Shadowhunter Chronicles Imagines/ One-Shots | REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

mark blackthorn : you are not your scars

(Y/N) winced as she pulled on her pants, feeling new scars starting to form on her back. She had just gotten back from a mission to stop a Demon that was terrorizing the board walk.

Long story short the Demon has managed to get hold of her and sliced its claws down her back, cutting open her flesh in three spots. (Y/N) has passed out from the pain, which she was grateful for, and woke up the next morning lying on her stomach. Emma was beside her, stayed up all night, and was cleaning and dressing (Y/N)'s wounds every few hours.

In the mirror (Y/N) could see the scars now, large scars running from her shoulder blades down to her lower back. As a Shadowhunter she was used to collecting scars,  but never ones this large. It had been days since that mission, and not matter how many Itrazes she or other applied to her skin, it still hurt to breath. Part of her was afraid that they had accidentally trapped some of the poison inside her skin, but she knew this was normal with large wounds.

"Hey (Y/N)-" Said a familiar voice, the door to her room opening with a clock. It was Mark, standing in her doorway with his hand stuck on the handle. "I am so sorry." He scrambled to cover his eyes, bowing his head to look at the ground.

(Y/N) moved to grab a shirt, pulling it on quickly. She let out a deep groan of pain, feeling the fabric of her shirt glide across her fresh scar tissue. Heat rose to her cheeks as a feeling of shame rose in her chest, knowing that Mark had just seen her scars made her sick. She found them disgusting, even knowing that they were on her skin made her blood boil in anger.

Mark cleared his throat, "I should have knocked, I am sorry (Y/N)." He spoke again, raising his eyes slowly to see that she was covered. Only she wasn't shocked to see him, she was turned away from him with arms wrapped around herself. Confusion grew within him, she had never been shy with him before and he wondered why she was being so now.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, "It's alright." Her voice was quiet, usually she was loud and talkative but now she couldn't find anything to say.

He crossed the room to her, gliding with an elegance that only a Faerie could hold. Mark now stood in front of her, his eyes searching for hers. However she had her gaze stuck on the ground. He then realized something, that she wasn't not looking at him because she was angry he had come in, she wasn't looking at him because she was embarrassed he had seen her without a shirt on- that he had seem her scars.

Mark reached out to her, hoping that she wouldn't flinch away from him. Apparently he had wished hard enough because when Marks hand met her skin she didn't pull away, but instead seemed to sink into him. His hands met the fabric of her shirt, slowly slipping his fingers beneath the fabric before touching her skin. Under Marks touch her skin burned, wether from embarrassment or from shame he wasn't sure.

(Y/N) let out a small whine as Mark slid his hands up her back, fingers running across her new scars. She screwed he eyes shut, unsure if she could look at him. The skin was still sensitive so she wasn't sure if it was the pain that made her whine or the uncertainty of him touching them.

The palms of his hands pressed against the middle of her back, neither pushing her towards him or pulling away. Under his callused hands he could feel where the scared skin tissue was risen, but he also felt other small scars that he was sure were from other missions.

Mark wanted nothing more than to pull him flush against him and run his hands across her whole body, to discover each one of her scars. He wasted to kiss each one and tell her that she should be proud of them, that they shouldn't define her and that she was beautiful in every possible way.

(Y/N) managed to open her eyes, just enough to see that Mark was settled on his knees in front of her. His hands slipped away from the skin of her back, now settling on the back of her knees. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself at a loss for words. (Y/N) remembered studying Faerie culture, and learning that kneeling in front of someone was as if to offer themselves up. She was shocked that Mark would do such a tuning.

"Mark." She said softly, speaking the only word that was racing through her mind - his name. Without hesitation (Y/N) sunk to her knees along with him, her hands finding a place just below his pointed ears.

He smiled at her, feeling her fingers brush across the tips of his ears. "You are not your scars (Y/N)." Mark mumbled, not wanting his volume to exceed hers. He soon returned his hands to their earlier place, earning him a soft shiver from (Y/N) once again, on the small of her back. Mark found himself losing concentration in her eyes, losing himself in the feeling of her skin skin under his fingers, losing himself in the small distance between them.

"You always know the perfect thing to say Mark Blackthorn." (Y/N) said, finding herself breathless as Mark touched her. She was grateful for him, for how sweet he was and how much he seemed to genuinely care. Her fingers ran across the top of his fey ears, to which he shivered before smirking and running his fingers across her back, she responded with just as much passion.

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A/N
Word Count: 995

This one was really cute, I love Mark Blackthorn more than anything