Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When I first started writing this story, I didn't expect it to gain much attention. It was more of a personal project — something I wanted to write for myself but decided to publish in case others might enjoy it too. Because of that, I didn't put too much thought into the plot at first, especially when it came to the main character.

I wanted to keep the character as open as possible for a reader-insert since I personally prefer that over original characters. However, I understand that some aspects of the character might be a little unclear, so here's some information that might help!

・゜゜・．

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Power : Cryokinesis (the ability to generate and control ice)

Ice Generation: She can create ice from moisture in the air or by freezing nearby water sources. However, in extremely dry environments, her abilities can be slightly limited.

Combat Use: She can shape her ice into weapons (spears, blades, shields) and use it defensively with barriers or offensively with projectiles.

Mobility: She can create ice slides or paths for quick movement, though it requires energy and skill.

Temperature Manipulation: While she can lower the temperature in a localized area, she can't create full-blown blizzards or affect the weather on a large scale.

Lower body temperature: Her normal temperature is lower than the average human, making her more resistant to cold but sensitive to extreme heat.

Limitations: Using too much power too quickly might cause fatigue, dizziness, hypothermia and even frostbite on her own body.

Emotion-Based Influence:

Calm & Focused: her control is at its peak, allowing for precise ice formations, efficient combat techniques, and minimal energy drain.

Anger, sadness and frustration: Her ice becomes more aggressive — the shards are sharper, spikes form faster, and their attacks become more destructive, high chance of losing control.

Happiness & Confidence: her abilities flow naturally, allowing her to be creative with ice and use it efficiently.

                 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Background

Unlike most superheroes, her powers weren't created by a lab accident, mutation, or heritage — she was born like an anomaly. No one in her bloodline had powers. Her parents were normal, everyday people who expected a normal, everyday child.

How It Manifested :

Doctors were the first to notice something was off. Her body temperature was unnaturally low, and any attempt to warm her up failed. As she grew, strange things started happening — frost forming on her fingertips when she got upset, puddles freezing over when she stepped near them. Her parents did everything they could to ignore it, pretend it wasn't happening

They believed she could live a normal life if she just tried hard enough to suppress her abilities.

・゜゜・．

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Family

Parents: Both powerless, overly cautious, and extremely protective. They fear superheroes, viewing them as reckless and dangerous, and they desperately tried to shelter her from that world.

Childhood: Lived under strict rules — no public displays of power, no drawing attention to herself, no getting involved in anything remotely dangerous.

Teenage Years: The older she got, the harder it became to pretend she was normal. Her powers kept growing, and controlling them became more difficult. She started using them in secret, testing her limits behind her parents' backs.

・゜゜・．

✩♬ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Writing Playlist: The Vibe I'm Going For

Joji  - Your Man

Bazzi  - Why

Billie Eilish  - BIRDS OF A FEATHER

d4vd  - Feel It

Ravyn Lenae  - Love Me Not

Montell Fish  - Fall in Love with You.

The Internet  - Come Over

keshi  - Soft Spot

emi  - Metamorphosis

Twenty One Pilots  - Doubt

The Kid LAROI  - NIGHTS LIKE THIS

The Neighbourhood  - Scary Love

Chapter Text

The air is full of smoke, and the sharp smell of blood sticks in my throat. The busy downtown area, once full of life, is now a mess. Alien ships fill the sky, and their bright beams of light shoot down from above, blasting buildings and streets into rubble. People scream, running in every direction, while the sound of crumbling concrete and explosions echoes all around. I stand in the middle of it, my heart racing, my fists clenched at my sides.

I promised myself I wouldn't get involved in all this hero stuff.

Yet here I am, ice crackling along my fingertips, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. A wave of heat blasts past me as a burning car explodes nearby, the flames bursting at the edges of my vision. I raise my hands instinctively, summoning a wall of ice to shield the group of civilians behind me. The fire hisses as it meets the barrier, steam rising in a thick cloud.

I should have walked away. I should have kept my head down, stay invisible like I always do. But when I see that family trapped under the rubble, their cries for help cutting through the chaos, I don't hesitate. I save them. And then another. And another.

Across the battlefield, a streak of yellow and blue cuts through the sky. I immediately know that it's Invincible. A group of Flaxans surround him, their weapons glowing as they fire blast after blast. One of the Flaxans lunges at him from behind, their weapon raised high.

I don't think. I just act. With a flick of my wrist, a sharp stream of ice shoots from my palms, wrapping around the Flaxan's arm and locking it in place.

My instincts scream at me to leave. To run before anyone notices me. But as Invincible braces for the impact, something inside me snaps.

Another stream of ice shoots from my palms, freezing the alien's whole body in place.

Invincible turns, his eyes widening in surprise as he sees the frozen Flaxan. He doesn't hesitate. He slams into the alien with a force that sends them crashing into a nearby wall.

"Thanks for the help," he calls, shaking the ice off his suit before delivering another devastating punch to a Flaxan soldier.

Just as quickly as I intervene I'm ready to disappear again before anyone can ask questions and figure out who I am.

Then, more heroes arrive.

A pink glow lights up the battlefield as Atom Eve soars into view. Dupli-Kate and Rex Splode charge into the fight. Other heroes follow, their arrival shifting the tide of battle.

This is my cue to leave.

While Invincible is distracted, I turn away, leaving the battlefield behind before anyone else can notice me.

But I'm not fast enough.

"Wait—" Invincible lands in front of me, blocking my path. His breath is ragged, his suit scuffed and torn. "That was... pretty cool."

I exhale a cold breath. "You're welcome," I mutter, stepping around him. I don't have time for this.

"Just hold on—who are you?"

"None of your concern." I say and then, before he can say another word, I quicken my pace, leaving him standing there in the middle of the wreckage.

I don't stop running until I'm miles away from the battlefield, my lungs burning and my legs trembling with exhaustion. I duck into an abandoned alley, leaning against the brick wall as I try to catch my breath. My hands are still shaking, the faint glow of my powers flickering at my fingertips.

I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have intervened. But every time I close my eyes, I see their faces, the family trapped under the rubble, the child clinging to her mother, the man with blood running down his face as he begs for help. I couldn't just walk away.

The sound of footsteps snaps me out of my thoughts. I straighten, my heart racing as I scan the alley. It's empty, but the feeling of being watched lingers.

"You're not as hard to find as you think," a voice says, and I freeze.

Invincible steps into the alley, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. His suit is still torn, his face bruised, but he's wearing that same infuriating smile. "You know, most people stick around after they save the day. They don't just vanish into thin air."

I clench my fists, ice forming along my knuckles. "What do you want?"

He tilts his head, studying me with a curious expression. "I want to know who you are. And why someone with your kind of power is hiding in the shadows."

"I'm not hiding," I snap, though the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. "I just don't like getting involved."

"Well, you're involved now," he says, taking a step closer.

I take a step back, my heart pounding. "Stay away from me."

He stops, his expression softening. "Look, I'm not here to fight you. I just... I've never seen anyone do what you did back there. That kind of power is incredible. You could do a lot of good."

"You don't know me." I mutter.

"No, I don't," he admits, his voice steady, patient. "But I'd like to."

A sharp breath leaves my lungs. It's dangerous to let anyone, especially someone like him get too close. I know that.

I glance toward the alley, debating my options. Run? Freeze him where he stands?

He must see the calculation in my eyes, because he sighs. "I won't stop you if you want to leave. But I meant what I said. If you want to put your powers to good use more often, find me."

I take a slow step back, ice crackling beneath my fingertips. "Don't follow me."

Then, before he can respond, I turn and vanish into the night.

Chapter Text

The news are everywhere.

I sit on the couch, staring at the television screen as the reporter recounts the events of the attack. The footage isn't crystal clear, most of it is shaky cell phone videos, but it was enough to show the destruction and the heroes who were there to stop it.

And then there's me.

Blurry, distorted figure standing in the chaos, hands raised, freezing the alien creatures mid-attack. My stomach twists as the footage replays, slowed down for a dramatic effect.

"Authorities remain unsure of the identity of this mystery ice girl, but witnesses describe someone with extraordinary ice abilities—someone who was not officially helping alongside Invincible or any other known heroes."

Great. Just great.

I sink lower into the couch as my mom turns up the volume.

"They're talking about you," she says, arms crossed as she stands behind the couch.

No point in denying it. I can feel her stare burning into the back of my head.

"Yeah. I noticed," I mutter, still watching the screen.

She sighs, walking around to sit beside me. "I thought you were being careful."

"I was," I say sharply. "It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. I just... did what I had to do."

"Using your powers in public isn't exactly low profile," my dad chimes. He isn't scolding me, but there's concern in his voice.

I frown, fingers curling into the hem of my sleeve. "I didn't ask for this."

Mom rubs her temples. "Well, now you've got it. And people are not going to let this go."

She isn't wrong. The news are already replaying the footage, speculation running wild.

"Authorities have yet to identify the ice-powered individual, but many are calling her a hero. Some are even wondering if she'll officially join the ranks of established superheroes like Invincible—"

I grab the remote and turn off the TV. The silence that follows is thick.

Mom sighs again, quieter this time. "I just don't want you to get pulled into something you're not ready for."

"I couldn't just stand there and do nothing," I say, my voice rising. "People were going to die. What was I supposed to do, just let it happen?"

"Yes!" my mom snaps, her eyes filling with tears. "If it means keeping you safe, then yes! You're our daughter. We can't lose you."

I stare at them, my chest tightening. "I'm not a kid anymore. I can't just hide and pretend I don't have these powers. They're a part of me, whether you like it or not."

"And that's exactly what scares us," my dad says, his voice softening. "These powers... they're dangerous. Not just for you, but for everyone around you."

I look down at my hands, ice prickling at my fingertips. "I'm careful. I don't let anyone see my face. I don't let anyone know who I am."

"But for how long?" my mom asks, her voice breaking. "How long until someone figures it out? How long until you get hurt or worse?"

I don't have an answer. All I know is that their fear, their desperation to keep me safe, is suffocating. And part of me hates that they're right.

"I'm going for a walk," I mutter.

My mom doesn't stop me and dad just nods.

But their worried stares stay with me even after I step outside.

The city still feels restless, even after the fight is long over. People are still talking, still buzzing with the aftermath. I keep my hood up as I walk, trying to ignore the lingering stares and the conversations that float past me.

"Did you see the ice girl?"
"She was amazing—"

I grit my teeth. This is exactly why I never fight in the open.

I need to lay low. I need to disappear. But as I turn the corner into a quieter street, I feel it—someone watching me.

And I already know who it is.

"Hey."

I sigh, not even bothering to turn around before answering. "Go away."

He drops out of the sky, landing a few feet away, arms crossed. "I'm just checking in."

I roll my eyes and keep walking. He follows.

"I'm fine," I say flatly.

"Yeah, see, that's what people say when they're not fine."

I shoot him a look. "I don't need a babysitter."

Invincible smirks slightly. "Good. 'Cause I'm terrible at babysitting."

I exhale sharply, trying to push down my irritation. I'm not about to spill my feelings to some guy I barely know. "Look, I get it. You're the nice guy. You want to make sure I'm okay. But I don't need your help."

He studies me for a second, then shrugs. "Alright."

I blink. That's it? No lecture? No insistence that I should join the 'good guys'?

"But," he adds, "if you wanted to stay off the radar, well... that ship kinda sailed."

I huff. "Thanks. Real helpful."

He smiles a little. "I know what it's like," he says after a moment. "The attention. The expectations. It's a lot, even when you do want to be a hero."

I don't respond.

"I'm not saying you have to do anything," he continues, voice calm. "I just... wanted you to know that we could use someone like you."

He isn't pushing. He isn't trying to convince me of anything.

And somehow, that makes it harder to ignore him.

"I just want to be left alone," I say finally, though the words don't feel as steady as I want them to.

Invincible holds my gaze for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

He steps back, lifting off the ground again. But before he leaves, he smirks.

"By the way—nice work back there, mystery ice girl."

I groan. "Don't call me that."

"Too late," he calls as he flies off.

I stand there for a moment, watching him disappear into the night sky. My chest feels heavy, with an unusual weight of guilt.

I turn and start walking again, my mind racing. Invincible's words echo in my head: We could use someone like you.

I don't want to admit it, but part of me knows he's right. I can't keep hiding when people are getting hurt. Not when I have the power to do something about it.

But that doesn't mean I'm ready to dive headfirst into the hero life. Not yet.

For now, I'll take it one step at a time and maybe I'll figure out where I fit in all of this.

Chapter Text

The city is in chaos. Another Flaxan portal opens, and this time, I don't hesitate. I can't. Not after what happened last time.

I find Invincible in the middle of the fight as he takes on a group of Flaxan soldiers. He glances over as I stand beside him, his eyes widening in surprise.

"You're here," he says, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not here for you," I snap, summoning a wall of ice to block a blast from one of the Flaxans' weapons. "Don't get used to it."

"Noted," he says, dodging a punch from a Flaxan and countering with a blow that sends the alien flying into a parked car. "But I'm glad you're here."

Before I can respond Atom Eve uses her energy to form shields to protect fleeing civilians. She glances at me, her eyes narrowing slightly, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she turns her attention to the Flaxans, creating a massive energy hammer to smash through.

I don't have time to process what's happening. A group of Flaxans charges at me, their weapons glowing brighter as they prepare to fire. I raise my hands, summoning a massive ice barrier just as they unleash a barrage of energy blasts. The barrier shatters under the impact, but it gives me enough time to counter.

I send sharp icicles shooting toward the Flaxans, pinning them to the wall, and then freeze the ground beneath another group, sending them sliding into each other. One of the Flaxans lunges at me, but I sidestep, summoning a ice spear that I drive into their side. They crumple to the ground, and I turn just in time to see another Flaxan aiming their weapon at me.

Before I can react, an explosion rocks the street, sending the Flaxan flying. Rex Splode lands beside me, his hands glowing with energy. "You're welcome," he says, smirking.

"I had it under control," I mutter, freezing another Flaxan's legs to the ground.

"Sure you did," Rex says, hurling another explosive at a group of aliens.

By the time the battle is over, the streets are a mess of shattered ice, broken concrete, and dead aliens.

Invincible lands beside me, his breathing heavy but his grin wide. "Not bad for a first team-up."

"This wasn't a team-up," I say, brushing ice off my sleeves. "I was just in the neighborhood."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Whatever you say. But if you ever change your mind about—"

"I won't," I say, cutting him off. "But... thanks. For not getting in my way."

He nods, his expression softening. "Anytime."

I don't stick around to chat. I want to get home already.

I slip into the house through the back door, hoping to avoid my parents. But as soon as I step inside, I know I'm too late.

They're waiting for me in the kitchen, their faces pale and their eyes filled with a mix of fear and anger. The TV is on in the background, the news replaying footage of the fight—including a few too-clear shots of me.

My heart sinks.

"Where have you been?" my mom demands, her voice trembling.

I hesitate, my mind racing for an excuse. But there's no point, they already know.

"I was out," I say, my voice quiet.

"Out?" my dad repeats, his tone sharp. "Out where? Out fighting aliens? Out risking your life?"

I clench my fists. "I was helping people. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

"You could have died!" my mom shouts, tears streaming down her face. "Do you understand that? You could have been killed, and we would have lost you forever!"

"I'm not a child," I snap, my voice rising. "I can take care of myself."

"This isn't about taking care of yourself!" my dad shouts at me. "This is about you throwing your life away for people you don't even know!"

"They're not just people!" I shout back, my chest tightening. "They're innocent! They needed help, and I could give it to them. What was I supposed to do?"

"Run to safety! What else is there to do?" my mom cries.

"You're supposed to be careful!" my dad interjects, his face red. "You're supposed to think before you throw yourself into danger like that. What if something had gone wrong? What if you hadn't been fast enough? What if—"

"But I was fast enough!" I interrupt, my frustration boiling over. "I'm not going to sit back and do nothing when I can help. That's not who I am."

"You're not invincible!" my mom shouts, her voice breaking. "You think because you have powers, you're untouchable? That nothing can hurt you? That's not how this works! You're still human, and humans make mistakes. Humans get hurt. Humans—" Her voice catches, and she stops, pressing a hand to her mouth.

The room goes quiet, the weight of her words hanging in the air. I look at her, at the tears in her eyes, and for a moment, I feel guilt. But it's quickly swallowed by the frustration that's been building inside me for months.

"I can't live my life being afraid," I say, my voice quieter now but no less firm. "I can't just hide away and pretend I don't have these abilities. People need help, and I can give it. That's not something I can just ignore."

"We're not asking you to ignore it," my dad says, his voice strained. "We're asking you to be smart about it. To think things through. To not take unnecessary risks."

"Unnecessary risks?" I repeat laughing at its ridiculousness. "Saving someone's life isn't an unnecessary risk. It's what I'm meant to do."

"You're meant to be safe!" my moms voice cracks. "You're meant to come home to us at the end of the day, not end up in a hospital—or worse!"

I shake my head, my chest tight. "You don't get it. I have a responsibility—"

"Your responsibility is to yourself first!" my dad interrupts, slamming his hand on the table. "You can't help anyone if you're dead!"

I look at them and I don't know what to say. I know they're scared. I know they love me. But I also know I can't live my life the way they want me to.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't do this anymore."

And then I turn and walk out the door, leaving them standing there in the kitchen, their faces filled with shock and heartbreak.

I don't know where I'm going. I just know I can't stay at this moment. Not when every fight with my parents leaves me feeling more alone than ever.

I walk for hours, the city lights blurring around me. My mind is a mess of guilt and anger and fear.

I don't know what my future holds. I don't know if I can live up to the expectations or if I even want to.

Chapter Text

♫ Grimes - Genesis ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 4:15

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The cold air hits me as soon as I step outside, but I barely feel it. My legs carry me forward without direction, without thought.

I'm not sure where I'm going, but I know I can't stay.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. I'm not ready to talk to them. Not after the way they looked at me like a little child. Like I'm someone they don't even recognize anymore.

I keep walking.

And somehow, without meaning to, I find myself in the last place I expect. I sit down on the edge of the rooftop, hugging my arms around myself as I stare out at the city. I'm not crying, but my chest aches and my hands won't stop shaking.

"You okay?"

I flinch, whipping around—only to see Invincible standing a few feet away.

I let out a shaky breath. "What, do you have a radar for me or something?"

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm just on patrol a lot."

I don't respond. I just turn back to the city view, my throat tight.

He just sits down on the edge beside me, leaving enough space between, but close enough that I feel his presence.

The silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, I break it.

"My parents hate what I'm doing," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "They think I'm throwing my life away."

Invincible is quiet for a moment. Then he sighs. "Yeah. I get that."

I glance at him. "They don't want you doing this either?"

"My mom didn't like it at first." He leans back, looking up at the sky. "She came around eventually, but it took time."

I swallow. "Mine won't."

He tilts his head, studying me. "So what are you gonna do?"

I hesitate.

Then, quietly, I say, "I don't know."

Invincible doesn't push me for more. He just sits there.

After a while, he speaks again, his voice softer this time. "You know, I wasn't always sure about this either. Being a hero. It's... a lot. And sometimes, it feels like no matter what you do, it's never enough."

I look at him, surprised. "You? Really?"

He nods, his gaze distant. "Yeah. I mean, I grew up idolizing my dad. He was... everything. The strongest, bravest person I knew. And then I got my powers, and I thought, 'Okay, this is it. This is my chance to be like him.' But it wasn't that simple."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. "My dad... he's not who I thought he was. He's not the hero I thought he was."

I stay quiet, sensing the weight behind his words.

He takes a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's the one who killed the Guardians of the Globe."

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. "What?"

He nods, his eyes dark with pain. "I didn't know at first. None of us did. He just... disappeared after it happened. He's not from here and he's not even human. He's a Viltrumite that was sent here to... to conquer Earth."

I stare at him, my mind reeling. "I... I don't know what to say."

He laughs bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Neither did I. I mean, how do you even process something like that? Your dad—the person you've looked up to your entire life is the kind of monster who could destroy everything you care about."

I don't know what to say. So I just sit there, letting him talk.

"I spent so long trying to live up to him," he continues, his voice cracking. "Trying to be the hero he wanted me to be. But now... I don't even know what that means anymore. I don't know who I'm supposed to be."

I hesitate, then reach out, placing a hand on his arm. "You're not your dad."

He looks at me, his eyes searching mine. "How do you know?"

"Because you're here," I say quietly. "You're trying to do the right thing, even when it's hard."

Invincible doesn't respond at first. He just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nods. "Thanks. I... I needed to hear that."

I give him a small smile.

He reaches up and tugs at the edge of his mask. "You should probably know who I really am."

I blink, surprised. "You're taking off your mask? Isn't that, like, against the superhero code or something?"

He grins. "Yeah, well, I figure you've earned it."

Before I can respond, he pulls the mask off, revealing his face. And... wow.

I wasn't expecting that.

Invincible is... ridiculously good-looking. Like, unfairly so. His dark, black hair is slightly messy from the mask, and his deep brown eyes are even more striking without the fabric covering them. He has this boyish charm mixed with strength that makes it impossible to look away.

I stare at him, my brain short-circuiting for a moment. "You're... you're..."

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. "What? Not what you expected?"

I shake my head, trying to recover. "No, I mean... yeah. You're just... you're really..."

I immediately stop saying what I wanted, I can see him getting red and flustered.

Then, his expression softens "My name is Mark, by the way. Mark Grayson."

I blink, caught off guard. "Wait... your name is Mark?"

He nods, his smile turning a little shy. "Yeah, I mean I figured it was only fair you knew my name."

I stare at him, my mind racing. "Mark," I repeat, testing the name out. It feels... strange, but also right. Like I'm finally seeing the person behind the mask—not just the hero, but the guy underneath.

"Yeah," he says, his voice soft. "Mark."

"Nice to officially meet you, Mark."

He grins, his hand lingering in mine for a moment. "Nice to officially meet you too... uh, what's your name?"

I freeze, realizing I haven't actually told him yet. "Oh. Right. It's... [Your Name]."

"Nice to meet you, [Your Name]," he says, his tone warm. "Now that we're on a first-name basis, does this mean I can stop calling you 'mystery ice girl'?"

I laugh, the sound surprising even me. "Yeah, I would like that."

We sit there for a while longer, the silence between us comfortable now. For the first time in a long time, I feel... understood. And from the way Invincible—no, Mark looks at me, I think he feels the same.

Chapter Text

♫ Dayglow - Can I Call You Tonight? ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 4:38

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Mark stands up, offering me a hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

I hesitate, then take his hand. "Where are we going?"

Then, before I can protest, he steps closer, his expression softening. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

I blink, caught off guard. "Why? What are you—"

Before I can finish, he scoops me up into his arms, one hand supporting my back and the other under my knees. I let out a startled yelp, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Mark!" I exclaim, my heart racing. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you somewhere," he says, his grin widening. "Don't worry, I've got you."

I glare at him, though my grip on his neck tightens. "You could've warned me."

He chuckles, his breath warm against my cheek. "Where's the fun in that?"

And then we're in the sky.

The ground falls away beneath us, the city lights blurring into a sea of gold and white. The wind rushes past us, cold and sharp, but Mark's grip is steady, his body warm against mine. I cling to him, my breath catching in my throat as we soar higher and higher.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the wind.

