#gender-variant reader

[peachystarrie]

...INTRODUCING..

...DUCKY!READER. a pretty little stalker.

...ducky!reader.. who was inspired by jd from heathers, jonathan byers from stranger things, and 'love song' by lana del rey.

"hey pretty boy! you need a ride?"

...ducky!reader.. who just happens to be passing through when you need a ride home, calling out in warm honeyed tones, as if you were old friends and had merely forgotten. because to them, you are.

"if only you knew how much I love you."

...ducky!reader.. whose "soft and innocent" act is just that. an act. whose dandelion-dusted fingers hold a gun to the head of anyone in the way of their love.

"you were a lot cuter when you were asleep. less angry."

...ducky!reader.. whose camera and binoculars catch more than their eyes ever could. who would rather watch you through a window for hours than dare to confess their feelings.

"don't touch my film reels, baby. everyone's got secrets."

...ducky!reader.. who would sell their soul for another moment with you, maybe, in that darkly lit bar, in the back beat-up old van, or in the bedroom they've seen in a million stolen moments. who's been planning your love out like a storybook, praying for the moment you'd meet.

because we all need a little stalker fiction in our lives! ducky is gender neutral, though I might specify for some fics.

.masterlist.

(coming soon!!)

note: I do not condone actual stalking of any sort. It's disgusting and immoral, and if you think you may be being stalked, please seek help. stay safe out there <3

copyright @peachystarrie 2025. all pics from pinterest. divider credit. do not repost or translate my works without explicit consent.

[swtheartz]

info : AFAB!reader but no gender mentioned, reader is a healer, spit kink, dacryphilia, cunninglingus mentioned, blowjobs mentioned, sexual content, they’re all freaks

a / n : i’m gonna start tagging people in my posts so if u wanna be tagged?? lmk!!!!! also hi lx :3

each version of mark has their own unique healer. their dynamics with each other are all so vastly different—all of them think theirs is the best. they’re annoying about it, too, all obsessed with their versions of reader. none of them would have it any other way.

mainstream mark is so casual about it. their relationship is by far the most normal one. a little unofficial, sure, but it’s not like he cares. in his mind, you’re not going anywhere and he isn’t either.

“i, uh, just usually go to them after a fight. it’s not always on purpose, just. . . just sometimes. it’s weird, but they don’t have to heal by touching me. i’m not elaborating on that.”

no goggles mark is definitely one of the weirder ones. laughs about it, is excited to talk about it.

“oh! dude, i love it when we fight. usually ends up with them under me. it’s funny, actually—eating them out works just fine whenever they don’t wanna heal me. pussy juice of life, i swear-”

“they don’t have to heal with their hands,” viltrumite mark looks thoughtful, genuinely thinking about it. his relationship with his version of you is mundane, if anything. they’ve got their own quarters in the viltrum empire, and well. . .

“i prefer their mouth.” he admits, arms crossed over his chest.

omni mark can’t help but scoff. “we don’t fight. i get hurt sometimes, and they heal me.”

“you don’t fight? what’s the fun in that? like, seriously. do you guys even fuck??”

“. . . i prefer it when they cry,” omni mark hums, almost prideful with the way he says it.

they’ve all got their own preferences—whether it be them eating you out, making you cry on their dick, or sloppy makeouts—they get healed one way or another.

[lazy-ahh]

Hello!! this is just a silly request of a idea that spawned in my head, what about a Sinister Mark (+ variants) with a male or gn Reader, they're in a 'healthy' (as healthy as it can be if they're unhinged/fucked up), like, every variant had a reader that either die or they accidentally kill them, main mark reader is dead and is just that Sinister mark is the only one with a alive reader? (english isn’t my first language so sorry for any errors, i just imagine Sinister all smug that he has a living reader)

THE LAST ONE STANDING

pairing sinister! mark grayson x gender neutral reader (+ variants)

what happens when you're the only one left alive across every dimension? ask the eight broken marks trailing behind you—or better yet, ask your mark, the one who saved you. the one who watches with a smirk as his variants crumble at the sight of you: breathing, laughing, his.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

you're alive.

that’s the thing that sets him apart from the rest—the other marks, the ones who stagger in from broken dimensions like starving dogs, fists clenched and eyes hollow with grief. they’re here to burn this world down, to carve their pain into something that bleeds, because what else do they have left? some of them killed you by accident—hands too strong, a battle they couldn’t end fast enough, a mistake they’ll spend eternity choking on. others were just too slow, forced to kneel in your blood, useless as your pulse stuttered out under their fingers. and then there are the worst ones—the ones who chose it, who tore into you themselves because their love was always just another kind of violence.

but your mark?

he didn’t just keep you.

he saved you.

and not in some noble, selfless way—no, this was something hungrier, something possessive and brutal and his. he fought for you like a man clawing his way out of a grave, and he’d do it again. he’d do it a thousand times.

and yeah, he’s smug about it. you feel it in the way his fingers press bruises into your hips when another variant stumbles into your path, all ragged breath and shattered composure. his grin is a blade, glinting in the dim light as they freeze, staring at you like you’re a ghost—alive, warm, his.

"look at that," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, voice dripping with something between pity and triumph. "another one who couldn’t hold onto you."

it should hurt you, seeing any version of mark like this—broken, desperate, ruined. and it does, a little. but there’s something else, too, something dark and curling in your chest as you watch their hands tremble at their sides, fighting the urge to reach for you. for a second, you imagine what it’d be like to see your mark like that—kneeling, shattered, yours in a way that’s more surrender than victory.

the thought makes your pulse jump.

