#full masked mark

[montimer]

Full masked Mark my beloved

[mocharyc]

𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚜 Pt.2!!

♡ 7 Invincible variants x reader (Lake Trip!!) ♡

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ The Lake's Secret‧ ₊ ˚

☆ WC: 13k+ [2 Part] ☆ TW: fluff(LOTS of kisses/funny moments) Omni-Mark Mohawk-mark Sinister Mark

☆ Author's Note: Went a little crazy on the heavy fluff in this chapter, I just wanted to give each variant some love <3 smut up next!! PS. I did a lot of description in this chapter for each variant appearance in swimwear :P bare with me pls!! AHH

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The morning sunlight transformed the fortress corridors into ribbons of gold and amber as Y/N changed into the swimming attire she'd discovered in her wardrobe. The fabric was unlike anything from Earth—lightweight yet substantial, with a subtle iridescence that shifted between teal and lavender depending on how the light caught it. The two-piece suit fit as if tailored specifically for her body, comfortable in a way that suggested whoever—or whatever—had prepared this place had considered even the smallest details of their comfort.

She ran her fingers along the material, marveling at how it seemed to respond to her touch—warming slightly, conforming more perfectly to her curves. Catching her reflection in the polished metal surface that served as a mirror.

The reflection showed someone different than the woman who'd been a GDA experiment only months ago—stronger now, not just physically but emotionally. Something else had changed too—a certain softness in her expression that hadn't been there during the war, a hint of contentment despite everything they'd endured.

She wrapped a flowing coverup around her shoulders—a gauzy material that felt like silk but possessed surprising durability—and slipped her feet into sandals that adjusted to her exact foot shape the moment she stepped into them.

"Ready for some fun?" Lensless called, practically materializing outside her door.

He wore what appeared to be swimming shorts in a vibrant blue, his lean but powerful frame practically vibrating with excitement. His face was alight with anticipation, dimples appearing as his smile stretched wide. The sunlight filtering through nearby windows highlighted the defined muscles of his shoulders and chest, not as bulky as some of the other variants. "No-Mask found a shortcut to the lake through the eastern terraces!" 

Y/N smiled at his enthusiasm. "Lead the way."

They found the others gathering in the grand entrance hall.

Mohawk stood with his arms crossed, pretending disinterest despite the anticipation evident in his restless shifting. He'd chosen black swim shorts with electric blue accents that matched his mohawk—which was styled as meticulously as ever despite the casual occasion. His jaw was set in its usual stubborn line, but his eyes kept darting toward the entrance with poorly concealed eagerness.

His physique was more rugged than the others, with broader shoulders and thicker arms covered in a tapestry of battle scars that told stories of countless fights. A particularly jagged mark curved around his right bicep—newer than the others, perhaps a souvenir from their recent dimensional war. His chest was broader and covered in a mat of dark hair that tapered into a prominent trail leading down his stomach toward the waistband of his shorts. Unlike the other variants, he wore a thick silver chain around his neck—something he'd salvaged from his destroyed world, though he'd never explained its significance.

"About time," he grumbled when he saw Y/N, though his eyes softened as they tracked over her figure, pupils dilating slightly. The harsh lines of his face gentled, "Thought maybe you'd changed your mind."

"And miss seeing you actually relax for once?" Y/N teased. "Not a chance."

His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Who says I'm relaxing? Maybe I just want to show off my superior diving skills."

"Superior to what?" Y/N countered, stepping closer to him with playful confidence. "Last I checked, you sink like a stone."

Mohawk's eyebrows shot up, surprised and delighted by her challenge. He leaned down, his considerable height advantage allowing him to tower over her despite her enhanced physiology. "Oh, you're asking for it now, princess," he growled, "First one in the water gets to decide dinner tonight."

"Deal," she agreed, eyes sparkling. "Hope you like cooking."

Phantom stood slightly apart from the group, his swimming attire a stark contrast to his usual masked appearance. Though still covered from neck to ankle in what resembled a sleek wetsuit, the absence of his mask revealed a face startlingly similar to the other's, yet marked by a scar that bisected his right eyebrow. His eyes, when they met Y/N's, held a vulnerability that his mask always concealed—deep brown with tiny flecks of amber near the pupils, framed by surprisingly long lashes with soft brown locks pooling over his forehead. The wetsuit clung to his frame like a second skin, revealing lean muscle that spoke more of agility than raw power. 

"You look... nice," he offered quietly, the words slightly awkward as if compliments were foreign territory. A hint of color touched his cheekbones as he spoke.

"So do you," Y/N replied with equal softness, letting her gaze linger on his exposed face with deliberate appreciation. "It's good to finally see you."

"Thank you for giving me a reason to take it off," he murmured, so quietly she almost missed it. His fingers brushed against hers briefly—a fleeting touch that sent unexpected warmth up her arm.

The double meaning wasn't lost on her; a faint flush colored her cheeks as she inclined her head in acknowledgment.

No-Mask approached with a large woven basket tucked under one arm. "I've packed provisions," he announced. His usually perfectly combed hair was slightly more relaxed today, a few strands falling across his forehead in a way that made him appear younger, less severe. His swim trunks were a practical navy blue, conservative compared to the others but still revealing a physique that balanced strength with academic precision—the body of someone who trained methodically rather than brutally. An intricate tattoo peeked just above his hip, mathematical symbols interwoven with what might have been dimensional coordinates.

"Local fruits, those bread-adjacent items Mohawk didn't completely destroy at breakfast, and some of the luminescent beverages."

"I added those fizzy purple ones you liked yesterday," he added specifically to Y/N, a hint of pride in his voice. "They're at the bottom to maintain optimal temperature." The small, thoughtful gesture revealed a side of No-Mask rarely displayed—someone who quietly observed preferences and adjusted accordingly.

"Always such a boy scout," Sinister drawled, materializing from the shadows with predatory grace. His swimming attire—black with strategic yellow accents—managed to appear both casual and dangerous, clinging to his muscular frame in a way that drew the eye despite one's better judgment. His body was a perfect balance of aesthetics and lethality—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, every muscle defined as if sculpted. Unlike the others whose scars seemed random, several of Sinister's formed intentional patterns—ritualistic markings from ceremonies Y/N dared not ask about. His dark hair fell in loose waves around his face today instead of its usual severe styling, softening his sharp features in a way that reminded her of their time alone together in that other dimension.

His trademark smirk played at the corners of his mouth, but there was something almost playful in his black eyes today. "Some things transcend dimensions, it seems."

"At least I contribute," No-Mask retorted, though without real heat.

"I've contributed plenty," Sinister countered, arching one perfect eyebrow. "Who do you think convinced the provisioning system to include those bottles of fermented nectar you're so fond of pretending not to enjoy?"

He caught Y/N's eye and winked, she couldn't help but smile in return. "Our resident academic enjoys his intoxicants when he thinks no one is watching, dove," he stage-whispered, draping an arm casually around her bare shoulders and leaning close enough that his breath tickled her ear. "Quite the dancer after his third glass, too."

No-Mask's ears reddened slightly as he looked away. "I have no idea what you're referring to."

"Liar," Sinister chuckled, his arm lingering on Y/N's shoulders a moment longer than necessary before he gracefully pulled away. His fingertips trailed along her arm as he did, a subtle reminder of their shared intimacy that sent goosebumps across her skin.

Viltrumite Mark emerged from a side corridor. Unlike the others who had opted for Earth-style swimwear, he wore what appeared to be traditional Viltrumite bathing attire—a form-fitting white garment with intricate silver detailing along the sides that highlighted his impressive physique without being ostentatious. His body carried the unmistakable perfection of pure Viltrumite genetics—taller than the others by several inches, his musculature denser, shoulders broader, with a chest covered in dark, thick hair. Where the others wore their scars openly, his skin was largely unmarked—a testament not to a peaceful past but to higher Viltrumite regenerative abilities. 

The traditional attire left his powerfully built legs exposed as well, revealing calves as hard as marble and thighs that spoke of incalculable strength. His dark hair was slightly longer than the others now that it was loose, and slicked back it looked softer than a baby's butt (is that the right fraze? 😭)

His expression remained composed, but there was a softness around his eyes when they landed on Y/N.

"The weather is ideal for aquatic recreation," he observed, voice deep and measured. "The atmospheric conditions suggest minimal precipitation probability." Despite his formal speech, there was an undercurrent of anticipation in his tone.

"In other words," Y/N translated with a warm smile, "perfect day for a swim?" When he nodded, she boldly reached out to touch his arm—a gesture that once would have seemed impossible given his intimidating presence. "Will you actually get in the water with me? Or just observe from the shore like a stalker?"

A hint of color touched his high cheekbones, as he held back a soft chuckle, "I will participate," he confirmed, his large hand briefly covering hers where it rested on his arm. "Your enthusiasm is... infectious."

"Thank you for the weather report, old man," Mohawk snorted, Interrupting their little moment. "Some of us just call it 'a nice day'."

Viltrumite Mark's lips quirked, "Efficiency of language is not always the highest virtue."

"Neither is excessive verbosity," Mohawk countered, but there was a grudging respect in his tone that hadn't been there weeks ago.

Omni Mark was the last to join them, emerging from a side corridor quietly. He'd chosen swimming attire in deep burgundy that contrasted with his usual red and gray suit, the color highlighting the powerful lines of his physique without ostentation. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead, revealing features that appeared somehow younger without his usual severe expression—still bearing the weight of leadership but touched now by something almost like anticipation.

His body combined the best aspects of the others—the power of Viltrumite Mark, the precision of Phantom, and a quiet confidence that needed no demonstration. A single scar ran along his left side, just below his ribs—the mark of what must have been a nearly fatal wound in another life. Unlike Mohawk's rugged hairiness, Omni's chest featured a more refined dusting of dark hair across his large pectorals that traveled into a neat line down his abdomen. His shoulders were impossibly broad, tapering to a narrow waist that spoke of both incredible strength and agility. When he turned to adjust something in the small bag he carried, Y/N caught sight of the defined muscles of his back, rippling beneath golden skin with even the smallest movement. The tiny lines that usually appeared between his brows when he was deep in thought were smoothed away, giving him an almost carefree appearance.

"Everyone ready?" he asked, gaze sweeping the group before settling on Y/N with quiet warmth. His eyes lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, taking in the way the light played across her newly exposed skin.

"Born ready!" Lensless declared, bouncing on his toes, "Last one there has to help Mohawk with dishes for a week!"

Before anyone could respond, he vanished in a blur of motion, leaving behind only a gust of displaced air and the fading echo of laughter.

"Cheating little shit," Mohawk growled, though a reluctant grin tugged at his lips as he started to float up. In a heartbeat, he too disappeared, the blue streak of his mohawk visible for a split second before he was gone.

"Children," Sinister sighed dramatically, but his eyes gleamed with competitive fire. "Shall we show them how it's done, dove?" Without waiting for an answer, he scooped Y/N into his arms with effortless strength, cradling her against his chest.

"Sinister—" she began, but her protest dissolved into surprised laughter as he launched them both skyward, bursting through an open skylight with reckless precision.

The world became a blur of color and sensation—the cool rush of air against her skin, the solid warmth of Sinister's body against hers, the dizzying beauty of the alien landscape unfurling beneath them. His arms held her securely, one beneath her knees and the other supporting her back, his grip confident without being restrictive.

"I've carried you through dimensional rifts and chaos," he murmured against her hair, his voice barely audible over the rushing wind, "but this is infinitely more enjoyable, wouldn't you agree?" There was something almost tender in the way he held her now—possessive still, but without the desperate edge that had characterized their first encounters.

"Now are you enjoying the view?" he murmured, voice pitched just loud enough to be heard over the wind rushing past them. This close, she could see flecks of gold in his irises, a fascinating contrast to the black that dominated.

"It's beautiful," she admitted, allowing herself to relax into his hold for the first time since–

"Yes," he agreed softly, eyes never leaving her face. "It is."

The moment of connection was interrupted by a streak of motion to their left—Phantom soaring past, his unmasked face transformed by an unexpected grin that erased years from his appearance.

"Getting slow in your old age, Sinister?" he called back, voice carrying despite the distance rapidly growing between them.

Sinister's eyes narrowed, and competitive instinct immediately engaged. "Hold tight, dove," he warned, just seconds before accelerating to a speed that forced Y/N to bury her face against his chest, eyes watering despite her enhanced physiology.

The journey that should have taken minutes on foot compressed into seconds as they rocketed over the fortress walls, across the rippling expanse of blue-green fields, and toward a shimmering line of aquamarine that marked the lake's position on the horizon.

Below, Y/N caught glimpses of blurred motions—the others racing across the landscape, each in their own style. No-Mask moved with methodical efficiency, his pace steady and sustainable. Omni Mark soared with dignified power, his trajectory a straight line toward their destination. Viltrumite Mark flew with precision, his white attire a stark contrast against the colorful landscape below.

"Look down," Sinister instructed softly, adjusting his flight to allow her a better view. "They're following different paths, but all heading to the same destination." Something philosophical colored his tone—unusual for the typically sardonic variant. "Much like us, I suppose."

Y/N glanced up at his face, struck by the rare moment of reflection. "Some paths were darker than others," she offered carefully.

His arms tightened fractionally around her. "Indeed. But perhaps the destination matters more than the journey, in the end." His eyes, when they met hers, held a complexity she was still learning to navigate—regret and hope intertwined in equal measure.

The air carried a sweet, almost intoxicating fragrance—like jasmine and something more exotic, something that seemed to clear Y/N's mind while simultaneously enhancing her awareness of physical sensations: the strength of Sinister's arms around her, the heat radiating from his body, the silken quality of the air against her skin.

The air above the lake shimmered slightly, creating an almost mirage-like effect that made the colors more vibrant, the light more dazzling. Y/N felt a strange tingling sensation across her skin as they descended—pleasant, like the warming effect of gentle sunshine after a cool swim.

Lensless had already arrived, of course, and was performing elaborate acrobatics from a rock outcropping that jutted over the deepest part of the lake. Each dive was more complex than the last, his body twisting and spinning with superhuman precision before slicing into the water with barely a splash. His face was alight with pure joy, eyes crinkling at the corners as he waved enthusiastically upon spotting them.

Sinister descended in a controlled arc, setting Y/N gently onto the pink sand several yards from where Mohawk was emerging from the water, his mohawk impossibly still perfectly styled despite being soaking wet. Water cascaded down his muscled torso, highlighting a collection of scars. The sun caught the water droplets clinging to his skin, making them shimmer like tiny diamonds against his tanned flesh.

"Sweet touchdown," Mohawk announced, striding toward them with the confident swagger that seemed coded into his DNA. He shook his head deliberately, sending a spray of glittering droplets in all directions. The water traced rivulets through the dense hair covering his chest, droplets clinging to the dark trails before continuing their journey downward. "Beat you fair and square, princess."

"You had a head start," Y/N protested, though she couldn't help smiling at his infectious enthusiasm.

"Excuses, excuses." He stepped closer, towering over while Sinister groaned from behind. "I believe the wager was dinner of my choice?" His grin turned mischievous as he leaned down, bringing his face level with hers. "Hope you're ready to cook those spicy things we found in the field yesterday."

"I never agreed to cook," Y/N countered, holding her ground even as water dripped from his mohawk onto her shoulder. "Just that you got to choose."

Something playful flashed in his eyes. "Ahh cheating now are we?" he murmured, before darting forward to press a quick, teasing kiss to the corner of her mouth. The brief contact left a cool, damp impression on her skin, gone almost as quickly as it arrived. "But I'm feeling generous. I'll help...supervise."

"Now, I suppose you took so long because grandpa here was giving you the scenic tour?" He smirks, guestering lazily to Sinister who crossed his arms behind Y/n.

Sinister's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I was simply being considerate of precious cargo," he replied, voice silky with threat despite the casual setting. "Unlike some barbarians who know only brute force and crude language."

"Boys," Y/N intervened before the verbal sparring could escalate, placing a restraining hand on Sinister's arm. "Let's not waste perfect weather on bickering."

Both men subsided, though the competitive tension remained—a dynamic Y/N was beginning to recognize as their particular way of establishing boundaries and connection simultaneously. Despite their differences, there was something almost brotherly in their antagonism now, lacking the deadly intent that had characterized their early interactions.

The others arrived in quick succession—Phantom landing with silent grace at the water's edge, No-Mask jogging in at a steady pace despite having carried the provisions the entire way, Viltrumite Mark descending with precision, touching down without disturbing a single grain of sand. Omni Mark was the last to arrive, descending from the sky, the sunlight catching in his dark hair and revealing subtle auburn highlights that Y/N had never noticed before.

"Everyone accounted for?" Omni asked, his eyes immediately seeking Y/N as if confirming her safety was his first priority. When she nodded, his posture relaxed, "Good. This place seems secure, but we should still establish a perimeter."

"What is this, boot camp?!" Mohawk groaned, flopping dramatically onto the sand. "We're literally in a pocket dimension created specifically for us. The only danger is Lensless doing a cannonball too close to shore."

As if on cue, Lensless zoomed past them, creating a miniature sandstorm in his wake, covering them all in a snowfall of sand, "I heard that!" he called, already halfway back to his diving rock.

Within moments, the once-pristine shore became a hub of activity as they staked out their territory on the pink sands. Y/N noticed that the sand seemed to adjust beneath her feet, conforming to her footprints before smoothing out again, leaving no trace of her passage. The air carried a sweet scent—like honeysuckle but with an undercurrent of something spiced and exotic that she couldn't quite place.

No-Mask spread a large blanket he'd somehow managed to bring along, arranging their provisions in neat sections, the satisfied smile on his face was unmistakable. His movements were precise yet relaxed, a pleasant change from his usual tense efficiency. 

"The fruits should be consumed first," he advised, gesturing to a pile of color-shifting delicacies. "They appear to lose optimal flavor when exposed to direct sunlight for extended periods."

"Okay DAD," Mohawk snorted, though he immediately grabbed several pieces and sprawled on the blanket, apparently unconcerned about getting it wet. He bit into one of the fruits, juice running down his chin as he closed his eyes in appreciation with a low groan. "Even at the beach, you can't turn it off."

"Someone needs to maintain some semblance of order," No-Mask replied primly, though a small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he arranged the remaining items with precise care. Without his usual formal attire, the sunlight revealed a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheekbones—a humanizing detail that softened his often austere appearance.

"Here," No-Mask said, suddenly appearing at Y/N's side with a fruit that shifted between deep purple and electric blue. "This one has the highest nutrient density according to my analysis." He offered it with an almost shy gesture, "As I concluded earlier...I noticed you seemed to enjoy similar varieties at breakfast yesterday."

Y/N accepted the gift with a grateful smile. "Thank you for noticing."

A pleased pink flush colored his cheeks as he nodded and returned to organizing the provisions, but not before Y/N caught the hint of a genuine smile—small but real.