I nod, though my stomach is doing somersaults. "Yeah. Just... don't drop me."

He laughs, the sound warm and reassuring. "Don't worry. I've got you."

The city below us is a blur of lights, the stars above so much closer than they ever seem from the ground. It feels surreal, like I'm floating in a dream. But it's not the height that makes me feel light, it's him, his presence, the steady arms around me.

I shift slightly, leaning my head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. It's calming in a way I didn't expect. Being with him, like this, in the quiet of the night, feels like the world has paused for a moment, just for us.

His hand shifts on my back, adjusting the way he holds me, and I can't help but feel a little safer in his arms. It's as if the wind, the flight, the entire world could come crashing down, and he'd be there to catch me. His body moves with the wind, and I feel the strength in every movement.

For a second, I forget about everything , It's just me and him, in the air, with the whole world beneath our feet. I close my eyes for a moment, just letting myself feel the wind. I hadn't realized how badly I needed this, how much I just wanted to feel free.

When I open my eyes, the lights of a base are in the distance, getting closer. Mark starts to lower us toward the ground, and I reluctantly pull away from his chest. The air seems to slow, the world becoming sharper, more real again.

We land on a rooftop overlooking the city. Mark sets me down gently, his hand lingering on my arm for a moment.

"Where are we?" I ask, looking around.

"You'll see," he says, leading me toward a door that opens into a sleek, modern elevator. He presses a button, and we descend into the building.

The elevator doors open to reveal a high-tech command center, filled with screens, monitors, and people in uniforms bustling about. At the center of it all stands a man in a suit, his almost bald head gleaming under lights. He turns as we approach, his sharp eyes narrowing.

"Invincible," the man says, his voice calm but commanding. "And you must be the mystery ice hero everyone's been talking about."

I glance at Mark, my heart racing. "Who's this?"

"Cecil Stedman," Mark says, stepping forward. "He's the head of the Global Defense Agency. He's... kind of the guy who keeps everything running."

"Not gonna lie," Cecil says, stepping forward, "you've been on my radar for a while now. The whole ice thing? Hard to miss."

I clench my jaw. "I don't want to be on your radar."

Cecil smirks. "Yeah, well, tough luck, kid. You start freezing alien invaders in the middle of a city, people notice."

I hate that he's right.

Mark clears his throat, stepping between us slightly. "Look, she's been helping out a lot lately. I figured if she's gonna keep doing this, she should at least know what's going on behind the scenes."

I frown, glancing at him. "And what, exactly, is going on?"

Cecil's expression doesn't change, but something in the air shifts.

"You ever heard of the Guardians of the Globe?" he asks.

I blink. "Obviously."

"They're rebuilding," he continues, ignoring my sarcasm. "After what happened with the last team, we need new heroes fast. People we can count on."

I stiffen. "You're not seriously considering me."

Cecil tilts his head. "Why wouldn't I?"

I scoff. "Oh, I don't know—maybe because I've spent my entire life trying to stay out of this mess?"

Cecil raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because, deep down, I know he has a point.

I've been staying out of it. But lately I've been diving headfirst into fights I didn't have to be in. Seeking them out.

Like it or not, I'm already in this world.

I just haven't admitted it to myself yet.

I exhale sharply. "Even if I was interested—which I'm not—I don't exactly play well with others."

Cecil chuckles. "You wouldn't have to. Not all the time, anyway. But having you on board? It'd make a difference." He shrugs. "Think about it."

I frown, crossing my arms tighter.

Mark nudges me lightly. "You don't have to decide right now."

I let out a slow breath.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll think about it."

Cecil smirks. "That's all I ask."

Flying back was quiet.

Not the awkward kind of quiet, just... there. Like Mark knew I had too much in my head to fill the silence with words.

I should've been thinking about Cecil. About what I had just walked into. About what it meant for me, for my future, for everything I had been avoiding for so long.

But right now, all I could focus on was the way Mark held me—not just like he was carrying me, but like he actually cared if I was okay.

Too soon, we reached my house.

He slowed outside my bedroom window, hovering effortlessly in the air. I could see the light still on inside, the faint outline of my bed through the curtains.

I hesitated.

Mark must have noticed because his arms tightened around me slightly before letting go. Not rushing me. Just grounding me.

"You want me to go in with you?" he asked.

I exhaled. "What, like a bodyguard?"

He smirked. "More like emotional support."

I huffed out a laugh but didn't answer right away.

Because, honestly?

A part of me did want him to come inside. To stand next to me when I faced my parents again. To make this feel a little less like stepping into a fight I didn't want to have.

I swallowed hard, fingers curling into his suit for just a second before I forced myself to let go.

He moved closer to the window, letting me shift my weight until my feet touched the sill. But before I climbed inside, I hesitated, glancing back at him.

"Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

I shrugged, but it wasn't as careless as I wanted it to be. "I don't know. Not making this harder than it already is."

Mark's lips quirked up and with a rush of air, he was gone as I watched him disappear into the night

Chapter Text

I creep back into my room, my heart still pounding. My feet barely touch the floor when—

The door swings open.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I jump, whirling around. My dad stands in the doorway, his face twisted with anger. My mom is right behind him, arms crossed, her expression a tight mix of fury and exhaustion.

My stomach drops. They were waiting for me.

"I—"

"Don't even try to talk your way out of this," my mom snaps, stepping inside. "You think we wouldn't be angry about you running around in the middle of the night?"

I flinch. "It's not—"

"Not what it looked like?" My dad's voice is tight with barely restrained anger. "Because from where we were standing, it looked like our daughter was sneaking out, running around the city with Invincible, and lying to us about it."

My jaw clenches. "I wasn't running around with him, I was—"

"You were what?" my mom demands. "Playing hero? Pretending like this is some kind of game? Or were you just out with him?"

I bristle. "Mar—Invincible—isn't like that."

"Really?" My dad lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Because it sure looks like he's the reason you keep doing this."

Heat rushes to my face, but anger flares up just as fast. "This has nothing to do with him."

"Then why were you with him?" my mom shoots back. "Why did he drop you off at your window?"

I swallow hard. There's no point in lying. "Because I needed to be out there."

My dad shakes his head, exasperated. "And what, you think he is going to keep you safe? You do realize that he's Omni-man's kid? Ever heard of the saying that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?"

I cross my arms. "I can handle myself."

"No, you can't!" my mom bursts out. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"I'm not going to stop," I say, my voice quieter now but no less firm.

My parents exchange a look—something between frustration and fear.

"You're playing with fire," my dad says finally, his voice low. "And you don't even see it."

I hold his gaze, my chest tight.

"Maybe," I admit. "But it's my choice."

Then, without another word, I close my door.

The morning after feels... strange.

I go through the motions—getting dressed, eating breakfast, pretending I don't notice how quiet my parents are. They barely look at me, and when they do, their eyes are filled with a worry that makes my stomach twist.

But I can't afford to think about that right now.

Not when everything else is changing, too.

Walking through school, I hear whispers. Murmurs about the "mystery ice girl" that's been spotted on the news. Speculation. Wild theories.

I ignore them.

Or, at least, I try.

Lunch is worse. I sit alone, poking at my food, replaying the fight with my parents over and over.

Then the intercom crackles to life.

I freeze as the voice on the speakers details an ongoing attack—a group of armed criminals targeting civilians downtown. My stomach twists as I catch sight of the nearby TV screen.

A bank robbery and most importantly Mark.

I push my plate away, my heart pounding.

Because I should be there.

I should be helping.

I spent the entire night justifying why I do this—why I have to do this. But now, when it actually matters, I'm just sitting here? Pretending I can go back to normal?

No.

I'm not normal anymore.

The second I'm out of the cafeteria, my feet carry me forward like I'm on autopilot. The school halls blur past me as I push through the front doors and into the open air, taking a sharp breath as I try to get my thoughts in order.

I squeeze my hands into fists. A sharp chill ripples through my skin, my powers flaring at the edges, desperate to be used.

I can't sit back and let this happen.

I break into a run, ducking into an alleyway just outside the school. The cold energy in my veins pulses stronger every second.

When I reach the street, chaos unfolds below. Cars are overturned, storefronts shattered. People scream as two, blue big twins move through the area, firing indiscriminately.

And then there's him.

Mark.

He's already in the thick of it, moving too fast for them to land a hit.

But the civilians—there are still people trapped in the crossfire.

I don't hesitate.

I dive down, extending my hands as a wave of ice shoots forward, freezing one of the bad guy in place. The others whip around, their weapons aiming at me—

I slam my foot into the pavement, sending a jagged sheet of ice across the ground. It trips them up before they can fire, their guns skidding out of reach.

Mark glances at me, his eyes widening when he sees me. "You came again."

I land beside him, my breath coming quick. "I should've been here sooner."

Before he can answer, one of the villains lunges at me. I barely dodge in time, twisting my body as I summon a thick wall of ice between us. The guy stumbles back, and Mark takes the opening, knocking him out cold.

"Looks like you're doing just fine," he remarks, offering me a quick smirk before turning back to the fight.

It's over within minutes. The bad guys hit the ground, I let out a shaky breath, my arms lowering.

The fight is over.

But I don't feel relief.

Not when I look around and see the damage. The wrecked buildings. The shattered glass. The blood on the pavement.

Mark notices too. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "It never gets easier."

No. It doesn't.

A woman nearby clutches her child, her face streaked with tears. She looks up at us—at me—and whispers, "Thank you."

And that's when I realize...

This is what I was meant to do.

Not sit in a classroom, pretending I can ignore it. Not hide away because my parents are scared for me.

I can help. I can save people.

Mark nudges me lightly with his shoulder. "You okay?"

I blink, shaking off the thought. "I think so."

Chapter Text

Later that evening, I meet Mark on a quiet rooftop far from prying eyes. I take a deep breath and meet his steady gaze.

"Mark," I say softly, my voice trembling with fear, "I can't keep running. I want to do more...I want to join the Guardians."

He studies me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. "Are you sure?" he asks. "It's a huge step."

I nod, feeling the truth settle inside me. "I know. I've tried hiding from all of this, but hiding isn't working anymore. I have these powers for a reason, and I can't stand by while people are hurting. I want to be part of something that makes a difference."

A warm smile slowly spreads over his face. "Cecil could really use someone with your talent and heart."

That same night, we arrange a meeting with Cecil at the pentagon. The atmosphere is intense as I sit across from him. His gaze is as cold as I remember, but there's a hint of respect as he addresses me.

"So, you're finally ready to step into the light?" Cecil asks, his tone even. "Because it means training hard, facing relentless challenges, and making sacrifices. It means putting everything on the line for the greater good."

I swallow hard. "I'm committed. I know it won't be easy, but I can't ignore what I feel inside. I have to do this, I have to help."

Cecil leans forward, his eyes locked on mine. "Then welcome aboard. If you truly believe you're ready to make that commitment... then you belong with us."

In that moment, as his words sink in, I realize that I'm no longer the girl who sneaks out in the middle of the night or hides from the consequences of her actions. I'm choosing a path filled with risks, but also with purpose.

I stand in the high-tech locker room of the Guardians' facility as I watch technicians adjust and finalize my new suit. The room smells like fresh fabric, and the low hum of machinery fills the space. Cecil steps forward.

"This suit is designed for you," he says, his tone neutral. "It's built to enhance your abilities and keep you safe in the field."

I run my fingers over the sleek material—a cool, ice-blue fabric interwoven with white accents and subtle silver flecks that shimmer like frozen dew. Every detail is tailored: reinforced panels at the elbows and knees, anti-slip boots, even an integrated system to help regulate my body temperature when I use my powers.

Before I can answer, Cecil continues, "We're giving you a codename as well. From now on, you'll be known as Frostbite."

The word hangs in the air, and I swallow hard. "Frostbite," I repeat slowly, as if testing it out. The name feels both foreign and right.

Cecil nods. "This isn't just a costume, it's a symbol. It represents your choice to protect others, even when it costs you dearly."

I take a deep breath, sliding into the suit piece by piece. I feel both vulnerable and stronger than I ever have before.

I catch my reflection in a polished metal panel. The person staring back is no longer just a girl, she's a Guardian now, with a new name and a new purpose. The past, the doubts, the fights with my parents, the hesitation starts to melt away beneath this new identity.

"I'm ready," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I'm ready to do what I have to do."

As I step out of the locker room and into the main hall, I see Mark waiting for me. When his eyes land on me, he freezes.

For a moment, he just stares, his mouth slightly open, His eyes travel from my face, but his eyes inevitably lower, sweeping down the length of my body. I see the way way his stare lingers just a second too long on my chest before flicking lower, tracing the shape of my hips, my legs. His throat bobs as he swallows, his hands twitching at his sides like he's fighting the urge to fidget.

"Uh, wow," he says, his voice a little higher than usual. "You, uh... you look... amazing."

I raise an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. "Amazing? That's all you've got, Grayson?"

He rubs the back of his neck, his face still red. "I mean, yeah. You look... really good. Like, really good. The suit, it's... it's cool. Like, literally cool. Ice-themed."

I can't help but laugh. "You're flustered. That's adorable."

He groans, covering his face with one hand. "I'm not flustered. I'm just... surprised. You clean up nice, okay?"

I step closer, tilting my head as I look up at him. "So, you're saying I didn't look good before?"

His eyes widen, and he stumbles over his words. "Yes! I mean, no! I mean you always look good. You're just... you're really pulling off the whole superhero thing. Like, really pulling it off."

I smirk, crossing my arms. "Maybe I should wear this more often."

He lets out a strangled laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Definitely. You should. Like, all the time."

I chuckle at his awkwardness and without thinking, I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug.

Mark stiffens for half a second, clearly caught off guard, but then he melts into it. His arms circle around me and I let myself sink into the embrace, resting my forehead against his chest.

"Thank you," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mark tenses slightly. "For what?"

"For leading me here," I say, pulling back just enough to look up at him. "I don't know if I ever would've stepped into this world if it weren't for you."

His cheeks pinken and a genuine warmth spreading across his face. "I just showed you the path. You walked it all on your own."

I can't help but smile up at him, the weight of everything we've both gone through settling in. "Still, you helped me."

Without a word, he pulls me back into another hug, his embrace warm and comforting.

Chapter Text

♫ Omar Apollo - Useless ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 3:03

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The Guardians' training room is massive, sleek, metallic and with some of the most advanced tech I've ever seen. I step into the center of the arena, rolling my shoulders as the team circles around me. This is my first official training and I can feel their eyes on me, weighing, judging.

Robot stands at the edge. "You will be paired against multiple opponents. Your goal is to last as long as possible while demonstrating control over your abilities."

"Sounds fun," I mutter under my breath, but the second I glance at the others, I realize just how serious this is.

Monster Girl cracks her knuckles. "Don't hold back, newbie."

Rex Splode grins as he tosses a small metal disc in his palm. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you. Unless you like it rough?" He winks, the cocky tilt of his head making it clear he's enjoying this too much.

I roll my eyes. "Try not to embarrass yourself, Rex."

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. "Ouch. I think I'm in love."

Before I can retort, Robot signals the start. The moment the alarm blares, the team moves.

Monster Girl charges first, her form already shifting as she grows into her monstrous form. I barely dodge as her fist slams into the floor, cracking the metal beneath us. Before I can react, a duplicate of Dupli-Kate lands a kick to my side, sending me stumbling back.

I grit my teeth and counter, sending a burst of icy mist outward, forcing the clones to shatter into nothing. Rex hurls a charged projectile my way. I throw up a wall of ice just in time, the explosion rattling the ground but leaving me unharmed.

"Nice reflexes," Rex calls. "Think fast!"

He's already tossing another one, but this time I react quicker. I freeze it mid-air before it can detonate, then send it spiraling back at him. He barely manages to duck.

"Damn," he mutters, brushing off the dust. "Kinda hot."

"Focus," Robot reminds from the sidelines.

Monster Girl comes at me again, but I use her momentum against her, coating the ground beneath her feet with ice. She skids, unable to stop herself from crashing into the wall.

I send a shockwave of cold outward. The temperature drops rapidly, forcing everyone back. Ice creeps up their limbs, slowing them down.

Robot's voice cuts through. "That's enough."

I lower my hands, my heart hammering. The air is thick with the chill I left behind.

Monster Girl huffs, shaking ice from her arms as she shrinks back down. "Not bad."

Kate dusts herself off. "You're quick. I like that."

Rex strides over, offering a slow clap. "You know, Frostbite, you and I would make a hell of a team." He grins, tilting his head. "We should, I don't know, train together. Maybe grab a bite after."

I arch a brow. "Are you seriously hitting on me after I just kicked your ass?"

He smirks. "What can I say? I'm into dangerous women."

Before I can respond, a familiar voice cuts in from the doorway.

"Really? That's your type?"

I turn, and there's Mark, standing with his arms crossed.

Rex laughs. "Relax, Invincible. I'm just getting to know our new teammate. Or is that a problem?"

Mark's jaw tightens. "Not at all," he says, but there's an edge to his voice.

I glance between them, heat rising to my cheeks.

This... is going to be interesting.

I shift awkwardly, still catching my breath from sparring, but Mark doesn't seem to notice. His focus is locked on Rex, his arms crossed as he leans against the doorway like he's trying way too hard to look relaxed.

Rex, of course, doesn't miss a beat. "What's with the look, big guy?" he says, stretching like he's not fazed. "You jealous or something?"

Mark scoffs. "Jealous? Of you?" He shakes his head. "Not in a million years."

Rex grins. "Then why do you look like you wanna hit me?"

"I always wanna hit you," Mark mutters.

Dupli-Kate sighs, rolling her eyes. "Can we not do this? We're supposed to be training, not measuring egos."

Monster Girl chuckles. "I don't know. I'm kinda enjoying the show."

I rub my temples, exhaling sharply before turning to Mark. "Did you need something?"

His eyes flick to me, softening just a little. "Yeah, actually. Cecil wanted me to check in. He's sending us on a mission. Figured I'd find you here."

I nod, trying to ignore the way Rex leans closer. "Guess I should get ready, then."

Rex smirks. "Need help suiting up?"

I deadpan. "Not even a little."

Mark glares at him. "Wow, you're really laying it on thick today, huh?"

Rex shrugs. "What can I say? I like Frostbite's vibe. She's cool." He winks. "Literally."

Mark lets out a sharp laugh, the kind that isn't amused at all. "Yeah, hilarious."

I don't hesitate to walk out, letting the tension roll off me. But Mark falls into step beside me, his usual lighthearted energy noticeably absent.

"Do you find rex attractive?" he asks suddenly, keeping his voice low.

I blink, caught off guard. "What?"

"I mean, I get it. Some people fall for the whole 'cocky bad boy' thing," he says, glancing at me.

I stop in the hallway, raising a brow at him. "Why do you care?"

Mark hesitates, his jaw tightening before he sighs. "I don't. I just—" He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I do care. I don't know why. I just... thought we were getting close."

The words hit deeper than I expect.

I cross my arms, studying him. "We are close."

His shoulders relax slightly, but he still looks conflicted. "Yeah."

For a moment, there's just silence between us. Then, before I can say anything else, he clears his throat. "Anyway, we should get going."

I nod slowly, falling into step beside him again. But the conversation lingers in my mind.

Chapter Text

♫ keshi - Soft Spot♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 3:24

The ground shakes violently beneath us as Doc Seismic slams his fists into the earth, sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. I dart to the side, ice forming in my hands as I throw up a shield to protect a group of civilians scrambling for cover. The shield holds, but the force of the tremor sends me stumbling, my boots skidding across the cracked pavement.

I turn back to the fight just in time to see Mark slam into Doc Seismic, the two of them grappling in midair. Rex Splode and Monster Girl are closing in from the sides, their attacks forcing the villain to divide his attention. But Doc Seismic is relentless, his device pulsing with energy as he summons another massive tremor.

"We need to take that thing out!" I yell, sprinting forward. My ice forms into a jagged spear in my hands, and I launch it toward the device. It strikes true, but the impact only seems to enrage him.

Doc Seismic slams his fist into the ground again. This time, the shockwave is even stronger, and I'm thrown off my feet. I hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of my lungs, and for a moment, everything spins.

I grit my teeth as I push to my knees. But before I can stand, I feel a sharp, searing pain in my side. I glance down and see a shard of broken glass embedded in my waist, blood already soaking through my suit.

"Damn it," I mutter, pressing a hand to the wound. It's not deep, but it hurts like hell, and I know I can't let it slow me down. Not now.

I force myself to my feet, ignoring the pain, and focus on the fight. Mark is still grappling with Doc Seismic, but the villain's movements are becoming more erratic, his attacks less controlled.

Summoning every ounce of strength I have left. I create a massive ice wall, trapping Doc Seismic in place just long enough for Rexplode to fire a concentrated blast at the device. The explosion is deafening, the shockwave knocking us all back.

When the dust settles, Doc Seismic is on the ground, the device sparking and broken beside him. Mark lands beside me, his chest heaving as he surveys the scene. "You okay?" he asks, his voice tight with concern.

I nod, though my hand is still pressed to my side. "Yeah. Just a scratch."

He frowns, his eyes narrowing as he notices the blood on my suit. "Let me see."

I shake my head, trying to brush him off. "It's fine. We need to make sure he's—"

"No," Mark interrupts, his voice firm. "You're hurt. Let me help you."

I hesitate, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for argument. Reluctantly, I lower my hand, revealing the cut.

"We're getting you patched up," he says, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Before I can protest, he scoops me up into his arms, his grip gentle but firm. I want to argue, to tell him I can walk, but the truth is, I'm exhausted. And the warmth of his chest against mine is more comforting than I'd like to admit.

He flies us back to my house, his movements steady and controlled despite the urgency I can feel in his grip. When we land on the roof outside my bedroom window, he helps me inside, his hands careful as he guides me to the edge of my bed.

"Where's your first aid kit?"

I sigh. "Mark, I don't need—"

"Where is it?"

I grumble under my breath and nod toward my desk. He rushes over, pulling open drawers like its some kind of life-or-death situation.

"You're acting like I'm bleeding out."

"You have a huge cut on your side," he says, finally finding the kit. "And you didn't even say anything."

"It's not huge," I argue.

Mark shoots me a look as he kneels next to the bed. "Let me see."

I hesitate. My suit is a one-piece, and getting to the cut means pulling it down at least halfway. The thought makes my face heat up way more than it should.

Mark must realize the issue at the same time I do, because his ears go red, and he quickly turns away. "Uh—do you, like... have a shirt or something you can put on first?"

I almost laugh at how awkward he suddenly looks. "Yeah, just—give me a second."

He nods and faces the window while I shuffle through my dresser, grabbing an old shirt. My movements are stiff as I peel the suit down to my waist, wincing when the fabric pulls at the wound. I tug the shirt over my head before sitting back down.

"Okay," I say. "You can turn around."

Mark hesitates before glancing over his shoulder. When he sees I'm covered, he relaxes and moves closer, setting the kit on the bed.

He kneels in front of me. His hands hover for a second before he gently pushes my shirt up just enough to reveal the wound. His fingers are warm against my skin and I have to fight the urge to shiver at the touch. "It's not too deep," he murmurs. "But it needs to be cleaned."