(and from the way his grip tightens, he knows.)

it's been one day since the invincible war started.

now, it was your job to round up all the broken, furious, useless versions of mark before angstrom got them killed. you weren’t an idiot—you saw the writing on the wall. angstrom would toss them aside the second they stopped being useful, and you? you weren’t done with them yet. not when every single one of them looked at you like you were the last drop of water in a desert, starving and pathetic and yours to play with.

convincing them to abandon their posts wasn’t hard. all it took was a look, a smirk, the barest hint of come with me if you want to live wrapped in something softer. they followed like strays, hungry for whatever scrap of attention you’d throw their way.

you weren’t stupid enough to think your mark wouldn’t notice, of course. he’d let you wander, let you have your little game—because he knew, in the end, you’d always come back to him. but until then? you were going to enjoy yourself.

so far, you’d collected eight.

there was the mohawk-and-piercings variant, all sharp edges and sharper desperation, playing at indifference while his eyes tracked your every move like you might vanish if he blinked. you later find out that he had a harem of people who looked like you, but he had killed them off because every time they made a mistake (whether they didn't laugh the way you did, didn't stand their ground in situations where you would, didn't look at him the same way you did), it would break the immersion, and the grief would hit him ten times harder. the veiled one—arrogant bastard, vulgar as hell, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab you by the throat or pull you into his lap, never deciding which. pretended not to give a shit until something so much as scratched you or inconvenienced you, then he was the first one ripping throats out. hypocrite. the fully masked one in black and blue—no skin, no tells, just the slight tilt of his head when you spoke, like he was recording your voice to replay later. soft-hearted idiot. still talked about his dead mom like she might walk through the door, still smiled when remembering dumb childhood games. you made sure to keep him close. not because you cared. just because he’d be the first to get himself killed otherwise.

the goggle-less one was a riot—literally. his eyes too wide, too raw, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. but he adapted quickly. cracked jokes mid-battle, laughed when punches landed, blood in his teeth and excitement in his eyes like pain was just another way to get off. you’d never admit it, but his shitty one-liners sometimes got a smirk out of you. the maskless variant didn’t joke. didn’t smile much either. just floated there like a kicked dog, staring at you with this hollow look while casually mentioning how he’d torn his father apart piece by piece for killing you. you approved, of course. even combing your fingers through his hair and watch his expression light up, a soft pink hue dusting across his cheeks as he looked at you like you just kissed him. you might've. you might've not. the red-and-white cape bastard was ice personified—monotone voice, cold eyes, the kind of guy who’d call genocide "mildly inconvenient." but his hands shook when you got too close, and that? that was hilarious. "you were the only tolerable thing on this rock," he’d muttered once, like it physically pained him to admit it. or to remember. pathetic. so deliciously pathetic.

and finally—the hardest one to crack. the viltrumite. white uniform, perfect posture, face like carved stone—until you flew in. then his jaw clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grind. called you a liability. a distraction. liar. this one missed you so much it was practically rotting him from the inside out. raised on viltrumite dogma but still clung to that last shred of humanity—you. and when you’d died in his world? that shred had frayed to nothing. now he trailed you like a shadow, silent and watchful, intercepting threats before they even got close. brought you trophies from battles you didn’t even ask him to fight—an old bully’s severed hand, the head of a reporter who had talked shit about you in the news once, even a fucking crown, gently placed on top of your head without a word. his way of saying mine.

(you wore it for a few hours just to watch his pupils blow wide. worth it.)

now, they were all yours. for now. your mark would come eventually—he always did—but until then? you had a whole collection of broken toys to play with.

(and when he did? well. you’d make sure that was fun, too.)

and just like that, the day was over.

playtime was supposed to be over. but since when did you ever follow the rules?

your mark’s face was priceless—confusion flickering across his features as you landed at the agreed spot, trailing eight battered, bruised, and entirely too attached versions of himself behind you like some fucked-up parade. the air shifted the moment you got closer, thick with tension and something dangerously close to jealousy. you could see it in the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his pupils dilated just slightly as you stopped right beside him, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

"had fun?" he asked, voice low, teasing, but with an edge underneath—like he already knew the answer and wasn’t sure if he wanted to punish you for it or praise you.

you grinned, sharp and unrepentant. "oh, you have no idea."

his lips curled, slow and satisfied, and for a second, it was just the two of you—his hand sliding possessively around your waist, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, "good." because he loved this. loved that you came back. loved that you wanted to. loved that even when he let you wander, you always found your way back to him.

the other marks didn’t move. didn’t speak. some stared at you like they were starving, fingers flexing like they wanted to reach out and take. others looked like they were one wrong breath away from snapping, from tearing you apart just so no one else could have you.

your mark’s grip tightened, just enough to bruise.

he wouldn’t let them try.

you weren’t naive. you knew exactly what he was—what this was. his love was teeth against your throat, a hand around your wrist, a promise whispered in the dark that sounded more like a threat. it was obsession, all-consuming and violent, and you? you fucking reveled in it. you never flinched. never backed down.

because you were just as bad as he was.

"missed you," you muttered, just for him, just to watch his eyes darken.

he laughed, soft and dangerous, and pulled you closer. "liar."

(you were. but he loved that about you, too.)

the red-and-white variant scoffed, turning sharply so his cape snapped like a whip behind him. "this is beneath us." his voice was ice, but the leather of his gloves groaned under the pressure of his clenched fists, betraying him.

the mohawk-and-piercings variant barked out a laugh, sharp and jagged. "what in the actual fuck is this?" he sneered, arms crossed so tight over his chest it looked like he was trying to physically restrain himself from reaching for you. "some kinda twisted harem fantasy? fuckin’ disgusting." but his eyes—dark, hungry, jealous—never left where your mark’s hands gripped you.

the maskless one was silent. just staring, his expression hollow, fingers twitching at his sides like he was already imagining the way your mark’s throat would collapse under his grip.

the veiled mark dragged a hand through his hair, laughing—a bitter, broken sound. "oh, this is fucking rich," he spat, voice thick with something between fury and desperation. his fingers jerked toward you before he forced them into fists, knuckles white. "you really dragged us all here just to watch you play house with him?"

viltrumite mark didn’t speak. didn’t move. just watched, his face carved from stone—but you saw it. the way his jaw flexed when your mark’s fingers pressed possessive bruises into your hip. the flicker of pain in his eyes, raw and aching, before he locked it away.

something twisted in your chest. guilt? pity? you couldn't imagine what it was like to lose someone—really lose them—and for a second, you wondered what you’d do if it were your mark gone. if you were the one standing there, hollowed out and desperate.

but then—

the way they looked at you. pathetic. submissive. like they’d fall to their knees if you so much as crooked a finger. and god, the thought of them breaking further—lips trembling, eyes wet, soft whimpers escaping no matter how hard they bit down—sent a thrill down your spine.

your mark smirked against your temple, his kiss burning like a brand. "cute," he purred, voice thick with mock pity as his fingers tangled possessively in your hair. "look at them—really thought they stood a chance." his lips curled into something vicious as he glanced at the broken reflections of himself, his grip on you tightening just enough to make his point. "weak. all of them. couldn’t even keep what was theirs."

