. You gasped as he brought you forward and then forced back against the wall. Your head knocked against the wall brutally.

God, you were in so much pain—your mind screaming for a way to survive. Survive. Survive. Survive—You scratched at his wrists on pure instinct, your tiptoes scraping the floor as you dangled. Your lungs burned—no, they were past that—they scorched. A sickly sweet ringing began in your ears as you started to blackout. Cold, stinging panic shot through you as you realized…You were dying.

“The one universe you stay with Mark Grayson and this is what you become?”

You gurgled as he shook you, his eyes doubling. The fuck did he mean?

“You are a weak, selfish, stupid girl,” Angstrom growled. “And I wish more than anything in this world that I could kill you.”

With a cry of anguish, Angstrom threw you across the room, into the wall near the staircase. You hit with your back, a brutal crack sounding in your ears. White-hot fire doused your sides, a slurred scream fighting past your lips. And all at once, you were swallowed by sweet oblivion.

You blinked, finding yourself back in the Pentagon’s hospital. Not in that wretched house, not being beaten and threatened. You loosed a breath, shuddering as you rolled your shoulders. Your heart was still racing when you realized you weren’t alone.

Cecil.

“Hey, kid.”

You didn’t look at him a second time, mind reeling as you wiped your bloody palms against the thin blanket, ignoring the sting.  Your nails had cut into the unscarred, blemish free skin. Again.

“Get out.”

Cecil sighed, although he didn’t seem surprised by the bite in your tone.

“Doc said you’ll be ready to head out before the sun sets, clean report of health and everything. He called you a ‘remarkable patient,’ having healed in less than a day,” He continued, anyway, stepping in to lean against the doorframe. You stayed silent, eyes focused on the ceiling just above the hallway windows above him. A moment passed before he changed the subject, voice the softest you’d ever heard.

“You can have visitors in now, by the way.”

a pang shot through your chest. You knew what he meant by that—or, who he meant by that. But you couldn’t…You couldn’t face him yet.

The doctor and nurses came in a minute later, and thankfully, you didn’t have to answer. Your eyes only moved an inch downward, into the now vacant room across from yours. They’d been discharged sometime earlier in the morning—Debbie and Oliver—when you were still asleep. You’d only looked at that room once since, now twice. It was strangely too painful. You blinked away a faint burning in your eyes, raising your gaze back to the linoleum ceiling.

“The patient presented with multiple lacerations involving the bilateral palms, upper extremities, and lower extremities; a mandibular fracture with associated temporomandibular dislocation; severe traumatic brain injury consistent with concussion; and a comminuted fracture of the hip. Examination of the neck revealed soft tissue swelling, ecchymosis, and petechial hemorrhages consistent with ligature strangulation, with associated laryngeal edema.”

Meaning, you’d been bruised and broken and ravaged. Angstrom had broken your jaw and hip bone and had concussed you to the point you were still suffering short-term memory loss. Oh, and the evisceration of your throat.

Not that any of it was visible or present now, you thought bitterly. No, the GDA had spent millions making it appear as if it had never happened. Wonderful. Fantastic. They just washed it all away and moved on as if that were easy.

God, you wished it were easy.

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You decided, sometime near three o’clock, that if not in the best interest of the world but in the best interest of your sanity, to let him see you.

It was a brutal discovery, realizing you wouldn’t be able to move on if you didn’t. Or move forward. What bothered you most was that you genuinely didn’t know what you wanted afterwards.

Did you want to let him go?

Were you capable of that?

…Was he?

Your heart answered for you as his tall and muscled frame flickered through the window blinds. And then your door opened. His soft black hair was messy and unkempt, like his clothes. His face was swollen and bruised. But it was still him,

Mark.

Chocolate brown eyes found yours. And you knew what you had to do. Even if it wasn’t what you wanted.

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The words felt like poison leaving your mouth as you said them. Mark reacted as if he'd been shot.

“Savannah, please, please, please don't do this—”

Your eyes widened as he fell to his knees, hands gripping his chest. Tears cascaded down his cheeks with no end in sight, his brown eyes reddened as he stared up at you—pleaded with you.