Y/N settled on the blanket beside him, accepting a luminescent drink with grateful thirst after their rapid journey. The liquid tasted like nothing from Earth—reminiscent of berries and citrus but with complex undertones of spice and sweetness that defied description. As she swallowed, she felt a pleasant warmth spreading through her chest, different from the usual sensation of the beverage. She dismissed it as the effect of the sunlight and the excitement of the day.

"This is amazing," she sighed after a long swallow, watching as Lensless continued his acrobatic display for Phantom, who was offering surprisingly constructive criticism on his form.

"Better than building catastrophe countermeasures and fighting for our lives?" Omni Mark asked dryly, lowering himself onto the blanket beside her with unexpected grace for someone of his size. A relaxed smile played at the corners of his mouth, the tiny lines at the corners of his blue eyes crinkling with genuine amusement.

"Is that a joke, Omni?" Y/N teased, nudging his shoulder with her own. "I didn't think you knew how."

The unexpected touch of humor in her voice drew a low, rich chuckle from him—a sound so rare and genuine that it momentarily attracted the attention of the others before they tactfully returned to their activities. "I contain multitudes," he replied, his voice warm with affection. "Some of which might surprise you."

"Infinitely," Y/N confirmed, smiling up at him.

"We should have brought instruments," Sinister mused, stretching out on Y/N's other side with casual elegance. The sun gleamed on his perfectly muscled torso, "I once hosted the most extraordinary beach soirees. Live music, exquisite refreshments, the occasional execution for entertainment..." He caught Y/N's raised eyebrow and amended smoothly, "Which is obviously off the menu now, dove. Perhaps just the music, then."

"You play?" Y/N asked, genuinely curious about this unexpected glimpse into his past.

A shadow of something melancholy crossed his features before his usual sardonic mask slipped back into place. "Several instruments, actually. My Y/-... I was particularly fond of the violin." His fingers twitched slightly as if muscle memory was recalling the movements required. "I was told my playing was the first thing about me that wasn't completely terrifying."

"I'd play for her," he continued after a moment, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "Hours sometimes. (fav band 😭) was her favorite for stormy nights." His long fingers moved through the air in phantom motions, recreating music only he could hear. For just a moment, vulnerability replaced his usual sardonic expression, giving Y/N a glimpse of the man he might have been in another life.

The way he tried to hide reference to his lost love, the woman Y/N resembled but wasn't—created a momentary quietness. These acknowledgments were becoming more frequent as they settled into their new reality, less painful as they learned to differentiate between past and present, between memory and possibility.

"I'd like to hear you play someday," Y/N said softly, reaching out to touch his hand in gentle understanding. His skin was surprisingly warm beneath her fingertips, and she found herself lingering, tracing the lines of his palm.

Sinister's sharp features softened as he watched her fingers move across his palm. His free hand came up to cover hers, trapping her touch against his skin. "I'd like that too," he admitted, his voice unusually raw with emotion. "Perhaps there are instruments to be found in this realm."

The moment hung between them, intimate and weighted with possibilities neither was quite ready to name. Then something shifted in Sinister's expression—a flash of vulnerability quickly masked by his more familiar mischievous grin. "You're flushed, dove," he noted, reaching out to brush his knuckles against her cheek with unexpected tenderness. "The alien sun agrees with you."

Before Y/N could respond, they were drenched by a massive splash as Lensless cannonballed into the water barely feet from the shoreline, sending a wave over the entire group. The cool water was momentarily refreshing against Y/N's inexplicably warming skin.

"LENSLESS!" Mohawk roared, jumping to his feet in outrage, water streaming from his mohawk. His face contorted in exaggerated fury, "I'm going to drown you, you hyperactive little—"

"Have to catch me first!" Lensless laughed, already zipping across the water's surface in a blur of motion, barely touching down on the massive lily pads as he went. His eyes danced with mischief, face alight with the pure joy of the challenge.

"Oh, it's on," Mohawk growled, launching himself into the air after the speedster.

What followed was possibly the most extraordinary game of tag ever played—two superhuman beings darting across the surface of an alien lake, one leaving sonic booms in his wake, the other creating massive splashes with each powerful leap. Lensless had speed, but Mohawk had raw power and determination, making the contest far more even than it might have appeared at first glance.

"Look at them go," Y/N marveled, watching Mohawk's surprisingly graceful movements as he anticipated Lensless's patterns. "I've never seen Mohawk so... playful."

"War leaves little room for joy," Viltrumite Mark observed, his deep voice surprisingly close as he settled on the blanket nearby. His formal posture remained, but there was a relaxed quality to his shoulders that hadn't been there before. "The absence of constant threat allows forgotten aspects of personality to resurface."

"Even yours?" Y/N asked boldly, turning to face him.

The hint of a smile touched his lips. "Even mine," he acknowledged with a small inclination of his head. "Though perhaps less dramatically than others."

"Ten on Mohawk," Sinister drawled, watching the spectacle with amused interest.

"Lensless is too fast," Phantom countered, having wandered back to join them. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes, making his usually intense gaze seem softer, more approachable. "Twenty says Mohawk doesn't lay a finger on him."

"You're on," Sinister agreed with predatory anticipation. "Though what possible use we have for wagers in a post-scarcity utopia is beyond me."

"Bragging rights," No-Mask supplied, meticulously drying his hair which had been soaked in Lensless's initial splash. "A social currency that transcends economic systems."

"The satisfaction of victory is universal," Viltrumite Mark added unexpectedly, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement. He had positioned himself slightly apart from the group, but close enough to participate in the conversation—a subtle shift from his usual complete isolation. "Even among the Viltrumite elite, competition remains essential."

"Speaking from experience?" Phantom inquired, a rare teasing note in his usually reserved voice.

"Perhaps," Viltrumite Mark replied, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Though such admissions would be considered... undignified in my former capacity."

"Good thing dignity isn't a requirement here," Mohawk shouted from halfway across the lake, proving his superhuman hearing was as sharp as ever. "Otherwise we'd have thrown you out weeks ago!"

Remarkably, Viltrumite Mark's response was a low, rumbling chuckle that seemed to surprise even himself.

Y/N laughed, delighted by their banter, by the normalcy of it all. Watching these men—these variants who had wreaked such havoc across dimensions—engage in something as simple as friendly competition and petty wagers felt like witnessing a minor miracle.

"Care for a swim?" Omni Mark asked quietly, offering his hand as the others continued debating the likely outcome of the high-speed chase still ongoing across the lake. His perceptive gaze lingered on her flushed cheeks. "The water might be refreshing."

Y/N nodded, slipping her hand into his as she rose to her feet. She discarded her coverup, aware of the subtle shift in Omni's breathing as his gaze traced the lines of her figure with appreciative restraint. His pupils dilated slightly, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, the words clearly not meant to be spoken aloud based on the surprise that flickered across his face afterward. Rather than backtrack, however, he simply squeezed her hand gently. "I don't say that enough."

"You don't have to," Y/N assured him, though the compliment warmed her more than the alien sun ever could.

"I want to," he insisted, his usual commanding tone softened by genuine emotion. "Some things should be said, not just understood."

"Mmm Omni, you flatter me. Now lead the way," she invited, enjoying the rare flash of uncertainty that crossed his usually composed features. The brief loss of control was oddly satisfying.

They walked together toward the water's edge, a comfortable silence between them despite the chaos erupting across the lake as Mohawk nearly succeeded in tackling Lensless, only to find himself clutching empty air as the speedster darted away at the last possible second.

The water was the perfect temperature as they waded in—cool enough to refresh but warm enough to welcome. It had a strange buoyancy unlike Earth's lakes, supporting their weight with unusual gentleness. Y/N found herself floating effortlessly, the water cradling her body as if designed specifically for comfort.

"This is incredible," she sighed, gazing up at the alien sky where wisps of purple-tinged clouds drifted across the blue expanse. "Sometimes I still can't believe we're really here."

Omni Mark floated beside her, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed, creating small ripples across the crystal surface.

"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly. "Coming with us? You could have stayed with your Earth, tried to rebuild."

Y/N considered the question seriously, appreciating that he'd asked rather than assumed. "No," she finally said, turning her head to meet his gaze. "Even before all this, I never truly belonged there. The GDA's experiments made sure of that."

A shadow crossed his face at the mention of her past—the cruel transformation that had given her Viltrumite abilities but robbed her of normal human connection. His hand found hers beneath the water, fingers intertwining with gentle strength. The contrast between his massive hand and hers was striking—his palms calloused from years of battle, yet his touch remained infinitely tender against her skin.

"For what it's worth," he said softly, his deep voice rumbling through his chest in a way she could feel rather than just hear, "I'm glad you're here. Not because you remind me of her—my Y/N—but because you're you. Different. Your own person."

The simple honesty in his words touched something deep within her chest. She studied his face—the lines of stress that had begun to soften in recent weeks, the way the alien sunlight caught the hints of auburn in his otherwise dark hair. There was an openness to his expression now that had been absent when they first met, as if he'd finally stopped fighting against hope.

Before she could respond, however, a colossal splash erupted nearby as Mohawk finally managed to capture Lensless, tackling him mid-flight and sending them both crashing into the lake with enough force to create a momentary tidal wave.

They surfaced seconds later, Mohawk maintaining a headlock on the struggling speedster despite the water surrounding them. Rivulets cascaded down Mohawk's broad shoulders, highlighting every ridge of muscle beneath. "Got you, you little shit!" he crowed triumphantly. "Who's slow now?"

"Still you," Lensless gasped, though there was laughter in his voice despite the precarious position. His leaner frame was completely dwarfed by Mohawk's massive arms, yet there wasn't a hint of real fear in his expression—just the joy of play that seemed to come so naturally to him despite everything he'd witnessed. "I let you catch me. Got bored of running."

"Bullshit," Mohawk retorted, though he loosened his hold slightly. He flicked water from his mohawk with a practiced head twist, somehow managing to make the ridiculous hairstyle look intimidating even while soaking wet. "Admit it—I'm the superior Mark."

"In your dreams, spike-head," Lensless shot back, suddenly vibrating his molecules at such speed that he slipped from Mohawk's grasp like mercury, reappearing several feet away with a victorious grin. "But good effort! A-plus for determination!"

Mohawk lunged for him again, but Lensless was already gone, his laughter echoing across the water as he zigzagged toward the shore where Phantom and Sinister were exchanging what appeared to be currency salvaged from their now-destroyed dimensions.

"Pay up," Phantom demanded, wearing a smirk. "He didn't maintain the capture for the required five seconds."

Sinister rolled his eyes dramatically but complied, handing over what looked like gleaming coins of an unknown metal. His movements were deceptively casual, but Y/N noticed how he continuously scanned their surroundings, old habits refusing to die even in this sanctuary. "Semantics," he complained. "The mohawked barbarian clearly won the engagement."

Their bickering faded into the background as Y/N found herself drawn deeper into the lake, away from the shoreline chaos and toward a particularly massive lily pad floating near the center. Omni Mark kept pace beside her, his powerful strokes cutting through the water with effortless grace.

"Race you to the big one," she challenged impulsively, feeling suddenly playful in a way that would have been unimaginable during the war.

A rare, full smile transformed Omni's serious features, "You're on," he agreed, immediately surging forward with a powerful kick.

Y/N matched his pace, her Viltrumite physiology allowing her to cut through the water with superhuman speed. They reached the massive lily pad simultaneously, both breaking the surface with triumphant gasps.

"Tie," she declared, reaching for the edge of the floating plant. The lily pad was even more remarkable up close—at least fifteen feet in diameter, its surface a deep emerald veined with luminescent blue that pulsed gently, as if the plant itself was breathing. The edge was slightly raised, creating a natural barrier that prevented water from spilling onto its surface.

With a graceful heave, Y/N pulled herself up, discovering that the lily pad's surface had an unexpected springiness—firm enough to support weight but with a gentle give that made it surprisingly comfortable. She scooted toward the center, making room for Omni Mark as he joined her.

Water cascaded down his powerful frame as he hauled himself onto the lily pad, the burgundy swim trunks clinging to his thighs in a way that outlined every defined muscle. The dark trail of hair that started at his navel and disappeared beneath his waistband caught her attention briefly before she forced her gaze back to his face.

"This is amazing," she marveled, running her fingers across the surface. The plant felt warm beneath her touch, almost responsive, the luminescent veins pulsing slightly faster where her fingertips made contact. "It's like it's alive. Not just living, but... aware."

Omni Mark nodded, observing with scientific curiosity as the veins beneath his palm glowed brighter in response to his touch. "Remarkable. I wonder if there's a form of botanical sentience at work here."

"You are such an analyst," Y/N teased gently, though she found his intellectual curiosity endearing rather than cold. It was a side of him the others rarely showed—this genuine wonder at the universe and its mysteries.

He glanced up from his examination, catching her fond expression. A slight pink flush colored his cheekbones as he realized she'd been watching him, the blush making him look younger, more vulnerable, "Force of habit," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "Some things transcend dimensions, as Sinister so eloquently put it."

"I like it," Y/N assured him, shifting closer until their shoulders touched. The contact sent a pleasant warmth through her that had nothing to do with the alien sun overhead. "It's nice seeing you excited about something that isn't strategic advantage or tactical positioning."

The lily pad dipped slightly with their movement, causing Y/N to instinctively grab Omni's arm for balance. His hand immediately covered hers, steadying her with gentle strength. His forearm was solid beneath her fingers, dusted with dark hair and crisscrossed with almost invisible scars—badges of battles she'd never witnessed.

"Sorry," she laughed, though she made no move to pull away.

"Don't be," he murmured, gaze dropping briefly to where her hand rested against his warm skin before returning to her face with newfound intensity. His pupils dilated slightly, the blue of his irises darkening to midnight as his breathing changed subtly.

The moment stretched between them, weighted with possibility. Around them, the alien world continued its strange, beautiful existence—delicate winged creatures skimming the water's surface, the distant shouts and laughter of the others playing on the shore, the gentle pulse of the living platform beneath them. Yet for Y/N, everything narrowed to the minute space between them, to the quiet anticipation in Omni's eyes.

When he leaned forward, it was with deliberate slowness, giving her every opportunity to pull away if she chose. She didn't. Instead, she met him halfway, her fingers tangling in the damp curls at the nape of his neck as her other hand came to rest against his chest, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart quickening beneath her touch.

Unable to resist, she curled her fingers slightly, catching the coarse hair that dusted his pectorals. The unexpected touch drew a soft gasp from him, his eyes widening briefly before narrowing with a new intensity. Taking advantage of his surprise, Y/N leaned forward and pressed her lips firmly against his, abandoning the earlier gentleness for something more demanding.

The kiss deepened as Omni's hand moved to cradle her face, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone with reverent care. His other arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer until she was nestled against the solid wall of his chest, dwarfed by his sheer size yet feeling completely secure in his embrace.

When they finally parted, both slightly breathless, Y/N found herself cradled in his lap, though she couldn't recall exactly how she'd gotten there. The lily pad beneath them glowed with increased brilliance, as if responding to their elevated heart rates or shared body heat.

"That was..." Omni began, then paused, apparently struggling to find words adequate to the moment. His usual eloquence seemed to have abandoned him, leaving him staring at her with an expression of wonder that made something flutter in her chest.

"Nice," Y/N supplied with a soft smile, enjoying the rare sight of his usual eloquence deserting him.

A laugh rumbled through his chest, the sound vibrated through her where their bodies connected, rich and warm. "Vast understatement," he corrected, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear with tender precision. "But yes. Nice."

Instead of pulling away, he leaned forward again, this time pressing his warm lips to her forehead with gentle reverence. His kisses traced a path—her temple, her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth—each touch feather-light yet sending warmth cascading through her. His fingers cradled the back of her head with extraordinary tenderness as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear.

Y/N couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped her as his lips tickled the delicate skin of her neck. The unexpected sound surprised even her—how long had it been since she'd actually giggled? The sound seemed to delight him—Omni Mark smiled against her skin and deliberately repeated the motion to coax another laugh from her.

"I've never heard you laugh like that before," he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. His large hand came up to cradle her cheek, thumb brushing gently across her lower lip with reverent attention. The wonder in his gaze made her heart skip. "It's beautiful."

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck at the simple sincerity in his words. "It's been a long time since I had reason to," she admitted.

His expression softened, something fiercely protective flashing in his eyes. "Then I'll have to give you more reasons," he promised, his voice dropping to a register that seemed to vibrate through her very bones as he pressed another gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth.

The lily pad beneath them pulsed in sync with their heartbeats now, the blue veins creating patterns like constellations across its surface. Y/N watched, fascinated, as the luminescence seemed to follow the path of Omni's fingertips as they traced lazy patterns along her shoulder.

"You know," she said, running her fingers through the coarse hair on his chest with newfound boldness, "for someone who gives orders all day, you're surprisingly gentle."

A soft chuckle rumbled through him. "Only with you," he admitted, catching her exploring hand and bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to each fingertip with deliberate care, his eyes never leaving hers. "I don't have to be the commander here. Just... yours."

The unexpected vulnerability in those two syllables—yours—made her breath catch. Before she could respond, he continued, "If you want me to be, that is."

"I do," she whispered, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. "Though I'm not sure how the others would feel about that arrangement."

His lips quirked in a small smile. "We're in uncharted territory here. Seven versions of the same man, one extraordinary woman. I think we're beyond conventional relationship dynamics, don't you?"

A distant whistle from the shore reminded them they weren't truly alone, despite the illusion of privacy their floating sanctuary provided. Glancing toward the source, Y/N saw Mohawk standing waist-deep in the water, hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted something indecipherable at this distance. Behind him, Sinister appeared to be preparing for a swim, removing various concealed weapons from his person despite the supposed recreational nature of their outing.

"We should probably head back," Y/N sighed, though she made no immediate move to disentangle herself from Omni's embrace. "Before they decide to come investigate."

"Probably," he agreed, looking equally reluctant. His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone with gentle wonder, as if memorizing the contours of her face. "Though just for the record, I'd be happy to stay here with you until the stars come out. Or longer."

Y/N smiled, leaning into his touch. "Me too. But I suspect Mohawk will start throwing things if we ignore him much longer."

As if on cue, a splash erupted nearby as something hit the water with surprising force. Glancing over, Y/N was startled to see what appeared to be a piece of fruit floating where the projectile had landed—apparently Mohawk had indeed resorted to throwing things to get their attention.

Omni Mark's eyebrows rose in amusement. "I'm continually amazed by his accuracy," he observed dryly. "That landed precisely ten feet from us—close enough to get our attention without actually hitting us. Though I'm tempted to teach him a lesson about wasting food."

"Later," Y/N promised, reluctantly shifting away from his warmth. "For now, I'm curious to see what No-Mask packed for lunch. He mentioned something about those purple fizzy fruits I liked yesterday."

"Ah, so it's food you're leaving me for," Omni teased, a playful side she rarely glimpsed emerging as he helped her to the edge of the lily pad.

"Well, a girl has priorities," she teased back, delighted when he threw his head back with a genuine laugh.

He pressed one last lingering kiss to her palm, his touch lingering longer than strictly necessary.