you leaned into him, arms locking around his waist like a claim of your own, sighing as his other hand traced down your spine—gentle in a way that would’ve seemed impossible for anyone else. but this was yours. the way his touch lingered, the way his voice dropped into something warm and honeyed when he spoke only to you. "not you, though," he murmured, lips brushing your forehead. "you’re perfect. mine. only one smart enough to stay alive."

his grin sharpened as he looked back at the others, drinking in their rage, their grief, the way their hands shook at their sides. "bet that stings, huh? seeing what you could’ve had if you weren’t such fucking failures?"

you laughed, low and satisfied, pressing closer just to watch their expressions crack—

and something sick twisted in your chest when you saw how they flinched, how their eyes burned with something raw and starving. because that sound—your laugh, bright and fucking alive—it had been years for them. years of silence, of bloodstained hands and empty beds and the ghost of your voice haunting every battle. and now here you were, curled against him, looking at him like he hung the goddamn stars while they rotted in the periphery.

(and oh—the way their faces twisted. like they wanted to scream. like they wanted to beg. like they’d burn the world down just to tear you away from him.)

(they wouldn’t. couldn’t.)

(your mark would make sure of it.)

hey chat!! hope you enjoyed this messy little 2.1k word dump—this fic fought me like a rabid raccoon and had me struggling the entire time not gonna lie 😭 sorry anon if it's not exactly what you pictured, but i tried my best to make it deliciously messy for you! (lowkey viltrum mark kept stealing the spotlight in my drafts like the favourite he is—had to physically restrain myself from writing 5k words of just him sigh. the struggle was REAL y'all) BUT OMG THOSE LAST LINES WITH SINISTER MARK??? even i was kicking my feet and giggling like an idiot while writing that possessive bastard's dialogue heheh

[oystermark]

i just thought of something with my reaper reader (link to my introduction of them) with the variants.... so here's that ramble (i just HAD to)

reaper gn!reader x mark variants (suggestive) (not proofread)

cecil finally had a good enough reason to use your powers, yes you can't outright kill mark but you can weaken him significantly faster than any other being on this planet can. yes you might kill some people on accident because of the nature of your powers but at this point it's a risk he's willing to take.

(in this world, mark is dating eve, the tension between you not spoken for. which is why the reader is so shocked when the variants flirt with them.)

no goggles!mark would fucking love you, even more in this world. the you in his world also had the same powers but was murdered after dating him for 2 months, you were the goddamn best. you'd hit like a fucking truck and actually hurt him, which totally made him hard and he told you so without shame.

now... now though, you have the decapitated head of the variant with the long hair. your pupils were white, the shape of a dragons sharp and dangerous, your eyes multicolors of purple; glowing menacingly as you walk towards him. the purple to murky purple ombrè color of those hands reaches your forearms, your fingers clawed. your steps leave a sea of glowing purple behind you, purple small glowing butterflies and strange flowers blooming with your steps. he'd say that long cloak looks corny but on you it somehow looks, really hot.

this...you, you were so...fuck he wants to just pounce on you but... he wants to hear that menacing tone of your voice, he missed it so damn much.

you throw the head to his feet with a glare fixed on his face, as the blood splashes on him he shudders with pleasure.

oh this is going to be good. he suppressed a whimper.

"babe, is that a present for me? you shouldn't haveee,"

he cooed with both of his hands cupping his cheeks, your lips and eyebrows twitched in irritation which just made his smirk widen.

"come with me, and your head just might stay intact." your voice boomed around the building, and this time, he didn't suppress a whimper.

he got up from where he was kneeling, his legs a little wobbly from the blood rushing to his dick. "fuck, babe. you just know how to make me feel," he takes a step towards you, almost undettered by your powers, "so good."

he hears your breath hitch, moans and grunts as you kick him right on the stomach, his body slamming to the wall. you quickly run towards him and grab him by the neck, "i don't want to kill you. stop talking and come with me" you growled those last words with so much anger- your body went taut as you felt him shake in your grasp. you glared up and down his body as he grinned and took your other hand, curling it into a fist and patting his cheek with it.

"so...rough," he attempted a chuckle, his voice came out in strangled breaths as your hand on his neck tightened at the contact, "come on...show me....show me that power...again. hurt- hurt me, make me come with you yourself..."

mohawk!mark

"hah! is this what you guys call a prison in your world!?" as soon as those words left his mouth, someone plummeted him to the ground hard, knocking the air from his lungs.

he saw the other 'heroes' run away from him now, as his nose started working again, he smelt death in its purest form.

ah. it's them.

"hey sweets, fancy meeting you here, hm?" he snickered as he felt you press him down harder, your breathing shallow and quick. "now the way you're breathing down my neck gives me quite a few ideas," your hand found his nape and slammed his head down on the concrete again, he laughed, spitting blood in the process. "what the hell are you talking about?"

he turned his head around as much as he could to get a look at that face, those eyes that had his heart in a grip, and he smirked, "how about you get off me and i show you what i really mean?" he snickered at the small gasp you let out, he could feel your body warming up.

in your flustered state that lasted for 1.2 seconds, he shot up from under you and pinned you to the floor by your forearms.

"still so fucking fine huh? the me from this world really lucked out," your expression soured for the smallest of a fraction as he put his face closer to yours, his eyes widened with delight and he laughed. "holy shit, you guys aren't dating!?" the way your eyebrows furrowed and the way you averted your gaze told him everything he had to know. fuck, mark from this world really was a fucking idiot.

his lips latched onto your neck as you thrashed under him, you could kick him off you if you wanted to, you're strong. but you didn't.

you wanted this. oh.

he smiled against your skin as he took your chin with one hand, "you haven't made a sound," the hand on your chin went under your cloak and gripped your ass, making you arch into him with a quiet moan as your eyes shot open, those haunting (hot) eyes looking at him so expectantly,

"but i know how to make you sing, c'mere"

you let yourself fall into his kisses and embrace.