I roll my eyes but don't argue. Mark is already ripping open a disinfectant wipe, and the next thing I know, he's carefully dabbing at the cut. The sting makes me suck in a breath through my teeth.

"Sorry," he murmurs.

"It's fine," I say, but my voice is quieter now.

Mark's focus is locked on my side, his brows drawn together in concentration. His hands are steady, deliberate, but I can feel the tension in them, like he's trying too hard to be careful.

He smooths a big bandage over the cut, his fingers pressing lightly against my skin to make sure it stays in place.

He clears his throat. "Alright, I think that should do it,"

I nod, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. "Thanks... for helping. You didn't have to do all this."

"I have to go, uh, see you later," he says, his voice a little rough. He looks back at me once more, but there's hesitation in his gaze.

"Yeah, see you" I say, though it comes out quieter than I mean it to.

he turns toward the window. His body shifts, and he leaps into the air.

I can barely get out a wave before he's already soaring off, disappearing into the sky. The sound of the wind rushing past him fades into the distance, leaving a silence that feels far too heavy.

I stand there for a while, the warmth from his touch still lingering on my skin, his presence now a quiet ache in the empty room.

Chapter Text

The air feels different when I step back into the house after a week of intense training with the Guardians.

I walk out of my room and head down the stairs. I haven't been home much lately, and the air feels heavier somehow. I call out, "Mom? Dad? I'm back."

No response.

I sigh, heading toward the kitchen. That's when I hear raised voices coming from the living room.

"Do you even care about what she's doing anymore?" my mom snaps. "She's never home! She's out there risking her life, and we don't even know where she is half the time!"

"And what do you want me to do about it?" my dad shoots back. "Lock her in her room? She's not a child anymore!"

I freeze in the hallway. They're talking about me again.

Before I can decide whether to interrupt or slip upstairs, my mom notices me. "Oh, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence."

I turn to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression a mix of anger and disappointment. My dad is right behind her.

"Hi," I say weakly, feeling like a kid caught sneaking in past bed time.

"Don't 'hi' us," my mom says, her voice trembling. "Do you have any idea how worried we've been? You didn't call, you didn't text, nothing! We thought something bad happened to you!"

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was training with the team. It's been... busy."

"Training?" my dad repeats, his tone sharp. "With the people who don't even care about you?"

The words sting more than I want to admit. "They do care about me," I say, my voice rising. "They're my team."

"And we're your family!" my mom shouts, her eyes filling with tears. "But you've made it pretty clear where your priorities lie."

I open my mouth to argue, but the words catch in my throat. What's the point? They don't understand. They never will.

"I'm moving out. I can't do this anymore. Every time I come home, all I hear is shouting."

Without another word, I turn and storm upstairs, my heart pounding. I don't stop until I'm in my room, slamming the door behind me. My hands shake as I grab a duffel bag from the closet and start throwing clothes into it.

I'm done.

I need to talk to Cecil for a place to stay, so I head to the pentagon. The place is massive, but I find myself drawn to the command center, hoping Cecil will still be there.

Sure enough, the door to the command center is slightly ajar, and I can see the glow of monitors casting shadows on the walls. I push the door open and find Cecil standing there.

Cecil turns his head to me. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

I raise an eyebrow. "You were expecting me?"

"Let's just say I had a feeling. What's on your mind?"

I hesitate, unsure how to start. "I... had a fight with my parents. A big one. "

Cecil's expression doesn't change, he just simply nods, as if he has been expecting this. "I see. And now you're here."

"Yeah," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't really have anywhere else to go."

Without a word, he turns and walks over to a small cabinet near the corner of the room. He opens a drawer, rummages through it briefly, and pulls out a key. He holds it out to me. "There's a small apartment nearby. One room. It's yours if you need it."

I blink, caught off guard by the gesture. "Cecil, I... I don't know what to say. Are you sure?"

He gives a single, firm nod. "Isn't this what you came for? I don't suppose you came her to talk."

I take the key, the cool metal pressing into my palm. "Yeah... Well, thank you. This this means a lot."

Cecil doesn't smile, but there's a faint softening in his eyes. "Don't worry about it, it comes from taxpayers' money anyway."

I leave the pentagon, the key clutched tightly in my hand. When I arrive at the apartment, it's small and modest, just as Cecil had said. But it's clean, quiet, and most importantly, it's mine.

The main room is cozy, with a worn but comfortable couch pushed against one wall and a small wooden table with two chairs by the window. The window itself lets in soft, natural light, framed by thin curtains. A tiny kitchenette is in the corner, with a mini-fridge, a two-burner stove, and a sink. It's not much, but it's enough to make a meal or brew a cup of coffee.

I open a door to the bedroom, a twin-sized bed is tucked into the corner, neatly made with a plain comforter and a single pillow.

The walls are bare except for a single framed photo of the city skyline, and the hardwood floors creak slightly under my feet as I walk further in. It's not fancy, but it's a place where I can finally catch my breath.

I set my bag down and sit on the bed letting out a long sigh. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I have a space that's truly mine. A place to start over.

Chapter Text

♫ Ravyn Lanae - Love Me Not ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 3:33

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The cool night air wraps around me as I walk through the quiet streets, my thoughts drifting to Mark. He's been the only one who's really understood me since I joined the Guardians. His support means more to me than I'm willing to admit.

I reach his neighborhood, my heart pounding as I pass his house. The lights in his room are on, and I can't help myself. I stop beneath his window, looking up.

I hesitate for a moment. What am I doing? This is ridiculous. He's probably not even going to want me sneaking into his room.

But the thought of going back to my apartment, of being alone with my thoughts, feels worse than the potential embarrassment. Taking a deep breath, I grab the trellis on the side of the house and start climbing. It creaks under my weight, and I freeze, glancing around to make sure no one's noticed. The last thing I need is a nosy neighbor calling the cops on me.

When I finally reach the ledge, I tap lightly on the window. No response. I tap again, harder this time, and the curtains shift. Mark's face appears, his expression is a mix of confusion and amusement as he slides the window open.

"You do know I have a door, right?" he says, his voice low but teasing.

"I don't know how your mom feels about girls going to your room at night." I shoot back, trying to sound casual despite the way my heart is racing.

He reaches out to help me inside. His hand is warm, his grip firm as he pulls me through the window. I stumble a little, catching myself against his chest.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice softer now.

I nod, stepping back and brushing myself off. "Yeah. Just... needed to get out somewhere."

Mark studies me for a moment, his brow furrowing. "What happened?"

I sigh, sinking onto the edge of his bed. "I finally moved out today. Cecil set me up with a temporary apartment until I can find a place of my own. It's... weird. Feels too empty."

Mark nods, his expression thoughtful. "That's a big step. But it sounds like it's what you needed." He pauses, then adds, "What's the new place like?"

I shrug. "It's like really tiny. One room, a kitchenette, and a bathroom that's basically a closet. But it's quiet, no one's yelling at me there. No one's telling me I'm making the wrong choices. It's... freeing, I guess."

Mark watches me, his gaze steady. "Sounds like a fresh start."

"Yeah," I say, my voice softening. "It is. It's just... I don't know if I'm doing it right, you know? I'll have to pay bills, figure out how to cook more than just instant noodles, all of that."

Mark doesn't say anything at first, just watches me with understanding in his eyes. The silence between us feels comfortable, as if he's giving me the space to sort through my thoughts. Then, he speaks again. "I get it. Things move fast, but... you don't have to go through it alone."

For a moment, neither of us moves. My heart is pounding so loud I'm sure he can hear it. I can't tell if I want to step closer or run away.

Mark turns to look at me, his eyes searching mine, and suddenly the room feels smaller. His gaze drops to my lips for a brief moment, and my breath catches. I can feel the warmth of him, the way his body leans slightly toward mine.

his hand moves, his fingers brushing against mine where they rest on the bed. The touch is light, almost hesitant, but it sends a jolt through me. I don't pull away and neither does he.

For a second, I think he's going to close the distance between us. His head tilts just slightly, his breath warm against my cheek, and I feel myself leaning in too, drawn to him like a magnet. My lips part, my pulse thundering in my ears.

"Mark? Are you in there?"

Mark freezes, glancing quickly at the door, then back at me. There's no time to think, his mom might be about to walk in.

Without thinking, I duck low, hiding behind his bed, hoping she doesn't see me. My heart is thumping in my ears as I hold my breath, not daring to move.

"Yeah, Mom. I'm just finishing up some homework," Mark calls out.

"Oh, okay. Thought I heard something. Don't stay up too late!"

"Got it. Thanks, Mom."

The footsteps fade away, and Mark exhales in relief. "That was close."

I slowly rise from behind the bed, my face flushed. "That was way too close."

Mark chuckles. "Yeah, she's... she's a bit overprotective sometimes."

I smile as this moment eases the nerves that had built up in me. "I'm just glad she didn't come in. That would've been a disaster."

Mark nods, offering me a hand to help me stand. "You're always welcome here, you know. If you need to talk, I'll be here."

I take his hand. "Thanks, Mark. I'm glad I came."

But as the moment stretches, the tension between us returns, heavier than before. His hand is still in mine, and neither of us makes a move to let go.

"I should go," I say quickly, my voice trembling.

Mark freezes, his hand dropping to his side. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just nods.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Text me your new address later?"

"Sure."

I head for the window, my hands shaking as I climb onto the ledge. As I drop onto the grass below, I glance up at his window one last time. He's still standing there, I can see his silhouette against the light and for a moment, I want to go back.

But I don't.

Chapter Text

The Guardians of the Globe base is full of energy, everyone is running around completing their duties and prepping for their next mission. I'm in the training room, my focus drifting in and out as I stretch.

My thoughts keep drifting back to Mark.

Ever since I left his house I've tried to keep my distance from him. The last thing I want is to complicate things further. Yet, the pull I feel every time I'm near him is undeniable. And today, I notice something. He's... different, but not in an obvious way.

He hasn't been as talkative around me. He's been distant, almost like he's avoiding eye contact. If he does glance in my direction, it's quick, as if he's unsure of what to say. And today, when I caught him watching me train, there was a glint in his eyes that made me pause. It felt... almost possessive.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Maybe I'm just overthinking it.

Rex interrupts my concentration with a cheeky grin. "Hey," he calls from across the room. "Don't think I didn't notice you eyeing me during that last fight."

I roll my eyes, the flirtatious smirk on his face making my skin crawl. "Keep dreaming, Rex."

He chuckles, walking over to me with a confidence that's so obnoxious. "You're just playing hard to get."

Before I can respond, I hear the sound of the base's door opening. I glance toward the entrance, and there's Mark standing in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room. I catch him staring at me, a brief moment of recognition passing between us before he looks away quickly.

It's the same feeling I've been trying to ignore.

I notice Rex's gaze follows Mark, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he sizes up the situation. "Well, well, well..." he mutters under his breath, clearly trying to provoke a reaction.

Mark doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he's doing a great job of pretending. He walks towards me.

"You alright?" he asks, his voice a little quieter than usual.

I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just the usual chaos around here."

But the words feel hollow. I know I'm not fooling him. There's something off between us, but neither of us seems willing to acknowledge it out loud.

"Good," Mark replies. "I was worried you were pushing yourself too hard." He glances at Rex, his voice turning a little more curt. "You're not bothering her, are you?"

Rex shrugs. "I'm just showing her what real strength looks like. No harm done."

Mark narrows his eyes, but he doesn't respond. Instead, he looks back at me, his gaze softening before he turns to leave.

I watch him walk out of the room, the strange tension between us hanging heavy in the air.

Rex steps closer. "You know, he doesn't seem like the 'let her do her own thing' type." He shoots

I frown. "Don't start with me, Rex. Mark's not like that."

Rex laughs, clearly not taking me seriously. "Oh, I know. But doesn't it look like he's got a bit of a crush on you?" He watches me carefully for my reaction. "I'm just saying that he looks jealous when you're around me."

Jealous?

I glance towards the door, watching Mark's retreating figure as he disappears down the hallway. My heart races.

I'm not sure if Rex is right or if I'm just imagining things, but something in my gut tells me he might be onto something. Mark's been acting differently when I'm around Rex, and it's starting to make me wonder, is he jealous?

But why? Why would Mark feel that way?

I shake my head, trying to push the thought out of my mind. The last thing I want to do is complicate things between us.

But as I train, as I try to focus, the questions linger in the back of my mind. I can't shake the feeling that something is changing between us.

I think about the way he looks at me—those fleeting glances that linger just a little too long, the way his voice softens when he asks if I'm okay. I think about the way he's always there even when I don't realize I need him.

I think about the way my heart races every time he's near, the way I feel safe and unsettled all at once.

And then it hits me, I care about him.

The realization is overwhelming, and I feel a lump rise in my throat. How did this happen?

Rae claps her hands together. "Okay, who's in for some food?"

I glance up, intrigued. "You buying?"

She smirks. "Did I say I was buying?"

Rex slings an arm around her shoulder. "C'mon, don't be stingy, Rae. We put our lives on the line today."

"We do that every day," she points out.

"Exactly!"

She rolls her eyes and ducks out of his grip.

Kate stretches. "Yeah, I could eat."

"Let me ask Mark too." I say, already walking toward the exit.

"Great," Rae says, nodding.

We all start making our way out of the training facility, my stomach already growling. But as I walk, I notice Mark a little quieter than usual.

I already know this lunch is going to be a lot.

Chapter Text

♫ Tory Lanez - Hurts me ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 2:20

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I can feel the tension at the table ready to snap. Rex is, as usual, the center of it all, leaning back in his chair like he owns the place, that stupid smirk plastered across his face. He's always like this—always pushing, always testing, always turning everything into some kind of game. And Mark? Mark's sitting stiff as a board beside me, his jaw clenched so tight I'm surprised he hasn't cracked a tooth.

Rex's eyes lock onto mine, and I know what's coming before he even opens his mouth. "C'mon," he says, his voice filled with that obnoxious charm of his. "Just admit it. I'm your favorite, right?"

I roll my eyes, taking a slow sip of my drink. "In your dreams, Rex."

He laughs and leans even farther across the table. "See, that's what I like about you. You've got bite. Unlike some people." His gaze flicks toward Mark for the briefest second, and I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch.

Mark's grip on his burger tightens. Rex thrives on this kind of thing—poking the bear, stirring the pot, whatever you want to call it. He's like a kid who can't resist pressing buttons just to see what'll happen.

I cut in before Mark can say something he'll regret. "Rex, you 'like' everyone. You'd flirt with a brick wall if it had a pulse."

"That's not true," Rex says, wagging a finger at me like I'm the one being ridiculous. "I have standards."

"Do you, though?" Dupli-Kate chimes in, her tone flat and unimpressed.

Rex ignores her, his attention still fixed on me. "I just know quality when I see it. And you?" He leans in, his voice dropping lower. "You're one of a kind."

I give him my best deadpan stare. "Are you expecting me to swoon?"

He grins, unfazed. "Nah, I figure you play hard to get."

Mark's been quiet for too long, and when he finally speaks, his voice is sharp. "Or maybe she's just not interested."

Rex raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Whoa, relax, Invincible. We're just talking."

Mark scoffs, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, sure. That's what you call it."

I glance at Mark, frowning. "What's your problem?"

He looks at me, then at Rex, then back at me like he's trying to decide whether to say what's really on his mind. Instead, he just mutters, "Nothing," and takes a bite of his burger.

Rex smirks, clearly loving every second of this. "Damn, man, you act like I'm stealing your girl or something."

Mark chokes on his food, and I freeze, my drink halfway to my lips. Rex just laughs, like it's the funniest thing he's ever said. "Relax, I'm just messing with you guys." He shoots me a wink.

I shake my head, irritated, but before I can respond, Mark slams his drink down on the table. "Man, just leave her alone."

Rex raises his hands in surrender, his grin widening. "Alright, alright. No need to get all territorial."

Mark mutters something under his breath, his face flushed, and takes another aggressive bite of his food. I sigh, rubbing my temples. This is supposed to be lunch, not a soap opera. But with Rex around, it's always something.

I glance at Mark out of the corner of my eye. He's staring down at his plate, his shoulders tense. I want to say something, to ask him what's going on, but I don't even know where to start. Instead, I take another sip of my drink and try to ignore the weight of Rex's gaze still lingering on me.

The tension at the table doesn't ease. If anything, it thickens, like a storm cloud gathering overhead. Rex leans back in his chair again, his smirk widening as he watches Mark seethe. He's like a cat toying with a mouse, and it's clear he's not done yet.

"You know," Rex says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, "You're getting this worked up over a little teasing, maybe you should loosen up." He punctuates the last two words while looking at Mark, who's practically radiating frustration.

Mark's jaw tightens, and I can see the muscles in his neck flex as he struggles to keep his composure. "I'm not tense," he says through gritted teeth, though the way he's gripping his glass suggests otherwise.

Rex chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. "Sure, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I shoot Rex a warning look, but he just shrugs, his grin never faltering. "What? I'm just saying. You'd think after all this time, he'd be used to me by now."

"Used to you?" Mark snaps, his voice rising slightly. "You mean used to you being an obnoxious, self-centered—"

"Alright, that's enough," I cut in, my tone firm. I'm not in the mood to referee another one of their endless spats. "Can we just... not do this right now? It's lunch."

Rex holds up his hands, the glint in his eyes tells me he's far from done. "Hey, I'm just here for the food and the company. If someone's got a problem, that's on them."

Mark glares at him, his fists clenched on the table. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are, still talking to me," Rex fires back.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. This is exactly why I avoid these kinds of situations. Rex thrives on chaos, and Mark has a temper that Rex seems to know exactly how to ignite. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion—you know it's going to end badly, but you can't look away.

Dupli-Kate, who's been quietly observing the whole exchange, finally speaks up. "You know, Rex, if you put half as much effort into being useful as you do into being annoying, we might actually get somewhere."

Rex pretends being offended, placing a hand over his heart. "Ouch, Kate. And here I thought we were friends."

"We're coworkers," she corrects, her tone dry. "Big difference."

Rex laughs. "Well, either way, I'm still the life of the party."

"More like the headache of the party," Mark mutters under his breath.

Rex hears him, of course. "Careful, Mark. If you keep this up, I might start thinking you're into me.."

Mark's face flushes, and he opens his mouth to retort, but I cut him off before he can say anything. "Enough," I say, my voice sharp enough to make both of them pause. "I don't know what's gotten into you two, but I'm not sitting here listening to this all day. Either knock it off, or I'm leaving."

For a moment, no one says anything. Rex leans back in his chair, his smirk fading slightly, while Mark looks down at his plate, his jaw still clenched. Rae raises an eyebrow at me, as if to say, Good luck with those two.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration "Look," I say, my tone softer now, "I get that we're all under a lot of pressure, but taking it out on each other isn't going to help. So can we just... try to get along? For once?"

Rex is the first to break the silence. "Yeah, yeah, alright. No need to get all serious on us."

Mark doesn't say anything, but he gives a small nod, his shoulders relaxing slightly. It's not much, but it's something.

The rest of the meal passes in relative peace, though the tension never fully dissipates. Rex keeps his comments to a minimum, and Mark stays quiet, his focus on his food.

Chapter Text

♫ Rihanna - Stay ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 4:00

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

As we step out of the diner, the afternoon sun hits us and I squint my eyes against the glare. Dupli-Kate gives a quick wave before heading off in the opposite direction, leaving Mark and me standing awkwardly on the sidewalk.

Mark shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, his shoulders stiff as he starts walking. I fall into step beside him, the silence between us is heavy. It's not the comfortable kind of quiet we usually share—it's tense, like the air before a thunderstorm. I can tell something's bothering him, but I'm not sure if I should push or let him come to me.

After a few blocks, I finally break the silence. "You okay?"

He doesn't look at me, his eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead. "Yeah. Fine."

I raise an eyebrow. "You sure? Because you've been acting... weird."

That earns me a sideways glance, and for a second, I think he might actually open up. But then he just shrugs and says, "I'm fine. Just... tired of Rex's crap, that's all."

I nod, though I'm not entirely convinced. "Yeah, he can be a lot. But you know how he is. He's just trying to get under your skin."

Mark stops walking abruptly, turning to face me. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm tired of him always getting under your skin."

I blink, caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He lets out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. "He's always flirting with you, always pushing, and you just... let him. You act like it's some big joke, but it's not funny."

I cross my arms, my own frustration starting to bubble up. "It is a joke, Mark. That's what Rex does. He does it with every girl. It's who he is. Why are you taking it so personally?"

His voice is rising a bit. "He's not just messing around. He's always in your space, always trying to get your attention, and you just let him. You don't shut him down. You don't tell him to back off. You just laugh it off like it's nothing."

I stare at him, my chest tightening. "Are you serious right now? You're mad because I don't... what, yell at him? Tell him to leave me alone? Mark, I can handle Rex. I don't need you to fight my battles for me."

"That's not what this is about," he says, his voice low but intense. "This is about you not seeing what's right in front of you. He's not just messing around. He's into you, and you're either too blind to see it or you just don't care."

I feel my face flush with anger. "And what if I don't care? What if it's none of your business what I do or don't do with Rex?"

He takes a step closer, his eyes locked on mine. "It is my business when it's right in front of me all the time. When I have to sit there and watch him flirt with you like it's some kind of game. Like you're some kind of prize he's trying to win."

I let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking my head. "Wow. Okay. So now I'm a prize? Is that what this is about? You're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," he says, his voice tight. "I'm just... tired of it. Tired of him always being in the way. Tired of feeling like I'm invisible."

"Invisible?" I repeat, my voice rising. "Mark, you're not invisible. You're my best friend. You're the person I trust more than anyone. But if you're waiting around for me to... I don't know, fall at your feet or something, then maybe you need to do some reflection instead of taking it out on Rex."

He flinches, like I've struck a nerve, and for a moment, he looks hurt. But then his expression hardens, and he takes a step back. "You know what? Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, you shouldn't have," I shoot back, my voice sharp. "Because this? This isn't about Rex. This is about you and whatever's going on in your head. And until you figure that out, don't take it out on me."

He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw clenched, and then he turns and starts walking away.

"Mark!" I call after him, but he doesn't stop. He just keeps walking, his shoulders stiff, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

I stand there for a moment trying to steady my breathing. The sun feels too hot, the air too thick, and I can't shake the feeling that something just broke between us.

As I watch him disappear around the corner, I can't help but wonder if maybe I'm the one at fault.

───

The morning after the argument, I wake up feeling hollow. The words Mark and I exchanged replay in my head like a record.

By the time I get to headquarters, I'm already on edge. The team is gathered in the room, and Mark is there. He doesn't look at me when I walk in, and I don't acknowledge him either. The tension between us is palpable, and I can tell the others notice. Dupli-Kate shoots me a questioning look, but I just shake my head.

When Cecil contacts us about a crisis downtown, I'm almost relieved. At least now I have something to focus on besides the mess between me and Mark.

I try to focus. I try to do what I always do—control, calculate, strike.

But something is wrong.

The moment I reach for my power, something inside me snaps.

I expect the usual rush of cold, the sharp precision of my ice forming exactly where I want it. Instead, an overwhelming surge erupts from deep within me. Thick ice explodes from the ground beneath me.