They slipped back into the water together, the cooling liquid a stark contrast to the heat that had built between them on the lily pad. As they swam toward shore, Y/N found herself reflecting on the strange, wonderful complexity of their situation—seven versions of the same man, each distinctly different, each finding their own unique connection with her. Not as a replacement for what they'd lost, but as something new, something healing.

The shore scene that greeted them was pure chaos—exactly what one might expect when godlike beings decided to take a day off. Lensless and No-Mask appeared to be constructing an elaborate sand structure that resembled the fortress, complete with working drawbridge made of smaller lily pads and twigs. Phantom was demonstrating some kind of martial arts form that involved impossible aerial maneuvers, his body cutting through the air with dancer-like precision despite his powerful build.

Mohawk stood with arms crossed, attempting to appear casual despite the obvious relief in his expression when he spotted them approaching. Water droplets still clung to the dense mat of hair covering his broad chest, glinting in the sunlight like tiny jewels, "About time," he called gruffly. "Thought maybe the lake monster got you."

"Lake monster?" Y/N repeated, quirking an eyebrow as they reached shallow water. She swayed slightly as she stood, the sudden transition from swimming to standing making her lightheaded.

"Whoa there," Mohawk said, his gruff demeanor instantly giving way to concern as he stepped forward, one large hand coming to rest at her elbow to steady her. "You okay, princess?"

"Fine," she assured him, though she didn't pull away from his steadying touch. "Just stood up too quickly."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face, unconvinced. "You're flushed. Maybe you should sit down for a bit." The genuine worry in his usually gruff voice touched something in her chest.

“No no trust me, im fine,” She smile softly, blowing him off as she gently bushes the bits of sand off her hands, glancing back at Omni before turning back to Mohawk’s concern face. “Wait tell me about this monster.”

"Yeah," Mohawk insisted, gesturing vaguely toward the depths. His face was set in exaggerated seriousness, though humor danced in his eyes. "Sinister swears he saw something huge moving around out there. Probably bullshit, but..." He shrugged, the casual movement not quite disguising his genuine concern.

"Touching as your concern is," Sinister drawled, materializing beside them with predatory silence despite the water that should have announced his approach, "I assure you what I saw was quite real. Approximately twenty feet in length, serpentine body structure, multiple appendages."

"And just when were you planning to share this information with the group?" Phantom called from where he'd paused his practice, arms crossed over his chest in disapproval.

"When it became relevant," Sinister replied with a careless shrug, "Which would have been when it attacked. Until then, why spoil a perfectly lovely outing with unnecessary concerns?"

"And yet you didn't think to mention this before y/n and I went swimming?" Omni Mark asked, voice dry with disbelief, though his gaze remained concerned as it flicked between Y/N and Sinister.

Sinister shrugged elegantly, water streaming from his powerful shoulders and down the defined ridges of his abdomen. The dark hair that ran from his navel downward created a perfect trail disappearing beneath his swim shorts, somehow making him look even more predatory. His black swim shorts clung to his powerful thighs, the yellow accents somehow emphasizing the predatory grace with which he moved even in casual settings.

"It showed no aggressive tendencies. Besides, dove here has proven remarkably capable of handling herself in dangerous situations." His gaze shifted to Y/N, something predatory yet appreciative in its depths. His eyes lingered on the way the iridescent fabric clung to her skin, shifting between teal and lavender as she moved. "Though I notice Omni seems to be handling her quite effectively as well."

The double entendre was deliberate, his smirk widening as a flush crept up Y/N's neck. "Not that I blame him," Sinister continued, his voice dropping to a silky purr as he stepped closer, completely disregarding the concept of personal space. "You look positively edible in that swimwear, dove."

Before she could formulate a response to the blatant flirtation, Mohawk stepped between them, using his body to create space. "Back off, Dracula," he growled, "Give the lady some breathing room."

"Such chivalry from our resident barbarian," Sinister remarked, though he did step back slightly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm simply appreciating the view. As are we all, I imagine."

Before the verbal sparring could escalate, Lensless's voice cut across the beach.

"FINISHED! Come see! It's AMAZING!"

The sand fortress was indeed impressive—an intricately detailed replica of their actual home, complete with tiny windows that caught the sunlight at the same angles as the real ones. No-Mask stood beside it with quiet pride, his usually pristine appearance transformed by sand clinging to damp skin and swim attire. Unlike the others whose chest hair ranged from subtle to prominent, No-Mask's torso was nearly hairless. His navy blue trunks were somehow still perfectly aligned at the waist despite their aquatic activities, a testament to his meticulous nature that extended even to beachwear. The mathematical tattoo peeking above his hip seemed to shift and rearrange itself in the changing light, as if the equations were solving themselves against his skin.

"The structural integrity is questionable," he admitted as they gathered around to admire the creation. He absently brushed sand from his lean forearms, "But the aesthetic accuracy is satisfactory."

"It's beautiful," Y/N assured him, genuinely impressed by the detail work. "How did you get the spires so perfect?"

"I had an excellent reference point," No-Mask replied, his gaze momentarily flicking to her face before darting away, a subtle rose tint coloring his cheeks. "Photographic memory. Once I've seen something—or someone—I don't forget the details."

The implication that he'd been paying such close attention to both her and their new home made something warm bloom in Y/N's chest.

"Lensless," No-Mask explained, gesturing to where the speedster vibrated with barely contained excitement. The vibrant blue of Lensless's swim shorts seemed to blur with his movements, creating an almost hypnotic effect against his lean, wiry frame. A light dusting of light brown hair across his chest caught the sunlight, glinting like metallic threads with each excited movement. Droplets of water still clung to his eyelashes, as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"His fine motor control at accelerated speeds is quite remarkable. He was able to shape the sand with sufficient velocity to temporarily vitrify the surface."

"I made glass!" Lensless translated proudly, his dimples deepening with delight. "With my fingers! Super-fast! Wanna see?" Without waiting for an answer, he plunged his hand into loose sand below, vibrating it at such speed that the grains began to glow. The veins in his forearms became visible with the effort. When he withdrew his hand seconds later, he held a crude but recognizable sculpture of a bird, its surface gleaming with fused sand particles.

"For you," he declared, presenting it to Y/N with a flourish. His eyes searched her face eagerly, seeking approval with an openness none of the others allowed themselves. "A souvenir! Our first beach day!"

The simple gift, offered with such genuine enthusiasm, touched Y/N deeply. "Thank you," she said, accepting the still-warm sculpture with careful hands. "I'll treasure it."

"Really?" Lensless asked, his eyes lighting up. "Because I could make more! Different animals, or maybe buildings, or—"

"Perhaps let Y/N enjoy this one first," No-Mask interjected gently, placing a restraining hand on the speedster's shoulder. "Before you fill her quarters with an entire menagerie."

"Right, right," Lensless agreed, nodding so rapidly his features blurred slightly. He stopped abruptly, looking at Y/N with surprising solemnity. "It's just... I haven't made things in a long time. Only destroyed them. It feels... good. To create instead."

The unexpected depth behind his simple statement created a moment of poignant silence among the group.

Before Lensless beamed again, his whole face lighting up as a thought came to mind. He impulsively took her free hand and pressed a swift, innocent kiss to her knuckles before zipping away, leaving behind only a lingering warmth and the faint scent of ozone from his speed.

Behind him, Phantom approached with unusual hesitancy, something clutched in his hand. Without his mask, the scar bisecting his right eyebrow was thrown into sharp relief by the setting sun. His wetsuit clung to his body like a second skin, though it had been partially unzipped at the neck, revealing a hint of dark chest hair that contrasted with the paleness of skin that rarely saw sunlight. The exposure seemed almost intimate for him, a small but significant concession to the day's informality.

"I also... found something," he said quietly, offering his closed fist to Y/N. For once, his eyes didn't dart away from hers but held steady, a rare moment of direct connection that felt as intimate as a touch. There was a vulnerability in his direct gaze that made him seem younger, less hardened by the battles he'd fought. "While I was practicing forms near the water's edge."

When he opened his fingers, a small object caught the sunlight with prism-like brilliance—a stone about the size of a marble, perfectly smooth and shifting between colors as it moved. Unlike the color-changing fruits, which transitioned between recognizable hues, this stone seemed to capture colors Y/N had never seen before, shades that shouldn't exist in any spectrum she was familiar with.

"It's incredible," she breathed, accepting it reverently. The stone felt warm against her palm, pulsing gently as if responding to her touch—or perhaps her heartbeat. "Thank you, Phantom."

"It reminded me of you," he said softly, the words clearly difficult for him to voice. "Brilliant. Unusual. Beautiful in ways that defy explanation."

The unexpected poetry from the usually taciturn variant left Y/N momentarily speechless. Before she could formulate a response, Phantom continued in a rush, as if afraid he'd lose his nerve:

"My mother used to collect unusual stones. She said they were like people—ordinary at first glance, but extraordinary when you take the time to really look." He glanced down at the stone in her palm. "I think she would have liked you."

He inclined his head slightly, but not before Y/N caught the pleased expression that flashed across his exposed features. Without his mask, Phantom's emotions were surprisingly easy to read—as if the barrier had been holding back not just his face but his ability to connect. In a gesture so swift it might have been imagined, his finger brushed against her wrist as he withdrew his hand, a fleeting touch that nonetheless sent a shiver across her skin.

"Getting competitive with the gift-giving, are we?" Sinister observed, his tone light though his eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the interactions. "How charmingly primitive."

"You're just jealous you didn't think of it first," Mohawk retorted, though there was less bite to his words than usual.

He flung himself down on the blanket beside Y/N, his powerful frame radiating heat as water continued to evaporate from his skin in the alien sunlight. The mat of dark hair that covered chest glowed in the sunlight, attracting all eyes to the prominent trail leading down his stomach. The black swim shorts with electric blue accents rode low on his hips, revealing a carved V-line that disappeared beneath the waistband.

Y/N's eyes inadvertently traveled lower, noticing for the first time the considerable bulge beneath the clinging wet fabric. She quickly averted her gaze, a flush warming her cheeks as she realized Mohawk had caught her looking. A knowing smirk spread across his face, but surprisingly, he made no crude remark. Outloud at least.

"Like what you see, princess?" he asked instead, his voice pitched low enough that only she could hear. Before she could stammer a denial, he leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "It's okay. I certainly like what I'm seeing."

The blatant admiration in his eyes made her flush deepen to a dark red, but there was something oddly comforting about his straightforward attraction. No games, no hidden agendas—just honest desire tempered with surprising respect.

"So what's the plan now? More swimming? Food? Nap in the sun like overgrown lizards?" he asked drawing the variants attention to him instead of Y/n’s flushed face, slowly stretching out luxuriously like a satisfied predator.

"All acceptable options," No-Mask mused, settling onto the blanket with casualness, his usual rigid posture relaxing into something more natural. He carefully arranged himself to maintain a respectful distance from Y/N while still being close enough for conversation. "Though I would recommend applying solar protection if extended sun exposure is the consensus."

"Nerd," Mohawk scoffed affectionately, reaching over to muss No-Mask's carefully arranged hair. "We're virtually indestructible. Pretty sure sunburn isn't a concern."

No-Mask ducked away from the rough touch with practiced ease, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "Virtually indestructible does not equate to completely impervious," he pointed out primly. "Particularly in an alien environment with unknown radiation patterns."

"Speaking from experience?" Y/N asked, noticing the faint freckling across No-Mask's shoulders that hadn't been there when they arrived.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise that she'd noticed such a detail. "Perhaps," he admitted gently rubbing his shoulder. "My skin has always been... susceptible to solar radiation. More so than the others." He gestured to a small container nestled among their provisions. "I formulated a protective solution if you'd like to try it."

"I'd appreciate that," she said, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. "Would you mind?" She held out her arm in invitation.

No-Mask hesitated for just a moment before nodding, a pink flush coloring his ears as he retrieved the container. His fingers were cool against her skin as he carefully applied the lotion—meticulous, thorough, yet remarkably gentle.

"You have very steady hands," she observed as he worked.

"Years of laboratory precision," he explained, though his voice had grown slightly husky. "Though I confess, they rarely have such pleasant subjects to work with."

"If I may suggest an alternative," Omni Mark interjected before No-mask and Y/n’s conversion could escalate. Settling beside Y/N with casual grace that nevertheless positioned him as a subtle buffer between her and Mohawk's sprawled form. His deep burgundy swim trunks contrasted perfectly with his sun-kissed skin. Droplets of water still clung to his dark hair, making it appear almost black where it swept back from his forehead.

"The sun will set in approximately two hours. Perhaps we could enjoy the water until then, share a meal as the twin moons rise, and return to the fortress before full dark."

"You are such a planner," Sinister observed, though without real criticism. He lowered himself onto the blanket with fluid elegance, deliberately positioning himself on Y/N's other side. "Though I must admit, the prospect of experiencing our first alien sunset has a certain poetic appeal."

From several feet away, Viltrumite Mark observed their interactions with composed interest. The sunlight caught in the droplets clinging to his broad shoulders, creating a momentary crown of light around his regal bearing. He moved toward them with deliberate steps.

As he approached, Y/N noticed tiny silver flecks in his otherwise human-appearing eyes—a subtle reminder of his pure Viltrumite heritage.

"The light quality will be optimal for observing celestial phenomena during the sunset," he offered, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the beach. "The atmospheric composition creates refraction patterns unlike anything on Earth." His gaze met Y/N's with unexpected warmth beneath his formal demeanor. "It would be... pleasant... to experience it together."

"Together," she agreed with a smile. "All of us." She patted the space beside her on the blanket, inviting him to join their circle.

For a moment, Viltrumite Mark seemed surprised by the casual invitation, as if unused to being included so naturally. Then, with careful precision, he lowered his imposing frame to sit beside her, his posture still formal but noticeably less rigid than usual.

"Thank you," he said quietly, for her ears alone. The simple words carried unexpected weight.

Y/N looked around at the seven variants—men who had once brought terror to countless worlds now building sand castles, sharing food, and bickering over friendly wagers. She smiled, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the alien sun overhead.

"No," she replied, reaching out to briefly touch his hand. "Thank you. All of you."

The simple gesture sent warmth spreading through Viltrumite Mark's usually stoic features, a fleeting softness that reminded Y/N that beneath all their differences, these men shared the same core—the same heart.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

And so the afternoon unfolded with unexpected harmony—swimming in the crystal waters, exploring the strange beauty of the alien shore, sharing food and conversation as the sun began its descent toward the horizon.

When Mohawk challenged Omni to a diving contest, it evolved from competitive showing off into genuine appreciation of each other's athletic abilities. What started as Mohawk's bellowing "Watch this, commander!" before executing a perfect cannonball that sent water twenty feet in all directions transformed into an intricate display of aerial acrobatics that left Y/N breathless with admiration. The way Omni's powerful form cut through the air with \ precision that contrasted beautifully with Mohawk's wild, almost feral grace—different expressions of the same magnificent strength.

When Lensless convinced No-Mask to help him build an even more elaborate sand structure, Phantom quietly joined them, his precise movements adding architectural details the others hadn't considered. "It needs flying buttresses," Phantom murmured, almost to himself, as he shaped perfect arches with gentle fingertips that seemed impossibly delicate for hands that had destroyed worlds. No-Mask observed silently before nodding once, a glimmer of respect lighting his analytical eyes as he added, "And here—a complementary spire for balance." Lensless vibrated with excitement, creating perfect geometric patterns in seconds that would have taken master craftsmen days, his childlike joy infectious as he called, "Y/N! Look! We're rebuilding Atlantis! Or what we think Atlantis might have looked like if it existed in this universe and also had really cool laser turrets!"

During a moment of relative solitude as Y/N floated near the shore, she found herself surprised by Sinister's approach. Unlike his usual confident swagger, he moved through the water with uncharacteristic hesitation, keeping a respectful distance for perhaps the first time since she'd known him. More surprising still was his difficulty making eye contact—the man who typically fixed others with predatory intensity now seemed unable to meet her gaze.

"Something on your mind?" Y/N asked gently, treading water as she studied his unusual demeanor.

Sinister's jaw worked for a moment before he spoke, his voice lacking its typical sardonic edge. "I wanted to... apologize," he said, the words clearly uncomfortable on his tongue. "For what happened after... the cave. When the others found us."

Y/N immediately understood. After their intimate encounter in the alien cave, before they'd joined the others, Sinister had been insufferably smug, making thinly veiled comments about their liaison that had embarrassed her deeply.

"The way I spoke about what happened between us," he continued, fingers tracing patterns in the water's surface rather than looking at her. "As if it was merely a conquest. As if what we shared meant nothing."

The unguarded vulnerability in his voice caught Y/N off guard. "Sinister..."

"It wasn't nothing," he said firmly, finally meeting her eyes with an intensity that took her breath away. "Not to me. I just... I've spent lifetimes using arrogance as armor. Old habits."

Y/N moved closer, touched by this rare glimpse of the man beneath the villain. "Come here," she said softly, reaching for him.

Sinister hesitated, uncharacteristically uncertain, before closing the distance between them. Y/N cupped his face in her hands, surprised to feel a slight tremor in his typically unshakable composure. She pressed her lips to his in a kiss that contained none of their previous desperate passion—this was something gentler, more honest.

"Thank you," she whispered against his lips when they parted. "For telling me."

Something profound shifted in Sinister's eyes—a softening that transformed his entire face. For a fleeting moment, the hard lines of cruelty eased from his features, revealing glimpses of who he might have been before tragedy had carved him into something so sharp and dangerous. His hands, usually weapons themselves, cradled her face with a reverence that seemed foreign to them, fingertips exploring the curve of her cheek as if memorizing something precious and fleeting.

"You make me want to be better," he admitted in a whisper so quiet it barely disturbed the water between them. "And that terrifies me more than anything else in this or any universe."

The moment was broken by a splash and Lensless's delighted laughter from across the lake. Sinister's familiar smirk returned, though somehow less sharp-edged than before.

"We should rejoin the others before they send a search party," he murmured, though he made no immediate move to pull away. "Or worse, Mohawk decides to practice his synchronized swimming routine. I'm still recovering from the last performance."

Y/N laughed, the sound echoing across the water.

As they swam back toward shore, Y/N couldn't help but notice how Sinister positioned himself between her and the deeper parts of the lake—a protective gesture so subtle she almost missed it. When she caught his eye, he merely shrugged, the movement rippling through the water. "Call it an abundance of caution, dove. After all," he added with a mischievous glint returning to his eyes, "I've developed quite the interest in your continued existence."

Throughout the afternoon, Y/N found herself the recipient of small, thoughtful gestures from each variant—Omni Mark's hand resting at the small of her back as they walked along the shoreline, his thumb tracing gentle circles against her skin; the contrast between his commanding presence around the others and the way his eyes softened uniquely for her, silently seeking her approval with each decision as if her opinion was the only one that truly mattered to him; No-Mask carefully arranging a makeshift headrest from his discarded coverup when she decided to lie in the sun; Mohawk bringing her a luminescent drink when he noticed her looking thirsty, his gruff "Here" belied by the tenderness in his eyes; the way his fingers lingered against hers during the exchange, his gaze darting away when she caught him staring at her lips, a rare flush coloring his cheeks beneath his swagger; Phantom silently offering shade when the sun became too intense, his body positioned to block the harshest rays without crowding her space.