-

a/n: i wrote this deliriously but if u want to ask about other variants w this reader or main mark go ahead!!!! id love to write their reactions to anything w them

[fruitsywriting]

Invincible Variants x Civilian!Reader (Pt.1)

I would love to write for ALL the variants but there’s quite a bit of them where we were unable to figure out their personalities because they were just in the background so I am going to be writing for the ones who actually talked. The reader can be seens as gender neutral, male, or fem. Each variant will have their own warning.

Characters: Sinister, Mohawk, Viltrum, Shiesty, Omni, Full Mask, Maskless, Cowl/Cap, Target/Empire, Prisoner, Lensless, Prime/Mainstream, Retro

Characters in this part: Viltrum and Sinister

It was supposed to be any other normal day. As normal as it can get when you live in a world with heroes and villains, and live in a city. Often, cities are targeted for attacks, that’s why you find yourself living on the outskirts of the city. Close to being out of the targeted zone, but not fully out. You grab your laundry as you put in airpods to listen to some RnB music. You hum along, occasionally swaying your body to the melody, while you put your clothes into the washer. You completely tuned out the world, that is- until you were forced to look reality in the eye.

There’s a slight shake to the apartment building, it has you wondering if it’s an attack or if it’s an Earthquake. You had no time to think over which one is worse when you hear a faint screech. You take out the airpods and realize that the evacuation alarms are ringing in the apartment building. You grab your phone, and a pre-prepared bag full of valued items and you don’t look back as you rush out my front door. Finding yourself in the midst of a frantic crowd running as well, as the alarm loudly yells and flashes to warn you: you need to evacuate.

When you all get to the staircase, the building shakes again. Legs go weak and a few fall down the stairs. The windows shatter as glass flies over the others heads. You can hear a little girl crying, and your heart wants to immediately check to see if she’s okay. However, your brain takes over- telling you she’s with her family and she will be okay. You stumble down the steps, avoiding running over the bodies in the stairwell as you run outside. Instantly, you knew it was a bad idea. Debris is filling your vision- You can’t see where to run. You can hear screaming to your left and you can hear what sounds like a snapping noise to your right. You can’t even turn around to go back into the building. Maybe living alone was a bad idea, right now all you want is your family.

Viltrum Mark:

The debris slowly filters into the air, the cloud is pungent as it clings on to anyone who runs out of the disaster- painting them in grey and white. It sticks to them, making them easy to target. However, that is not necessary. He came here and did what he promised to do. He caused destruction, and he watches as the building groans. It’s about to go down anyways, there’s no point in taking extra lives.

The groaning gets louder and it halts for only a minute before the sound becomes almost deafening as the building collapses on itself- sending a new toxic and deadly wave of debris. Another major city is destroyed, his work here is done. He debates on whether he should leave to destroy another or wait for the heroes to arrive so he can rip them apart- to show them that it’s useless. This is going to be their future anyways when Viltrum shows up to conquer them, he’s just giving them a small sample of what’s to come.

He allows his body to glide backwards, to fully view the damage he has done when he notices something in the corner of his eye. A hero coming to help perhaps?

He launches his body full force to the speck that was moving and lands before them, causing a smaller wave of gravel and debris to kick up. He looks down and he’s almost disappointed. This isn’t a hero, it’s just a civilian that managed to survive.

-

You cough harshly, causing the rawness of it to spread quickly up your throat as small pebbles and debris launch directly in your face. You can barely see through your eyelashes caked in the concrete’s powder. It’s no use to even try and wipe your face, and you continue to blink violently as you look up to see what crash landed in front of you.

Your stomach drops farther than it has in a long time. When you can see an outline of a male in front of you, and by what you can make out- his stance doesn’t scream that he is here to help you. In fact, by the way his body is tense and looking down on you- you can assume that he caused this attack. And so, this is how you die, at least that’s what you told yourself.

“You survived.” He said it in a tone of voice that sounded like a mix of annoyance and being impressed.

“For now,” You rasp out before you cough again. You can’t even make out his face, as the sun glares down from behind him and the fog over your eyes.

“If your body is able to move, I suggest doing so now- your lungs will collapse if you stay here any longer.”

You wanted to bark out something like ‘oh, thanks for the tip, I’ll get up right now!’ but your body and throat were burning. You could only wheeze in response to him.

He harshly grabs onto your arm and yanks you out of the dust and broken concrete, causing you to scream out in pain from just how rough his touch was. He falters for a moment, perhaps he forgot how weak humans are. He gently but firmly swipes his hand over your face, brushing out the debris so you could see better, and so he could make out your features. When you blink away the particles invading your vision, you realize how handsome he is. His plump lips, his thick arched eyebrows, his surprisingly soft eyes.

“Oh. You look different when you’re not caked in debris”

“Uh, thanks?”

He pulls away and begins to hover off the ground, slowly backing up. “Consider this a good deed, don’t go to the major hospital in this city. It will be targeted next and stuffed to the brim with survivors. And leave the city. If you make it, perhaps we will see each other again.”

Was that a threat, or a promise?

-

It was a promise. You had gotten basic treatment at a smaller medical facility before waves of patients were sent there- bombarding the overworked staff. You walked, not knowing where to go now. Shelters were full, your home was gone within the blink of an eye, who knows if your family is alive. Factors on what to do run over your mind over and over again until you see a figure hovering over you, in the moonlit sky.

“You survived. Impressive”

All you could do was stare. You couldn’t yell profanities at him, you valued your life too much but you couldn’t exactly thank him. He did little to actually help you. However, he was expecting a thank you. He lowered himself down to the ground, his movements graceful and elegant.

“A thank you would go a long way.”

“... thank you.”

He takes meticulous strides forward. “I am not here to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here?”

He thinks it over.

“Perhaps I feel responsible-”

You cut him off, without thinking, “Oh really?”

His mouth moves into a thin line, “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Regret what?”

He slowly presses your body next to yours, and you have no time to react. You squeeze your eyes shut, assuming he was going to hit you but no. Soft lips press against yours, and it feels so good. Perhaps you are just seeking comfort, you just want to have a shoulder to lean on after the events of today.

Whatever it truly is, you let yourself kiss him back. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and frankly- it’s quite feral. His kisses are rough like he’s never kissed someone before, but it’s raw and desperate. If you are his first kiss, it worries you slightly. What did he see in you that it was enough to kiss you?