I barely have time to react before it spreads. Frost coats the pavement in seconds, creeping up around buildings and stretching across the battlefield. I hear a chorus of shouts coming from my team, before the cold drowns everything out.

I stagger back, my vision blurring. My body is burning with cold, my breath coming in short gasps. My fingers feel numb, yet tingling, like my own power is lashing back against me.

Something is wrong.

I try to rein it in, to pull the ice back under control, but it refuses to listen. It keeps spreading, stretching further than it ever has before.

And then—

"Hey!"

A voice cuts through the chaos, firm and familiar.

Strong hands grip my arms, steadying me. Warmth. Real, solid warmth against my frozen skin.

Mark.

"You need to stop right now," he says, his voice urgent but steady. His brown eyes lock onto mine, filled with concern.

I shake my head frantically, my heart slamming against my ribs. "I-I can't—" My voice is barely a whisper, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"Yes, you can," Mark says firmly, his grip tightening.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out everything else. I force myself to concentrate on the now, on the way Mark's hands are gripping my arms, on the warmth radiating from him, a contrast to the freezing storm raging around me.

I try to breathe.

Try to fight it back.

For a second, I think I'm succeeding—the ice slows, the creeping frost stalling.

I dimly hear my name—Mark shouting for me, but my body isn't listening anymore.

I'm so cold.

My head spins, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. The world tilts.

I feel hands catch me just before everything fades to black.

Chapter Text

♫ Montell Fish - Fall in Love with You. ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 2:12

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

When I wake up, the first thing I notice is the sterile smell, unmistakably a hospital. The second thing I notice is the ache, a dull, throbbing pain in my head.

I blink slowly, my vision blurry as I try to focus on the ceiling above me. The lights are too bright, and I squint against the glare. My throat is dry, my lips cracked, and when I try to move, a sharp twinge shoots through my arm. I glance down and see an IV taped to my arm, the clear liquid dripping into my veins.

"Take it easy."

The voice is soft but familiar. When I turn my head I see Mark sitting in a chair beside the bed, his hands holding mine.

"You've been out for a while," he says, his voice low. "How are you feeling?"

I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a croak. Mark reaches for a cup of water on the bedside table and holds it out to me, helping me sit up just enough to take a sip. The water is cool and soothing. I swallow it before sinking back into the pillows.

"Like I got hit by a truck," my voice still rough. "What... what happened?"

Mark hesitates, his jaw tightening. "You lost control," he says finally. "Your powers... they went haywire."

The memory comes rushing back in fragments—the ice, the cold, the way it had spiraled out of control. Guilt twists in my chest.

"Did I... hurt anyone?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mark shakes his head quickly. "No. Everyone got out in time. But... it was close." He pauses, his eyes searching mine. "What happened out there? You've never lost control like that before."

I look away, my throat tightening. The argument, the hurt, the anger—it all feels too raw, too close to the surface. I don't want to talk about it, but I know I can't avoid it forever.

"I don't know," I say finally, my voice shaky. "My emotions. Everything felt... too much."

Mark doesn't say anything for a long moment. When I glance back at him, he's staring down at his hands, his expression conflicted. "This is my fault," he says quietly. "If I hadn't—"

"Don't," I interrupt, my voice firmer than I expect. "Don't do that. This isn't on you."

He looks up at me. "I shouldn't have pushed you," he says. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I just... I didn't know how to handle it."

I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over me. "Neither did I," I admit. "But that doesn't mean you're to blame for this. I'm the one who lost control. I'm the one who let it get to me."

Mark leans forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the bed. "You're not the only one who messed up," he says. "I shouldn't have let my own issues get in the way."

───

Mark doesn't leave. Not when the nurses come in to check my vitals, not when the doctor explains the extent of my exhaustion and the strain my powers put on my body. He stays, sitting in that uncomfortable hospital chair.

At first, I try to brush him off. "You don't have to stay," I say, my voice still weak. "I'm fine. Really."

He doesn't budge. "You're not fine," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And I'm not leaving."

I want to protest, to tell him he's being overbearing, but the truth is, I'm too tired to fight. So I let him stay, and as the hours stretch I start to notice the little things he does without being asked. He adjusts the pillows behind me when I struggle to sit up. He refills my water cup before I even realize it's empty. He even managed to sneak in a bag of my favorite snacks.

It's not just the physical things, though. It's the way he sits with me in silence when I don't feel like talking. the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not paying attention.

The doctor clears me to walk around a bit, but my legs are still shaky, and I nearly collapse the first time I try to stand. Mark is there in an instant, his arm around my waist, steadying me. "Easy," he says, his voice low and calm. "I've got you."

I want to pull away, to prove I don't need his help, but the truth is, I do. So I lean on him, letting him guide me down the hallway. His grip is firm but gentle.

When I'm discharged, Mark is the one who helps me pack up my things.

"You ready?" he asks.

I nod and start heading towards the exit. "Yeah. Let's go."

The cool night air hits us as we step outside the hospital doors. It's a relief, but it also sends a shiver down my spine. Without thinking, I rub my arms, and before I can even register the movement, Mark is already slipping off his jacket.

"Here," he says, draping it over my shoulders.

I hesitate. "You don't have to—"

"It's fine," he interrupts, his voice quiet but firm. A gust of wind tousles his hair as he steps closer.. "You're still recovering. Just take it."

I don't argue. The warmth of the fabric, of him, lingers as I pull it tighter around myself, letting his scent wrap around me.

For a moment, we just stand there before his hand lifts, hesitant. His fingers brush my cheek, so light I might've imagined it, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch lingers, thumb tracing the curve of my jaw, and my breath hitches.

And then he stops himself, pulling back just slightly, as if remembering where we are.

"I'll get you home."

I open my mouth to protest, but his arms are already sliding around me. One is securing my waist, the other bracing behind my knees—and then the ground vanishes. My stomach lurches as he lifts me so effortlessly against his chest.

The hospital blurs below us, lights smearing into streaks. Wind screams in my ears, but his body is a solid wall of heat against mine, his heartbeat steady beneath my fingertips where they clutch his shirt.

I realize my eyes are squeezed shut. When I force them open, his gaze is already locked onto mine, closer than I expected. I can feel his warmth breath across my lips.

His grip tightens as he angles us sharply upward. The sudden motion presses me harder against him, my nose brushing his collarbone. I should be terrified of the fact that we're a thousand feet in the air, but all I can think is how his hands feel on me.

The way he looks at me says everything he doesn't.

Chapter Text

Back in my apartment, I should be resting. Should be taking it easy like the doctors said. So I'm lying on my bed, staring at my phone, willing myself not to overthink the last few days.

It's been quiet since I got back. Too quiet. And I know exactly why.

Then, my phone vibrates.

Mark Grayson 💬
Hey

My fingers hover over the screen for a second before I type back.

Me 💬
Hey

It takes him barely ten seconds to respond.

Mark Grayson 💬
How are you feeling?

Me 💬
Fine. Tired.

It's not a lie, but it's not the full truth either. Physically, I'm recovering. Emotionally? That's another story.

Mark Grayson 💬
I know you just got out, so you probably don't wanna hear this... but you should rest.

I roll my eyes, already picturing the self-satisfied look on his face.

Me 💬
Wow, thanks, Dr. Grayson. Should I also drink plenty of fluids?

Mark Grayson 💬
Yes, actually. Hydration is important.
Also, I was gonna ask if you wanted to go out tonight, but if you're too weak and frail, I totally understand.

I freeze.

Then reread the message.

And again.

Me 💬
...Go out? Like what?

Mark Grayson 💬
Like food. Or a movie.
You know, fun.

A pause. My thumbs hesitate over the keyboard before I type what I probably shouldn't.

Me 💬
Are you asking me on a date?

I bite my lip.

Mark Grayson 💬
Would it be bad if I was?

Me 💬
That's fine with me.

Mark Grayson 💬
Deal. I'll pick you up at 7.

At 6:45, I'm pacing around my apartment, overthinking my outfit. I've changed three times already. The clock on the wall ticks louder than it ever has before, and I keep glancing at my phone to make sure I didn't miss a text. 7:00. He said 7:00. Did he mean 7:00 sharp? Or is he one of those people who shows up late? Why am I overthinking this?

Are you asking me on a date?

I cringe a little, replaying the conversation in my head. Why did I say that? I should've played it cool. But then again, he didn't exactly deny it. In fact, he leaned into it.

I'm lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, when I hear a faint tapping at my window. At first, I think it's just the wind or maybe a tree branch, but then it happens again—a little louder this time.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pad over to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peek out. And there he is. Mark. Floating outside my window like it's the most normal thing in the world.

I yank the window open, leaning out slightly. "Are you insane?!" I hiss, keeping my voice low so my neighbors don't hear. "What are you doing?!"

He grins, that stupid, self-satisfied grin that makes me want to both hug him and hit him. "I told you I'd pick you up at 7."

"Yeah, I thought you meant, like, in a car!" I whisper-yell, glancing to the sides to make sure none of my neighbors are watching. "Not... this!"

He shrugs, like this is completely normal. "Why would I need a car when I can fly? This is way more fun."

"Fun for you, maybe," I mutter, but I can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "What if someone sees you?"

"They won't," he says, his tone confident. "You would be surprised how nobody looks up. Now, are you coming or not?"

"Okay, fine." I shake my head, finally giving in to the ridiculousness of it all.

I slip through the window, careful not to make a sound, and step up onto the small ledge just below it. My heart skips a beat as I look down, Mark notices it. "Don't worry, I've got you."

He reaches out a hand and I take it. The rush of wind hits me immediately, but I feel safer than I expect as we begin to rise, the ground shrinking below us.

"I don't know whether to be mad or impressed," I say, trying to make light of the situation, though my pulse is still racing. "You've definitely got a unique sense of... style."

"I like to keep things interesting," Mark replies. He glances at me briefly, just long enough for me to catch the soft look in his eyes before he turns his attention back to the path ahead. "Besides, you said yes. I'm just making sure you don't have a boring time."

I laugh, shaking my head, despite the strange fluttering in my chest. Yeah, definitely not a boring time.

The wind rushes past my face, cool against my skin, and for a second, I forget to be annoyed at him for picking me up like this. It's exhilarating, in a way I hadn't expected.

Mark holds onto me securely, one arm wrapped around my waist while his other hand remains free, effortlessly guiding us through the night sky. I cling to his shoulders, my grip probably tighter than it needs to be.

"Relax," he says, glancing down at me with that stupidly confident smile. "I've got you."

"That's easy for you to say," I mutter. "You're the one who can fly."

"You say that like I'd actually let you fall."

I roll my eyes but don't let go. My fingers stay curled into the fabric of his sweater, and I feel the warmth of him even through our clothes.

Chapter Text

♫ Joji - Your Man ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 2:43

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The food market is bustling when we land—well, when Mark lands, gently setting me down on my feet like I'm something fragile. The night market stretches down the street, lanterns sway overhead, their warm light bouncing off the food stalls and people navigating through them. As the scent of soy sauce, smoky spices, and something sweet hits my nose, it makes my stomach growl.

"Hungry?" Mark asks, his voice teasing, as if he already knows the answer.

His hand brushes against mine as we start walking, and I feel the spark of it all the way up my arm. It's accidental, just the briefest touch, but it sends my heart racing. I glance down at his hand, swinging casually at his side, and before I can overthink it, I reach out, hooking my fingers lightly around his.

He doesn't pull away. Instead, his hand stills for a moment, and then his fingers curl around mine. I don't look at him—I can't, but I feel his questioning gaze on me. My cheeks burn, but I don't let go.

"You're holding my hand," he says, his voice low and amused.

I glance up at him, trying to play it cool. "Am I?"

"Yeah," he says, his grin widening. "You are."

I shrug. "It's crowded. I don't want to lose you."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh. Sure."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Fine. Maybe I just wanted to hold your hand. Is that a crime?"

He chuckles, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand. "Not at all. I'm just surprised, that's all."

We walk like that for a while, hand in hand, weaving through the crowd. The market is alive with energy, but it feels distant, like we're in our own little bubble. Every now and then, Mark tugs me toward a stall, pointing out something he thinks I would like. Each time, he insists on paying, even though I protest, and each time, he steals a bite or a sip from whatever I'm holding, his grin never fading.

Eventually, we find ourselves at a stall selling fresh, perfectly ripe strawberries. I buy a small box without thinking, holding it in both hands as we continue walking.

"You're really going to eat all those yourself?" Mark asks, his tone teasing.

"Maybe," I say, feigning innocence. "You'll have to to earn some."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, I'll earn them. Just you wait."

By the time we reach the edge of the market, the crowd has thinned, and the noise has softened into a distant hum. We find a bench and settle in, the paper bag of warm churros between us. The smell of cinnamon and sugar mingles with the fresh scent of strawberries. Mark leans back, stretching one arm across the back of the bench, his other hand holding a churro as he takes, deliberate bites.

I open the box of strawberries, the sweet aroma making my mouth water. I pull one from the box and bite into it, the juice bursting on my tongue. It's perfect—ripe, sweet, and just a little tart.

Mark glances over, his eyes narrowing playfully. "You're hogging the strawberries," he says, his tone teasing.

I look up, caught mid-bite, and raise an eyebrow. "Hogging? I've had, like, two."

"Two too many," he says, leaning closer. "Those are mine."

"Yours?" I say, holding the box out of his reach. "I'm pretty sure I paid for these."

"Yeah, but I carried them," he says, gesturing to the bag of churros and the other snacks we've collected. "That counts as earning them."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Fine, I guess you deserve one strawberry," I say, taking a strawberry from the box and holding it out to him.

Mark eyes the strawberry in my fingers, his grin turning playful. Instead of taking it from my hand like a normal person, he leans in, his lips brushing against my fingertips as he bites into the fruit.

I freeze.

The warmth of his breath, the brief graze of his mouth against my skin—it's enough to send a jolt of electricity up my spine. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks and I quickly look away, trying to hide it.

Mark doesn't say anything. He just chews the strawberry with a satisfied smile. "Not bad," he says, his tone casual. "But I think I deserve another one."

I laugh, shaking my head as I try to steady my racing heart. "You're pushing your luck," I say, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips.

It's just a strawberry. Just a simple, innocent moment. But as I sit there, I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between us.

I watch as Mark finishes off his strawberry, self-satisfied, like he knows exactly what he just did. My fingertips still tingle from where his lips brushed against them, and I swear he's enjoying watching me try to act normal.

I clear my throat, pretending to focus on the last bite of my churro, but my mind is racing. The warmth of his hand still lingers in mine, how our fingers were loosely tangled in a way that feels... comfortable. Natural.

Too natural.

"You're quiet," Mark says suddenly, tilting his head to look at me. "That's not normal. Should I be worried?"

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I'm just enjoying the food, obviously."

"Right," he says, dragging out the word like he doesn't believe me. He shifts slightly, turning so he's facing me more. "Or maybe..." His voice dips just a little lower, playful. "Maybe I make you nervous."

I snort, trying to ignore the way my pulse spikes. "You? Please."

"Mm-hmm," he hums, clearly not convinced. "Then why do you look like you're about to short-circuit?"

I shoot him a glare, but it's weak at best. He's too close now, his knee brushing mine, the warmth of his body seeping into the small space between us.

And I can't look away.

Of course, he notices. His teasing smirk fades and his gaze flickers down—to my lips, then back up again. It's brief, just a split-second hesitation.

I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest. "Mark..."

"Yeah?" His voice is barely above a whisper now.

I should say something. Tease him. Break the tension. Anything to stop this moment from swallowing me whole.

But I don't.

Instead, I shift slightly, just enough to close the last bit of distance between us. I see the way his breath catches, the slight widening of his eyes, but he doesn't pull away. He waits.

And then, finally, I kiss him.

It's soft at first, like we're both still trying to figure out how to do this. His lips are warm against mine, hesitant for a second before he deepens the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle the side of my face.

His lips move slowly, deliberately, like he's savoring every second. The taste of strawberries lingers between us, sweet and slightly tart, mixing with the warmth of cinnamon still on my tongue. His thumb brushes against my skin, sending tiny shivers down my spine, and I swear I can feel him smiling against my mouth.

The sounds of the market, distant laughter, the clatter of food stalls — all fade into the background, like we're in our own little world. The only thing I can focus on is the warmth of his mouth, the steady way he kisses me, like he's memorizing this moment, like he wants it to last forever.

Then, slowly, he pulls back, just enough to break the kiss but not enough to let me go.

And then he smiles—a small, soft smile that makes my heart skip a beat. He leans in again, his forehead resting against mine. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

I feel my cheeks heat, but I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "Me too," I admit, my voice just as quiet.

His thumb traces slow circles on my cheek, like he's still not ready to let go. "So..." he starts. "Do I get another one?"

I pretend to consider it, even though we both know the answer. "Hmm... Maybe."

He chuckles, his hand slipping from my cheek to the side of my neck, pulling me just the slightest bit closer. "I'll take my chances."

And then he kisses me again.

Chapter Text

♫ The Internet - Come Over ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 5:21

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The night air is cool against my skin as Mark lands lightly on the back porch of his house, still holding me securely in his arms. His landing is effortless, like he does this a thousand times a day—which, knowing him, he probably does.

"My mom's probably asleep," he whispers, his voice low as he takes my hand and leads me toward the stairs. "Just... try not to make too much noise, okay?"

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest as we start up the stairs. The house is silent except for the creak of the steps beneath our feet, and I can't help but feel a little thrill of excitement mixed with nerves. His hand is warm in mine, his grip firm but gentle, and I can't stop thinking about the kiss —how soft his lips were, how his touch had made my entire world spin.

We're halfway up the stairs when it happens.

The lights flick on, flooding the hallway with bright, blinding light. I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat, and Mark stops so abruptly that I almost crash into him. I look up, and there, standing at the top of the stairs, is his mom.

She's wearing a robe, her arms crossed over her chest. "And where do you two think you're going?" she asks, her voice is strict.

Mark lets out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Uh... hey, Mom. We were just—"

"I don't want to hear it." she interrupts, raising an eyebrow.

I feel my face heat, and I quickly drop Mark's hand, taking a step back. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Grayson," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "We didn't mean to wake you up."

She holds up a hand, cutting me off. "It's fine, sweetheart. I'm not mad." She pauses, her gaze shifting between the two of us, and then she sighs, her expression softening. "Look, I know you're both adults. But this is still my house, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't sneak around like teenagers."

Mark's eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off with a look. "Don't push your luck," she says, her tone firm. "I'm being nice. Don't make me regret it."

With that, she turns and heads back down the hallway, leaving us standing there in stunned silence. Mark waits until she's out of earshot before letting out a long, dramatic sigh.

"Well," he says, his voice low. "that could've gone worse."

I can't help but laugh despite my embarrassment. "Yeah, no kidding. I think I might actually die of shame."

He grins, reaching for my hand again and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "She will like you, eventually."

"Eventually?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "That's not exactly comforting."

He laughs, pulling me toward his room. "Come on. Let's just... hang out. Pretend this never happened."

His room is surprisingly neat—not spotless, but not the disaster zone I expected. Posters of old comics and movies line the walls, his bed is unmade, the blankets slightly messy.

"This is... cozy," I tease, nudging a pile of laundry with my foot.

"You—" He hesitates, his voice quieter. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"I want to."

That's all it takes.

(Warning‼️ contains : a little bit of explicit content🔞.)

One second, we're apart. The next, he's closing the distance, his hand cupping my cheek as his lips press against mine. It's soft at first, like he's testing the waters, but the second I respond—tilting my head, my fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater —he deepens the kiss.

His other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer. The warmth of his body, the way his fingers tighten slightly against my skin—it's addicting. His lips move with mine slowly, like he's savoring every second. A small sound escapes me, and I feel him smile against my mouth before he shifts, guiding me backward onto the mattress.

His hands careful as they brace on either side of me. He kisses me again and my fingers slip into his hair, tugging slightly, and he exhales sharply, his grip on my waist tightening.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs between kisses.

I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah."

Mark kisses me again, deeper this time, and I lose myself in the feeling of it—the warmth, the way he moves, the quiet hum in his throat when I pull him closer. His hands slide under the hem of my shirt, his touch warm against my skin, and I shiver. He hesitates, pulling back slightly to look at me, his eyes with concern.

"Are you really sure?" he asks, his voice rough but gentle, his eyes searching mine for any hint of hesitation.

I smile softly, my hands steadying as I reach for the hem of his shirt. "Stop worrying," I whisper, my voice firm but tender. "I'm here because I want to be. Because I want you."

He hesitates for just a moment, his hands hovering at my waist, before he lets out a breath and helps me pull his shirt over his head. It lands somewhere on the floor and then his lips are on mine again, hungry but still so careful, like he's afraid of breaking me.

My shirt follows his, and his hands immediately find my skin, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine. I shiver, my fingers tightening on his shoulders as he kisses a trail down my neck.

When his hands slide to the button of my jeans, he pauses again, looking up at me. "Tell me if—"

I cut him off with a gentle laugh, my hands cupping his face. "Seriously, stop asking. I'll tell you if I need to. But right now, I want this."

He exhales sharply, like he's been holding his breath, and then his lips crash into mine, his hands are moving, sliding my jeans down my legs. I kick them off, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he leans back to see the view in front of him.

"Gosh, you're beautiful," he murmurs, blushing.

I feel my cheeks heat, but I don't look away. Instead, I reach for him, my hands trembling as I fumble with the button of his jeans. He helps me, his breath hitching as I slide them down his legs, and then he's back above me.

His touch is electric, sending shivers down my spine as his lips continue their journey, leaving a trail of fire. I arch into him, my body responding instinctively, craving more of him—more of this connection, this intimacy that feels both new and familiar all at once.

His hands slide lower, gripping my hips as he settles between my legs, his breath hot against my skin. I can feel the tension in him, the way he's holding back, and it only makes me want him more. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

"Please," I whisper, my voice barely audible, but he hears me.

And then he's moving, slowly at first, giving me time to adjust, to feel every inch of him. I gasp, my nails digging into his back, the sensation overwhelming and perfect all at once. He stills, his forehead resting against mine, his breath mingling with mine as we both try to catch our breath.

"Are you okay?" he asks me with concern.

I nod, unable to form words, and he kisses me again, deep and slow, as he begins to move. Each thrust is deliberate, as if he's trying to make this moment last forever. And I let myself go, losing myself in the rhythm of us, in the way our bodies fit together so perfectly.

His hands are everywhere, touching, caressing, holding me like I'm something precious. And I cling to him, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper, closer. The world outside doesn't exist — there's only him, only this.

The tension builds and I can feel it in him too, the way his movements become more urgent, more desperate. His name spills from my lips and he answers with a groan, his hips slamming into mine as we both fall over the edge together.

For a moment, we stay like that, tangled together, our hearts racing simultaneously. And then he collapses beside me, pulling me into his arms, his lips brushing against my temple.

Chapter Text

The first thing I notice when I wake up is how Mark's arms are wrapped around me, his body pressed close against mine. His slow, even breathing brushes against the back of my neck. His scent lingers in the sheets, and I smile sleepily, my fingers grazing over the hand he has resting on my stomach.