Lensless's attentions were the most obvious—zipping back and forth to bring her interesting shells and stones, creating elaborate sand sculptures around her whenever she stayed still for more than a minute, his energy channeled into making her smile. "Watch this!" became his constant refrain, each display of speed or skill performed with hopeful eyes seeking her approval. "I found something amazing!" he exclaimed, carefully opening his palm to reveal a tiny spiral shell that pulsed with bioluminescent light. "It changes color when you hold it—look!" As she took it, the shell shifted from azure to violet, responding to her touch. Lensless's eyes widened with delight that matched her own. "See? It likes you! Just like—" he stopped himself, suddenly self-conscious, before finishing in a rush, "Just like all of us do."

Most unexpected were Viltrumite Mark's quiet attentions—a cooling breeze created by a subtle movement of his hand when the heat grew oppressive, the careful placement of a perfectly ripe fruit beside her when she hadn't even realized she was hungry, the silent offering of his powerful arm when the pink sand became too shifty underfoot. His reserved demeanor never fully vanished, but there was something profoundly touching about the way this proud warrior—who had commanded armies and conquered worlds—now devoted himself to ensuring her comfort through gestures so subtle they might go unnoticed by anyone else.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The alien sun dragged closer to the horizon, and Y/N started to notice little unique traits about each of the variants that somehow made them more endearing—Omni's habit of absently tracing the line of his jaw when deep in thought, the way his eyebrows would draw together in the same configuration whether he was contemplating battle strategy or deciding which fruit looked ripest; the way Sinister's fingers constantly moved as if playing invisible piano keys when relaxed, a remnant of some long-forgotten skill from his past that surfaced only in these rare moments of peace; Mohawk's unexpected gentleness when handling the strange small creatures they discovered in tide pools, his hands becoming impossibly delicate when cradling a tiny starfish-like creature with translucent appendages, his usual brashness giving way to whispered fascination; to the barely audible hum that accompanied Lensless at rest, like an engine perpetually idling.

No-Mask continually documented their findings in a small waterproof notebook he'd somehow brought along, his curiosity transforming his usually serious face into something approaching childlike wonder. "The cellular structure is unlike anything I've documented in my previous universe," he explained to Y/N when she peered over his shoulder at his meticulous sketches. "These organisms appear to share both plant and animal characteristics, with symbiotic relationships that—" He broke off, suddenly self-conscious. "I'm boring you, aren't I?"

"Not at all," she assured him, genuinely fascinated by both his observations and the rare animation in his usually stoic features. "Tell me more."

The smile that bloomed across his face was like sunrise—slow, radiant, and transformative. His hand found hers as he continued his explanation, thumb absently stroking her knuckles in perfect rhythm with his excited words, as if physical contact completed a circuit between them.

Phantom, once comfortable enough to remove the upper half of his wetsuit in the heat, revealed not just scars but an intricate tattoo across his shoulder blade—glyphs in a language Y/N didn't recognize that he quietly explained were remembrances of those he'd lost. "Each symbol represents someone," he explained, voice hushed as if in a cathedral. His fingertips traced one particular glyph, elegant and flowing unlike the others. "This one... this was for my Y/N. I designed it myself to capture her spirit—always in motion, always beautiful." The raw vulnerability in his admission hung between them, precious and fragile, before he added softly, "She would have liked you, I think. You have the same courage."

Viltrumite Mark, despite his formal bearing, displayed unexpected dry humor in his rare comments, often delivered with such perfect deadpan that it took the others a moment to realize he was joking. When Mohawk sent a massive splash directly at his face and Viltrumite Mark remained perfectly still, water streaming down his impassive features before he remarked, "I believe I'm now adequately hydrated, thank you," even Sinister had dissolved into reluctant laughter.

"I never thought I'd live to see it," Sinister drawled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "The mighty Viltrumite telling jokes. Truly, this universe continues to surprise."

"Not a joke," Viltrumite Mark replied with perfect composure, though the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "Merely an observation." His gaze slid to Y/N, something warm flickering behind his regal demeanor when she laughed. "Though I admit, certain... reactions... make the indignity worthwhile."

As the alien sun touched the horizon, casting long golden fingers across the landscape in strikingly similar fashion to their first evening in this world, they gathered on the pink sands to witness the spectacle. The sky transformed into a canvas of impossible colors—vibrant purples and deep crimsons bleeding into oranges so bright they seemed almost tangible.

Y/N found herself seated in their midst, in a position that had evolved naturally yet felt deliberately orchestrated. Omni Mark sat behind her, his strong legs creating a V-shape that cradled her body, his chest a warm support against her back. The thick muscles of his pectorals provided a comfortable cushion, the light dusting of chest hair tickling pleasantly against her shoulders when he shifted. His fingers threaded through her hair with gentle reverence, occasionally tracing the shell of her ear or the line of her jaw with tender precision. "You're tense here," he murmured, thumbs finding knots at the base of her neck that she hadn't even realized were there. His touch was commanding yet infinitely gentle as he worked the tension from her muscles with expert precision. When she sighed with pleasure, his arms tightened fractionally around her waist, his breath catching audibly before he mastered himself again.

Mohawk had claimed the space to her lower right, his head resting against her thigh with surprising vulnerability. His usual restless energy had settled into something quieter, more content. Occasionally his lips would brush against her skin—not demanding, barely there touches that felt like questions rather than statements, each one sending tiny shivers through her body. His hand rested on her calf, thumb drawing lazy circles against her ankle. The mohawk that gave him his name now lay slightly flattened from the day's swimming, making him look younger, almost boyish despite his massive frame. When she absently ran her fingers through the still-damp strands, he made a sound suspiciously close to a purr, pressing into her touch like an oversized cat seeking affection.

"Enjoying yourself, princess?" he murmured, voice rough with contentment, as he nuzzled against her thigh. The stubble on his jaw created delicious friction against her sensitive skin, raising goosebumps along her leg.

"Very much," she admitted, tugging playfully at his mohawk. "Who knew the big bad Mohawk was secretly a cuddler?"

"Tell anyone and I'll deny it," he growled without heat, pressing a deliberately scratchy kiss against her inner thigh that made her gasp. His eyes gleamed with mischievous satisfaction at her reaction, though he gentled his touch immediately afterward, soothing the spot with a tender brush of his lips.

Sinister sprawled to her left with feline grace, his head propped on one hand while the other traced elaborate patterns across her bare stomach. His touch was deliberately hypnotic, fingertips barely making contact yet leaving trails of warmth in their wake. His eyes, when they met hers, held knowing amusement at the effect he was having. "I never mentioned it before, but your skin fascinates me, dove," he mused, voice pitched low for her ears alone. "The way it responds to the slightest touch—like this." His finger traced a delicate spiral just below her navel, smiling as the muscles underneath jumped in response. "So honest. So beautifully reactive."

"You're playing with fire," she warned, biting her lower lip softly.

"Always have," he replied with a wicked smile that softened into something more genuine as he added, "But this is the first time I've cared about getting burned."

Phantom sat close enough that his shoulder pressed against hers, his usual rigidity softened into something almost relaxed. His hand had found hers at some point, their fingers intertwined in a grip that felt both protective and seeking protection. His thumb stroked her palm in time with the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, a silent rhythm shared between them. Unlike the others who watched the sunset, Phantom's eyes remained fixed on their joined hands, as if the simple connection was more wondrous than any celestial display. When she squeezed his fingers gently in question, he looked up with such naked emotion in his usually guarded expression that it stole her breath.

"I never thought I'd feel this again," he confessed, voice barely audible over the gentle sounds of the lake. "Peace… with you"

No-Mask had positioned himself slightly forward, half-turned toward the group as he explained the astronomical phenomena they were witnessing. His hand rested lightly on Y/N's ankle, seemingly an absent gesture though the precise placement of his fingers—directly over her pulse point—suggested otherwise. As he spoke, his excited gestures occasionally brushed against her shin, each touch followed by a fleeting glance to gauge her reaction. "The refraction patterns are creating colors beyond our standard visual spectrum," he explained, eyes bright with intellectual excitement. "Some species might perceive entirely different sunset displays than what we're seeing—though personally, I can't imagine anything more perfect than this particular view."

His gaze, when it met hers, made it clear he wasn't referring to the sunset at all.

Lensless couldn't maintain any single position for long, this new natural energy of his driving him to constant movement. Yet he always returned to the same spot, sprawled across the sand near Y/N's feet. Sometimes he would rest his cheek against her foot, sometimes grasp her ankle with gentle fingers, or sometimes simply lean against her leg—each return accompanied by a brilliant smile as if he'd discovered something precious anew. "You know what this reminds me of?" he asked, vibrating slightly with contained energy. "That time we went camping by Lake Michigan—well, not you-you, but the Y/N from my world—and we stayed up all night counting stars until you fell asleep and I counted your heartbeats instead." His expression turned wistful before brightening again. "I counted eight thousand, two hundred and forty-three before sunrise. Each one was my favorite sound."

The sweet, painful honesty of the memory shared so openly made her heart ache with a weak smile. She reached out, brushing sand from his unruly hair in a gesture that made him beam with unfiltered joy, so different from merely 2 days ago back in her universe. 

Most surprising was Viltrumite Mark, who had positioned himself directly behind Omni, creating a protective semicircle around Y/N. His hand occasionally reached forward to brush a strand of hair from her shoulder or adjust the blanket beneath them. Though he maintained his dignified composure, there was something tellingly vulnerable in the way his powerful body had gradually relaxed throughout the day, his usual perfect posture softening into something more natural. When their eyes met briefly over Omni's shoulder, the intensity in his gaze made her heart stutter—not with fear, but with the realization that this being who had commanded armies now looked at her as if she were the only authority that mattered.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Omni murmured, his voice pitched just for her despite their close proximity to the others. His breath was warm against her ear, sending pleasant shivers down her spine.

"More than I could have imagined," Y/N agreed, watching as the first of the twin moons began to rise opposite the setting sun—a pale silver disc tinged with azure around its edges. She leaned back further into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against her shoulder blades.

"Worth it?" Mohawk asked unexpectedly, his voice gruff with something that might have been uncertainty. His fingers tightened slightly on her ankle, betraying the importance of her answer. "Leaving everything behind? Coming here with... us?"

The question hung in the air, suddenly important in ways none of them had fully articulated before. Y/N looked around at these men—these variants of the same person who had somehow become something more than their origins, something more than the damage and violence that had shaped them.

"Yes," she said simply. Her free hand moved to cup Mohawk's cheek, feeling the subtle rasp of evening stubble against her palm. "A thousand times yes."

"Even with Mohawk's terrible singing last night when he found that washing place in the castle?" Lensless quipped, breaking the solemn moment with perfect timing.

"Hey!" Mohawk protested, "My singing is majestic."

"If by 'majestic' you mean 'causes wildlife to flee in terror,' then yes, absolutely," Sinister drawled, earning a handful of sand tossed in his direction.

"Coming from the man who talks in his sleep about conquering pastry shops," Mohawk shot back with a victorious grin when Sinister's usually impeccable composure cracked with surprise.

"I do no such thing," Sinister replied with dignity, though a telltale flush crept up his neck.

"Oh, you absolutely do," No-Mask confirmed, smiling softly "'The croissants shall bow before me.' Direct quote."

The unexpected teasing of these deadly beings bantering like brothers—made Y/N's heart swell with affection. Even Viltrumite Mark's shoulders shook with silent laughter, his usual stoicism cracking just enough to reveal the man beneath the warrior.

"For the record," Y/N interjected with mock seriousness, "I find Mohawk's singing rather charming. Like a bear gargling rocks, but in a good way."

"HA!" Mohawk exclaimed triumphantly, while the others dissolved into laughter.

As the light faded and the twin moons cast their silver-blue glow across the landscape, Y/N found herself surrounded by these men who had once brought terror to countless worlds but now looked at her with expressions ranging from open adoration to carefully guarded tenderness. Each touch—Omni's fingers threading through her hair, Mohawk's cheek against her thigh, Sinister's hand resting on her waist, Phantom's thumb stroking her palm, No-Mask's precise fingers at her ankle, Lensless's playful tugs at her toes, Viltrumite Mark's careful adjustments of the blanket beneath them—conveyed something deeper than mere affection.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

As they gathered their belongings and prepared to return to the fortress, Y/N cast one last glance over her shoulder at the now-peaceful lake, illuminated by the ethereal glow of the twin moons. 

The sun slipped finally below the horizon, casting the world in the ethereal glow of the rising moons, Y/N found herself filled with an emotion she hadn't dared name until now—hope. Not just for survival, not just for peace, but for something they were building together, choice by choice, moment by moment.

A new beginning, indeed.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hope y'all like this chapter :3 I put a lot of thought into this... Smut up next with MOHAWK MARK!! Omni following 😔✊

Pt.1 (𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚜)

[slutoru1207]

Triple Trouble

Mohawk Mark, Full Mask Mark, and Original Mark x Reader

MDNI 18+

just a tease

It was supposed to be one night.

Just one night of giving in to the chaos of having three versions of your boyfriend completely wreck you.

But then?

They never left.

And now, you were trapped.

Trapped between three versions of Mark, all of whom had decided they were staying.

Mark (your Mark) was trying to act normal. Trying to pretend like having two alternate versions of himself competing for your attention wasn’t driving him insane.

Mohawk Mark had zero shame about the situation. He was all over you, arms thrown around your waist at breakfast, whispering filthy things in your ear whenever Mark left the room.

Full Mask Mark was silent, possessive, dangerous. He didn’t say much, but he was always watching, his hands constantly on you, keeping you close.

And the worst part?

They were competing.

It started small.

Little things

Mark made your coffee in the morning? Mohawk Mark dumped it out and made you a better one.

You were cold on the couch? Full Mask Mark was already pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you before the others could.

Mark tried to kiss you goodnight? Mohawk Mark stole it first.

It was ridiculous.

"You guys are insane," you muttered one night as they all crowded you on the bed, refusing to let the others have the prime spot next to you.

"Insane?" Mohawk Mark grinned, biting your shoulder playfully. "Babe, we’re just dedicated."

Mark groaned, rubbing his face. "I hate this."

Full Mask Mark, as always, said nothing.

He just pulled you closer, resting his chin on your head, his grip unyielding.

Yeah.

You were so screwed.

Then..... the game started.

Mohawk Mark got bored.

Which was dangerous.

Because the second he was bored, he started a competition.

"Let’s make this interesting." He smirked, draping himself over your back as you sat on the couch.

Mark narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Yes." Mohawk Mark grinned, leaning in to whisper right against your ear.

"Whoever makes her fall apart first… wins."

Silence.

Then—

Mark growled.

Full Mask Mark? Oh, he was already moving.

And you?

You didn’t stand a chance.

Your Mark grabbed you first, pulling you onto his lap, his lips already on your throat, hands gripping your waist like he was staking his claim.

"You want to play games?" he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing your pulse. "Fine. Let’s play."

Mohawk Mark let out a low whistle.

"Damn, baby," he grinned, watching as Mark devoured you, his grip possessive, unrelenting.

"You really think you can handle all of us?"

Mark snapped his head up, glaring.

"Shut up."

Mohawk Mark just laughed.

The second Mark paused, Mohawk Mark swooped in, flipping you under him, his hands already trailing lower.

"Tsk, tsk," he grinned down at you, pinning your wrists. "You hesitated. That’s a rookie mistake, man."

Mark growled, already reaching to yank him off you, but Full Mask Mark stopped him.

"Wait."

Mohawk Mark smirked.

"Ooooh, he wants to watch."

You shivered.

Because oh.

Oh, that was dangerous.

Full Mask Mark was silent, but his actions spoke louder than words.

He didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t play games.

Didn’t tease.

He just took.

Mohawk Mark let out a low groan, watching as Full Mask Mark wrecked you completely.

"Damn, dude." He let out a breathless laugh. "You’re brutal."

Full Mask Mark didn’t even respond.

He was too focused on ruining you.

And oh, he did.

[bonsubear]

You're Dead Everywhere But Here │Invincible Variants x Female! Reader x Original Invincible │#1

I don't know how to describe this lol

#1, #2

CW: Slight freakiness?

WC: 3,1k

"This is complete bullshit." You spat, gritting your teeth as you tugged at the tight metal collar that the assholes from the G.D.A had forcibly attached to you. It was blinking a green hue, and each time you went to go and grasp at it with the intention of ripping it apart, it would change to red, sending shockwaves of electricity that hurt like hell.

Putting your arms to your side, you raised a brow at the complete destruction that surrounded you. Blood splatter, broken buildings, and pieces of human remains that laid around only served to fuel your bad mood. Screams of civilians could be heard from the distance and instead of worry and concern flooding your senses, it was only annoyance.

You had been captured and locked away after another fight with Invincible—and you couldn't believe you had been a fool to have been caught off guard. That stupid superhero, Invincible, got into your head and messed with you.

Each time you thought back to the moment back in that cell, a bitter taste flooded your mouth, and you couldn't help but bite your tongue.

"There's no way you've always been like... this." His voice—God, every time he would confront you he'd use this aggravating soft tone as if he was talking to a scared cat—called out to you, trying to reason with you.

"The fuck you know about that, pretty boy?" You scoffed, "How many times are you going to give me these pep talks? This is a fight, not a book club."

"How ever long it takes. You don't hurt people."

"Tell that to the people I sent to the hospital."

"Fine—I misspoke—you don't kill people. Even then, you're different from the other villains." He stepped towards you, pushing past the debris that you caused. "It's not too late to turn a new leaf. Change your ways."

"What makes you so confident in that, hm? Did you take one psychology course and suddenly you know exactly what I'm thinking?" You cackled, an amused smile gracing your lips.

"Maybe." He couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "But we've fought long enough for me to know that you pull your punches. You drag out the fight just a few minutes more..." Invincible hesitated, something at the edge of his tongue that he wanted to say.

He cleared his throat, changing his mind. "... and I think you do that 'cause you like the company I give you. And I like giving it to you."

Your breath hitched, a small squeal itching at the back of your throat as you took a step back. What on Earth was he saying? "The fuck you getting at?" You snarled, but the stutter of your words were as clear as day. "I'm going to kill you for this sappy shit your saying."

Invincible's lips quirked into a smug grin, tilting his head to the right just slightly. "I don't think you will. I also think we can be... good friends, you know."

... Friends? Is he delusional?

Invincible eyes flickered behind his goggles, and his shoulders stiffened as he saw an agent had snuck up behind you while he was talking to you--a gun in hand. "Wait, fuck, look out!" He screamed.

You immediately tense, turning on your heel to see what was behind you. Though it was too late, the gun set off and a painful electric bolt stabbed into you. Your body immediately went limp, falling to the ground as you were being subjected to millions of bolts running through your body relentlessly.