You find yourself trying to find a happy medium with his kisses, he at first was just trying to show his dominance in the kiss, but slowly lets you take the lead when he realizes you’re finding a nice pace. Your hands reach behind him, and you give his butt a light squeeze. He pulls away and gasps, looking at you like you’ve offended him- but he doesn’t seem opposed to the move. In fact, he hasn’t moved your hand from his rear.

“You’re quite bold.”

“It’s kept me alive so far.”

He hums in response before slowly letting his body move upwards away from your arms.

“You have been proven to be enticing enough, strong enough to survive day 1, and you're bold enough to cooperate with my kiss. I see you as a worthy mate, and after this is over- I will be taking you to Viltrum.” And just like that, he’s gone. Wait, what the fuck did he just say??

Sinister:

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

He isn’t interested in civilians at all, unless they get in his way. This destruction is to lure out big heroes, what he deems as worthy opponents. He tunes out the screams from civilians, like they’re just annoying ringing noises of tinnitus. Or perhaps a mosquito making a high pitched hum that isn’t an actual threat. Just annoying.

He lands on the ground when he sees heroes and first responders approaching. Perfect, maybe one of the heroes in this world are more competent than the ones in his world. He steps over the pile of rubble when he hears a wet crunch and a loud strangled scream. underneath he sees a body of a person, and by they wrenching sound they made- they’re still alive and he just broke their leg. Their face contorts in pain as he steps off the large piece of concrete and stands right next to them, slowly tilting his head.

-

You were hoping the worst of it was over. You wouldn’t be discovered by any of the variants- and rescue would eventually find you. But apparently you have a big target on your back of sorts, or maybe a family curse. For him, a variant of Invincible here to fuck up your city, to find you was a garunteed death sentence. You can’t even find the energy to turn your body halfway to see how bad your leg must be mangled now. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to walk again.

“Tsk, tsk. You were in my way.” He hums, like he’s annoyed by your very existence. Honestly, how dare you be in his way, he had important shit to do.

You don’t want to look at him, but you get yourself to. His suit is reminiscent of a bee- no, a wasp. One that can sting multiple times, with a rigid body. You can hear heroes in the distance, but you know it’s no use. Invincible is obviously strong, and this variant is very cocky- and probably has the prowess to back it up.

You try to blink the dust and debris away as he continues to stare at you, not bothering to look behind him as the voices grow near. His gaze is calm, but in a bad way, in a sinister way. You blink, then there’s blood clouding your vision. It sprayed all over your face, it’s warm and drips slowly down your face before you can even process.

A hero tried to attack but within an instant, Invincible ended him. You try to suppress the urge to gag and vomit. You have to close your eyes to avoid the gore in front of you. Invincible quickly kneels before you and gets close to your face- a feeling of him just hovering. Studying.

“What are you willing to sacrifice in order to live? And how much pain are you willing to endure?”

The question caught you off guard. Excuse me? You can barely think as your brain swims with a fog- the concussion was making your head pound and the pain in your leg was distracting to say the least. You try to open your mouth a few times but no words form and spill out.

He doesn’t seem pleased. He grabs you roughly by the ear.

“Hey, dipshit, answer me now.”

“I- I don’t know!” You plead, hoping that maybe there is something in there to appease his humanity- even if it is wishful thinking. Faith is all that can keep you going at this point- or maybe it’s like wishing on a dim, pointless star.

“Not good enough. How about this,” he says steadily, adjusting his squatted position to get more comfortable- not letting go of your ear.

“Are you willing to sacrifice your leg?”

You pitifully squeak out, “yes…”

He smiles, pleased with this answer. Is this a game?

“What about… hm, let’s see…” An idea pops up, “what about the living civilians within a mile radius”

This question catches you off guard, your life doesn’t mean more than everyone around you. But, is it selfish that your life is more meaningful to you? That deep down, maybe you’re scared of what lies for you beyond death. This torment seems to please him enough to not get mad. He doesn’t rush you, he’s just waiting.

“I… I think on a grand scale… my life is not that meaningful. But… to me…”

He listens to your hoarse but hushed voice murmur out this answer, and he grins like a maniac.

“So you’re selfish?”

“I-… maybe”

“Good.”

You look up, confused. “Huh?”

“How else do you think I got here? It’s by being selfish, YOU always come first in your mind.” His words make you realize how much of a piece of shit you sound like. But, apparently you amuse him enough for him to spare you. To let you live for another day, come hell or high water. He lifts the rubble off your leg and tosses it aside like it’s nothing- not caring if it hits someone. He hums and grabs you by your mangled leg.

A screech shreds through your throat as he begins to hover himself off the ground, higher and higher. You jerk your body upwards to at least catch a glimpse. Your leg is so broken, mangled even, that it looks like it could rip apart like a wet paper towel.

“Say, is this pain unbearable? Or do you think you can endure it for another 20 minutes if it means you get to live?”

You cry, wrenching out raw and wet sobs. You plead, “please, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Kill you? It’s either I drop you from here- letting you squish below, or I carry you like this to a safe spot. Might take a while though”

You scream and cry out, hoping that some miracle would come and help you from this mess. But nothing does- so you have to choose.

“I want to live! Pl-please.” A wet strangled noise comes from the bottom of your throat when he raises you higher to throw you over his shoulder. The pain doesn’t stop, your leg is still mangled, but at least the blood stopped rushing to your head and he isn’t gripping your leg anymore. He rubs your back roughly, the weird gesture making it obvious he has never comforted someone before. He kisses your earlobe he assaulted earlier and says in a smooth and cruel voice.

“I’ll take good care of you. We’re similar after all..”

[clairewritesfanfics]

Hello and good morning/afternoon and evening wherever you are. I hope this isn’t too much of a bother, but can we have a water bender reader from the last air bender series?

Author's Note: It’s not a bother! Though since you didn’t give any specifics, I just went and chose a few Marks to write for as I feel like this is one of those requests where grouping the variants together wouldn’t feel right. Also anon, you’re very lucky because I identify as a water bender and yearn for a hydro vision, so it was relatively easy to think of scenarios.

Characters: No Goggles, Prisoner, Shiesty, Sinister

No Goggles Mark

It should come as no surprise that this boy is a freak. He would be the most down with letting you practice your abilities on him.

Water whips and tentacles, encasing him in ice, trapping him in a bubble, and of course, injuring himself so you can heal him. (The last one is something you never asked for but he always does.)