The world outside is still, the early morning light shines through the blinds in soft, golden streaks. I can hear the faint chirping of birds outside, the distant hum of the city just beginning to stir.

I shift slightly, just enough to roll onto my back, and Mark stirs, making a quiet sound of protest before his grip on me tightens. His eyes flutter open, hazy with sleep, his brows drawing together for a brief second before he registers that I'm still there.

"Morning," he murmurs, his voice rough after sleep.

I smile, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "Morning."

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching up to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes over my skin, and I lean into his touch, my eyes closing for just a second. When I open them again, he's watching me with a tender expression.

He exhales a sigh, tightening his hold on me as he buries his face into my neck. "I don't wanna get up."

I laugh softly, my fingers idly tracing patterns along his bare shoulder. "Then don't."

He hums in agreement, pressing a lazy kiss to my collarbone before tilting his head up to look at me. His expression is softer than I've ever seen it.

"What?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mark just shakes his head slightly, his lips curling into a sleepy smile. "Nothing. Just... I really like waking up next to you."

A warmth spreads through my chest. My heart stutters at the way he's looking at me—like I'm something precious,

"I like it too," I admit, my voice quiet.

We lie there for a while, just looking at each other. His hand trails down my arm, his fingers intertwining with mine, and I can't help but smile. Everything feels different this morning—lighter, brighter, like the world has shifted somehow.

"Do you..." He hesitates, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Do you regret it?"

I shake my head immediately. "No," I say, my voice firm. "Not even a little bit. Do you?"

He lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing, and shakes his head. "No. I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay. That I didn't... mess it up."

I laugh softly, reaching up to touch his face. "You didn't mess it up. It was perfect."

He smiles, but there's still a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. I shift closer, my hand sliding to the back of his neck, and pull him down until our foreheads are touching. "Mark," I whisper. "It was perfect because it was with you. That's all that matters."

He kisses me then, slow and sweet, and I melt into him. It's different from last night—softer, gentler. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips.

"Does this mean... we're dating now?" He says after a moment, his voice hesitant.

I blink at him, surprised by the question, and then I can't help but laugh. "Do you want us to be?"

He looks at me like I've just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "Of course I do," he says, his voice earnest. "I mean, if you want to. I don't want to assume or anything, but... yeah. I want to be with you. Like, for real."

I reach up to cup his face. "I want that too. More than anything."

He grins, his whole face lighting up, and his arms wrap around me and pulling me close. When he finally pulls back, he's still smiling, his eyes bright. "Good," he says, his voice teasing. "Because I wasn't really planning on letting you go anyway."

And then, just as I'm about to say something, there's a loud knock at the door.

"Mark?"

Debbie's voice is muffled through the door, but the unmistakable mom-tone makes both of us freeze. Mark stiffens immediately, his eyes going wide in alarm.

"Oh, shit."

I barely have time to react before he's scrambling, throwing the blanket over me as he leaps out of bed, searching frantically for his shirt. I bite my lip to hold back a laugh as he stumbles, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes we'd left on the floor the night before.

"Mark?" Debbie calls again, this time more insistent.

"One second!" he yells yanking his shirt over his head.

I sit up, trying to smooth my hair as best as I can, biting back a smile as I watch him flail around the room. He looks panicked, and it's honestly adorable.

Finally, when he looks somewhat presentable, he rushes to the door and cracks it open just enough to peek his head out. "Hey, Mom."

Debbie's unimpressed voice cuts through immediately. "Is she still in there?"

Mark lets out a low groan, scrubbing a hand over his face like he's trying to wipe away the remnants of sleep "Uh... Yeah."

I stifle a giggle, hiding my face in my hands.

"I made breakfast," she continues, clearly unfazed by his embarrassment. "You two can come down whenever you're ready. Just... try not to sneak around next time, okay?"

Mark groans, rubbing his face. "Got it."

There's a beat of silence, then, "She's cute by the way."

And she's gone.

Mark sighs heavily before turning back to me, looking absolutely mortified. I can't help it—I burst into laughter, collapsing back onto the bed.

"I hate everything," he mutters.

I sit up, reaching for him and tugging him back onto the bed. He lets out a dramatic sigh, but he doesn't resist, letting me pull him close again.

"Well, at least she thinks I'm cute." I tease, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Mark huffs, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my hair. "Yeah, yeah. You're her favorite now. Betrayal."

I laugh again, letting myself sink into him, into this warmth, this comfort. The rest of the world can wait a little longer.

Chapter Text

The smell of fresh coffee and something warm and buttery fills the air as I follow Mark downstairs, still feeling the remnants of sleep clinging to me. The house is quiet except for the faint sound of a TV playing, the voice of some morning show host talking about the weather.

Mark groans softly, rubbing a hand down his face as he steps into the dining area, only to freeze when his mom looks up from her seat at the table. Debbie sits with a mug of coffee in hand, her expression amused as she sips slowly, watching us.

"Morning," she says, dragging out the word. "Sleep well?"

I feel my face heat instantly, and I'm pretty sure Mark looks like he'd rather be anywhere else in the universe. He scratches the back of his neck, grumbling under his breath as he pulls out a chair for me before plopping down next to me with an exaggerated sigh.

Debbie, of course, is far from done. "You know, I'm not deaf," she continues, taking another sip of her coffee. "These walls aren't exactly soundproof."

Mark looks completely flabbergasted. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to suppress the embarrassed laugh trying to escape. Debbie just smiles, entirely unbothered.

"Oh, come on," she adds, nudging a plate of pancakes toward us. "You think I never had fun when I was younger?"

Mark groans. "Mom, I'm begging you to stop talking."

Debbie just smirks, clearly enjoying this far too much. "I'm just saying. Nolan and I–"

"Nope." He grabs a pancake off the plate and shoves half of it into his mouth.

I can't help but laugh now, my initial embarrassment fading as I watch Mark suffer through his mother's relentless teasing.

She leans back in her chair, eyes softening just a little. "Really, though," she says, glancing between us. "If you're together, then I'm happy for you both."

Mark swallows his mouthful of food, his expression a little less mortified now. "Thanks, Mom."

There's something about the way Debbie looks at Mark with pride and love. It makes me wonder just how much she's been through, how much she has had to adjust since Nolan left.

As if reading my mind, she sighs, tapping a finger against her mug. "You know, your father would've had a fit if he were still here."

Mark snorts. "Yeah, well, he had a fit about a lot of things."

Debbie rolls her eyes. "That's an understatement." She pauses. "He'd probably try to give you some speech about Viltrumite mating rituals or something."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that a real thing?"

Debbie shrugs. "Who knows? Nolan was full of surprises."

Mark sighs but doesn't argue. Instead, he reaches for my hand under the table, giving it a small squeeze. I squeeze back, offering a reassuring smile. Whatever Nolan's opinions would've been, they don't matter now.

Debbie claps her hands together suddenly, breaking the moment. "Alright, enough emotional stuff. Eat your pancakes. And Mark, for the love of God, keep it down next time."

The warmth of breakfast and the lighthearted teasing had started to fade as Mark leaned back in his chair, finally relaxing after his mother's relentless jokes. I was still chuckling softly when Mark's phone vibrated on the table.

He glanced at the screen, and whatever ease he'd regained immediately vanished.

"Cecil." he muttered under his breath, the name alone enough to change the entire mood in the room.

Debbie's expression flickered, a brief moment of concern crossing her face before she hid it behind another sip of coffee. I could tell she was used to the interruptions, the way Mark's life as Invincible never really stopped, even when he was just trying to eat breakfast.

Mark hesitated for only a second before grabbing his phone and answering. "Yeah?"

Cecil's voice was muffled, but the urgency in his tone was clear. I watched as Mark's jaw clenched, his posture stiffening.

"You serious?" he asked, pushing his plate away as he stood up. "Now? I-Yeah, okay. I'll be there soon."

He hung up and exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I gotta go."

Debbie sighed, shaking her head with a knowing look. "Of course you do. Go save the day and all that."

Mark gave her a small smile, but I could see the weight of responsibility already settling on his shoulders. He turned to me. "Guess I'll have to make it up to you later."

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "You better."

He leaned down quickly, pressing a kiss to my cheek before heading toward the door. Debbie and I exchanged a glance as the front door shut behind him.

She sighed, shaking her head as she took another sip of coffee. "I swear, I don't know whether I should be proud or just annoyed at how much that boy runs off mid-meal."

I chuckled, picking up my fork again. "Little bit of both, probably."

Debbie smirked. "Sounds about right."

And with that, we continued breakfast, knowing full well that Mark would come back eventually and hopefully in one piece.

Chapter Text

It's been months since Mark left.

At first, I told myself it wouldn't be a big deal. I'd been on my own before. After all, I could handle it. I threw myself into training, into patrolling, into anything that would keep my mind off the fact that he wasn't there. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the silence started to creep in until the world felt grey.

I stopped going out as much. The city felt too big, too empty without him by my side. I'd look up at the sky, expecting to see him flying overhead, but he was never there. Just clouds.

I miss him.

I miss the way he'd show up at my window unannounced, his smile brighter than anything I have ever saw. I miss the way he would tease me, the way he would make me laugh even when I didn't want to. I miss the way he would look at me.

I know it's stupid, because I was just fine before Mark. I didn't need him. I didn't need anyone. But now I feel like I'm stuck in place.

So, I do nothing.

I wake up, stare at the ceiling, and count the cracks in the plaster. I sit on the couch, scrolling through my phone, typing out messages to him. Where are you? Are you okay? When are you coming back?

I try to sleep, but it's no use. My dreams are restless, filled with flashes of him, his laugh, his smile, the way he would look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. And then I wake up, and he's gone again.

I don't cry, but the ache in my chest is worse than any injury I've ever had. I hate feeling weak, helpless. Like I'm just... stuck. But I don't know how to fix it. How to move forward when everything feels so wrong without him.

One evening I find myself standing outside the Grayson house. I don't even remember deciding to come here, but my feet carried me anyway. Maybe because I know Debbie understands this feeling better than anyone. Maybe because I just need to hear that it's going to be okay.

I knock hesitantly, and a few moments later, Debbie opens the door. She looks surprised at first, but then her expression softens. "Sweetheart, come in."

I step inside, and she leads me to the kitchen, where the warmth of the home feels both familiar and foreign without Mark in it. She gestures for me to sit as she pours us both cups of tea, setting one in front of me before taking a seat across the table.

"Alright," she says, resting her elbows on the table. "What's on your mind?"

I let out a slow breath, staring at my hands wrapped around the mug. "I don't know how to do this."

Debbie tilts her head slightly, waiting.

"Being without him," I clarify, my voice quieter. "I thought I could handle it. But it's been months, and I just... I don't know how to keep going like this."

She studies me for a long moment before nodding, like she's been expecting this. "It's hard," she admits. "Harder than people realize. Loving someone like Mark means learning how to live with the waiting, with the uncertainty. But that doesn't mean you stop living."

I shake my head. "I've barely been able to do anything. I used to love fighting, helping people. Now, I can't even bring myself to patrol."

Debbie reaches across the table, placing a hand over mine. "If you're going to love a hero, you have to be ready for the loneliness that comes with it."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "How did you do it? When your husband was gone?"

Her lips press together briefly before she sighs. "I had Mark to take care of. But even then, I had to find things outside of him. Friends, work, a purpose beyond waiting for someone to come home. That's what you need to do, too."

I nod slowly. "It's just... I finally had him. And then he was gone."

Debbie's gaze softens. "That's the hardest part. But trust me, he'll come back."

Her words settle deep in my chest, a truth I know I need to accept.

"Thank you, Mrs. Grayson." I say, managing a small smile. "I needed this."

She squeezes my hand before letting go. "Anytime, sweetheart. But, please call me Debbie."

I don't know when he's coming back. I don't even know if he's okay. But I do know this: if he does return, he'll find me exactly where he left me – still here, still waiting for him.

Chapter Text

Spoiler warning — season 2 episode 3-4

♫ d4vd - Sleep well ♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 2:55

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The hum of the city outside my window is the only sound keeping me company as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. It's late, but sleep hasn't come easily since Mark left. Every night is the same — turning over, watching the clock tick forward, hoping that maybe the next time I close my eyes, morning will come faster.

Then, a sound.

A faint rustling of wind, the creak of the window sliding open. I jolt upright, my heart slamming into my ribs. Before I can react, I see him.

Mark.

He's standing at the foot of my bed, silhouetted against the dim light of the city shining through the window. His suit is torn in places, streaked with dirt and dried blood. His hair is a mess, his shoulders heaving as if he just flew here without stopping. He looks exhausted.

Before I can even say his name, he moves.

He's on me in an instant, sinking onto the bed and wrapping me up in his arms, pulling me so tightly against him that I can barely breathe. But I don't care. I cling to him just as fiercely, my fingers gripping the fabric of his suit, afraid that if I let go, he'll disappear again.

"You're here," I breathe against his shoulder, my voice shaky.

"I'm here," he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of my head. His voice is rough, like he hasn't used it in hours. "God, I missed you."

I don't even try to stop the tears that sting my eyes. I just nod, pressing my face into his neck, letting the warmth of his body melt away the months of  loneliness. His arms tighten around me, his hands splayed against my back like he's trying to memorize the feel of me all over again.

I pull back just enough to look at him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the bruises on his skin. My hands move instinctively, brushing over his face, down his arms. "Mark, what happened to you?"

He exhales shakily, his forehead pressing against mine. "Too much. I-I can't right now. I just..." His voice cracks. "I just need to be here. With you."

I nod, swallowing against the lump in my throat. "Okay."

I can hear a muffled voice coming from his earpiece, but he doesn't even acknowledge it.

"Cecil?" I ask softly.

"Probably." His jaw tightens. "I don't care."

He takes out the earpiece and throws it down in the floor. I expected him to give in, to at least check, but instead, he tilts my chin up and kisses me.

It's not rushed. It's slow, like he's making up for all the lost time in one moment. His hands cradle my face, his lips moving so gently, that it makes my chest ache.

I melt into him, my hands holding his shoulders as I kiss him back, letting everything else fade away. It's just us again.

I search his face, but there's something different in his eyes. Something more than just exhaustion.

"Mark," I whisper. "Tell me."

He swallows hard. "It's... it's a long story." His voice is hard, like it hurts to even say the words.

"I'm not going anywhere," I murmur.

His thumb brushes against my cheek before he exhales shakily. "My dad... I saw him."

My mouth parts slightly, but nothing comes out at first. "But- he killed the Guardians. He tried to- Mark, he tried to kill you." My voice wavers, memories of that brutal battle on TV.

"I know," Mark says, his jaw tightening. "I know. But..." He shakes his head, like he still can't believe it himself. "I found him. On another planet. He- he has a family."

I blink. "A family?"

Mark lets out a bitter laugh, rubbing a hand over his face before nodding. "A wife and a son." His voice softens on the last word, like he still hasn't processed it. "I have a little brother."

A heavy silence settles between us. I don't know what to say. This is too much – his father, who left Earth in disgrace after nearly beating Mark to death, now has another life? Another family? And Mark... Mark has a brother?

Mark continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's half Thraxan, half Viltrumite. He's just a kid."

I squeeze his hands. "What are you gonna do?"

His lips press together, his brows furrowing. "I don't know," he admits. "When I found him, I was so angry. I wanted to scream at him, to make him answer for everything he did. But then I saw his wife, the kid. And I realized..." He shakes his head, struggling to find the words. "He's different. I don't know if I can forgive him. But he cares about them. I saw it."

I hesitate, trying to process everything. "And what about you? Did he say anything to you?"

Mark's throat bobs as he swallows, his fingers tightening around mine. "Yeah." He lets out a heavy breath. "He said he was sorry. That he regrets everything. That he never should've tried to make me into... into what he wanted."

I study his face carefully. "Do you believe him?"

Mark looks away, his expression torn. "I don't know." His voice is barely audible. "I want to. But I don't know if I can."

I nod, squeezing his hand. "You don't have to figure it out right now."

His eyes flick back to mine and for a moment, he just looks at me. The storm inside him slowly starts to quiet, as if my touch, my presence, is enough to calm the chaos in his mind. "I just needed to see you," he confesses.

"whatever happens next... you don't have to go through it alone." I tell him, brushing my fingers over his knuckles.

His breath hitches slightly, and then he's pulling me back into his arms, burying his face in my shoulder. "I love you," he whispers.

The words hit me like a slow, wave – washing over every aching part of me. My throat tightens, and I press a kiss against his temple before whispering back.

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

Yesterday was the first time I held Oliver, I thought my heart might stop.

Mark's house was quiet when we arrived. Debbie was on the couch, exhausted, but her smile was soft as she cradled the tiny bundle in her arms.

Mark froze in the doorway, his fingers tightening around mine.

Debbie looked up, her tired eyes brightening. "You wanna hold him?"

Mark swallowed hard, but he didn't hesitate. He sat beside her, arms already lifting, and then Oliver was in his arms.

His thumb brushed over Oliver's tiny fist, and when the baby curled his fingers around it, Mark let out a quiet laugh.

"You're a natural," I murmured.

Mark glanced at me. "You think so?"

In that moment, I saw the way he held Oliver like he was something precious. The way his voice softened without thought. The way he looked at him, like Oliver was already his to protect.

And I knew, without a doubt, that Mark was going to be amazing at this.

———

Now, back in the present, everything's a little different. The Guardians' base feels smaller than I remember. Maybe it's because I've spent so much time away.

The team is gathered in the middle of the room, all eyes on me as I step inside. Rex cracks a smirk. "Well, well," he teases, "Look who finally showed up."

I roll my eyes. "Miss me that much, Rex?"

"Your absence was like a hole in my heart," he shoots back.

Rae eyes me from across the room, arms crossed. "You here to stay this time?"

I meet her gaze. "Yeah. I am."

"For how long?"

"As long as I'm needed."

I left before, but this time... I don't know. Maybe this time I'll stay for longer.

Rex snorts. "You do realize we get attacked constantly, right? So that's a pretty long time."

"Guess you're stuck with me then," I shoot back, folding my arms.

Kate steps forward. "Good. We could use you."

The weight in my chest eases, just a little.

My powers feel in sync again, the rush of adrenaline hitting me hard. I've missed this —there's a certain feeling that comes with fights, like everything else fades away when you're in the thick of it.

The city street is wrecked — cars are overturned, windows shattered.  The Guardians are already moving, spreading out to assess the situation, but something about all of this feels off.

I step over a fallen streetlight, my breath coming out in cold puffs as I scan the area. Then—

The wind shifts. A shiloutte drops from the sky, fast.

And then he lands.

I barely have time to process it before he straightens, eyes locking onto mine. His expression shifts instantly — from focused to something brighter, like he is happy to see me so suddenly.

"You've got to be kidding me." I say out loud in disbelief.

I don't think. I just move.

Before I know it, I'm closing the distance, and so is he, meeting me in the middle and pulling me into a quick, tight hug. It's fast, because we're still in the middle of a crisis, but for that brief second, I don't care about the mission.

He pulls back first, still grinning. "You didn't tell me you were back on the team."

"You didn't tell me you'd be here."

Rex clears his throat. "This is adorable, really, but mission?"

I pull away slightly, though Mark's hands linger at my waist, like he's reluctant to let go just yet.

"Right. Mission," I say while trying to focus back.

Mark smirks. "Guess we're fighting together today."

I grin back, already feeling the rush of adrenaline kicking in. "Guess we are."

The city is still standing, barely. The battle was rough, but we handled it. The Guardians are wrapping up, making sure the area is clear.

And Mark is standing next to me, hands on his hips, exhaling hard.

"That was fun," he says, a little breathless, flashing me a grin.

I scoff, nudging him with my elbow. "You have a weird definition of fun."

He chuckles, rolling his shoulders. There's dried blood on his suit, probably not his. But he looks good, the way he always does after a fight.

And I don't want to say goodbye so soon.

I hesitate for a second before tilting my head toward him. "You wanna come over?"

Mark blinks, caught off guard. "Yeah?"

I shrug, trying to play it casual even though my heart is hammering a little too hard. "Yeah. I mean, I would like your company."

Mark's lips quirk up. "Tempting." But then, his expression shifts. "I've got some stuff to take care of first."

I try not to let the disappointment show. "Right. Cecil stuff?"

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Nothing serious, just... you know how it is."

Before I can brush it off, he steps a little closer, lowering his voice. "I'll come by later."

I nod. "Okay."

His smile lingers as he lifts off the ground, hovering for a second before saying "See you soon." Then he's gone, vanishing into the sky.

Chapter Text

I make my way back to my apartment, the weight of exhaustion settling into me. The mission was tough, but the rush of seeing Mark again had left me feeling lighter. Even though he couldn't come with me right away, he promised he'd be here.

I unlock my door, stepping inside and letting out a slow breath. I shrug off my jacket, stretching my sore muscles, and head toward the kitchen for some water.

I don't make it that far.

The shift in the air is subtle, just enough to set off a shivers down my neck.

I turn too late.

Something slams into me from the shadows. A powerful force, faster than I expect. I barely have time to react before I'm wrenched backward, some kind of collar is locking around my throat. I struggle, instinct kicking in as I reach for my powers —

Nothing.

The ice that should be forming in my palms, the cold that should be spreading through my veins is gone. Like it was never there.

Panic flares in my chest. What the hell?

I thrash, trying to twist out of my attacker's grip, but he's too strong. A sharp blow lands against my temple, and my vision blurs, the room tilting.

Darkness tries to swallow me, but I fight it, forcing my eyes open as my body is dragged backward. My breathing is uneven, my thoughts scrambling for answers–

Then I see a tall figure standing over me, his bald head gleams under the dim light of my apartment, deep scars carving jagged paths across his scalp. He looks like something out of a nightmare.

"Don't bother struggling," he says as he crouches in front of me. "That collar around your neck? It cancels out your powers. You're just as helpless as any other human now."

I grit my teeth, trying to pull it off, but it's impossible. "You son of a—"

He sighs, shaking his head like I'm a child throwing a tantrum. "Save your energy. You're not the one I need."

My blood runs cold.

Mark is the reason why he's here. He's not after me – he's using me as bait.

I tug harder, ignoring the sting at my fingers. "If you think Mark's just going to walk into a trap—"

"Oh, I know he will." The man leans in slightly, his expression twisting.

Panic creeps beneath my skin. Mark promised to come and he will be walking straight into this.

The man watches me struggle for a moment before shaking his head in amusement. "You can fight all you want, but it won't change anything."

I glare up at him, my breath unsteady. "If you wanted to kill me, you would've done it already."

He chuckles, standing to his full height. "Oh, I don't want you dead. Not yet, anyway. You're far too interesting."

I clench my jaw. "Lucky me."

He paces the room, hands clasped behind his back, like he's considering how much to share. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he turns back to me. "I suppose I should properly introduce myself. My name is Angstrom Levy, and I've seen more of the universe than you could ever begin to comprehend."

"Yeah, and?"

"And," he continues, "I've seen your Mark across countless realities. I've seen every choice he's ever made, every path his life could have taken."

My stomach twists, but I force myself to keep my expression blank. "So what? You're mad at him for something another version of him did?"