"What the hell! I had all this under control, why did you do that?" You could hear Invincible's voice screech out, and a quick whoosh sound approached you. The superhero crouched next to you, cradling your head as he watched you spazz out uncontrollably.

This little shit is acting like he didn't plan this from the beginning. Caught you off guard with that fake friendship shit and have a goon take you out from behind? You should've fucking known.

"Fuck! Your going to be okay, I'm, I'm so sorry." He sounded so apologetic as he continued to cradle your head as if you were a delicate flower. Invincible then shifted his eyes to the G.D.A agent who had shot at you, glaring daggers. "How do I make this stop! Tell me!"

The pain and how tired your body quickly got overwhelmed you, your vision turning black as Invincibe's shouts faded into the distance.

You couldn't believe you fell for the—ugh—friendship talk. You should've known he was just saying that crap to distract you, but with that superhero it was confusing!

Every other super would immediately get straight to business, throwing punches or whatever special power they had when they came on scene and see the absolute destruction you caused. Putting the safety of civilians above 'talking it out.'

Yet with Invincible it was the opposite; he seemed more concerned about you than the wreckage and terror you spread.

Destroying downtown with a maniac laugh escaping your throat? He'd just sigh and shake his head, calling out to you as if he had just caught you in an embarrassing act.

Throwing a civilian in the air at full speed? Oh, Invincible will just catch the dude and go, "Come on, (Y/N)!" In a playful way as if you had gone a little too far with playing around.

"Weirdo." You shivered as you recalled his weird behavior. The next time you see him, you will for sure kill Invincible—or erm, the Invincible of this dimension? You've been dragged out of your cell and been briefed about some evil alternate Invincibles wreaking havoc all over the world. They needed every available resource they got out there to fend off the evil variants.

Well, at least you can practice the best way to kill your Invincible with the knock offs.

You jumped in the air, pushing yourself high so that you could see down below. Squinting, you scanned the area. The destruction stretched for miles, blaring cars and screams filled the air. You saw injured civilians using each other as support as they tried to run to safety.

You averted your gaze—all those governments assholes told you is to fight off variants, not save lives.

"No! Please! Aarrghh!" You heard a blood curling scream screech up ahead and you tilted your head in curiosity as you made your way towards it. Jumping off the destroyed structures like a frog jumping off lily pads.

Peering down, you saw a tall figure standing before a freshly dead body. The skull crushed and the brain spilled out slightly from the cracks. You raised a brow, an unimpressed look on your face as you observed the supposed variant.

He had no mask, his face was fully visible and the mohawk haircut out in full display. His suit was torn on the shoulder, dust sticking to the costume. He had a large shit eating grin on his face, a visible smile line accompanying it.

Is that what Invincible actually looks like without the mask? Huh, I guess he is actually a pretty boy.

Clicking your tongue, you put a hand on your hip as you watched Mohawk Invincible cackle to himself as he turned his head, his back facing you. A sly smirk creeps at the edge of your lips, your eyes dilating like a cat watching its prey unaware of what is behind them.

Without a second to hesitate, you leapt off the structure you were on, raising a fist. Clenching it tightly, you landed a solid hit on the upper part of his back—sending him flying to brick wall. "Score!" You whistled, his legs up the air as his head shoved into a patch of dirt.

Cracking your shoulder, you slowly began to approach Mohawk Invincible, "Those G.D.A suckers kept me in their basement for way too long, my body is all tense. Happy to be out, but sucks I got a shock collar on me." You hummed, talking to yourself as you used the back of your foot to leap from the floor—sending yourself flying to the variant.

"W—"

You sent a harsh kick, sending him flying once more. Though this time, Mohawk Invincible caught himself, digging his hand into the ground. Whipping his head up, he swatted at the dirt dust that accumulated in the air from his body being dragged.

A tight fist met his jaw, sending his head backwards. Clenching his teeth, he whirled his head back, extending his arms and harshly tackling the person who had just attacked him. The variant put his whole-body weight on you and he was quick to grip a hand on your neck, squeezing as his eyes darting to your face as he raised his free hand to beat the hell out whoever ambushed him.

His eyes were angry, but it quickly faded as the dust settled and he saw who was under him. His clenched fist softened, blinking as there was no doubt in his mind that he was staring at this world's (Y/N). You looked the same, your perfect hair sprawled and the color of your eyes he used to stare lovingly staring daggers at him

"Oh shit, (Y/N)?" The variant called out, the solid grip grasping on your neck loosening. Your eyebrows furrowed, a knot in your stomach twisting as the same exact tone the variant was using sounded exactly the same as your Invincible's.

"That's me." You hissed, watching as his gaze flickered to the collar that was on your neck. With him distracted, you took the opportunity to land a hit on Mohawk—his weight lifting. You rolled both of you over, and you connected your hands to his throat, pushing it down.

"How do you know that name?" You questioned. No one should know your real name.

"Fu—Fuck—(Y/N)," He choked out, staring up at you with something you couldn't recognize. Your Invincible always wore goggles so you never had to look into his eyes. You wondered if he had this look whenever he looked at you, and you grimaced as that made you uncomfortable.

The look wasn't hatred, anger, or fear. It was... some form of desperation. Not desperate to live, but desperate for something else. Or someone else.

"It's—It's you. Shit, it's—it's really you." He heaved out, his hands grasping at your arms. He was holding them, not making an effort to tear them away. Hell, he was actually using his thumb to caress you instead of pulling you away.

He sat his neck up, bringing it closer to the chokehold you had on him, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. Your hands that were perfectly molded to touch him, the familiar weight of your body on top of him—Fuuckk, he even got a small whiff of your scent.

He wasn't expecting to find this world's (Y/N) so soon. He held hope that this world's (Y/N) was still alive, planning to go looking for you after he wrecked some shit, but instead you found him.

He didn't expect you to jump him like this with this incredible strength. Are you a super in this dimension? God, right now he doesn't care, this is pretty fucking hot.

Mohawk slid his hands to your waist, squeezing the familiar curve that he used to grab so much. You were sitting on his stomach, but if you just moved your sweet ass a little lower you'd be at a perfect spot. He could just nudge you a few inches down—

You gasped, quickly pulling your hands from squeezing his throat as jumped backwards away from the man. The ghost touch of where his hands used to be on your body lingered, and you shivered as you scowled.

"What kind of perverted freak are you?" You growled, taking a defensive stance.

The variant merely coughed, cackles escaping his throat as he stood up from the ground. He brushed a hand over to his throat, his neck feeling empty without your hands squeezing them.

"What's wrong, babe? Figured your Mark liked being choked with how comfortable you were doing it with me." He laughed, his arms outstretched. "Can't blame a guy for enjoying a sample. You know—I'm kind of itching for another one, round 2?"

You looked at him like he was crazy. "Who the hell is Mark?"

"Your boyfriend, duh."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"He doesn't bag you?—Ah whatever, friend or something." He rolled his eyes, bringing a finger to rub the inside of his ear.

You continued to stare at him like he was crazy. "I don't know anyone with that name." You hissed, irritated at this odd situation. The fact that he called you babe was driving you further up the wall of irritation.

That seemed to surprise him, his eyes wide. Every single variant had some sort of relationship with you, it was either dating or one-sided love. "Your a super then, right? You gotta know Invincible." He raised a brow, trying to gauge what the hell this universe's Mark was up to for you to not know his civilian identity.

You snorted. "Super? Don't fucking play with me. I'm not fighting you out of a 'heroic duty, I didn't have a choice,'" you rolled your eyes, tugging at the collar that was still beeping around your neck. "But Invincible? Yeah, I know that pretty boy, he's the reason I got thrown into G.D.A's little dungeon and have this zappy collar on me."

Not a super. Huh.

That left him a little dumbfounded, hell, your whole attitude left him dumbfounded. Not that he didn't like it, but more so it was so different. You were soft in his dimension and all the other dimensions according to the other variants about the stories they'd share about you, so this was certainly not what he was expecting.

"... You were captured by the G.D.A? You're not a good guy? Wow. That’s new."

You groaned; you were done hearing the nonsense this Invincible variant was spitting at you. It made you confused and annoyed. Not answering his question, you lunged forward.

He blocked your attacks, dodging your leg kicks and jabs. "So, you’re naughty? I'm getting excited." He jested, biting his lips as his eyes bore into you. God, is he going to talk the entire time? "You're going to definitely like me then. I’m naughty myself, especially in bed.”

"Shut the fuck up.”

“Fine, we can continue this foreplay. Fun!”

“You’re more annoying than my Invincible.” You took a step back as you watched Mohawk Invincible lunge towards you with full speed. You steadied yourself, preparing to lunge towards him as well before a blur of black intercepted.

You dug your feet into the ground, whipping your hand around to see that another variant was here. They wore the same blue and black palette that the Mohawk variant wore, but their face was fully covered by a black mask.

"Ya dick!" Mohawk screeched, pushing off the fully masked variant. "I'm in the middle of something here, go somewhere else!"

The fully masked variant merely slapped the other variant's face to the ground, standing up hurriedly to look at you. He had heard the commotion, and your recognizable voice made his ears perk up.

It's been so long since he heard you speak, heard you breathe. His body started moving before his mind could process that you were alive in this universe.

"(Y/N)..." He breathed out, feeling his whole body go light as he took a step towards you. "Your—Your alive in this universe. Alive and healthy..." His eyes trailed to your figure, and you tensed. "... and strong. That's good."

"What am I supposed to be? Dead?"

"In my universe you died. You were sick." His voice broke, taking more steps towards you. This masked Invincible seemed different from the one with the Mohawk. Sad, but still held that same desperation. "I've missed you; I've missed mom—both of you were my world."

"What is with this sentimental bullshit?" You cut him off, shaking your head. You felt like you were intruding in some sort of sad romcom scene that wasn't supposed to be directed at you. This was really killing your appetite to kill Invincible. "Did we know each other?"

'I' knew that pervert and now this guy too.

He flinched, seemingly hurt from the fact that you didn't know how deep your two's relationship was. "Yeah, in my dimension we knew a lot of each other—"

"—Well I'm not whatever lame ass version you think I am." You cut him off. You eyes darted to the two variants, wondering what to do next. If it was just, you and Mohawk, you could've had the shot to kill him. But two of them? Maybe it's best to sneak off. It'll be even worse if more Invincibles showed up.

Worse in a fighting aspect as well as worse in... whatever you call this strange phenomenon that was happening with these variants. Some alternate versions of you apparently had relations with these mentally unwell men, and you didn't want to find out how many more Invincibles had the googly eyes for you.

"That's okay. As soon as we find mom you can get to know me, and I can get to know more of you when we go home."

"Hey! I found her first, I get dibs, dipshit!" Mohawk sprang to action, his face contorting at the assumption that the masked asshole would be the one to take you home. He jabbed finger into the masked variant, shaking his head. "Go cry to your mommy! I was here first, fair and square."

"Don't talk to her as if she's an object!"

"Waaa! Waaa! That's what you sound like!"

You sweat dropped at the scene, they were acting like two children fighting over a toy. Though it worked great in your favor to escape from this situation. Turning on your heel, you were ready to make a break for it.

"You're both immature." A cold voice called out. You looked up, seeing two Invincibles hovering in the air.

One adorned the signature colors of Omniman, a red cape attached to his shoulders, while the other was wearing a white uniform. The Omni-Invincible had his arms crossed as he looked down, his head tilted at you.

"Let me guess, you two know ‘me’ too?"

"Yes." They both answered. The red one looked over to the two variants that were squabbling with each other a few seconds before, but the white one kept his eyes on you. Unmoving.

I'm getting out of here.

You jumped into the air, bolting through the sky. Though you could hear something whirling a few feet behind you. Guess you weren't going to escape so easily.

Maayybee I’ll do a part 2 since I didn’t get to write Sinister Mark and barely did interactions of Omni Mark and Viltrum Mark 😈😈 hope you like this blurb thing? Sorry I don’t know the terminology HAHSHA

[angel-bitch-boy]

Fun thing I made for the GC

[zeecriter]

Invincible p!links·˚ ༘ P2

WARNING ➤ Pornographic content mdni! The links all have afab/feminine bodies except maskless mark, do not open in public.

Sinister Mark

Fucking you into the sofa

He loves choking you

bought this skirt just for this

Can’t run away anymore

Main! Mark Grayson

Literally like rabbits (LOADS)

Sock on the door

Virgin! Best friend!Mark who wanted to try something with you

He WANTS you carrying his kid

Full mask Mark

Breeding you full with his babies

Stroking him

Short cunnilingus vid

Got him all tied up

Mohawk Mark

Do y’all see that bulge?? Definitely the way he’d fuck you

How he’d eat his princess out

Normal au!Mohawk mark after taking a drive in his car with you. Couldn’t wait till you got home huh?

His own fleshlight

Viltrumite mark

The eye contacttt

After a long day of viltrum work

Morning sexxx!!

His maid looked hotter today, especially in that skimpy dress you wore.

Maskless mark(MLM)

Riding him in your dorm

You two both got horny while hanging out

Bottom! Mark

Seeing stars

Omni-Mark

loves tasting you

You were a brat in this universe too he had to handle it!

He loves the feeling of your gushy walls clenching around his fingers

You were so desperate to cum :(

Rex Sloan

You play way too much video games

Devouring your pussy

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ NOTE ➤ sorry guys I released this sooo late! The next part of the invincible p!links are going to be revolved around threesomes! If you guys want other p!links with different media I’ll be happy to do it. I want to do a jujutsu kaisen list but I want to see what y’all want first.

[milandaas]

[earlgreylatte]

Variant Madness

You thought he was your Mark.

Omni Mark and Shiesty Mark 2V1 you.

Breathing in, you savour the fresh air of the mountain trail you find yourself on. You had visited years ago, but you decided to come again to enjoy the scenery. Maybe you could find a cool rock for Mark and Oliver, too.

You hope things are peaceful for them too, but even if there is another threat that needs to be taken care of, you’re sure Mark would be able to come find you easily enough.

You feel a bit pathetic that you already miss him, even though you’re going to see him in a couple of hours. You suddenly find yourself understanding Debbie’s usual amusement when she watched you two. You really acted like a lovesick puppy, sometimes.

Feeling your phone buzz from your pocket, you fumble for a second as you’re broken from your thoughts, rooting through your jacket to find it. Just as your fingers begin to pull it out a sudden rush of air hits you from behind, your jacket’s hood suddenly pushed over your head as you drop your phone onto the soil as dirt is kicked up into the air.

You whip around, to find…Mark? He was still wearing his black and blue suit, but his entire head was now covered, making him look a little intimidating, with his mouth and hair covered.

He stares at you wordlessly.

“Were you in that much of a rush to show me your new costume? I mean, you just got a new one from Art just a couple of months ago,” you speak up, rubbing the dirt out of your eyes, “Honestly, you could have caused a dirt storm or something…”

He breathes out your name.

You tilt your head, “Is something wrong? Did something happen? Are Debbie and Oliver okay—!?”

Your worrying is cut off when within an instant he has you crushed to his chest, arms locked around you as he buried his head against your neck.

“I just really missed you,” he whispers.

Looks like he’s a lovesick puppy, too.

You can’t hold back a dopey smile, “I missed you too.”

You jolt in his arms when you realize your phone is still vibrating; a redial, so possibly urgent.

“Mark, my phone—“

You’re interrupted again when he pivots you so your back hits a nearby tree, his mask rolled up enough to reveal his mouth which soon presses against yours.

Anything you wanted to say is forgotten as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He groans into your mouth as his hands plant themselves to your waist as he places a knee in between your legs.

He moves from your lips to your neck, pressing adoring kisses against your pulse point before helping you shrug off your jacket, letting it to the ground as his hands slide under your shirt, gloved fingers brushing against your ribcage.

“Mark,” you breathe, heart swelling at the sweet intimacy he was more than willing to give you.

Your attention is broken again when you notice your phone is still ringing, your gaze sliding from the man nestled against you to the forest floor where your phone laid.

Your body stiffens.

The caller ID illuminating your phone was one you could recognize even from afar just from the amount of heart emojis you set for…your boyfriend.

The boyfriend that was currently with you.

Whose grip on you begins to tighten as your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

You shakily bring up your hands to hook your fingers beneath his mask, slowly pulling it up as he remains as still as a statue. The face is familiar, if not a little more worn, but the brown eyes you held so dear were now filled with a sadness deep enough to drown you.

This wasn’t your Mark.

Mark was definitely lucky he was attractive, you decide.

If he wasn’t, you definitely wouldn’t have tolerated the sheer annoyance his two variants were causing you.

“Were you a virgin or something until now? Because you fuck like a noob,” A Mark with a wild rag mask laughed as the one that was dressed like Omni Man 2.0 pounded into you, your back pressed against an alleyway wall, the area long deserted from the destruction the two men unleashed on the city.

“I doubt you even know what you’re talking about, with how you talk like a preteen boy,” The red and white Mark huffs, tone passive enough that you’d think he didn’t care about his copy’s words if not for his pace speeding up and his thrusts going deeper and deeper until your voice reaches a new octave.

The other Mark scoffs, “Well, not that she minds, already looks cockdrunk off your tiny dick. Hey, sweetheart, bet I can take you to heaven and back with one stroke.”

“I will kill you.” The Mark fucking into you, tightens his grip, turning to death stare the now laughing Invincible.

“Aww, is daddy mad? Scared she’s going to want to run away with me once I slip my dick in her?”

You can’t believe you have to orgasm while listening to their dumbass argument…

“Hey, if you’re going to hog her pussy, at least move her so I can put that mouth to use—“

Annoying people really shouldn’t be so hot.

The invincible tag is so good rn, I’m actually in tears…

Decided to do a 2in1 special because people really want me to make a part two of that other variant post…it will come…

Masterlist

[yeahsoapy]

Some marks . They all bite

[fuckitupfelix]

Hear me out,

A soft spoken hero reader. He's mainly for damage control and healing. He is well liked by the public and even gets cutesy nick names and edits on the internet.

And jealous Mark, who's slightly possessive over reader. But it never goes beyond thoughts because the reader is his own person.

But the variants obviously have to have different thought processes and morals. It would be interesting to see how they react to this universes version of reader.