He loves when you puppeteer him with your bloodbending. He can break free whenever he wants, but he is obsessed with your touch, the way you grab his blood and make him do things.

Prisoner Mark

You tried to heal his injuries, but some wounds can’t be healed even with your advanced healing and bloodbending.

You never use your bending against him, not even for practice. Mark hates sparring with you. There is this looming fear in his heart that he’ll freak out and do some serious damage when you use a whip on him, and you just can’t stomach the idea of using your power to hurt him.

Shiesty Mark

He’ll never admit this in a million years, but he is a little jealous of your bending. He can fly, survive extreme temperatures, and bullets bounce off of him, but his main offensive ability is to…to hit things really, really hard.

You can summon waves, create whips, command ice, control the rain, turn living things into puppets, and heal yourself and others. 

You once caught him imitating your movements in the shower, but you decided to spare his feelings and not comment.

Sinister Mark

He isn’t too keen on getting whipped or frozen, but he still enjoys sparring with you, not that you have an actual chance of winning. But it’s fun to pretend, he always tells you.

It’s always a treat seeing you move on the battlefield. The way you wash away opponents with a deluge of ice and rain will never not be breathtaking to him.

He also has a special place in his heart for when you’re healing “comrades” in the medical bay, for when your brows crease and your nose scrunches up as you bark at him “to be useful or get the Hell out of the way.” You’re so hot when you’re bossy.

a/n: are you happy, anon? you got me thinking of my favorite girl again, now i'm going to have to write about the mark variants and a hydro vision holder y/n.

honestly, this request has me thinking up a storm. mark variants as benders, mark variants as vision holders... okay, maybe "storm" is a bit generous HAHAHAHA

also, just a few more requests and I'm finally free (:3」∠)

Disclaimer: The image used in this post does not belong to writerclaire. It was lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥 𝔻𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥

Pairing: Lensless/No Goggles!Mark Grayson x Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings: Language, I guess?

Tags: Comedy, both you & Mark are deranged

Word Count: 656

Synopsis: A summer afternoon turns into a full on, WWE backyard brawl between you & some patio furniture. Eventually you tag in your boyfriend who is more than eager for the matchup.

a/n: this is so dumb LMFAO

This was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday. Piecing together some new furniture for your backyard, ready to ring in summer the proper way – with barbecue and all.

The box had promised “easy, no-tools assembly” — which turned out to be a lie straight from the devil’s mouth, because here you were: sweaty, pissed off, and one Allen wrench away from a full mental breakdown.

The patio chair frame wobbled. Again. You stood slowly. Blank-faced. Breathing through your nose. Then you flipped like a switch.

“FUCK YOUUU!!!”

You flung the frame a few feet with all the rage your arms could muster — which wasn’t much, but it got the point across. A screw popped off and smacked the side of your house with a metallic ping. You chased after it like you hadn’t finished showing it who was boss—which, to be fair, you weren’t. The whole time you were muttering pure nonsense rage.

“You wanna be crooked? I’LL FUCKING—”

You started stomping it.

Kicking the legs.

Jumping on it.

At some point you picked it up and started slamming it against the grill. Honestly you were probably just a minute away from trying to take a bite out of the damn thing. The fury was real.

You didn’t even hear the gust of wind behind you — just the sudden whoop of a voice like a goddamn sports commentator on crack:

“WOOOO!! WHOOP ITS ASS BABY!!! HELL YEAH, GET THAT BITCH!!”

You froze mid-swing, turning a bit feral to look over your shoulder.

Mark was there, hovering just a foot off the ground. That insane glint in his eyes like he just stumbled into a jackass skit.

“You want help?!”

“...No—”

“TOO BAD, I’M IN!!”

Before you could say a word, Mark dove down like a missile — and the chair never stood a chance. He ripped the metal frame apart like it was paper, bent one of the arms backward with a maniacal grin, and then punched the seat straight through the deck boards.

The wood parts cracked, another bolt flying past your head, and a sharp splinter nailed him in the face.

Right in the eye.

“AUGH—FUCK!!” he staggered back, one hand flying up to his cheek. “This piece of shit is fighting back!!”

His eye was already red and watering, a thin trickle of blood starting to smear down his temple.

You, still very much blood lusted, pointed dramatically at the wreckage with gritted teeth. “TAKE IT LIKE A MAN, BABE!! PUT THAT PILE OF SCRAP IN ITS PLACE!”

Mark wiped the blood with the back of his hand and slowly turned back to the frame like he was squaring up with a supervillain. His smile was deranged.

“Ohhh… oh, it wants to go there.”

He was deep in the trenches now. You were nothing but a shadow of his past life. All that was left was him, this patio furniture, and the fate of his manhood before him.

He crouched, picked up one of the jagged metal arms — dented, bent, still warm from the chaos — and slowly brought it to his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, low and dangerous. “I will take from you everything you love and let you die in their ashes.”

And then—without fanfare—he crushed it.

One hand.

Fingers curling like a vice.

The metal shrieked as it gave way, folding in on itself like a deflating balloon before crumbling into all but dust between his palm. Tiny fragments drifted to the grass below.

Mark didn’t flinch. He just stared down at the powder in his hand, eyes wild, breathing shallow.

You watched, absolutely unbothered, arms crossed, nodding like a coach from the sidelines.

“Good form. Really clean technique.”

He turned to you with windblown hair, blood on his cheek, and the light of the damned in his eyes. But then he grinned, and asked, ���Need me to take care of the umbrella too?”

[fuckitupfelix]

Heyy, saw that you want some invincible variants requests and I got one!

My request is that GN Reader helps Mohawk Mark cut his hair, in return Mohawk Mark dyes Reader’s hair blue. But Mohawk Mark does a terrible job and Reader’s neck is blue from the dye. 😭😭

I'm getting flashbacks to when I dyed my hair green anon don't even

mark comes to you for help with shaving his head the first time he does it. you do it so well that he honestly just gets you to clean it up whenever he needs to. you never really asked for anything in return, but he convinces you to dye your hair.

"you're so boring already," is his excuse. say's that it'll give you some personality. so you let him come over with the bleach and the hairdye, expecting a chill hangout while you dye your hair.

instead, you're left with mark cussing as he almost completely dumps the dye down your back, effectively getting blue dye on your shirt and neck. his fingers are practically the same shade of blue as the one on his suit since he refused to use gloves.

you can't help but stare at all of the chunks and strands of your hair that mark's completely missed with the dye.