"This," he says, pointing to his head, "this is what he did to me." His voice cracks slightly, enough for me to hear the pain beneath. "Mark Grayson. Your Mark. He turned me into this."

I turn my head away from him and say nothing.

Levy smirks. "Do you have any idea how many versions of you exist, as well?"

I freeze

His smile widens at my reaction. "Oh yes. You are a constant. I've watched the multiverse unfold, seen the infinite realities where you and he exist. There's always a you, and there's always a him." He tilts his head. "Always a version of the two of you, falling in love, but usually ending in disaster."

My heart pounds against my ribs. I hate that his words makes me interested in what he's saying.

Levy steps closer, crouching down so we're at eye level. "I've seen you fight beside him. I've seen you love him. I've seen you die for him. And sometimes... sometimes, he even kills you."

I swallow hard, keeping my voice steady. "And what? You want to give me a highlight reel of every possible version of my life?"

Levy's grin turns sharp. "No, I just find it fascinating how often your lives intertwine. How fate seems to pull you together, no matter the circumstances." He pauses, eyes flickering with something unreadable. "And Mark Grayson has ruined my life in every reality."

A slow chill crawls down my spine.

I already know what he's going to say next.

"And that's why I'm going to make him suffer."

I don't know what to say. How many versions of us are out there? How many lives have been shaped by the same cycle of love and pain? Is Levy right? Will this relationship – this fragile thing I have with Mark – be doomed to fail?

I want to believe in him. I want to believe that our version of us is different. But the fear digs into my mind like a splinter, and I can't pull it out.

Chapter Text

I'm trembling. Every word Levy says is like a weight pressing on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I want to yell, to hurt him, but the collar around my neck is holding me back, keeping me from using my powers.

Through the heavy silence of the room, a sound reaches my ears.

The unmistakable thud of shoes on the ground.

Levy doesn't even notice at first. His eyes are fixed on me, trapping me in his twisted narrative. But then I hear it again. The sound of someone rushing in.

The door crashes open.

Mark stands there in the doorway, eyes wide, breath heavy, a mix of confusion and panic on his face as he takes in the scene. His eyes flicker between me and Levy.

"What the hell is going on here?"

My heart surges at the sight of him, at the sound of his voice. I feel a bit safer.

Levy turns slowly, his smirk reappearing, but this time it's more of a twisted grin. "There you are," he says, his voice dripping with malice. "I was wondering how long it would take you to show up."

Mark's fists clench, and he takes a step forward, his jaw tightening. "Let her go."

Levy raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think you're in any position to be making demands, Grayson." He looks over at me, eyes narrowing. "I know what you've been trying to protect here. But in the end, you're just going to let her down like every other version of you. You always do."

"You know," Mark says, his voice low. "I don't care what you've been through. You hurt her, you're gonna regret it."

Levy's smirk falters for a moment, but then he laughs cruelly. "Is that so?" He looks at me again, his gaze lingering before he shifts back to Mark. "You know, Mark, I've been following you – every version of you across realities. And every time, it ends the same way. You're too weak. You will fail her."

Mark's eyes flash with anger and with the need to protect me.

"I'm not failing her." Mark growls.

Without hesitation, he launches himself forward, fists clenched, ready to end this.

Levy doesn't flinch. In fact, he barely moves. His smile only widens as the portal in front of him ripples with strange, dark energy. Before Mark can reach him, Levy opens it wide, and Mark slams into the portal, disappearing into the swirling void before he even gets a chance to strike.

I don't have time to process what's happening before the weight of the room shifts. Levy steps forward, his eyes locking on mine with that sickening grin.

I can't stand the feeling of helplessness, the collar tight against my neck, preventing me from using my powers. But that won't stop me. I can still fight.

Levy watches me with a cruel smirk, clearly enjoying the discomfort in my eyes as I try to move, try to act, but the collar... the collar is like a vice around my throat. I try to summon my ice powers, but nothing comes. I try again, but my hands tremble as the power remains locked inside me.

"You think you can stop me?" Levy sneers, eyes glinting with amusement as he takes a step toward me. "That collar's not coming off anytime soon, sweetheart."

I clench my fists, frustration boiling beneath my skin. I may be powerless in this moment, but I won't go down quietly. My body moves before my mind can catch up, and I throw myself at Levy. I try to land a punch, anything – just to make him feel something, to show him I'm not afraid.

But Levy is faster. He grabs my arm mid-punch, twisting it behind my back with ease, and the pain shoots through me. My breath hitches in my throat, but I try to push through it, ignoring the sharp ache in my wrist.

"How cute," Levy taunts, his grip tightening. "A little more feisty than I expected, but it's still pointless."

He swings his fist around, slamming it into my side. The force of the blow knocks the air out of me, and I stumble backwards, my vision blurring for a moment as the world spins around me. My hands shake as I try to catch myself.

"You really think you can take me on, with nothing?"

I try to swing my knee into his stomach, desperate for any advantage, but the blow barely phases him.

"Such a brave little girl," he mocks, just before he kicks me to the floor. The impact rattles through my bones, my body colliding with the ground with a thud.

I groan, trying to push myself up, but Levy steps back, his eyes never leaving me. "No, not yet. I want you to stay down for a little longer."

Before I can even get to back on my knees, Levy opens the portal again. Mark's face appears, his eyes widen as he sees me on the floor, bruised and battered, struggling to even stay conscious.

That's all it takes. Mark moves like a blur. His body slams into Levy, sending him flying into the portal that Levy just had opened. There's no hesitation, no warning – Mark forces him in, the portal flickering as both of them disappear from the room.

Chapter Text

Mark's eyes are wild when he enters my apartment again through the front door. His breath is coming in ragged gasps as he stumbles towards me. The blood on his suit is still fresh, but it doesn't seem to matter in the moment. The only thing he sees is me, and that's all he cares about.

He kneels in front of me, his hands trembling as they reach for the collar around my neck. I don't say anything, I just watch him, my breath catching as his fingers fumble with the device. His eyes flash up to mine.

"Hold still," he whispers, his voice rough and strained. His hands press against the collar, trying to pry it open, but it won't budge. His jaw clenches, and I see the muscles in his arms flex. He's pushing himself.

"Mark..." My voice is weak, but I reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm. "It's okay. I can wait. Just breathe."

But he shakes his head. "No."

With one swift motion, he pulls with every ounce of strength he has left. I hear the metal crack beneath his hands, and the collar gives way. It pops open with a sharp sound, falling to the floor.

I gasp as I feel the pressure lift from my neck, the familiar weight of my powers rushing back to me, but I don't have time to even process it. Mark's face goes pale, his body visibly sagging as the adrenaline leaves him, his exhaustion catching up all at once. His legs give away and I barely manage to catch him before he falls on top of me.

"Mark!" I gasp, as I hold him, cradling him in my arms.

He's heavy against me, his head resting against my chest as he struggles to stay conscious. His breath is shaky, and I can feel his pulse thudding against my skin. His hands grip weakly at my shirt as if he's trying to stay upright, but he's fading, his body giving in to the aftermath of the fight.

"I'm sorry," he mutters under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't let him hurt you. I just—"

"Shh," I hush him gently, my hands running through his hair. "You don't have to apologize. You saved me. You—"

"I just couldn't let him..." I feel his grip loosen slightly, his body going limp in my arms.

I hold him tighter, keeping him close. The room feels so much quieter now. All I can hear is the beat of our hearts, the sound of his uneven breathing. His body is so warm against mine, but the weight of what just happened presses down on us both.

"Everything is okay now." I whisper, my voice trembling.

His head lifts slightly, his tired eyes finding mine. The anger earlier from his gaze has faded. His hand slowly comes up to touch my face, like he's trying to make sure I'm really here, really safe.

I lean into his touch and I pull him closer. All the pain, all the chaos — everything fades away, leaving only the two of us.

There's a long stretch of silence as we both just breathe, taking in the stillness. The world outside this apartment feels like a distant memory now, like nothing matters but the two of us in this moment. The events that led us here, the chaos, the hurt, all seem so far away – just fragments of a different reality.

Mark shifts slightly, trying to sit up straighter, but I can tell it takes everything he has just to remain upright. I help him, adjusting his position so his back is against the couch, pulling the blanket off the back to drape over both of us.

"I shouldn't have let you get caught in this," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have dragged you into this mess."

I shake my head quickly, cutting him off. "No, I chose this. I chose to be here, with you, no matter what."

His tired gaze softens, and he lets out a long breath. "I never wanted to put you in danger."

"You didn't," I reply, my voice steady now, more confident. "You protected me. You kept me safe." My hands run over the bloodstained fabric of his suit. "You saved me."

"I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you." he says quietly. There's an underlying vulnerability he doesn't usually let anyone see. It makes my chest tighten in response, but I keep my composure.

"Stop speaking nonsense over and over again." I whisper, brushing a strand of his hair back from his forehead. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, Mark."

His eyes close once more, his body leaning heavily against me. "Just... stay with me," he murmurs, barely audible.

"I'm not going anywhere," I repeat, holding him close, my arms wrapped around him as he settles into my embrace. His breath evens out, and I feel his body relax against mine, the tension slowly fading away.

I allow myself a small sigh of relief. Whatever happens next, whatever chaos the world decides to throw at us, I know that we'll face it together.

Chapter Text

When Mark insisted I stay with him while my apartment was being repaired, I thought it would feel... awkward. Maybe too close too fast. But he was so earnest about it—promising it would be fun, swearing he'd clear a drawer for me, calling it a week-long sleepover. I didn't have the heart to say no.

Besides, after everything that happened, the idea of being alone didn't sound all that appealing. Not when his presence offered me a little safety.

He kept his word. The drawer is full of my clothes now, my toothbrush stands next to his in a bathroom cup, and the bed... well, it's easier to fall asleep beside him than it is on my own.

I lay on his bed in one of his shirts, the hem brushing just past my thighs. It still smells faintly like him and It's comforting in a way.

The bedroom is dim, the soft glow of the hallway shines in through the cracked door. Mark had gone to get water, promising to be right back.

In silence like this, I can't help but overthink. I can't deny that I feel some sort of fear after Angstrom's words about Mark. Not of him excactly, but of what he's capable of, even though I don't have any reason to doubt him. Mark has been honest and kind to me and I hate myself for even thinking it.

When Mark returns, he places the glass on the nightstand and crawls into bed beside me. His arm slips around my waist automatically, pulling me close, his nose brushing the side of my neck.

"You okay?" He asks me with concern.

I want to say yes, but instead, I exhale, turning slightly to him. "I keep thinking about what Angstrom said," I admit. "About you."

Mark tenses up a little bit."Do you believe him?" he asks, voice low.

"No– I mean... I don't know" I say immediately.

"I'm not gonna lie to you," he says after a moment. "This whole thing scared me too. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. I would never want to hurt you."

I let his words sink in, the tension in my chest loosening bit by bit. "I can't believe I even doubted you."

"I don't want you to doubt me," he says quietly, his voice almost fragile. "I care about you so much."

I turn my body to face him. "I'm sorry, everything is so complicated."

He hesitates for a moment, then looks me in the eye. "I understand if you need to leave, for your own safety. If you want to break up with me, I get it. I wouldn't blame you."

The words hit me like a shockwave. I feel a rush of emotions — hurt, confusion, and a strong need to show him that I'm not going anywhere.

I don't give myself a moment to think before I kiss him with an overwhelming rush of emotions. My lips press against his with a force that surprises even me, and his reaction is immediate. His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. I kiss him harder, the fear, the doubt, the confusion all melting away with every second. His hand moves up to cup my face, and I feel his heartbeat against mine.

When I pull away, my breath is unsteady, but his eyes are locked on mine, waiting.

I rest my forehead against his. "Does this look like I want to leave you?"

Mark shrugs, his smirk widening as he reaches up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Maybe I need a little more convincing," he murmurs, his fingers grazing against my skin.

So, I kiss him again, harder this time, my body moving on pure instinct. My hands grip his shoulders, pushing him back against the bed as I swing a leg over his hips, straddling him. The second I'm settled, his hands find my waist.

Our lips crash together, messy and desperate, and I can't tell whose breath is more unsteady—mine or his. His mouth is warm and when his tongue brushes against mine, a shiver runs through me. I press closer, my fingers tangling in his hair, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips.

One of his hands slides up my back, pulling me in until there's no space left between us. I can feel his heartbeat under my palm where it rests against his chest. When I finally break the kiss, we're both breathing hard.

His eyes are dark, searching mine. "That," he murmurs, trying to catch his breath, "felt like a good answer."

The way he looks at me—like he's starving and I'm the only thing he'll ever want—sends heat rushing through me. I lean down, lips brushing his ear as I whisper, "Good. Because I'm not done convincing you yet."

His hands slide lower, gripping my thighs as he lets out a breathless laugh. "Yeah," he says, tilting his head to capture my lips again. "I'm starting get convinced."

Maybe this is the kind of reassurance that we both needed. Not words. Not promises. Just this—my body against his, my lips claiming his over and over until there's no room left for doubt.

Chapter Text

He's still asleep, breathing evenly, face tucked into the crook of my neck. I let my eyes stay closed for a moment longer.

Then his phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Mark stirs with a soft groan, his hand tightening on my waist before reaching blindly for the device.

"What is it?" He asks.

Cecil's voice is on the phone. "Mark, we have a situation."

"Cecil, it's—" He squints at the clock on his phone. "only eight in the morning."

"Dr. Seismic just abducted nearly every available hero. Three miles underground. We need you both. Now."

I'm already sitting up, pulling the sheets away as the sleepiness fades from the surge of adrenaline. "Who's left?"

"Not enough." Cecil's sighs. "Sending you the coordinates. Eve will help you dig you down. Get moving."

Mark exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face before turning to me. His hair is messy from sleep, his eyes still heavy-lidded. "You don't have to come," he says quietly. "Underground is not exactly ideal for your powers."

I arch a brow. "And let you have all the fun?"

—————

Eve meets us at the coordinates Cecil sent.

"Took you long enough," she says, though there's no real bite to it.

"Traffic," I mutter, earning a smirk from Mark.

Eve exhales, shaking her head before turning serious again. "Alright, listen— I can get us down there, but it's not going to be pretty. Three miles underground means heat, pressure, and who knows what else Seismic cooked up." She hesitates, her eyes flicking to me. "And with your powers..."

Mark stiffens beside me. "Maybe you should—"

"I'll be fine," I cut in, sharper than I mean to. His concern is sweet, but I hate him looking at me like I'm made of glass. "I can handle myself."

He opens his mouth to argue, but Eve interrupts. "Great. Then let's move."

With a deep breath, she raises her hands, and the air around her warps. Pink energy turns into a massive, spiraling drill. The ground trembles beneath our feet as the drill bites into the earth, sending plumes of dust and debris into the air.

Mark's arms pull me close, holding me really tightly. "Hold on," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

And then were diving down.

I close my eyes, the sound of the drill drowning out everything else. I cling to Mark, my fingers digging into his suit as wind whips past us, the temperature rising with every second we descend.

The heat hits first—a suffocating wave that steals the breath from my lungs. Then the light— a glow from the lava spread around in the cavern. Eve's drill disappears as she stumbles forward, bracing herself against the uneven ground. Mark lets go off me as he scans the cavern.

Cecil's coordinates were right—Doc Seismic is here, and so are the missing heroes.

"Gosh..." Eve mutters. "We need to get them out of those cocoons."

The heat slams into me harder than I expect. My powers spark weakly against my fingers, cold mist evaporating almost immediately. I try not to let panic rise up.

"I can't do much down here," I murmur.

Mark looks at me, concerned. "We'll make it quick."

But Seismic has other plans.

The ground trembles and splits, and lava rock creatures crawl out, molten veins glowing under their skin. They roar in unison, shaking the cavern.

"Guess we're not getting a peaceful rescue," Mark mutters.

"I've got the left!" Eve shouts, flying upward and launching crystalline blasts toward a monster.

Mark flies at another with a roar of his own, slamming into it with a force that cracks stone and sends rubble flying. I try to follow, summoning a blast of ice along the ground, freezing the feet of one approaching creature. But the ice hisses and cracks almost instantly from the heat. It barely slows it down.

"Dammit," I hiss.

I dodge back, barely avoiding a molten fist slamming into the ground where I stood. My body are already coated in sweat, every breath like inhaling steam.

Mark is movin, fast and brutal, dodging fists, landing punches that splinter stone. Eve's up high, using the terrain to her advantage, raining down attacks.

I do what I can—creating slick spots to trip the creatures, freezing rock to weaken their outer shell—but it's not enough. One lunges at me and I misstep, the heat disorienting me. Before I can recover, it swings hard, knocking me across the cavern.

"Shit, Frostbite!" Mark's voice cuts through the roar.

I hit the ground hard, my shoulder screaming in pain. My vision blurs, but I force myself up just in time to see Mark get tackled midair, thrown against a rock wall with enough force to make it crack.

Another creature grabs me before I can run, pinning me. My powers flare, but again, the heat devours them.

A figure drops from the ceiling with grace. Clad in all black, a shadow among shadows.

The monsters change their attention towards him, leaving me behind, but he's fast. Blades that hit the cocoons, freeing out the heroes. Brutal strikes that take out one creature after another.

"What the—" Eve stares in disbelief.

Darkwing leaps to Doc Seismic, immediately knocking him down.

Mark doesn't even wait for the dust to settle. He gets to his feet, helping me up before flying straight to Darkwing, fists clenched.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Marks picks up Darkwing by his suit, his voice filled with fury.

Darkwing smirks, trying to get out from Mark's geip. "Saving your asses, apparently."

Cecil's voice crackles over the comms. "We needed the manpower, Mark. You weren't getting it done."

Mark holds him even tighter, his muscles tensing up with barely contained rage. "He's a murderer!"

"He's also the reason you're not dead right now."

Mark shakes his head, livid. "No. I'm done taking orders like this."

Then, without so much as a glance in my direction, he lets go of darkwing and launches upward, shattering through layer after layer of rock until daylight pours through the hole he left behind.

I reach out, but he's already gone.

Eve's hand lands on my shoulder, her grip firm. "I guess I'll be the one getting you out of here." she says gently.

I don't answer, because he left me. Again. And this time, I'm not sure I can forgive him.

Chapter Text

My limbs ache, bruised and trembling from the fight, and the heat is getting to me. I can feel the lava's presence in my veins, like it's trying to boil me from the inside out.

And Mark is gone.

I stand there, still breathless and stunned from the fight. His absence settles in my chest.

"You okay?" Eve's voice cuts through the haze, quiet and careful.

I nod. A lie. "Fine."

She frowns but doesn't press it. "Help me check on the others?"

It's easier to focus on something else. I follow her to where the rescued heroes are weak from their time spent in those weird Seismic's cages. I move slower, trying to keep my head clear, the heat still dulling my powers. Every time I reach for the cold, it sputters like a dying match.

We work in silence for a while, Eve occasionally tossing me a glance. The kind that says she wants to say something but doesn't quite know how. I'm grateful for her restraint.

Eventually, the GDA extraction crew arrives, loading the injured into pods and securing the tunnel for stabilization.

"He didn't mean to hurt you," Eve says quietly, not looking at me.

"I know," I reply. And I do. But knowing doesn't fix the way my chest feels like it's splitting open.

"He's dealing with a lot," she adds. "That doesn't make it okay, but—he's angry. At Cecil. At everything."

"I was right there," I say, my voice sharper than I intended. "We were fighting together. We were supposed to have each other's backs. And he just... left me."

Eve doesn't answer. She doesn't have to. The silence is agreement enough.

I return to Debbie's house. She greets me with concern but doesn't pry. I must've looked exhausted because she just gives me a warm smile and a blanket, letting me curl up on the couch with Oliver napping on my chest. The quiet helps.

For a little while.

It isn't until that night that I finally hear the familiar sound of someone landing just outside. The soft tap of feet hitting the ground. My heart thuds.

Mark stands in the doorway a second later, still in his suit.

"Hey," he says softly.

I don't answer. I just look at him.

"I— I shouldn't have left you," he says. "I know that."

Still, I stay quiet.

"I lost it when I saw who Cecil sent down there. I saw him and I just—" He shakes his head, like he's trying to get the thoughts out of his head. "I couldn't believe it. It felt like everything snapped. Like no one was doing the right thing. And I didn't know what to do, so I—"

"Left," I finish his thought.

He lowers his head. "Yeah."

I set Oliver aside gently and stand while Mark's eyes track my movements.

"You left me," I say again, louder this time. "In a cavern full of lava, with my powers barely working, after we both got our asses kicked." My voice doesn't shake. I make sure of it. "You just flew off."

Mark flinches. "I wasn't thinking—"

"That's the problem." The words come out sharper than I meant, with all the fear and anger I've swallowed down since the fight. "You weren't thinking. About me. About what could've happened to me."

"I know," he snaps, then immediately recoils, regret flashing across his face. "Gosh, I know, okay? I messed up. I'm sorry."

The apology should've helped. It doesn't.

I cross my arms. "Sorry doesn't fix it, Mark."

He stares at me, his expression crumbling. "Then what does?"

I don't have an answer.

Mark takes a step forward, then stops, his hands flexing at his sides like he wants to reach for me but doesn't dare. "I'll do better," he says, quiet but firm. "I promise."

I want to believe him.

But the memory of watching him disappear into that tunnel—of being left behind—is still too fresh, too raw.

"I think I'll go back to my apartment tomorrow," I say, the words heavy with the weight of everything I'm feeling. "It's fixed now, and... I don't know. I just need some space."

His face falls, and for a brief moment, I see the pain flash in his eyes. "I don't want you to leave."

I meet his gaze, my heart aching. "I need to think. I need to be alone."

"Alright," he says after a long pause, his voice quiet with disappointment. "If that's what you need..."

The next morning, while he's out, I stand at the foot of Mark's bed, staring at the open drawer where my clothes are. The familiar feeling of being here, the warmth of his presence, all of it feels distant now. My mind is still reeling from everything—everything he said, everything I said.

I pull open the drawer and start pulling out my clothes. T-shirts, sweatpants, and the few things I left behind when I moved in here temporarily. As I fold them, my thoughts keep returning to last night, to the way Mark looked at me when I said I was going back to my apartment.

He didn't want me to leave. He tried to explain, tried to make me understand that he didn't mean to hurt me. But the truth is, I need time. Time to process everything that's happened and figure out where I stand. Because right now, all I feel is anger, and that's not a place where I can make decisions that matter.

The weight of the bag grows heavier in my hands as I pack the last of my things, my mind racing through every moment of the fight against Seismic, how Mark left me behind, and how everything spiraled from there. Part of me still wants to believe he was trying to protect me. But the other part of me, the part that still feels betrayed by his actions, can't forget how he just walked away.

I zip up the bag and hesitate for a moment. I look around the room—his room, the place I've stayed for the week.

With one last glance at the room, I grab my bag and walk out of the room.

Chapter Text

It's been four days.

Four days of silence, of space, of aching limbs and heavy thoughts. I've been throwing myself into missions with the Guardians—nothing world-ending, just enough chaos to keep my hands busy and my mind off the way his name echoes in my chest when I'm alone. I've been sleeping less, waking up to phantom warmth beside me that vanishes the second I open my eyes. The apartment's colder than I remember, or maybe it's just me.