(You can choose the variant(s) because I really suck ass at remembering their names.)

never letting you go.

invincible x male reader

chars: full mask, no goggles, mohawk, sinister mark variants

warnings: canon compliant violence + mild suggestiveness (no goggles, mohawk, sinister) + straight up cannibalism ? (sinister)

mainstream mark has liked you for a while. the two of you have grown close during his time as invincible— mainly due to him absolutely wrecking himself every time he fights and you're the one healing him— but he's grown fond of you over time. you both like seance dog, even though it took him months to squirrel that information out of you; you're always so quiet, so soft-spoken and nervous and shy. but now he knows you better, and you've warmed up to him.

you jokingly scold him more when he comes to you for stupid little injuries, and you send each other memes and edits that you find of your hero personas. he really cares about you, and he'd never want you getting hurt. thats one thing that never changes; even across universes.

full mask!mark

when he came during the invincible war, he had two people on his mind; debbie and you.

when he finds you he's absolutely pathetic

-> im talking practically on his knees, clutching at your waist, fingers digging into your sides (only slightly)

he was so convinced he'd lost you forever, but now that he finally had you back? oh he's never letting you go..

very gentle with you. he knows you aren't technically as fragile as a normal human, but compared to a viltrumite? you're like glass to him

used to HATE when you healed him because it fatigued you so much with how many injuries he bore

he lost you once. he's not losing you again.

you're out in the city, doing your best to help anyone that was unlucky enough to get caught up in the carnage. the amount of times you expected to pull out people and only got detached limbs made your stomach churn. you've been at it for a while when you notice mark descend next to you, his suit dripping with blood.

"mark...?" you murmur, eyes wide. without hesitation, your hands are on his shoulders, placing your forehead against his as you wait for your healing powers to work. a subtle but warm blue light envelops you both. "are you okay? you look... terrible."

he doesn't respond, instead leaning into your touch. he wraps his arms around your waist and lets his head dip into the crook of your neck. "god, its been so long..." he murmurs, lips ghosting over your neck. you tense up at his choice of words— this isn't your mark. fuck.

you stop your healing slowly, and try to gently peel yourself away from this.... imposter.... but his grip tightens on you almost immediately. "please, [name].. i can't believe its you." he almost whines into your neck, pressing soft kisses into it. "i know im not your mark, but let me bring you home with me. i'll keep you safe. I promise. i'll be a better boyfriend than your mark is."

"mark and I... we aren't..." you trail off, but he gets the hint, and immediately shoots up into the sky, cradling you flush against his chest.

"shhh, my love, it's okay," he murmurs, even though you hadn't made a sound. "i'll take care of you, i promise. you and mom are coming home with me. this time I'll keep you safe."

no goggles!mark

he's absolutely obsessed with you

in his universe, you used to heal him no matter how badly he got hurt

-> the healing process hurt equally as much at the actual fighting, your powers working overtime to set his broken fingers back into place and regrow adult teeth in a matter of minutes

-> yeah he got off to it. he would sometimes let himself get a little more beat up just to see you

stalked you back in his universe! he's got your daily schedule and mannerisms memorized, down to what mugs you prefer

you haven't even stepped foot out of the kitchen when mark comes in through that window with loose bolts— some things really don't change, even across dimensions. you hear the window creak, and you turn to see him there. you know this isn't your mark; his mask and suit are slightly different, but also his expression. he looked too.. calm. too cheerful.

"hey, mark," you murmur, your voice dying in your throat. there's a solid chance he's going to hurt you, you think. your grip on the counter behind you tightens. "what're you doing here?"

before you can blink, he's floating inches away from you, bringing his hands up to cup your face tenderly, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks. he leans close, inhaling your smell; fresh laundry mixed with mild rosemary. just like his [name].

"hey, you," mark coos, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your nose. he sounds too happy; too giddy. "missed ya sooo much, babes."

this isn't your mark. your mark is touchy, yes— but he knows his boundaries. his touches are arms thrown over shoulders, loose hugs, and light shoulder punches. not this. not tight squeezes on your shoulders, wet kisses across your face, or thighs rubbing against crotches. definitely not.

"we aren't dating," you whisper, gently curling your hand around the one holding your face, carefully peeling it away from you. mark snorts at that, and grasps the hair on the back of your head, gripping tightly. "sorry."

"well, in my universe, we are. isn't that good enough, [name]?" he giggles, and he pulls you so your lips crash against his, but its softer than you'd expect. it was almost sweet, if not for the intense grip on the back of your head. you bring your hands up to push against mark's chest. he chooses to ignore that, pressing you harder against the counter, forcing his tongue into your mouth and nibbling on your bottom lip.

"mark," you mumble against his lips, finally shoving him off of yourself, ignoring the little flip your stomach does. "i need to go help people."

"come on, i'd end up killing more people than you could save," he groans, letting his thumb trace over your bottom lip. "actually, I think you're saving more people staying with me here, dont'cha think? come onnnnn, [name]. don't you wanna keep all those people safe?"

mohawk!mark

hates how nice you are. like actually loathes it, and he tells you that

-> always talking about how you should be meaner, how you're a little pussy. his version of you doesn't take it to heart as much anymore

prob one of the few variants that won't be extra gentle with you because of your powers

-> "im not even being rough— you can just fix yourself later, stop bein' a crybaby."

definitely mocks you whenever you cry but licks the tears away anyways

he finds you when you're looking for your own mark. you tried calling him, texting him, asking cecil if he knew. nothing. then mark comes along, hovering over you with a nasty grin on his face. only... he's got the sides of his head shaved. of course you find a knockoff and not your actual mark..

you hold your hands up in a placating manner, as if you were dealing with a feral animal; you were, in a sense. except this was a more unpredictable situation.

"finallyyy," mark groans, floating down closer to you, arms crossed. "i was starting to think they didn't have you in this universe." he then pins you to the ground, his hands trailing and groping every inch of your body as he practically straddles you. "fuckin' missed this," he grins.

you tense up, and try to knee him in his crotch. he winces a little, spitting out a curse, and his thighs tighten around you. "come on, cutie, don't be a bitch," he scoffs, staring down at you. he grabs you hair, yanks your head up, and then proceeds to smash it down into the pavement. a strangled yell leaves your lips, your hands pawing pathetically at the pavement beneath you as a blue light circles around your shoulders. your head is throbbing, and you can feel a small sticky puddle forming under your head. you resist the urge to throw up.

"why're you.." you grit out weakly, hand grabbing at mark's thigh, nails digging into the flesh.

"awwwh, is little [nickname] tryna heal himself?" mark laughs, grabbing you by your throat and wrapping his hand tighter and tighter, pressing you down into the pavement. "you know only I can make you feel like this, yeah? i know you like it, so quit fucking struggling and be a good boy, hmm?" he coos, leaning down and messily smashing your lips together.

sinister!mark

uses you as his chewtoy. deadass

you're less of a romantic partner, more his property

-> if he's badly hurt and needs medical attention, he goes to you. if he needs sexual relief, he goes to you. if his teeth ache and he needs something to gnaw on, he goes to you.

keeps you close to him whenever he does anything; he can't have his property getting damaged, now can he?

finds you and your powers very interesting.. keeps you like a little science specimen

-> he talks down to you all the time, and he always expects an answer. nods or little noises won't cut it.

you're trying to help people, attempting to heal the people you just dug out of rubble. there was one more person you had to bring, but when you turn around, you see a floating figure clad in yellow and black, and wearing a cape. you've been at it for hours now; long enough to know this mark is fucking dangerous. even if he is anything like your mark, the chances of him being actually nice are.... pretty slim.

"ahhh. i was wondering when i'd find you. this is cute, trying to save all these people?" mark hums, hovering just in front of you. he smiles. its unnerving.

"mark. hi." you say, trying to keep your voice steady. you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. keeping your breathing consistent, you continue. "it's, uh, good to see you."

he doesn't bother acknowledging what you said. "you really think you can help these people? why?" he scoffs, and in an instant, he darts behind you. the warm blood splattered on your back processes faster than the screams. you turn around slowly. there he stood, atop the corpses of the civilians you had just struggled to save, his arm poking straight through a person's chest.

"m-mark—" your voice dies in your throat when mark turns to look at you. he hovers over, the metallic smell of blood filling your lungs. his feet finally touch the floor. he rolls his shoulders, muscles flexing.

"i told you. it's pointless. you're more useful for other things." he chuckles, his crimson-soaked hand squishing your cheeks together with one hand and grabbing you by the waist with the other . he tilts your head an uncomfortable amount, and bites down into your shoulder. he shoves your head into the crook of his neck to muffle your pained scream, but the sound still cuts clean through the silence. He moans at the taste of your blood, his teeth ripping off a chunk of your flesh. he runs his tongue over the newly formed crevice in your shoulder, lapping the blood up.

"go on. heal it." he says, digging his tongue into the wound. your hands dig into his back, clawing at the fabric of his cape and suit, your yells of pain barely muffled by his shoulder. you can feel your knees buckle underneath you, and your head feels heavy as you try and heal yourself. it's not working as fast as you'd hoped— you're long since exhausted from working for hours saving the now corpses behind you.

"god, are you even trying?" mark scoffs, and his hands dig into your side, fingers piercing the flesh by your ribcage. "come on, pet. you can do better than that," he sneers, dragging his nails down and through your skin.

the writing blurbs are so uneven im so sorry :< if you want me to do other variants lmk!! I might continue this with shiesty and viltrum mark at some point...

[wordsofwhimsy]

♥ A Jealous Heart ♥ - Pt 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【Ａ/Ｎ】⦂ I’m so glad you guys liked the last one!! Shout out to the anon who encouraged me to make a part 2. I love hearing from you guys – please talk to me more! Also the set up is going to be slightly different than the last part, just to keep it fresh~

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】⦂ Variant!Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】⦂ Mild violence, possessiveness

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】⦂ None

【Ｓｙｎｏｐｓｉｓ】⦂ This is based in a reality where these Variants are being allowed to stay in the Main Universe under the pretense that they start acting like real superheroes. 

→ 【Ｐａｒｔ　Ｏｎｅ】 ←

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The sound of the waves was soothing as you lay back on your towel, letting the warmth of the sun wash over you. It was the perfect day to just be, with no interruptions, no distractions—just the peace of the beach and the rhythm of the ocean. You were finally beginning to relax when a voice suddenly cut through the calm.

“Hey there, enjoying the sun?”

You opened one eye, glancing up to find a man standing in front of you, his expression a little too eager. His tan was deep, his grin wide and confident.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you replied, offering a polite but minimal smile, not quite interested in a conversation but not rude enough to shut him down immediately. You shifted slightly, keeping your attention on the ocean. The guy didn’t seem to catch the subtle hint that you weren’t looking to be engaged, as he kept talking.

“You know, I think you’d look even better in the water. The waves are perfect today. I’m [his name], by the way.” He stepped in just a little closer, clearly trying to draw you into the conversation with his charm.

You nodded, offering another polite, non-committal smile. “I’m good for now, thanks.” Your response was casual, friendly, but distant. You weren’t being rude, but you weren’t exactly encouraging him either.

→ Sinister!Mark ←

Just then, a sharp sound cut through the air—a sound that felt almost like the wind shifting. Your head snapped to the sky instinctively, just as a shadow loomed overhead.

It was a blur at first, but then you saw him: Mark.

He was flying, soaring through the sky with a grace and power that made your heart race in spite of yourself. His dark figure cut through the sunlight as he descended. His eyes were locked on the scene below, and even from this distance, you could feel the weight of his gaze.

The man standing beside you faltered as the presence in the air shifted. You could see the exact moment he noticed Mark—how his smile slipped just a little, uncertainty creeping into his expression. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you felt the full intensity of Mark’s focus on you.

Mark hovered effortlessly just above the sand, his arms folding over his chest in a smooth, almost casual motion. His eyes, cold and calculating, flicked over to the man. The air seemed to grow heavier, the humidity suddenly suffocating, though the sun still blazed brightly above.

The man tried to recover, clearing his throat awkwardly, but his confidence was shattered. “Uh, I... didn’t realize you were with someone,” he stammered, trying to smile as if to salvage some of the awkwardness.

Mark’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was like silk—smooth, but edged with something darker. “She wasn’t,” he replied, his eyes flicking over to you for just a moment before locking back onto the man. There was no warmth in his words, no offer of politeness. Only cold, unyielding dominance.

The man took an instinctive step back, clearly feeling the tension in the air. Mark’s presence was overwhelming—intoxicating in a way that made it impossible for anyone to stay unaware of him.

“Wait, I’m sorry, am I ruining the moment?” Mark continued, his tone almost playful now, but with a dangerous undertone. “Please, don’t let me throw you off your game. Give her your best shot.” He glanced down at you, his lips curling just slightly at the edges, as though there was something almost possessive in the way he looked at you.

The man, looking visibly uncomfortable now, muttered something about needing to meet his friends and quickly turned to leave. Mark’s eyes didn’t leave him until he was well out of sight.

As the tension melted from the air, Mark slowly turned toward you, his eyes a mix of intensity and amusement. He drifted closer, his presence enveloping you, and the space between you seemed to shrink with every movement he made.

“I didn’t realize you were enjoying this type of company,” he said, his voice low and rich with a dark amusement.

You looked up at him, slightly taken aback by the intensity with which he’d asserted himself. “I wasn’t,” you replied, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

Mark's lips curved into a tight smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good to know. Next time I won’t put such an effort in to minding my manners.” His words were soft, almost casual, but the weight of them was unmistakable. His gaze lingered a moment longer before he finally turned, giving you space to breathe—but not before you felt the last remnants of his dominance pressing down on you.

→ Omni!Mark ←

As your discomfort grew, you sensed a strange shift in the air. The once calm, peaceful beach now felt suffocating, and an unspoken tension seemed to linger in the atmosphere. You looked up at the sky, an instinctive feeling creeping down your spine, and you caught a glimpse of something—someone—high above you.

It was him. Of course it was him. Who else could it be but Mark?

He descended from the sky, his figure cutting through the air with such force that it sent a ripple through the surrounding sand. His white-and-red suit clung to his body, the outline of his muscle clearly visible beneath the fabric as he lowered himself down effortlessly, his presence dominating the space around him. His eyes, cold and focused, locked onto you instantly.

The stranger, amazingly, didn’t notice at first, too focused on trying to get your attention. But you could see the moment the curve of his lips dropped downward, his confidence slipping as he finally noticed the dark figure that had was now hanging in the air just above the ground behind him with all the grace of a predator.

Mark, more widely known as Invincible, was postured in a tall, upright position just a foot away, his expression mostly unreadable with a notion of something else in his eyes—an unspoken warning. His gaze didn’t waver as it fell on the man who had dared to come too close.

“Is there a problem?” Mark’s voice was smooth, low, and chilling. It carried an authority that immediately put the stranger on edge. There was no greeting, no pleasantries—just the cold weight of a command, like an impenetrable wall.

The man took a nervous step back, his smile fading as he realized the intensity of Mark’s stare. “I-I was just talking to her,” he stammered, clearly uncomfortable now, trying to justify his actions, but the words were hollow in the face of Mark’s presence.

Mark didn’t move, but his body radiated an unspoken power, like a looming storm just waiting to break. “I’m aware,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was savoring the man’s unease. “And now, you’re going to walk away.”

Despite it being a sweltering summer day, the air felt colder. The man swallowed, clearly intimidated, and mumbled something about “not wanting to cause trouble,” before quickly backing away, stumbling over his words in a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating tension that had settled over him.

As soon as the man was out of earshot, Mark turned his gaze to you, his eyes softening just enough to show he wasn’t angry with you—but there was still something unsettling in the way he looked at you, like a possessive force waiting to consume. His tone was quieter now, but it still held that dark edge. “You didn’t need to entertain him.”

You sat up slightly, staring at him almost amusedly through your sunglasses. “I wasn’t,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but there was an undeniable tension in your voice. “Just being polite.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly as he wafted closer, his figure towering over you. “Politeness,” he mused, the word dripping with disdain. “It’s a weakness. But it’s fine. That’s what you have me for, anyways.”

You looked up at him, unable to fight the sly smirk that quirked onto your lips. Unknown to you, the sight of your body clad in skimp bikini was quicky becoming overwhelming for Mark. Rather than showing you his weakness, he turned away without another word, his cloak billowing slightly in the wind before shooting away into the sky. Your smile only grew broader as you laid back down, glad to be able to go back to enjoying your otherwise peaceful afternoon.

→ FullMask!Mark ←

"You know,” the man continued, reaching one arm up to rub behind his neck in a gesture that seemed somehow both sheepish and cocky. “I’d love to take you out sometime. Maybe show you around the city? It could be fun."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, you hear it. The low sound of someone landing on the sand with a soft thud. The guy, for the moment, seemed none-the-wiser as he continued to eye you hopefully.

You glance up, and your heart skips a beat.

Mark.

He’s standing a few feet away, his back straight and his posture tense. His mask covers everything, but even with his face hidden, you can feel the charged emotions radiating off of him. His gaze—hidden behind the lenses of his suit—still managed to cut straight through the guy in front of you.

The feeling must of started itching at the man as he finally moved his eyes from you to the suited hero behind him. His expression plainly showcased his confusion. “Uh, hey, man, we were just talking,” he says, awkwardly chuckling.

Mark doesn’t say a word. His stare—hidden but unmistakable in its intensity—stayed locked on the guy, as if daring him to make the next move. Your lips furled inward at the tension and finally the guy seemed to piece together some sort of understanding. His arms drop submissively to his sides, taking a clumsy step to the side as his smile vanished, muttering some half-hearted excuse before walking off in the direction of the pier.

Leave it to Invincible to send a man stumbling off in fear without having said a single word.

You glance over at Mark, who doesn’t move an inch. His posture was rigid, and though his features were concealed there was something about his stance—arms crossed tightly—that made it clear: He didn’t like what he saw.

Mark’s tone, when he finally speaks, is surprisingly calm. “Are you okay?”

You sit up, brushing the sand from your skin. “Yeah… thanks for scaring him off though.” You said it more as a joke, but even as the words came out you both picked up on the tinge of sincerity.

He doesn’t respond at first, just stares at the spot where the guy had been. The tension is still there, and for a moment, it feels like he might say something more, but instead, he finally relaxes—just a little.

“You really didn’t need to step in though,” you continued, your voice teasing just slightly. “I could’ve handled him.”

Mark glances at you, and the way the muscles in his jaw flexed was almost lost on you—almost. “I know.” He pauses. “But I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a smile tug at the corner of your lips. “Oh, really? You were jealous?”

Mark shrugs, the movement stiff. “Maybe. Not that it matters.”

You laugh softly, sitting up fully now. “It kind of does.”

For a brief moment, you think you see the tiniest hint of a smirk beneath the mask—just a flicker of a smile. You lean back again, propping yourself up on your hands and grinning. "You’ve gotta be sweltering in that suit. How about you take the rest of the day off? We could hang out, just relax. I’m sure it’d do you some good."

For a moment, Mark doesn’t answer. He just stands there rigidly, like he’s actually considering it. His shoulders, once tense, seem to soften, just a little. It almost feels like he might finally give in—but then, without warning, his jaw tightens, and he glances up at the sky. His voice is steady but laced with an undercurrent of something deeper. "I can’t," he says quietly. "I’ve got too much to make up for. I’ve... got wrongs to right."

You watch him, a small knot forming in your stomach. Before you can say anything else, he takes a step back.

Then, like something breaking free, Mark launches himself into the sky with a force that shakes the sand beneath you. His silhouette disappears into the vast expanse, a streak of black and blue against the bright sky, and you’re left sat there, staring up at the spot where he just was.