"mark. dude, you're so shit at this," you scoff. you can feel the stickiness of his fingers as he prods at your scalp with barely any gentleness.

"shut up. i'm doing you such a huge favor," he shoves you forwards slightly.

"i could have done this myself, blindfolded and backwards, and it would still look better."

"asshole."

eventually, he gets all of your hair, and the color stays quite nicely. unfortunately, it also sticks pretty well to your skin. have fun with a blue neck for the next month !!

[fandomnerd9602]

Jamie Logan, the Wolverine, straddles Y/N’s lap, a Deadpool variant…

She messes with Y/N’s belt…

Jamie: I need you!

Y/N: how badly?

Jamie: (growls) badly

Y/N: thank the writer my healing factor matches yours.

Jamie simply smiles and slams her lips into Y/N’s…

Y/N: nothing to see here, reader. Move along

For @ma1egamer

[qfzeeph]

felt like gushing about the silly blue man today so here's a rare "you get zeeph writing" moment!!

♡Kaito (Vocaloid) x Reader/Master HCs♡

♡this be fluffy, with a teeny tiny bit of spicy jokes towards as a treat. that's about it♡

♡ So, what is he exactly? You have no idea. Some sort of weird ambiguous cross between an android and just a regular ordinary human it seems? But that air of mystery is part of what makes him so charming. You wouldn't have even known he had mechanical parts somewhere within him if he hadn't spoken to you. You can definitely hear it in his voice (though sometimes when he sings it's very easy to forget!) and through some of his mannerisms, but he just seems to be a regular human guy otherwise. Don't try to ask him about it either, because he's not even quite sure himself. All he knows is he woke up one morning with the mission to make people around the world happy and that he's got some sort of internal machinery and coding within him. ♡Absolute cuddlebug. His favorite time of day is when you're snuggled together under a warm blanket. Need I say more? They don't call him "Cozy Kaito" for nothing. He's warm like a space heater, but not uncomfortably warm. ♡Cut the fancy date crap, he'd rather go out for ice cream or a romantic walk in the park. It's the little things for him, and ice cream of course. Taking him out to get ice cream means the world to him. ♡However, he isn't afraid to spoil you silly with little things either. Flowers, candies, various treats, you come home to them all the time. Any of those little things that make your day a little brighter he's gonna do for you. Your smile is incredibly important to him, and he wants to make sure you're feeling loved whenever possible. ♡He's your biggest cheerleader. He wants to see you succeed and will relentlessly hype you up for whatever you're doing. If you are to fail, he'll be there to soften the blow and get you back on your feet to try again. ♡Sometimes, you have to remind him that ice cream and cuddles isn't going to solve every problem. Since he's programmed with the task of making others happy, sometimes he forgets that and may push a little too far when you're stressed. He tries his best to catch himself, and while he is learning to combat that initial urge to cheer you up sometimes he still slips up. Just a simple "I need a little space right now" is more than enough to remind him though. It was hard for him to hear at first but he quickly understood. ♡Another "programming quirk" he has is calling you "Master." If you like that, he won't stop! But if you're like me and would rather him just call you by your name, he'll happily oblige the best he can. However, in moments of passion, he might let a "Master" or two slip out, or combine your name with the word. I'm sure it'll make for some cute pet names. ♡On the topic of pet names, he loves them. Thinks all the little nicknames you give him are super cute. He'll definitely try and find some for you too on the "cutesy-romantic" end. ♡Even Kaito gets sad. He struggles with the idea that he's a failure occasionally and that he's not doing enough. A little love from you is a quick fix, and over time with your care he may even overcome that mindset.

♡He loves to go out places with you, whether it be for errands, work, or fun. If he's not sure about where you took him though, don't be surprised if he clings to you like a lost puppy for a bit until he figures out what's going on. ♡Speaking of cling, he's a clinger. Loves to hold your hand, walk with an arm around you, carry you around the house, sit with his head on your shoulder (or your head on his shoulder!) ♡Kaito plays a lot of different roles when he performs. If there's a specific one you like, he'd be more than happy to add bits and pieces of that role to your interactions. Of course, his usual goofy self will always shine through. Though he's also willing to apply playing the role to other scenerios if you so desire (wink wink) ♡Loves to sing to you. There's songs he sings to you that'll never leave your room, both in a spicy sense and in a "I don't want anyone else to hear this because I wrote it for you and you alone" sense. He also likes to learn the words to your favorites (mainly non vocaloid, or vocaloid songs that don't feature him if applicable) and sing them to you! Expect a lot of sappy, cute song outbursts during your time at home, and occasionally when you're out too but not quite as often. Though you may catch him humming the melody to one of your favorite songs while you're out and about! He'd be incredibly happy if you sang along with him too. Even if you think you can't sing, he'll tell you you've got the voice of an angel. Author's Note: For me personally, I like to imagine he'd sing the chorus to "You Are My Sunshine" every night before bed. But that's just me :) (please click on that. I'm begging you. I have no idea why that video only has like 100 views on it as of me writing this because it's literally so good and heartwarming and it's also like the full song which is honestly pretty sad in terms of lyrics in retrospect but the chorus gets me real good real good reeeallll goooooood.) ♡Last, but not least... The scarf stays on. no exceptions. If you catch my drift ;) (okay. one exception, to throw it in the washer when it gets dirty.)

fhsdlfjsdlkfjsd hope you enjoyed me drooling all over the place with this. I'm starting to become shameless when it comes to sharing this kind of stuff in the best possible way. it's the lord's year of 2024 imma do what I want and write about all my favorite fictional men

[takami-takami]

QUESTION TIME!

I'm considering, when writing gendered fics, making separate versions for other genders and linking the alternate versions in the description. But I want to know which would be best suited for going in the actual tags. So I'm curious what people's thoughts are!

I'm not going to make a definitive decision based on this, I just would like to know what people think!

[mochinomnoms]

Please share the lewd interspecies romance.

Okay so mostly I have thoughts over the Octavinelle trio, especially the twins 🫣 but i wrote a lil something for most of them! also this was not meant to be so long idk what happened

[tags] - nsfw, AFAB-implied reader, but written gender-neutral, mentions of ruts/heats, breeding, etc

nsfw under read-more, minors DNI!