But I'm still here. I make my bed. I smile when I need to. I laugh when I can. I've even gone for coffee with Eve once and she didn't bring Mark up. That was the deal.

Tonight's mission was messy—collateral damage, a couple of flipped cars, a fire in a second-floor apartment that nearly spread before I iced it over. We handled it. No fatalities. Just another reminder that the world doesn't stop just because your heart's been broken.

I didn't see him tonight.

Not directly.

But I felt him.

The way the clouds bends when he cuts through it. There's a subtle tremor in the ground when he lands is barely noticeable to anyone else, but to me.

He was there.

Hovering at the edges.

Watching.

And that knowledge is its own kind of weight.

I take the long way back home. The cold bites through my fabric, but I welcome it. I don't want warmth right now. I don't want comfort. Not when everything still hurts.

Then—whump.

I don't turn. Not yet.

"Hey," he says behind me, his voice rough, like he's filled with guilt.

I exhale slowly, steadying myself.

"You did good tonight." There's a pause in his words. "The fire that you extinguished. That was... incredible."

"Just doing my job."

The silence that follows is taut.

"I've been trying to give you space," he finally says. "I thought... that's what you wanted."

"It is," I admit. "Mostly."

I turn then. And Gosh—he looks like hell. His suit is torn at the shoulder. There's a smudge of blood along his jawline, and his hair's a wild mess, wind-tangled and sweat-damp. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, like he hasn't slept right since that night.

Good, I think. But it doesn't feel as satisfying as I hoped.

"I miss you," he says, voice low. "Every damn day."

The ache in my chest tightens, and I feel like it's going to snap any minute.

"I miss you too," I whisper. "But missing someone doesn't undo what happened."

He takes a step toward me, then stops, like even being near me now is something he needs permission for. "I keep... Gosh, I keep replaying it. Leaving you there." His voice cracks. "You don't know how fucking terrified I am of losing you."

I look away, eyes burning. The alley blurs slightly in my vision.

"You could've stayed," I say, my voice quieter.

"I know." He swallows hard. "And I didn't. And I hate myself for it."

The space between us is a living thing now—shimmering with heat and heartbreak. The city noise fades until all I hear is the thud of my heartbeat and the barely-there scrape of his boots as he shifts his weight.

His fingers twitch at his sides. "Can I—" He stops, jaw flexing. "Can I hold your hand?"

Yes.

The answer is already there, clawing at my throat. I want to let him. I want to fold into him, bury my face in his neck, and breathe in whatever part of him still feels like home. I want to believe him. I want to believe this hurt was enough to change something.

But I can't.

Not yet.

I shake my head.

"I want to," I say, voice shaking despite everything. "More than anything. But if I let you touch me now, you'll think this is over. And it's not."

His face crumples. Just slightly. Like he was holding on to the tiniest thread of hope that I might cave.

"Then tell me what to do," he says, desperate now. "Please."

"Feel this," I say gently. "Miss me. Sit with it. Figure out how to stay next time—not just say you will."

He nods, slowly. His hands fall to his sides again, defeated. "I want to be better for you," he murmurs. "I will be."

I take a breath and step back. "I hope so."

He doesn't try to follow me.

Doesn't reach.

And that hurts more than I expected.

"Will I see you again?" he asks, so softly I barely hear him.

I pause, heart in my throat. "I don't know," I answer honestly. "But when you do... I hope you've figured out what I'm worth to you."

I turn before I can change my mind.

But just once, I glance back.

He's still there. Still wrecked and rooted to the ground, hand half-raised like he's already mourning the loss of me. His eyes find mine through the dark.

The moment I turn the corner, my breath hitches once and then twice—then shatters. My tears spill hot and silent, streaking down faster than I can wipe them away. My chest heaves but I make no sound. The pavement blurs beneath me as I walk faster, arms wrapped tight around myself.

A stupid, childish part of me still listens for footsteps behind mine. Still waits for hands to catch my shoulders, for that rough voice to murmur "hey, hey—" But the sidewalk stays empty.

Chapter Text

I'm on the floor of my apartment, curled sideways on the couch with a half-finished cup of tea gone cold on the coffee table. I haven't turned on the TV in hours. Haven't bothered to check the time.

Then the ground trembles, like something broke loose.

I sit up slowly, heart already crawling into my throat.

Then it comes—a blast, so loud it rattles the windows in their frames. Car alarms begin to scream down the block. I rush to the window, yanking the blinds open.

Smoke.

Thick black smoke curling into the sky. I can't see the source, but it's close. Too close.

And underneath it—shouting. Sirens. The distant boom of another impact and I rush to my closet to get suited up.

By the time I hit the streets, my breath fogs in front of me, the ground frosts with every step I take. I'm not even trying to control it anymore.

I take off toward the worst of the smoke. Sirens wail and people scream all around me, but it's the sky that's loudest. Some kind of person crashing into buildings, sending shockwaves down through the concrete. My eyes dart upward, scanning for Mark.

Then I see that familiar blue suit hovering near the ground, fists dripping blood that isn't his.

"Mark!" I call out, nearly tripping as I skid to a stop.

He turns slowly, his hair is a messy mohawk, he's not wearing a mask and his face is spattered with red. His eyes are cold.

My gut twists. That's not a look I've ever seen on him.

He cocks his head at me. "Huh. You're alive here."

My lips part. "What?"

He drifts toward me, feet not touching the ground. "You have no idea how much I missed you." he murmurs.

I take a step back. "You're not him."

"Well, not your him." His eyes drag slowly down my figure, lingering on the frost curling off my hands. "You look just like her."

I swallow hard. "Like who?"

"Like the one I killed."

He tilts his head, studying me like a puzzle he already knows how to take apart. "She begged for me not to."

He doesn't stop.

"She bled real pretty."

A blast of wind kicks up as he rockets toward me.

I throw my hands up, forming a shield of jagged ice just in time for him to slam into it. The impact sends cracks splintering across the surface. I stumble from the force but stay on my feet.

This is real. This is happening.

I stare at him through the ice—this other Mark, whose eyes are nothing like the ones I know. They're darker. Emptier. Like the love and pain and guilt that make my Mark human were all carved out and replaced with something colder.

He floats back, licking a smear of blood from his knuckles. "You can put up a fight. Cute."

My voice is hoarse. "Why are you here?"

"Mainly for your Mark. " he says, walking toward me now, slowly, unbothered by the destruction around us. "But, we're not all here for him."

His eyes bore into mine.

"Some of us are here for you."

My breath catches.

We.

How many of them are there?

I lunge, driving a blade of ice toward his ribs, but he's faster.

His hand shoots out, catching my wrist mid-strike. In one brutal motion, he twists and shoves, spinning me around and slamming me face-first into the pavement.

The air punches from my lungs. My cheek scrapes against the concrete. Before I can recover, he yanks my arm behind my back, forcing it up until my shoulder is in pain. His weight bears down on me, knee pressing between my shoulder blades, locking me in place.

"God," he breathes above me, laughing softly. "You even fight like her."

His weight shifts slightly. I hear the wet drag of his palm over his face, then the splatter of blood hitting the ground beside my face. "She never gave up either," he murmurs. "Right up until the end."

I tense, waiting for the next hit, the final snap of my neck—but it never comes.

Instead, he just stays there, crouched over me, his breath slowing. Watching.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be like that this time."

My stomach knots. I twist my head just enough to glance at him, lips bloodied.

"What?"

"You're not her," he says slowly. "But you're close. And maybe that's enough. Maybe I don't have to kill you. Not if you come with me."

My breath hitches. I don't dare speak.

He leans in, his voice quieter now—lower, almost pleading. "You don't know what it was like. Watching her die. Knowing it was me. Wanting to stop, but not being able to. That version of me... loved her. I still do."

My pulse roars in my ears.

"I came here for him," he says, his eyes flicking upward toward the chaos unraveling in the sky. "But then I saw you. And for a second—I thought maybe the universe was giving me a second chance."

His grip on my arm loosens just slightly.

"Come with me," he says. "I won't hurt you. You... you could be the only thing left that makes any of this bearable."

I grind my teeth. "I'm not her."

"I know." his eyes are full of grief and longing.

"And I'm not yours."

His expression cracks.

"But you could be."

Rage flares in my chest. I summon what strength I have left, frost flaring across the concrete beneath me. My free hand claws forward, coating the ground in a sheet of ice and traveling up to his waist.

"Back off." I growl.

Then the wind shifts.

And something roars in from the sky.

Chapter Text

The air shift with a sudden, explosive force. I barely have time to register the sound, it's like a piercing whistle, followed by the boom of something cutting through the air faster than I can blink.

The ground quakes and my heart skips a beat, panic seizing me for half a second as I brace for another impact. But it's not a tremor caused by Mohawk Mark.

My Mark slams into the ground between me and Mohawk Mark, sending a shockwave of air and dust flying outward. The impact cracks the pavement beneath his feet, the force of it rattling everything in a hundred-meter radius.

"Get the hell away from her." Mark's voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.

Before Mohawk Mark can even act, Mark's fist connects with his jaw with full force. The force of the punch is enough to send Mohawk Mark skidding backward, the blood splattering on the pavement by his feet.

Mohawk Mark wipes blood from his split lip, grinning as he rolls his shoulders.

"You have a shit timing," Mohawk Mark taunts, licking the blood off. "And you hit like a bitch."

Mark doesn't answer—at least, not with words.

A sonic boom tears through the air as the two versions of the same man collide in the center of the street. The pavement cracks beneath their feet, buildings' windows shatter. I stumble back instinctively, arms raised to shield my face.

I've been on the sidelines too long.

Flexing my hands, I exhale sharply, watching my breath mist in the air. Frost spirals across my fingertips, then my palms.

Mohawk Mark slams Mark into a car, denting the hood. He raises his fist for another blow—

I thrust my hands forward.

A jagged spear of ice erupts from the ground, slicing upward between them. Mohawk Mark barely twists away in time, but the frozen spike still slashes across his arm, leaving a deep gash that immediately begins bleeding. Blood drips down his forearm, splattering against the cracked pavement.

His head snaps toward me, eyes wide. "Bitch."

Then, Mohawk Mark snarls and lunges, but I'm already moving.

I drop into a crouch, slamming my palms against the cracked asphalt. Ice explodes outward in a wave, racing towards him. He leaps over it, but I flick my wrist, and the frost surges upwards, forming a glacial wall behind him.

Mark doesn't waste the opening. He rockets forward, driving his shoulder into Mohawk Mark's ribs. They crash through a storefront, glass and plaster exploding around them.

He's not just fighting to win. He's fighting like hell to protect me.

I sprint after them, my breath coming in sharp puffs. Inside, the fight is a blur—Mohawk Mark lands a kick to Mark's stomach, sending him crashing into a support beam. The ceiling groans.

Not good.

I raise both hands, focusing. The air temperature plummets. Frost creeps up the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Mohawk Mark's next step skids—his feet slip on the sudden ice.

Mark surges forward and lands another blow straight to Mohawk Mark's gut. As he doubles over, I raise my arms and let the cold rush free. Ice races from the floor, crawling up Mohawk Mark's limbs, freezing him in place. It reaches his chest, his throat. He gasps, his breath visible in the freezing air.

"Who sent you?" Mark demands, stepping forward. "How the hell did you get into this dimension?"

Mohawk Mark grins, teeth red. "You'll get no answers from me."

Before we can stop him, he plants both hands on the ground and kicks up. The impact sends a shockwave through the already damaged structure. The entire side of the building starts collapsing towards us.

"Shit!" Mark yells out.

I feel the air shift as dust and debris rain down. I brace myself, but it never hits.

Because Mark is there.

He grabs me and pulls me into his chest, shielding me with his entire body. His arms wrap around my head, his back bowed over mine as the ceiling crashes down around us. His breath is ragged in my ear.

I feel him trembling against me, not from fear, but restraint, like he's holding himself back from tearing the world apart just to protect me.

Slowly, Mark straightens, loosening his grip but not letting go completely.

"You okay?" he murmurs, forehead almost touching mine.

I nod slowly, but my throat is tight. "Yeah," I say, though it doesn't sound convincing. "Are you?"

Mark lets out a shaky breath. "I am now."

The dust is still settling around us, and we're both still trembling—maybe from the fight, maybe from everything that came before it. His arms are still around me, and I can feel his heartbeat against my chest.

His face is streaked with dirt, a thin cut bleeding at his lip, but his eyes, gosh, his eyes undo me. They're soft and worried.

I don't realize I'm crying until I feel the tears spill over.

"I told you to stay away." I whisper, my voice breaking.

His thumb brushes my cheek, catching a tear. "I know," he murmurs. "But I couldn't."

He leans in slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, but I don't.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "For making you think you weren't the most important thing in my world."

My trembling fingers graze his jaw hesitantly and he lets out an unsteady breath.

He doesn't resist when I pull him down—just lets out a shaky breath across my mouth.

The kiss is soft—just the barest press of his mouth against mine, uncertain. The taste of copper floods my senses. His blood from the cut on his lips is warm, metallic. He stiffens for a bit— whether from pain or surprise, I can't tell.

But then his hands rise to cradle my face, thumbs sweeping over my cheekbones like I'm something fragile, something precious. I melt into him, my hands resting on his chest.

We break apart the kiss and he caresses my cheek. His eyelashes are wet. "I thought I'd never get to kiss you again."

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "I shouldn't have left like that."

He doesn't answer right away—just exhales, shaky and uneven. His hand tightens around mine.

"I get it," he finally says, voice rough. "But I couldn't stop thinking about you. Every second. I missed you."

I nod, brushing my nose against his. "I missed you too."

But then a distant boom echoes through the city. A ripple of panic follows—screams, shattering glass, and the unmistakable roar of another variant tearing through the streets.

Mark pulls back slightly, his entire body snapping back into focus.

"We have to go," he says, gently but firmly.

I wipe my face quickly and nod, sliding my hand into his. "Then let's finish this."

Chapter Text

The wind is sharp against my face as Mark lifts us into the sky, one arm wrapped securely around my waist, the other clenched in a fist. I can feel it in his posture that he's back in fight mode.

"I saw the other heroes head towards the bridge earlier," Mark shouts over the wind. "If there's more of them they'll need help."

I nod, though my heart is still pounding, because the adrenaline never quite faded. "Got it."

We touch down in the middle of hell.

A cluster of heroes, which some I recognize, most I don't—are locked in brutal combat with two more Marks.

I barely have time to take a breath before I see another variant of Mark, this time bald...?

His eyes lock onto mine.

He throws off the hero he was fighting with and flies straight through a frozen wall I throw in his path. The ice crackling off his shoulders like it's nothing.

I throw my hands forward again.

A spike of ice erupts beneath him, piercing his side. He growls and tears it free, blood dripping as he turns towards me.

"You again," Ice shatters as he walks through anothee frozen barrier I throw up, his skin steaming where the frost touches him. "You're the reason my life turned to shit."

And then he's gone. In a blink, he's in front of me, launching toward me faster than sound.

I freeze the ground beneath my feet, letting it carry me backward just in time. His fist misses my face by only inches, but the shockwave slams me into a nearby wall. My back screams in pain as I hit the brick and collapse to the ground.

Before he can follow up, Mark launches into him midair, the force of the impact sending them both flying across the rubble, that was once a street.

"You stay the hell away from her!" my Mark snarls, driving his fist into the variant's nose with enough force to break it.

The bald-headed Mark catches Mark's arm mid-swing, even though blood is dripping from his broken nose. He grins, and it's all teeth.

"Funny," he says. "She ruined your life too, didn't she?"

Mark doesn't hesitate as his fist caves in the variant's jaw.

"She saved it."

He spits blood and rockets back up, grabbing Mark mid-air and slamming him through the side of a building with a roar. The brick wall shatters,dust and debris erupt into the street.

I brace myself against the impact and raise a wall of ice to shield a group of injured heroes caught in the blast zone.

I don't have time to breathe before I feel another presence next to me.

The second Mark's variant. This time, I can't even make out his face. His whole body from toes to head is suited up. He floats above the wreckage, untouched, his eyes locked on me. There's something unnerving about the way he watches me like he's seeing a ghost.

"I thought I'd never see you again." He says with pain behind his voice, like he's about to tear up.

I tense, ice coiling around my arms. "Don't even do this bullshit with me. Someone already tried it."

A hero lunges at him from the side and he flicks them away without looking, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm not here to hurt you," he says softly. "I'm here to bring you home."

Home?

I swear, the variant's are getting more batshit crazy with each one.

He looks at me like he knew me his whole life. Like he had spent years mourning me, loving me, owning me, but I've never seen him before in my life.

And still, I can't shake the feeling he isn't lying.

Before I can respond, rubble explodes beside me as the previous variant erupts from it like a missile, his scream echoing off shattered buildings. He barrels into my Mark with a roar, and they crash through streetlamps. The poles bend and snap from the force.

My Mark fights back with everything he has—grappling, punching, spinning mid-air, but this one is fueled by pure hatred. Their battle tears across the street, shattering windows, sending chunks of asphalt flying.

But the suited variant doesn't move, he just watches.

His eyes flick to them, then back to me.

"He doesn't deserve you," he says. "None of them do."

I don't let him finish.

I twist my arms midair and bring both palms down, sending a crushing glacial wave into his back. It hits like a truck. He stumbles forward, ice cracking up his spine, but still doesn't fall.

He straightens up and when he turns, I expect rage. Instead, I see sadness. Regret.

Like I just broke his heart.

"I don't belong to anyone." I snarl again, louder this time, daring him to argue.

He opens his mouth to respond—

But then it happens.

A sharp, high-pitched beep slices through the noise.

The bald variant bares his teeth in frustration, his whole body trembling with fury. "No, not now."

The suited Mark's face goes still. "He's recalling us."

He doesn't explain who "he" is and I don't even bother asking.

The version that what fighting Mark snarls with fists still clenched at his side. He uses all his left power to fly off as fast as possible.

The suited Mark doesn't flinch. He looks at me like he wants to say more. Like maybe, in some twisted part of him, he means it when he says he loves me. But there's something else in his eyes, too. Obsession. Possession?

"This isn't over," he turns away. "I'll find you again."

His glare burns into me for one last second and then he's gone.

Only the wreckage remains.

Silence settles over everything and then comes the groans from heroes dragging themselves from the rubble, coughing, limping. Someone's crying. Fire crackles nearby, lighting up the edge of a collapsed building.

Mark lands beside me with a heavy thud. His suit is torn, his face streaked with blood and dirt. His hands tremble slightly–not from fear, but from the aftershocks of battle, the adrenaline still coursing through him. His chest rises and falls in ragged breaths as he scans me up and down.

"Are you hurt?" he pants.

I don't answer with words. Instead, I throw my arms around him, pulling him into a crushing hug. My face presses into the crook of his neck, and I inhale the scent of sweat and his blood.

"You shouldn't be the one asking, you dummy." I mutter into his shoulder.

He stiffens for a second—then exhales, his body sagging into mine as his arms wrap around me.

When I finally pull back, his eyes are dark with exhaustionz He looks around at the destruction, at the shattered buildings, the heroes groaning in the wreckage, the eerie silence where the variants had stood moments ago.

"What the hell was that?" he mutters, wiping blood from his lip. "They just... left."

I follow his gaze to the empty space where the suited Mark had been. The way he looked at me like he knew me, like he mourned me—sends a chill down my spine.

"Someone called them back." I say quietly.

Mark's jaw tightens. He steps closer, lowering his voice. "I think I know where they went and I need to go." A pause. "Alone."

The word "Alone"  hangs between us.

I open my mouth to argue, to remind him of the promise we've made, that he sworn not to split up again. But I understand, it's about protecting me and everyone else.

"Okay." I say softly.

His breath catches. "Okay?"

I nod. "You know where to go. You know what to do. And I know you'll come back." My fingers linger against his chest. "Just... don't make me regret this."

His hand covers mine, pressing it against his heart. "I swear to you, that this isn't like last time." The words come out desperate. "I'm coming back. And then we finish this together."

"Go," I tell him, forcing a small smile. "Before I change my mind."

He leans in and kisses me. The kiss is quick, just a firm press of his lips against mine. Over before it really begins. But his hand cradles the back of my head like he wants to remember this, like he needs the imprint of my mouth on his.

When he pulls away. "I'm coming back."

Then he's gone in a rush of wind, flying into the sky before I can respond.

I touch my lips, still warm from his. The ice coating my fingers melts just a little.

Chapter Text

The sky is too quiet now.

It's the silence of people who aren't crying because they can't. The silence of a world trying to understand what it just survived.

The air still tastes like concrete and blood. Ash clings to my hair, my suit, my lashes. My muscles ache, and I don't even realize how long I've been moving until I pause near what used to be a building.

A scream breaks the static. "Someone please, my brother is in there!"

I turn sharply. A woman stumbles toward me, her hands bloody, eyes wide. She points toward a caved-in store. "He's under the bakery. I heard him— I heard him scream."

"I'll get him." I say while already moving.

I move through the wreckage, careful not to dislodge what's barely holding together. My fingers frost over, stabilizing beams, keeping rubble from shifting while I carve a safe path down. It's strange how it comes naturally even when I'm not thinking too hard. My body just moves.

I find the boy, pinned under a support beam and half-conscious. I don't know how he's still breathing.

"I've got you." I say, coating the beam in a thick layer of ice. The structure groans above me as I shove it. I haul him into my arms just before a piece of wall drops behind us.

I carry him out to the woman. She sobs when she sees him, gripping his face, thanking me through choked breaths. I don't stay, because there are more voices, more buried people.

So I keep going.

I pull a woman out from an overturned bus. I carry an unconscious child through three city blocks until I find medics.

The only thing that slows me down is him.

Every now and then, I think of Mark. Of the way he looked at me before he left. Like he was asking for something without words—trust, forgiveness maybe. One last ounce of belief in him. And I gave it by letting him go.

Now I wait to see if that trust was a mistake.

A rush of wind hits me and I stagger back a step as Mark lands hard on the cracked pavement, eyes burning, chest heaving. His suit is torn in three places. Blood drips from his knuckles. There's a gash near his temple and another along his ribs.

But his face is what hits me the hardest. He looks shattered.

I rush over, reaching for him. "Mark—"

"It was Levy." The words rip out of him.

I stop.

He swallows hard, like the name itself is a wound. "He's alive. He's the one behind this. Again. The variants, the invasion was him pulling the strings. Sending versions of me to kill everyone."

"No," My voice breaks. "We thought—"

"I saw him," Mark growls. "I was this close, but he slipped away again."

My heart sinks. "Mark..."

"I could've ended this," he says quietly. "And I didn't."

He looks around like he's seeing the wreckage for the first time. People stumbling through the ruins. Fires in the distance. Children crying for parents who won't answer.

"This is my fault."

"No," I say firmly, stepping in front of him. "Don't you dare to say that."

"If I had just been faster, if I'd figured it out everything sooner—"

"You did everything you could," I insist. "You chased him. You fought and you tried."

His eyes meet mine. "It's not enough."

"You came back," I add in. "To me, to people that need you. That means a lot, Mark."

He doesn't speak. Just stands there, trembling slightly, like his body is finally realizing what happened these pasta days. His gaze drops to his blood stained hands.