A dull ache tugs at your chest, something unfamiliar and sharp. You try to brush it off, but the pain lingers. The way he keeps punishing himself, carrying a weight that’s too heavy for anyone. And no matter how many times he flies off to save the world, it’s clear he’s never going to stop trying to fix something inside himself.

You’re left alone with the sound of the waves again, but now, it feels a little quieter. The emptiness from Mark’s departure echoes, and for a brief, painful moment, you wish he could let himself just... rest.

[montimer]

Full masked mark x reader

Gn!reader, comfort, bit smutty at the end but not the actual stuff

with that little screen time he has its hard to guess but hope i wrote him okay

Finding an universe where you're still alive, take you back to his, that was the idea. Unknown to him in here you were only best friends with Mark. And had no idea who the creep was flying outside of your window.

Backing away from the stranger that just showed up uninvited. He tries to explain, not stepping too close. His heart aches, seeing you so afraid of him.

You noticed how different he is from the other variants. He almost seemed, sad? You weren't sure, what if this is an act? He sounds like Mark but its hard to tell with the mask, this isn't the Mark from your universe, that at least is clear to you.

But hearing his voice crack, seeing how he tries to keep a safe distance for you, well you can't help but feel awful.

Finally giving in you step closer to him, trying to give some comfort. He goes quiet, listening to your sweet voice. Its a pleasant surprise for him, to hear your voice that isn't filled with fear.

"Mark?" You call out to him. Reaching your hand but not enough to touch him.

He quickly filles the distance between the two of you. Hugging you close. You recognize him right? You said his name, you still love him? Is what he wanted to say but only sobs came out.

He missed you so bad. He just couldn't let you go now, afraid that you'll slip away from his graps, never to be seen again.

One hand on your back, the other around your waist, holding you close. His head is laying on your chest.

You didn't even had time to react. Your heart beating fast. He could feel it. It made him squeeze you even closer.

Your hands slowly come up to wrap them back around him. Caressing his back. Just what could have happened to him?

Feeling you give the affection back made him sob harder but also soften his hold on you. He snuggled into your neck. Chanting "I love you" and "I missed you".

Relived, you sighted, getting a bit of space to breath. Not wanting to turn down his affection, you bring yourself to gasp out an "I love you too". Hoping to calm him down.

It was like a rock falling off his chest. He looked up at you. You could only see blue googles staring at you.

He gently put his head to yours, his forehead touching yours.

"I- im going to take you back. But i need to make sure the others won't find you, okay love?" He managed to say in a shaky voice.

"What?" You had no idea what he was talking about.

"Im going to find mom, then we can all go back and-" he looked down. Was he scaring you again? Did he sound too selfish?

You tried to push him away, and that broke his heart.

He pulled you back, too easily for your liking. He was so strong, still his grip on you didn't hurt as bad as it should.

"Please,don't-" he sounded like he was about to cry again. You let him hug you once again. This time in a way you couldn't see his face at all. Only feeling his hard breathes on the back of your neck.

Too distracted by your own confusion, you failed the notice when he pulled his mask up to his noise and planted a kiss on your neck.

You felt your cheeks become red.

"You always loved that" only then does it become clear to you. Were you lovers with him in another universe?

He slowly moved in, hoping you won't back away. And when you didn't he quickly closed in, kissing you.

You made a "mm?!" sound and he moaned into your mouth. He really missed this. He began to leave loving kisses all over your face. All of this happening made you extremely flustered.

You guessed he won't leave for a pretty long time.

[mocharyc]

Invincible variants x reader Pt. 2 ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

☆ A distance night with Mohawk ♡ ☆ Pt. 1 ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ First Watch ‧ ₊ ˚

☆ WC: 4k+ [Part 2]

☆ TW: Major Fluff ♡

☆ Authors Note: Mohawk acts like a turd but I believe he's good at heart. (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ He's just on the cusp of a broken mind, def the one to talk to himself for comfort.

–––––––––––––––––– ♡ Mohawk Marks p.o.v ♡

Six fucking hours.

Mohawk Mark stared down at Y/N's unconscious form, still hardly believing she was real. The cabin felt too small, too quiet after the others had left—each of them casting lingering glances at Y/N before departing with thinly veiled reluctance. He caught Sinister's black and yellow suit from the corner of his eye, the demonic bastard's lips curling into that signature psychotic grin that made Mark's blood boil.

"Yeah, fuck off," Mohawk had sneered as they filed out, making sure to flip off Emperor Mark's retreating back, the yellow and blue-ish gray fluttering around him like he was some kind of goddamn royalty. "She's mine for now."

When the door finally closed, leaving him alone with her, the gravity of the situation hit him like a cement truck. She was here. Actually fucking here. Different universe, same face, same everything—but alive. 

Not dead like his Y/N. And from that fight she'd put up against all eight of them, she was fucking strong. Stronger than his Y/N had been.

"Shit," he muttered, running his hand through his now-drooping mohawk, the black tips falling limply over his forehead. Dismissing his tattered suit, he looks around the cabin. "This place is a goddamn mess."

His eyes fell on the crumpled body of the cabin's former occupant, still leaking blood onto the rough wooden floor where Sinister had left him. The old man's eyes stared at nothing, his throat a gaping red smile courtesy of Sinister's unnecessarily theatrical kill. The crimson puddle spread across the uneven floorboards, seeping into the cracks between the planks, filling the musty air with the coppery scent of death.

"Fucking drama queen couldn't just snap your neck, could he?" Mohawk grumbled, grabbing the corpse by its ankles, lifting the man like he weighed nothing. "Had to make a whole production out of it. Typical Sinister bullshit."

He carried the body toward the door, the blood trailing, leaving a dark smear across the floorboards. The dead weight was nothing to him—he could bench press a tank without breaking a sweat—but the awkwardness of maneuvering the stiffening corpse through the narrow doorway had him cursing up a storm.

"Motherfucking!—Tiny-ass—backwoods—piece of shit—CABIN!—" Each word punctuated with a violent tug of the fat man's body through the door frame, not wanting to destroy the cabin. Finally, with a sickening snap of ligaments, he just ripped the man's arms off and easily pulled the torso outside, blood spattering across his blue and black suit.

He stood on the small porch, taking a moment to breathe in the nice crisp cold night air. The forest surrounded them, ancient pines stretching toward a star-studded sky, their silhouettes black against the deep blue canvas. No fire, no blood-curdling screams or destruction… His life felt instantly peaceful, now that he had Y/N back in it. A foreign feeling after eighteen months of rage and pain.

He sighed softly, scanning the dense forest surrounding them. No witnesses, no neighbors, nothing but trees and wilderness for miles. Perfect isolation.

 With casual disregard, he hurled the corpse as far as he could, making sure to yeet the two severed arms as well, sending the body parts arcing high above the treeline miles away before disappearing into the forest with a distant, muffled crash.

"Rest in pieces, old timer," he snorted at his own joke, wiping his bloodied hands on his thighs. "Nothing personal. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong universe."

Back inside, he surveyed the cabin with critical eyes. It was rustic, to put it kindly—a single room with a small kitchenette in one corner, its countertops stained with years of use, cupboards hanging slightly askew. A bathroom barely large enough to turn around in, with a shower that probably hadn't seen hot water since the Cold War. And a bed that had probably been new when Nixon was president, sagging in the middle under a faded quilt that smelled of mothballs and regret.

"This is bullshit," he muttered, kicking at a worn rug that might have once been colorful but now was just a sad, faded thing covering even sadder floorboards. "She deserves better than this shithole."

His eyes returned to Y/N, still lying motionless where they'd placed her on the floor. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her face serene despite everything she'd been through. The angry red marks where the collar had dug into her neck stood out in stark contrast against her skin. A permanent scar burned into her delicate skin, a constant reminder of the GDA's cruelty.

"Fuck," he breathed, anger bubbling up inside him like magma. "I'll kill every last one of those GDA assholes. Turn their fucking building into a crater. Make them wish they'd never even thought about putting a collar on you."

He stood there for a moment, fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked, before forcing himself to focus. She needed rest, comfort. Not him raging uselessly about revenge.

"Let's get you somewhere more comfortable than the fucking floor," he said, kneeling beside her. His hands—hands that had crushed throats and shattered bones—hovered uncertainly above her for a moment before he gently steadied one under her head, the other beneath the small of her back. It felt strange being so careful—he'd spent most of his existence breaking things, not cradling them.

He laid her on the bed, but immediately grimaced at the musty smell that rose from the ancient mattress, picking her back up and gently tossing her over his shoulder with one arm. "Jesus Christ, this thing reeks worse than Prisoner Mark's armpits. And that's saying something—dude smells like he bathes in toxic waste."

On impulse, he stripped the bed, yanking off sheets that might have once been white but were now a dingy gray. They came away with a cloud of dust that had him coughing and cursing.

"Fucking disgusting," he spat, bundling the offending bedding and tossing it out the window, the glass shattering with a spray outside at the immense force. "Great, what now, genius?"

He searched through the cabin's sparse storage, finding only one spare set of sheets that didn't look much better than the ones he'd discarded. 

Still, he struggled to make the bed, wrestling with fitted corners that refused to stay put and a flat sheet that somehow ended up more wrinkled than when he started.

"How the fuck does anyone do this shit?" he growled, giving the sheet a violent snap that nearly took out a lamp. "Is there a goddamn degree in bed-making I missed? No wonder Viltrumite Mark has that stick up his ass if this is what 'domestic life' is like."

After ten minutes of increasingly creative curses, he'd produced something vaguely resembling a made bed. It wasn't pretty, but it was better than the floor.

With exaggerated care, he placed Y/N on the fresh—well, fresher—sheets, arranging her limbs in what he hoped was a comfortable position. 

Her hair fanned out around her head like a dark halo, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but stare at her bruised face, so peaceful in unconsciousness, so heartbreakingly familiar.

"There you go, sleeping beauty," he murmured, his usual harsh tone softening despite himself. "Not exactly five-star accommodation, but it's safe. Nobody's gonna hurt you here. Not while I'm around."

He stared at her face, drinking in every detail like a man dying of thirst. Same full lips, same curve of her cheekbones, same tiny scar above her right eyebrow. His fingers itched to trace that scar, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, to reassure himself that she was real and not some cruel hallucination.

"Not gonna be a creep while you're knocked out," he told her unconscious form, shoving his hands to his sides, pinching at the fabric of his suit. "I'm an asshole, not a fucking monster. Though Sinister probably would've—" He cut himself off, unwilling to even think about what that psychopath might have done if left alone with her.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to move away from the bedside. Instead, he dragged over the cabin's only chair—a rickety wooden thing that groaned ominously under his weight—and sat down to keep watch. The fading light cast long shadows across her face, highlighting the delicate arch of her cheekbones, the soft curve of her jaw.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, marking off the seconds of his six-hour vigil. Outside, daylight was fading, golden light barely painting the darkened sky, filtering through the dusty windows and painting long shadows across the uneven floorboards. A tiny beam of sunlight caught particles of dust, making them dance like tiny stars in the otherwise dim room.

"So," he said to the silence, his voice oddly loud in the quiet cabin as he tapped his fingers together.

"Guess I should introduce myself, huh? I'm Mark. Well, obviously I'm fucking Mark—you've seen eight of us now, poor bastard. But I'm the best one. The rest are just cheap knockoffs."

He chuckled humorlessly, dragging his hand through his mohawk again, trying to reshape it into its usual spiky glory without much success. The blue and black ends stuck out at odd angles, making him look more deranged than usual.

"They call me Mohawk Mark. Creative as shit, right? But in my universe, I'm just... Mark. Mark who fucked up. Mark who couldn't save you."

His voice caught on the last word, raw emotion surfacing before he could shove it back down. Memories he'd tried to bury came flooding back—her smile, her laugh, the way she'd roll her eyes at his worst jokes but laugh anyway. The way she'd been the only one who saw past his bullshit, who wasn't afraid to call him on it.

"You died," he said flatly, the words falling like stones in the quiet room. "In my universe. You fucking died, and it was my fault..."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at his bloodstained hands. Hands that had failed to save her when it mattered most.

"We were... together. Not just fucking—although that was pretty goddamn amazing—but really together. You were the only person who didn't take my shit, who pushed back when I was being a dick. Which was, you know, most of the time."

A bitter smile twisted his lips.

"I was such an arrogant prick. Thought I was invincible—ha, get it? Fucking hilarious—thought nothing could touch me. Or you, because you were with me. But then this asshole came along, this nobody with a grudge and some Viltrumite tech he'd stolen. Didn't even see him coming."

Mohawk's voice dropped to a whisper, his usual bravado stripped away.

"You pushed me out of the way. Can you believe that shit? ME. The guy who can stop a bullet with his fucking eyelash, and you... you just..."

He broke off, the memory too vivid—her body, broken and bleeding, in his arms. The way the Viltrumite tech had torn through her like she was made of tissue paper, leaving a gaping hole where her heart should have been. The way her blood had felt, hot and sticky, pouring over his hands as he tried desperately to hold her together. The light Instantly fading from her eyes as he screamed for help that wouldn't come in time.

"There was so much blood," he whispered, his voice cracking. "All over me, all over the ground. I tried to stop it, tried to hold you together, but it just kept coming. And you—you looked up at me, and you fucking smiled. Like you were happy it was you and not me. Then you tried to say something, but there was blood in your mouth, and you just... you just stopped. Right there in my arms."

He swallowed hard, his throat tight.

"You died protecting me. Me! The biggest asshole in the universe! The Invincible one! Who does that? Who throws away their life for someone like me?"

He stood abruptly, the chair skittering backward as he paced the small confines of the cabin, too much raw energy coursing through him to stay still. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, a counterpoint to the ticking clock.

"I buried you myself," he continued, the words pouring out now. "Wouldn't let anyone else touch you. Dug the grave with my bare hands, six feet deep in that spot by the lake you loved. Covered it with those wildflowers you were always going on about. And then I hunted down the fucker who killed you. Made him suffer. Made him beg. And when I was done, there wasn't enough left of him to bury."

He paused, staring out the window at the setting sun, its dying rays painting the forest in shades of gold and red.

"And then this multiverse bullshit started, and Angstrom found me. Said I could take my anger out on another world, another universe. Destroy a place where nothing mattered because it wasn't my reality. Sounded like a pretty sweet fucking deal at the time."

He stopped at the window, his brown eyes staring out at the darkening forest. The first stars were beginning to appear, tiny pinpricks of light in the deepening blue.

"But then we found you. Or I found you, I should say. Those other dipshits would've just zapped past you if I hadn't recognized you first. Would've missed you completely, the blind bastards."

He turned back to look at her, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable, all pretense and bravado stripped away.

"And now I don't know what the fuck to do. Because you're not her—not my Y/N. But you look like her, sound like her. And those assholes out there?" He jerked his thumb toward the door. 

"They're going to try to take you for themselves. Each one of them. Emperor Mark with his 'I rule the world' bullshit. Viltrumite Mark probably wants to breed a whole army of super-soldiers with you. Phantom Mark might seem nice, but he's just as fucked up as the rest of us. No-Mask can't shut up about his friend William, but he'll want you too. Omni mark may seem mature and collected, but he's got a dark mind beneath that fucking stoic face. And Sinister?" He shook his head, a shiver running down his spine. "That guy gives me the creeps, and I'm not exactly squeamish."

He returned to the bedside, carefully perching on the edge of the mattress. The bed creaked beneath his weight, but held firm.

"But I found you first," he said, a possessive edge creeping into his voice. "And I'm not letting you go this time. No fucking way. I'd rather tear this whole universe apart."

He tentatively reached out, finally allowing himself to brush a strand of hair from her face. His touch was surprisingly gentle for hands that had torn through concrete and steel. His fingertips lingered, barely touching her skin, as if afraid she might shatter like glass.

"We should've had more time," he whispered. "In my universe, we should've had years. Decades. Instead, I got eighteen months, two weeks, and four days."

The specificity of the number hung in the air between them—every day counted, treasured, mourned.

"This time will be different," he promised, his voice hardening with determination. "I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Including those alternate versions of me. They didn't protect their Y/Ns either, so they don't deserve you any more than I do."

A humorless laugh escaped him.

"I sound like a jealous psycho, don't I? Guess that's what losing you did to me. Made me fucking crazyyyy. But I don't care. You're here. You're alive. And I'm not letting you go.”

Outside, twilight was deepening into night. Through the window, stars were beginning to appear, pin-pricks of light in the growing darkness. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, the sound carrying clearly in the still air. Mohawk Mark settled more comfortably on the edge of the bed, his large frame incongruous with his gentle movements.

"Not gonna lie, this is gonna get messy," he told her unconscious form. "Eight Marks, all with their heads up their asses, all thinking they have some special claim on you? Recipe for disaster. Especially sinister…" He shook his head, a soft groan running through him. "Better if you stay far away from that psychopath."

He sighed, rubbing his slightly bruised face with both hands.

"And me? I just want a second chance. To do it right this time. To keep you safe."

His eyes drifted to the clock. Five hours and twenty-three minutes left of his watch.

"You know what's really fucked up?" he said conversationally, as if she might answer. "In those shitty romance movies you used to make me watch, there's always some speech about how 'if you love someone, let them go.' But that's bullshit. I let you go once—not by choice—and it broke me. So this time?" His jaw set in a determined line. "This time I'm hanging on. I don't care if it's selfish or wrong or whatever. I get a do-over, and I'm taking it."

He reached out again, his fingertips barely brushing against her hand. Her skin was warm—alive—and the contact sent electricity shooting up his arm. How long had it been since he'd touched her? Since he'd felt anything but rage and emptiness?

"I just need you to wake up," he whispered. "Wake up and remember me somehow. Not likely, I know, but hey—a multiverse exists, so anything's possible, right? Maybe there's a version of you that remembers a version of me."

Outside, an owl hooted softly, its call carrying through the still night air. Inside, Mohawk Mark settled in for his vigil, his eyes never leaving Y/N's face, as if by sheer force of will he could bring her back to consciousness.

"Take your time," he said softly. "I've got five hours left, and I'm not going anywhere."

The cabin creaked and settled around them, the wooden beams contracting in the cooling night air. Moonlight now streamed through the window he'd broken, casting eerie shadows across the floor. 

In the silence, his thoughts wandered, memories surfacing like bubbles in still water.

"Remember that time we went to that shitty carnival?" he asked her sleeping form, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You made me ride that ferris wheel even though my legs were too damn long for the seat. When it stopped at the top, you kissed me and said you liked seeing me vulnerable for once."

He laughed softly, the sound strange even to his own ears. When was the last time he'd laughed without bitter sarcasm?

"Or that night I came back from that fight with those Dinosaurus, all bloody and fucked up? You didn't say a word, just cleaned me up, bandaged what needed bandaging, then tore me a new one for being reckless. Said if I got myself killed, you'd find a way to bring me back just to kill me yourself."

His voice caught on the last word. The irony wasn't lost on him.

"Guess I'm the one who found a way to bring you back…"

He glanced at the clock again. Four hours and fifty-seven minutes.