“Mark—”

His chest heaved, breath coming out in broken pants.

“Please, baby, I don't know what I'll do. I only do this for you—I can't—” his voice trailed off as he took a shuddering breath. You stayed silent, horrified as you watched the man you loved begin to fall apart.

Your heart tugged, gravity shifting underneath you.

This was your fault.

Fresh tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you shakily pushed yourself to your knees on the bed. Mark was hyperventilating, his hands coming up to grip your blankets as he climbed onto the bed beside you. His voice spilled into a mantra of pleas and compromises.

“We’ll work through this,” he chanted, fingers digging into your skin as they grasped your hands. You watched him sadly, silent tears beginning to streak down your cheeks. "Don't give up on us." 

It was the safest, most logical option to leave him. For the sake of your sanity and longevity, you needed to leave. That voice of reason began to grow small, drowned out by the rising roar in your ears.

Mark needed you.

And, whether you cared to admit it or not, you needed him.

“I would burn down this world for you,” he whispered, searching your eyes frantically. “You know that, right?”

“You shouldn't have to,” you stressed, voice breaking. Mark shook his head, pressing his forehead against yours.

“It's just who I am, Sav. It’s who we are. I protect you first. I go where you go. None of this matters if I don't have you.”

“Stay with me,” he whispered, beginning to kiss the tears that still fell. You swallowed, heart breaking. You should've known you wouldn't stand a chance against him. Against yourself. “Stay with me.”

He kissed your jaw, lips brushing gently over the place where it had been broken. He continued downward, brushing over invisible fingerprints and replacing them with the promises his lips carried.

“Stay.” It wasn’t an order. He wasn’t demanding anything of you. It was a pure and desperate plea.

Your logical mind screamed that he’d made these promises before and he’d broken them countless times after. It warned you of his motives and the things that spurred him on. This was dangerous; it hissed, 'He was dangerous.'

But you’d known that—you’d always known that. And you’d loved him anyway.

Mark was right. It was who you both were.

None of it mattered without him.

The revelation was as chilling as it was relieving.

You really had no choice at all.

Your fingers stretched, shaking as they combed through his hair. Mark’s lips stuttered on your sternum as he felt it. A moment passed. And then you pulled, gently. You pulled him toward you until your lips met. And you submitted to him. You dispersed logic and thought and just gave in. You loved him; that was real and something you could handle. You let yourself go of your conscience and will, letting it melt with the kiss.

You tethered yourself tighter to him, letting your mind go numb. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

Your righteous anger dulled until it was snuffed out, replaced by sweet ecstasy.

Mark moaned into the kiss, relief nearly knocking him on his ass. He kissed you back eagerly, his hands settling on your newly mended hip. And you let him drag your gown up. You submitted to subservience as he pulled the blanket back and settled between your thighs.

And when he pushed into you and remade you as his, there in the hospital room, you sighed.

Your mind was deliciously and numbingly quiet.

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If Mark noticed your numbness, he was blissfully silent about it. You got better with time. Well, you suppressed.

Maybe compartmentalization and smothering weren’t the smartest for you, but it was all you could handle.

Maybe one day you’d revive your anger. Maybe one day you’d let your emotions consume you. But for now, this was easiest.

Mark’s love was a lighthouse for you, even if the light blinded you. Even if the waters between him and your ship were perilous, it was something you latched onto. He did the same with you.

The love was objective and rational. How you both used it to cope was arguably not.

You laughed again. You smiled openly. You ate and danced at parties.

You didn’t sleep without a light on.

You visited your mother regularly. You excelled in your classes. You swam in oceans and lakes.

You flinched at loud noises.

You were fine…No, you were great. No, wonderful. You were wonderful.

You wore who you were supposed to be like armor…Or, like a mask. You ignored the ache and pain. You ignored the tension behind your smiles. You couldn't let anyone know. You refused to admit it to even yourself.

That under it all…

You were drowning under the weight of wearing you.