"I don't know if that makes me a bad person," he whispers. "But I wanted to kill him so bad."

"It doesn't make you bad." I say, reaching for him.

"Those versions of me," he says, voice cracking. "They all killed their closest people, they all killed you."

I inhale sharply. My fingers curl around his arms. "That wasn't you."

"It could've been," his voice begins to rise with every word. "That's what Levy wanted me to see. That it's already in me. The rage. The power. The violence. It's all just waiting."

I cup his face between my hands. "Then fight it. That's what makes you different, Mark. Not that you can't be them, but that you aren't. That every day you wake up and choose something better."

He shakes his head. "But they're still dead. All those people. I heard their screams, saw the fire. I felt the ground shake. Whole cities are just... gone." His voice breaks on the last word. "Gone. Because of me. Because of my face."

"No." I grip him tighter. "Because of Levy. He did this. And we will make sure he never does it again."

His lips part like he wants to say something more, but nothing comes out.

So I pull him into me.

His body crashes into mine with the weight of everything, every battle, every loss, every second we weren't sure we'd see each other again. His hands fist in the back of my ruined suit, dragging me closer like he's trying to fuse our broken pieces together. My face presses into the curve of his neck, breathing in sweat and blood and the faint scent of him underneath it all.

He's shaking. Or maybe I am. Or both.

His heartbeat thunders against my chest. One of his hands slides up to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair like with everything happening around us he's afraid it's the last time he ever gets to hold me. My own arms lock around his waist, fingers digging into the shredded fabric of his suit, pressing into the warmth of his skin beneath.

We don't speak. There's nothing left to say that our bodies haven't already screamed.

———

We find somewhere quiet later.

It takes a while. Most of the city is rubble and sirens, search teams and crying. But two blocks east, behind a broken row of apartment buildings, there's a bench still upright beneath a crooked streetlamp. It flickers like it's thinking about going out for good.

Mark sits beside me, blood on his collar, mud streaking his shoes. His hands rest limp between his knees. He hasn't spoken since we left the street.

I should say something, I want to. But instead, I watch the ash swirl gently through the air like snow. Like the storm hasn't ended,  just shifted.

After a minute, he breaks the silence.

"I didn't think I'd find you when I came back."

I blink. "Why?"

He looks up with tired eyes. "After the way I left. After everything I've put you through lately."

I don't answer immediately. My chest tightens. I know what he means—he's not just talking about today. He's talking about all of it. Leaving me in the underground. Fighting alone. Shutting me out. Almost breaking us apart.

"I still care about you." My voice wavers before I steady it. "I care that you came back. That you didn't instantly vanish into the sky like last time. That you're here."

He blinks rapidly, like he's trying not to cry again. He fails. One tear slips down and he swipes it away roughly, embarrassed.

"I'm trying," he murmurs. "I swear I am. I just... I keep screwing this up."

"You're not screwing this up," I whisper. "You're still learning stuff as you go. No one is born knowing how to live and be a hero."

He shakes his head, staring at the pavement. "I don't know how to be what you need."

I reach out, gently placing my hand on his face, tilting his head toward me. His eyes are glassy and red from emotions.

"I never asked you to be perfect. You're already all I need" I say.

He leans into my hand like the contact steadies him.

The city is in ruins. But we're still breathing. Still together.

And when morning comes, we'll rise again.

Chapter Text

The morning sun rose over the ruins, its light too harsh for what it revealed.

I kneel beside a shattered storefront and pull back a slab of broken concrete. The body beneath is barely recognizable, it's just a tangle of limbs and torn fabric, the face crushed beyond recognizing. A wedding ring glints in the dust. I swallow hard and wave the recovery team over.

Another one for the pile.

Across the street, Mark lifts a collapsed beam with a grunt and trembling arms. Beneath it, two bodies—a woman curled around a child. Both gone. The air leaves his lungs in a rush, like he got punched. He didn't speak.

The silence between us is worse than yesterday.

We work through the day in wordless tandem. Hauling debris. Helping the few survivors we found to get towards the medics. The bodies kept coming—some whole, some in pieces, all carried im black bags.

Rex's death cuts the deepest.

I hadn't expected it to. He annoyed me and he never knew when to stop talking. Always the first to challenge me just to get a rise out of me. But he showed up in every fight. Every single time, he was there grinning, bleeding, fighting with everything he had.

And now he's gone.

I found out from Eve. Her voice had been hollow when she said it, barely more than a breath. It hadn't felt real then. It didn't feel real now

Rex was irritating and arrogant and loud, but he had a heart. And he died using it.

My knees are aching from hours of kneeling on broken concrete. The cold that usually ran so easily through my veins feels sluggish now, as exhausted as the rest of me. When I try to summon ice to stabilize an unstable wall, only a thin frost came, crackling weakly across my fingertips before dissipating.

Mark notices. Of course he does, he always notices everything about me. Without a word, he takes the heavier side of the debris I'd been struggling with, his arms flexing as he lifts what should have required machinery.

As the sun begins its descent behind the remains of the city, Mark finally lets himself rest and catch a breath.

I join him without speaking, our shoulders brush as we watch volunteers move through the devastation like ants rebuilding their hill. No cameras. No reporters. Just ordinary people doing extraordinary things because someone has to.

"This isn't what I wanted." Mark says suddenly, his voice is rough from the inhaled ash.

I turn to study his profile. Dirt and dried blood streaks his face, highlighting the new lines around his eyes—lines that hadn't been there a month ago. His hands, usually so steady, tremble slightly where they rest on his knees.

"Being a hero," he continues when I don't respond, staring at some distant point in the wreckage. "It was never supposed to mean standing knee-deep in body bags. It wasn't supposed to mean kneeling over children and knowing you were too late. Or hearing a heartbeat stop beneath your hands. Or looking in the mirror and wondering if you're still the good guy just because you didn't kill those people."

The raw honesty in his words steal my breath. I reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension coil in his muscles. His skin is warm beneath my touch, the way it always is after he pushes his powers too hard.

"We tried." I say softly, trying to reassure him.

His laugh is broken. "It wasn't enough."

I squeeze his shoulder, waiting until he finally met my gaze. "Then let's make it enough."

He turns to me, brows furrowed.

"I mean it," I go on. "We keep getting pulled into fights we didn't start. Saving people from chaos someone else caused. I'm tired of being on the back foot. Always reacting. Always surviving."

Mark nods, slowly. "Then what? We retire? Run away?"

"No." I shake my head. "We don't run. We build. We find a way to protect people without waiting for Cecil to throw us a bone. We work smart. Together."

He studies me for a long moment.

"You mean... start something?"

I nod. "A team. A business. Hell, a brand if we have to. We set our own boundaries. We pick the battles. We stop playing pieces in other people's games."

Mark huffs a breath. Almost a laugh. "So, what, we become superheroes for hire?"

"Heroes for people," I correct. "For cities rebuilding. For places ignored by the bigger teams. We choose what matters."

A pause.

Then he reaches out, gently takes my hand.

"I want that," he says. "Not just the job. This. You and me. A life that's more than contanstly fighting for our lives."

His hand trembles in mine.

"Then let's build it." I whisper.

We want to build something that last. Not just to fight fires, but to prevent them. Not just to save people, but to protect them before they need saving.

It's a wild idea, maybe even a selfish one. Starting a company. Becoming a name that people can call when they need real help. Not government controlled, not bound by orders barked through a comm. Just two people who've seen too much and want to make sure others don't have to.

We sit like that until the last light bleeds from the sky.

Chapter Text

We get home late.

The apartment is standing, somehow. It creaks a little louder than it used to, and there's a jagged crack running down the kitchen wall, but it's still here.

Mark closes the door behind him and leans against it with a sigh. His shoulders fall. It's the first time all day I've seen him let go of the weight he's been carrying.

I kick off my shoes and watch him for a second—his eyes are closed, his chest is slowly rising and falling. He's always been strong, but lately, that strength looks less like power and more like endurance. Like he's running on willpower alone.

"You coming to shower?" I ask gently.

He opens his eyes. Looks at me like I'm the only steady thing in a spinning world. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Just... give me a second."

I nod and leave the door slightly open for him.

I peel off my suit slowly and painfully, bruises blooming like spilled ink across my side. I turn to the mirror above the sink as I hold myself. My fingers trail over them lightly, testing the tenderness. They don't hurt as much as ugly they look.

Behind me, the door creaks and when I see Mark's reflection in the mirror I immediately instinctively cross my arms around my bare chest. My skin prickles with sudden self-consciousness, even as the rational part of my brain scolds me. It's ridiculous. He's seen me naked so many times by now to the point that he has probably memorized every scar and curve of my body with his hands, his mouth, in countless nights tangled together.

"Still shy?" He murmurs with that familiar half-smirk playing at his lips.

I glare at his reflection. "Shut up." I tell him playfully, but my arms don't uncross.

Mark pushes off the doorframe, crossing the space between us in three quiet steps. His hands, always so careful despite their strength, come to rest on my shoulders, thumbs brushing the tension there. When he presses a kiss to the crown of my head, I feel him smile against my hair.

"Don't hide," he whispers into my bare back. His breath ghosts warm across my skin as his hands slide down my arms, gentle but insistent. "Not from me."

Slowly, so slowly, he pulls my arms apart. His fingers trace the fresh bruises blooming across my ribs, the older scars he knows by heart.

"I should turn on the water." He kisses my shoulder and pulls away.

He slides the shower's door open and turns the faucet on to warm up the water. As the waters starts running, Mark's hands work to remove his suit with practiced ease. The suit pools at his feet, leaving him bare under the bathroom lights.

Mark steps into the shower first, letting the water run over him. I watch as his head tilts back, lips parting slightly, eyes fluttering shut under the stream.

I slip in behind him.

The water hits my skin, and everything aches at once. The bruises, the cuts — they all come alive under the warm water. I suck in a breath through my teeth.

Mark's eyes open as the steam coils around us, softening the edges of everything. The mirror's gone foggy. The air smells like soap and something faintly metallic — maybe blood neither of us scrubbed off completely.

Mark steps fully under the stream again and reaches for the body wash without a word. He rubs it into his palms, then turns to me with a quiet look. I nod.

His hands are gentle as he works the soap across my shoulders, down my arms, over the curve of my waist. He doesn't press too hard, skimming carefully around bruises and then rinsing them clean.

When I'm clean, I do the same for him.

I start at his shoulders, my hands gliding over skin that looks untouched—no bruises, no scars. Just smooth, solid muscle, healed like nothing ever happened.

But I know better.

I know how close it came. I know that just because his body can regenerate doesn't mean the pain wasn't real. Or that it didn't cost him something.

My fingers move across his collarbone, down his chest, slow and deliberate. I clean him not because he needs it, but because I do, because touching him like this grounds me. Tethers me back to now.

He watches me, eyes heavy-lidded but alert, following every movement.

I run the suds along his arms next, over biceps that have carried more weight than anyone should, over hands that have saved cities and held me just as carefully.

He steps out first, toweling off his hair, and I follow after him. My legs feel heavy. Not from pain, just the weight of everything we've made it through.

Back in the bedroom, Mark tugs on a worn shirt and soft cotton boxers. I go for one of his oversized shirts and pull it on without bothering with anything else. The hem brushes mid-thigh. It smells like him—warm, familiar, like a safe place I forgot I had.

He's already sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, hands limp between them. His head is bowed like he's carrying something too heavy to lift anymore.

I sit beside him slowly. My hand finds his without thinking. He laces our fingers together, but his grip is loose. Like even that takes too much energy.

"Five funerals tomorrow." He says after a long, aching silence.

I nod. The lump in my throat doesn't move. "I know."

He exhales hard through his nose, and it sounds more like a shudder than a breath. "Rex's is first."

I stare at the floor, willing myself not to fall apart. "I'm still waiting to wake up and find out he made some dumb joke and is fine."

Mark closes his eyes. "Me too."

Neither of us says anything for a long time. Then he whispers "Eve asked me to speak."

I nod, throat tight. "You should."

He looks at me, his eyes are hollowed by everything he's lost and everything he still carries. "What the hell am I supposed to say? That he annoyed the shit out of me but I loved him anyway?"

"Yes," I say softly. "Because that's the truth."

Mark's jaw clenches. He doesn't cry, but I can feel the quake just under his skin. I scoot closer and wrap both arms around his, pressing my cheek to his shoulder.

My eyes sting, and I press my face harder into his shoulder. "I hate this."

"Me too."

Eventually, Mark exhales shakily and leans back, tugging me with him until we're both lying down. The mattress dips beneath our weight, the sheets cool against our skin.

I curl into his side, his arm wrapping around me instinctively, like muscle memory. My face presses into his chest, and I feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing. He's trying not to fall apart again.

So am I.

I trace slow, absent-minded shapes along his ribs under his shirt. It's comforting and it gives my hands something to do. Something real.

Mark's fingers skim up and down my back in return. Gentle. Repetitive. Like we're trying to keep each other tethered to this moment, so we don't get swallowed by everything else.

The ceiling above us is cracked. The walls are quiet. The world outside is still spinning, still reeling from everything that's happened.

And in this little apartment that survived what so many didn't, we lie tangled together in grief and exhaustion and something like love.

Chapter Text

It has been five years.

Five years since the war that nearly tore the world apart. Five years since Rex and too many others stopped breathing. Five years of carrying memories heavy enough to break a person, but somehow, we kept going

The world after the war wasn't anything better. Cities crumbled, lives were lost, and the kind of destruction we thought only happened in nightmares became our reality. it felt like everything would shatter beyond repair.

But somehow, the worst passed. The heroes who survived, including Mark, stood against the darkness and pushed it back. The war left scars deeper than any bruises.

Mark and I learned to live in that new world, where the battles were quieter but never truly over. Powers carried weight, but so did the memories of those we lost.

The war changed everything, but it also taught us something vital, that even in the darkest times, life keeps pushing forward. We rebuild. We remember. We hold on.

The morning light filters through the kitchen window, catching on the crayon drawings my daughter taped to the glass last week. One's of a house, crooked but colorful, with smoke curling from the chimney and three stick figures out front—me, Mark, and her, all smiling too wide. There's glitter glued onto the sky to represent stars, even though it's clearly daytime in the picture.

She insisted the stars are always there. You just can't always see them.

I stir a little honey into my tea, watching the steam rise, listening to the quiet hum of the house around me. The fridge buzzes gently, birds chirps outside and upstairs, soft footsteps begin to creak.

This house isn't big, but it's ours, we built it. Not just the structure, but everything inside it.

After so many years of noise, of blood and ash and screaming skies, I didn't think I'd ever know quiet like this again.

"Mommy?" Her voice is soft, sleepy.

I turn just as she pads into the kitchen, dragging her blanket behind her like a cape. Her curls are a mess and her cheeks are puffy from sleep. I open my arms and she clambers into them without hesitation, curling into my lap like she was made to fit there.

"Bad dream again?" I whisper.

She nods against my chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. "There was a monster. But it didn't get me. I froze it."

Of course she did.

I brush her hair back and press a kiss to her forehead. "Good girl."

She doesn't say anything for a bit, just rests there while I sip my tea with one hand and hold her tight with the other. Her skin's warm, but her fingers leave a little frost on my arm.

Her powers are coming in early. I knew they would. Sometimes I wake up to find snowflakes on her pillow, or crystals growing in the corners of her bedroom window. The first time it happened, she cried because she thought she'd broken something. Mark and I just held her and told her the truth.

"You're not broken," I had said. "You're like us. And that's something special."

The kitchen door swings open, and Mark walks in, yawning as he tugs on a worn hoodie. His hair's still damp from his shower, and there's a red line on his cheek from where he must've slept too hard on one side.

He sees us and smiles. "You beat me up to it again."

"She had a bad dream." I say, still running my fingers through her curls.

Mark kisses the top of my head, then hers, before heading to the stove. "Then I guess it's a waffle morning."

My daughter stirs at that, her head lifting just slightly. "With strawberries?"

"Of course." Mark says with a grin.

The smell of batter and butter drifts through the air as we fall into our usual rhythm. Me at the table, my daughter in my lap, Mark in the kitchen humming something tuneless. It's such a simple thing, so mundane, and yet I feel the weight of it in my chest like a miracle.

She slides off my lap when the food is ready and insists on setting the table. She picks the plates, the ones I said were too pretty to use regularly, but somehow they've become the daily choice anyway.

Mark doesn't complain. Neither do I.

We eat together, the way we always do. Our daughter talks through bites of waffle, telling us about her dream and a butterfly she saw in the yard yesterday and how she thinks her stuffed bear might be secretly alive. Mark listens to her while I sip my tea, and somewhere between mouthfuls of syrup and her lopsided ponytail, I feel it again.

Peace.

After breakfast, we curl up on the couch together. Cartoons play in the background— loud, flashing mess of colors and my daughter snuggles between us, half-watching, half-daydreaming.

Mark reaches for my hand.

"You ever think we'd get this?" he asks.

I glance at him, at the way the morning light softens the lines on his face. "No. Not like this."

There were times after Rex died, after the war, after every building we pulled bodies from, when I didn't think I'd ever feel calm again. I used to lie awake, convinced I'd never be able to breathe without tasting smoke.

But this? This is clean air. This is a second chance.

We spend the rest of the day in the garden. Mark built it after we moved in. Said he needed something to grow, something to nurture. The tomatoes are thriving, the lavender's wild, and the strawberries, our daughter's favorite are just ripe enough to pick.

She runs between the rows in her little boots, shrieking with delight when she finds one plump enough to eat right there while I sit on the porch steps, watching them with a heart so full it aches.

There's no villain in the sky. No alarm blaring in my ear. No orders to follow. No lives to weigh in my hands.

We make dinner together. She tosses a little frost into the salad by accident, and we laugh it off. Mark grills while I throw together something easy, and we eat outside under the string lights we hung for her last birthday.

Later, when the sun dips behind the trees, I read her a story. She's half-asleep before I finish, but she still manages to ask.

"Mommy... do you think I'll be a hero too?"

I pause, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.

"You will."

She yawns. "Like you and Daddy?"

"Not like us," I whisper. "Better."

She smiles as her eyes fall shut.

I turn from the door, my shoulders heavy with the quiet weight of parenting and grief and rebuilding. I should feel proud. We got through another day. We fed her, soothed her, played until her cheeks were flushed with laughter, tucked her in beneath the soft pink quilt that used to belong to my childhood bed.

But right now, all I feel is a need.

Not for sleep. but for him.

Mark stands at the kitchen sink, finishing the last of the dishes. His shoulders roll slowly, muscles flexing under the stretch of his t-shirt. He doesn't know I'm watching yet. He doesn't know that my mind's already two steps ahead—unbuttoning his pants, dragging my lips down the curve of his neck, climbing into his lap and riding out the tension that's been building between us for days.

He sets the cup down and turns.

His eyes meet mine.

And in that split second, everything shifts.

He sees it. The desire that pulses in the air between us.

He doesn't say anything. He walks toward me slowly. My breath catches and I don't move. I don't breathe. I just feel the anticipation, the heat, the way his eyes darken the closer he gets.

He reaches me and cages me in with his hands on either side of the hallway wall, his chest brushing mine.

"She's asleep?"

I nod, my voice barely there. "Out cold."

He giggles playfully. "Then you're mine for the night."

I shiver.

(Warning‼️ contains : A LOT of explicit content🔞.)

His mouth crashes into mine before I can respond, lips hot and urgent. His hands find my waist, my hips, gripping hard, pulling me into him. I gasp against him when I feel how ready he is—already hard through his pants, pressing into me like he can't wait to be closer.

"I missed this," he murmurs into my neck. "You. Like this. Just us."

He effortlessly picks me up as my legs wrap around his waist. I almost forgot these past days that he is a viltrumite. The weight of him is both crushing and comforting—powerful enough to snap the world in half, but gentle enough not to break me. His breath is ragged against my skin as he carries me toward the bedroom.

He kicks the door closed with his foot and walks me backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. I sit down, breathing hard, my thighs already pressed together with the pressure building between them.

He kneels in front of me like I'm something sacred.

And then his hands are on my legs, parting them, sliding up, rough and reverent. His mouth follows the trail—over my knees, my thighs, the thin cotton of my shorts. I whimper when his breath hits the heat between my legs, and he grins against me.

"Patience." he teases playfully.

But I'm done waiting.

I hook my fingers into the waistband of my shorts and tug them down, along with everything else. He watches every inch of skin that's revealed like it's the first time he's seen me. Like he's remembering what it's like to have me.

"Come here." I whisper, reaching for him.

And he does.

He climbs over me slowly, pressing me back against the bed, kissing me with everything he's been holding in—every fear, every near-loss, every victory and ache and survival that brought us to this moment.

I fumble with his joggers, my fingers shaking, and he groans when I finally free him. His hips grind into mine, skin to skin, and we both gasp—caught in the electric snap of it.

His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together above my head as he lines himself up.

"Look at me." he tells me softly.

And I do.

This isn't just sex. It never is with him. It's everything.

When he slides into me, I moan. He presses his forehead to mine, eyes locked on mine as he starts to move, slow and deep, hips rolling like he's trying to memorize the feel of me all over again.

Being with Mark is different. Always has been.

He's a Viltrumite, his body was made to survive the vacuum of space, to fight armies, to tear through planets. Everything about him is more—stronger, faster, more intense. And when we're like this, skin to skin, breath to breath, I feel all of it.

His strength makes the bed frame groan beneath us, but he moves with such control it's almost reverent. Like he's holding back the full force just for me. Every thrust is precise, restrained, but still powerful enough to leave me breathless.

And the stamina. Gosh... Mark doesn't tire the way humans do. He could keep going for hours, never breaking rhythm, never losing focus. He pushes me to the edge again and again, and somehow he's always right there with me, holding me through it, grounding me in him.

My legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. My nails drag down his back, and his breath stutters. He growls something into my neck that I can't make out, and I don't care. I just want more. More of him. More of this.

He moves deeper, and I gasp from the sheer intensity of him. Every part of me feels consumed, claimed, cherished. His pace is slow but unrelenting, like he has all the time in the world and wants to spend every second learning me again.

My hands grip his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle. His skin is warm, damp with effort, but not a trace of strain shows in his expression.

"You feel..." I breathe, unable to finish the thought.

He leans down and lets out a soft laugh. "I know," he whispers. "I know."

He shifts, angling his hips slightly, and my back arches with a sharp cry as he hits that perfect spot. Over and over, unerring, until I'm trembling beneath him, until I'm not sure where my body ends and his begins.

His thrusts quicken, deep and dizzying, hitting every place that makes me cry out. I arch against him, and he catches my mouth in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and need.

I feel it build—tight and overwhelming.

And when I come, I sob his name, trembling beneath him, clinging to him like he's the only thing holding me to the earth.

He follows with a broken moan, burying his face in my neck as he spills into me, his body shuddering with the force of it. We stay there like that, locked together, panting in the aftermath, my fingers in his hair, his arms still braced around me like he can't bear to let go.

Eventually, he shifts, pulling me into his chest, our legs tangled in the sheets.

"You always do that to me," he whispers into my hair.

"Do what?"

"Make me forget the world."