"Sinister's got next watch," he muttered darkly. "No fucking way am I leaving you alone with him. Guy's more unhinged than I am, and that's saying something. The things he did in his universe..." He shuddered. "Let's just say even I've got lines I won't cross."

Mohawk stood up, restless energy making it impossible to sit still any longer. He paced the length of the cabin, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight.

"You should see Emperor Mark," he continued, needing to fill the silence. "Strutting around like he owns the fucking multiverse. 'I am the supreme ruler of Earth,' blah blah blah. Bet you'd have knocked him down a peg or two. You never did have patience for that kind of bullshit."

The memory of her standing up to him, hands on hips, not backing down even when he towered over her, made something twist painfully in his chest.

"You were never afraid of me," he said quietly. "Everyone else—even other heroes—they'd flinch when I got angry. Not you. You'd get right up in my face, tell me to stop being a dramatic asshole." He smiled, a genuine one this time. "God, I loved that about you."

The word 'loved' hung in the air, and he froze, suddenly aware of what he'd said. Loved. Past tense. Because his Y/N was gone, and this woman on the bed, no matter how identical, wasn't her.

"Fuck," he whispered, running both hands through his hair. "This is so fucked up."

He moved to the kitchenette, rifling through the cupboards for anything to distract himself. Finding a bottle of whiskey, he uncapped it and took a long swig, grimacing at the burn.

"Tastes like piss," he muttered, but took another drink anyway. The alcohol wouldn't affect him—his metabolism was too efficient for that—but the ritual was comforting in its familiarity.

A sudden sound from outside had him instantly alert, the bottle forgotten as he moved silently to the window. His enhanced vision cut through the darkness, scanning the treeline for any sign of movement. A deer stepped cautiously into the clearing, ears twitching, and he relaxed marginally.

"Just Bambi," he said, returning to Y/N's bedside. "Though with our luck, it's probably Bambi with a grudge and a nuclear warhead."

He settled back into the chair, bottle dangling from his fingertips. For a while, he just watched her breathe, the steady rise and fall of her chest hypnotic in the quiet room.

"You know what scares me?" he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. "That you'll wake up, take one look at me, and see a monster. That you'll run screaming. That you'll hate me for what I am, what I've done."

He took another swig from the bottle.

"I wasn't always like this," he continued. "The hair, yeah—that was a rebellious phase that stuck. But the rest? The violence, the rage? That came after. After you died, after I realized that all my power meant jack shit when it mattered."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"I killed him slow," he admitted, voice flat. "The guy who took you from me. Made it last days. Kept him conscious the whole time. Told myself it was justice, but it was just... emptiness. Trying to fill a hole that couldn't be filled." He laughed bitterly. "Pretty fucking poetic for a guy who didn't graduate high school, huh?"

A soft moan from the bed had him instantly on his feet, bottle clattering forgotten to the floor. Y/N's eyelids fluttered, but didn't open, her face slightly contorting in pain.

"Y/N?" he whispered, heart hammering. "Can you hear me?"

She shifted slightly, a frown creasing her forehead, but remained unconscious. He exhaled slowly, equal parts disappointed and relieved. He wasn't ready yet—didn't know what he'd say when those eyes finally opened and looked at him without recognition.

"Not yet, huh?" he murmured, gently adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. "That's okay. You've been through hell. Take your time."

He retrieved the bottle from where it had rolled under the bed, setting it on the nightstand.

"When you do wake up," he said, sinking back into the chair, "things are gonna get complicated. Eight Marks, each one thinking they've got dibs on you? It's gonna be a clusterfuck of epic proportions."

He studied her face in the moonlight, memorizing every detail all over again.

"But I'll be there," he promised. "I'll keep you safe from them, from the GDA, from whatever other bullshit this universe throws at us. Even if you don't remember me. Even if you never..." He swallowed hard. "Even if you never feel about me the way my Y/N did."

The clock ticked on, marking the passing minutes. Three hours and twenty-two minutes left.

"I should probably talk strategy," he said, switching gears. "Sinister and Emperor are the obvious threats. They'll try to use you, control you. Viltrumite's more subtle, but just as dangerous. No-Mask and Prisoner are wild cards—unpredictable. Omni should be okay for now, he's a wait to the last second type of guy. And Phantom..." He frowned. "He's the one to watch. Plays the sympathy card, all 'I miss my mom' and shit, but he's got an agenda. They all do."

He stood up again, too restless to remain seated.

"Only safe Mark in the bunch is me," he declared with dark humor. "And I'm a complete psychopath according to most psychiatric evaluations. So that's saying something."

As if in response to his self-assessment, Y/N's fingers twitched, curling slightly into the sheets. He was at her side in an instant, his eyes glued to her hand, then her face, back to her hand. watching intently for any sign of consciousness.

"Y/N?" he whispered, hope creeping into his voice despite his best efforts. "You with me?"

Nothing. Just the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing.

"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand down his face. "Now I'm seeing things. Get it together, Mark."

He retreated to the window, staring out at the moonlit forest. The night was clear, stars scattered across the black velvet sky like diamonds. In another life, they might have been lying on a blanket somewhere, her head on his chest as she pointed out constellations he pretended to be interested in.

"You used to love the stars," he said softly. "Could name all the constellations, all that shit. I never got it—they're just balls of gas burning billions of miles away—but you'd talk about them like they were magic."

He pressed his forehead against the cool glass.

"After you died, I couldn't look at them anymore. Kept thinking about how the light from some of those stars takes years to reach us. So maybe, some of that light started its journey when you were still alive. Like some part of you was still out there, somewhere."

He laughed at himself, the sound hollow in the quiet room.

"Pathetic, right? Big bad Mohawk Mark, getting all philosophical about starlight." He shook his head. "The others would never let me live it down if they heard me now."

The thought of the other Marks sobered him. Each one was dangerous in his own way, each one a twisted reflection of what he might have become under different circumstances. And each one would want Y/N for himself.

"I won't share you," he said, turning back to face her. "Not with them, not with anyone. They can have this whole fucking universe to tear apart, but you? You're off-limits."

He returned to the bedside, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress. His hand hovered above hers, wanting to touch but hesitating.

"I know it's selfish," he admitted. "You're not my Y/N. You don't know me, don't owe me anything. But I've spent eighteen months in hell without you, and now you're here, and I just..." He exhaled sharply. "I just need a second chance."

Finally, he allowed himself to take her hand in his, engulfing her smaller fingers in his palm. Her skin was soft, warm—alive. The simple contact made his chest constrict.

"When you wake up," he said, voice rough with emotion, "you can tell me to fuck off. You can run as far from me as you want. But until then, I'm staying right here. Keeping you safe."

A memory surfaced—Y/N in his kitchen, attempting to cook something complicated, cursing colorfully as smoke billowed from the oven. He'd laughed until she threw a dishrag at his head, then pulled her against him, still laughing as she pounded her fists against his chest in mock outrage.

"You used to say I was the worst boyfriend in the multiverse," he recalled, a smile tugging at his lips. "Turns out you were right, just not in the way you meant. There are literally seven other versions of me, and every single one of them is fucked up in their own special way."

He glanced at the clock again. Two hours and forty-five minutes.

"You know what? Sinister can go fuck himself. Emperor too. I'm not leaving when my time's up. If they want to try and move me, they're welcome to try."

He shifted, carefully arranging himself so he was sitting with his back against the headboard, her hand still clasped loosely in his. For the first time since she'd died, a flicker of something that might have been hope kindled in his chest.

"Wake up or don't wake up," he told her. "Either way, I'm not going anywhere. Not this time."

Outside, a wolf howled, the sound echoing through the trees. Another answered, then another, a chorus of wild voices in the darkness. Mohawk Mark settled in, Y/N's hand still in his, to wait out the night.

"Take your time, sleeping beauty," he murmured. "I've got all the time in the world."

–––––––––––––– Next chapter may be freaky, or just crazy lol. haven't decided yet ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Pt.1✧ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ Pt.3✧ Pt.4✧

Pt.5✧

[slutoru1207]

Mistaken Devotion – Part 5

Your Mark was losing.

For the first time since he got his powers, he wasn’t just fighting another version of himself—

He was fighting a version that had nothing left to lose.

Full-Mask Mark was relentless. Brutal.

And your Mark?

He was holding back.

You saw it. Felt it.

Every punch he threw wasn’t as ruthless as it should’ve been.

Every block wasn’t as calculated as it needed to be.

He was fighting like he still had something to come home to.

But Full-Mask Mark?

He was fighting like you were already his.

"You’re weak," the masked Mark snarled, driving his fist into your Mark’s ribs.

A sickening crack filled the room.

Your Mark choked, stumbling back—and that split-second hesitation was all it took.

In a flash, Full-Mask Mark had him by the throat, slamming him against the wall.

Your Mark gasped.

Your stomach dropped.

"You don’t deserve her," the masked Mark growled, voice low, dangerous, final. His grip tightened.

Your Mark gritted his teeth, struggling. His vision was blurring—his body aching—

And then—

His eyes flickered to you.

You.

Terrified. Frozen. Watching.

His entire world standing just feet away—

And another version of him trying to take it.

And in that moment—

Something snapped.

A rush of adrenaline exploded through his body.

With a snarl, your Mark grabbed Full-Mask Mark’s wrist—crushing it in his grip.

The masked Mark’s breath hitched.

But before he could react—

Your Mark moved.

His elbow rammed into his double’s ribs—hard.

The grip on his throat loosened.

And then—

He drove his knee into the imposter’s stomach.

A brutal, earth-shaking hit.

Full-Mask Mark **coughed—**staggering. His breath shuddered.

Your Mark didn’t let him recover.

He spun—fist slamming into his double’s jaw with enough force to send blood splattering across the floor.

The masked Mark’s head snapped to the side—his entire body reeling.

Your Mark stepped forward—relentless, furious, done.

"She’s mine."

The last punch was devastating.

The masked Mark crashed into the floor, gasping—dazed, disoriented, barely conscious.

Your Mark stood over him, panting, fists still clenched, body coiled with adrenaline and rage.

And then—

His eyes flicked to you.

Shaken. Wide-eyed. Safe.

His entire body softened.

A sharp inhale—then he was crossing the space between you.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, voice hoarse, worried, desperate.

You nodded—then threw yourself at him.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you tight, pressing his face into your hair, like he was making sure—making sure—you were still here.

"I thought I lost you." His voice broke.

You shook your head, gripping him tighter.

"I’m right here."

His arms tightened.

But behind him—

The masked Mark stirred.

And this time—

He wasn’t alone.

A portal crackled open.

And more Marks stepped through.

[venompeach]

tried to draw them outside the dumb hero costume, piercings and haircuts n stuff (my fucked up cat wanted to say hi sorry)

[mintyys-blog]

Bestie hear me out 🙏☺️. Imagine main mark and scarlet witch!reader has two twin boys right . Like maybe they're 3 or 4 toddler age 🤔 (basically wanda vision) . So invincible war comes and you know , the variants be out and about looking for her not knowing main mark and reader got a family together. Imagine how furious they would be to see not only does main mark got a reader that alive but also got kids . I think the main variants that would lose it would be omni mark , viltrumite mark and full mask mark . Would add sinister mark but I gotta keep him away from the kids 🫣🥹 . His the danger 😳 ☠️ .

scarlet witch! reader x viltrumite! mark, omni mark, and full mask mark

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

The house was quiet, but Y/N could still hear the distant echoes of battle. The Invincible War raged outside, but in this moment, her only concern was keeping Noah and Eli safe.

She kneeled in front of them, smoothing down their hair. “We’re going to stay inside, okay? No matter what you hear, no matter what happens.”

They nodded, wide-eyed and trusting. Then—the front door creaked open. Y/N’s heart slammed against her ribs. Mark wouldn’t just walk in like that. Slowly, she turned. And there he was.

The moment she laid eyes on him, a cold shiver crawled up her spine. It was Mark. But not her Mark.

Blood clung to his suit, smeared across his jaw. His posture was stiff, the tension in his shoulders visible even from where she stood. And his eyes—god, his eyes—burned with something unreadable.

Y/N didn’t move. Neither did he. The room was so silent she could hear the distant screams outside, the clash of Viltrumite battles shaking the sky. But in here, all that mattered was who had just walked through that door.

His gaze drifted. It landed on Noah. Then Eli. The world seemed to stop. Y/N could see the exact moment it clicked. The exact second his mind caught up to what was in front of him. Shock. Disbelief. And then—rage.

OMNI MARK

He didn’t move for a long time. Just stood there, staring at the boys like they were some kind of illusion. His fists trembled at his sides.

“No.” His voice was barely a whisper. “No, that’s not—”

Y/N shifted slightly, blocking the twins from his line of sight. “Leave. Now.” But he wasn’t listening.

“You had kids?” His tone was eerily quiet. Controlled. Like he was using every ounce of restraint to keep himself from exploding. “You had kids. With him.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, but she held her ground. “They’re not yours to be concerned about.”

The moment the words left her mouth, his restraint snapped. In an instant, he was right in front of her, inches away.

“I should kill him,” he seethed, his breath hot against her skin. “I should rip this entire life away from you.”

Her magic crackled to life, red mist curling around her fingers. “Try it.”

Omni Mark stared at her, fury and something dangerously close to grief flashing across his face. Then, just as fast as he’d come, he turned and disappeared into the sky.

But before he left, his voice cut through the air—quieter this time, almost broken. “You could’ve been mine.”

The words lingered in the silence as his figure disappeared into the horizon, and Y/N stood frozen. The reality of it hadn’t sunk in yet. It wasn’t just anger she’d seen in his eyes, but desperation. He wasn’t just furious at her and the kids; he was grieving the future he thought he deserved. And in that moment, she realized—he would never stop trying to take it all from her.

But for now, at least, he was gone. She turned back to Noah and Eli, kneeling in front of them and pulling them close. “It’s okay,” she whispered, though she didn’t believe it herself.

VILTRUMITE MARK

For a moment, his eyes flicked over the room with a chilling stillness. His suit was torn and bloodied, his breathing ragged. But it wasn’t just the visible wounds—there was something broken in him, something deeper than any physical injury. His gaze locked onto the twins, his expression unreadable. Then, it softened—just a fraction—before hardening again.

Y/N felt her stomach drop as he took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving the boys.

“No…” His voice barely escaped his lips. “No, that can’t be…” He looked between the two, his entire body shuddering. His jaw clenched as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The disbelief quickly gave way to something much darker, much more dangerous.

“Is this what I could have had?” His voice was strained, hoarse, like he was trying to hold back something explosive. “A family. A future. With you.”

Y/N’s heart twisted, but she kept herself still. “You don’t get to decide what I could have had.”

Viltrumite Mark’s fists clenched, his knuckles whitening. His eyes burned with a mix of fury and pain, the kind that could only come from a lifetime of regret, a lifetime of loss. He took another step forward, his gaze lingering on the twins.

“They’re mine,” he muttered. “They should be mine. I should have been there, Y/N. I could have been what you needed. What we all needed.”

Y/N’s magic surged to life, flickering at her fingertips as she instinctively stepped in front of the twins. “You’re not welcome here. You never were.”

Viltrumite Mark’s head tilted. He wasn’t angry anymore. He was broken. “How could you choose him? He’s nothing compared to what I could give you. What I was going to give you.” His voice was quieter now, more desperate. “You were supposed to be mine.”

Y/N didn’t speak. There was nothing left to say. She didn’t owe him anything anymore.

Viltrumite Mark stepped back, his expression unraveling before her eyes. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked like a man who had been stripped of everything, left with nothing but the cold weight of his own mistakes.

“How could I let this happen?” His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with self-loathing. “You’re happy. You’re… whole. And I lost it all.”

Y/N’s magic pulsed, crackling in the air. It was so close to exploding. She wanted to destroy him, to erase the version of him that had left her with nothing but scars. But in that moment, she realized: He wasn’t the same threat he once was. He was a broken man. A man who had failed, and knew it.

With a shuddering exhale, Viltrumite Mark turned away. His figure seemed to blur for a second before he was gone, disappearing into the distance like a fading storm.

Y/N didn’t feel relief. She only felt emptiness. The devastation of what had been, and the painful reminder that sometimes, nothing could ever be repaired.

She turned back to Noah and Eli, her arms wrapping tightly around them. They were hers now. And no matter what, she would never let anyone take that away.

FULL MASKED MARK

The door creaked open once more, the eerie silence that followed almost suffocating. Y/N braced herself, fingers twitching, her magic rippling under her skin. Then, she saw him.

Full Mask Mark

He stood in the doorway, the black-and-blue fabric of his suit torn and battered from the chaos outside. His full mask, which had once concealed his emotions, now seemed to amplify the darkness in his eyes.

He stepped forward, the weight of his presence pressing down on her. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Y/N’s stomach churned. Her pulse raced.

Then, without warning, Full Mask Mark ripped off his mask, tossing it aside with a force that made it crash to the ground. His face was covered in bruises, cuts, and signs of the battle he’d endured, but his eyes—those eyes—locked onto the twins, and something in them softened.

He crouched down, his voice almost pleading as he extended his arms toward them. “Come on, it’s me—daddy.”

The twins paused, their wide eyes shifting back and forth between him and their mother.

For a moment, it seemed like they might go to him, that they might believe his words. But Y/N’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, and she snapped, her voice firm.

“No.” She stepped in front of the boys, shielding them from the man before her. “You’re not my Mark—you’re not their father.”

Full Mask Mark’s eyes flickered with something—disappointment, regret, maybe even sorrow—but he didn’t reach out. Instead, he slowly stood, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words.

“You’re right,” he muttered quietly, his voice carrying a sadness she hadn’t expected. “I’m not… can’t blame a guy for trying, though.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, the action so human, so vulnerable, it caught her off guard. “I don’t mean harm, Y/N. I just… I had to see. I had to know if it’s real. You.” His gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw the man beneath the mask—the man who had once been her Mark, in some twisted version of the universe. “You may not be the one from my universe, but… I still love you all the same.”

The words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on her, leaving her breathless.

Y/N’s heart twisted with conflicting emotions, but she couldn’t let herself be swayed. She knew the truth. He wasn’t the Mark she had loved. The man standing in front of her was broken, a reflection of a version she had lost, not the one she had chosen.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “But you’re not him. You never were.”

Full Mask Mark stayed silent for a long time, just standing there, his hands lowering to his sides. His eyes, once full of hope, now reflected only pain—a pain he had never allowed anyone to see before.

And in that silence, Y/N realized something.

The man in front of her had loved her in his own twisted way, but he had never truly known her. And she would never go back to a past that was never meant for her.

Without another word, he turned, his shoulders hunched in defeat, and walked out of the house, leaving only the faint sound of his footsteps behind him.

The door clicked shut. And Y/N felt a strange calm settle over her, as if, for the first time, she had closed the door on her past for good.

She turned back to Noah and Eli, wrapping them in her arms, holding them close. They were her future. And no one—no version of Mark—could take that from her.