If you really compare humans to the nonhuman population of Twisted Wonderland, there's are some small physiological differences between species. Fae, surprisingly, don't differ from humans all too much. Land dwellers in general don't have anything too significant, though all of nonhuman species retain aspects of their animal counterparts.

Most of Savanaclaw goes through some sort of rut/heat during various times in the year, primarily early spring and summer. There's no logical reason for them to retain that aspect of their mating cycle anymore, not for a sentient species that have skills of logic and reasoning. Unfortunately, they didn't get to choose how their evolution worked, and so they have to deal with it in anyway they can.

They get a lot more irritable, they have throbbing headaches, their abdomen hurts, and the scent of their mate is a lot more enticing than normal. Jack probably has it the worst of them, as a wolf beastmen. Not only does he have to deal with a fever-inducing rut that will put him out of commission for a week, afterwards he has to deal with the a/b/o jokes from his classmates too, oh the horror. It is really a horror though when he's able to bend you over his bed, bite marks aligned your neck and back as his dick pounds into you till his knot swells and locks you in for at least an hour. Jack's incredibly embarrassed afterwards, though he manages to be incredibly sweet even after rearranging your guts. Wolf beastmen are one of the most affectionate partners to have with a reputation providing some of the best aftercare for their species. It's most likely to make up for their week-long copulation, stretching and tiring out their sweet little mates. Ooooh, but they'll so very sweet: cleaning up the sticky mess of fluids between your legs with their tongue, careful to not overstimulate you (unless you ask), tending to the mating mark they placed on the back of your neck with soft kisses and licks, and making sure to prop your lower half up to that your chances of taking their seed increases.

Lacking the annual rut/heat that other variants of beastmen have, lion and hyena beastmen are more similar is this regard, as they don't have the same issue of long copulations as wolf beastmen. Neither will initiate sex, rather they'll rely on their mates to do so. Ruggie, in particular, is rather reluctant initiating sex, as male hyenas are typically more submissive, so if you're shy you'll have to get over it. But once you do, Ruggie is ever so happy to service you if you're happy to give him praise. Run your hands through his hair and ears as he eats you out, he'll let out the cutest whimpers and groans as you do. Just, expect to be jellyboned by the time he's done with you, as a hyena he needs to make sure his mate won't snip back at him and you can't exactly do that if your fucked out. While he may not have the same stamina as Jack for week-long fuck session, he has a particularly short refractory period and can have several short sessions in a single night.

Leona also won't typically initiate sex on his own, it happens very sporadically, and he his the image of the lazy lion. While he never wants to do anything particularly extraneous, who is he to deny you needs? You'll have to do some preparing though, as while the barbs on his dick aren't as bad as they are in his animal variant, they will hurt if you're not wet and pliable enough. Be sure to sit on his face, don't worry you won't suffocate him and it's better you cum a few times first before taking him. Unless you want it to hurt? Once you've cum enough times, you can ride him to your heart's content. He only asks that you don't mention how he rubs his head into the crook of your neck, marking you so that if everyone couldn't tell by the sounds coming from his room, they'd know you're his from his scent. Lions are quite protective with their territory and pride after all.

Merfolk have the most extreme physiological differences between them and...any land dweller really. It comes with the territory of being suited for a completely different environment. They also behave a lot more similarly to their animal counterparts, which can be both delicious and exhausting for their humans.

Moray eels don't have a set time of the year they mate, but rather the water must be warm and plenty of food must be ready to provide to their mate. When the spring time weather above the sea starts transitioning from crisp to blazing, don't be too surprised when the twins start handfeeding you meals and snacks throughout the week, they want to make sure you're happy and full for them, getting you in the mood with a sweet, dizzying underwater dance to initiate until they get the okay from you. What's that 'okay' though? You know that yawning I mentioned before? You'll get your answer from them now, as they take your open mouth yawn as an invitation rather than a sign of tiredness. Floyd, in particular, is ready to drag you into the deep part of the pool before remembering that you need to breathe somehow. Not a problem. He'll keep your pretty head above water. You'll still have trouble breathing as his long tapered tongue worms his way in your mouth. No matter, you'll be gasping for breath as he bullies this cock into your hole, large enough that you can physically feel the bump on your stomach. Morays are awfully fond of wrapping themselves around their mates, seeing as Floyd will do his best to tangle his tail around your body and squeezing you as you squeeze down his dick. He loves the physical contact between you two, and is amused how your nails try to dig into his shoulders seeing as the mucus on his skin makes it near impossible to have a steady grasp. You're completely dependent on Floyd as you drool and cry out for relief from the overstimulation, which is oh so ever exciting.

Jade is equally as cruel when it comes to mating. Unlike the others, merfolk tend to mate with the intention to, well, mate. He prefers you to be soft and pliant for him, as well as wholly depending as you two fuck. So, he'll happily brew you a water-breathing potion so he can actually drag you into the deep, where he found a secluded, warm grotto that will allow him to keep you to himself for hours, but close enough to the surface that he can continuously grab you food to eat between sessions. Not that those sessions will be short either. Like his brother, Jade is content to wrap himself around your body as he cooed honeyed words into your ears about how you'll make a wet, warm, soft hole for breeding. It's not like he'll have to do much either, his dick is prehensile and he can wrap himself around you, swiping kisses and nuzzling into the crook of your very sensitive neck while his thick cock continuously pounds into you with a bruising pace. He's so mean!! He likes seeing you cry from overstimulation too, and Jade will continuously scoot down to clean you up with his tongue, only to claim that too much of his seed was gone and he needed to fill you up again for another few hours. He's truly quite incorrigible, especially when he bites into your neck and shoulders to make his claim on you. Don't worry, most morays' bites aren't venomous, and even if they are, you have him to care for you. You're going to be depending on him in the water anyway, so there's no need to worry about it too much.

Something that neither probably won't mention, probably because they won't realize it's something you should know, is that they can change their sex under the right conditions. If you're ever so inclined in the future to test the waters out, the twins might be so generous to let you eat them out instead.

Of the trio, Azul's the only one with an established mating season, two actually: one in the late spring and the other in the early fall. Respectively, one during finals and the other during orientation. He's already so incredibly stressed, and he has the need to breed too? Downright atrocious. It's wonderful that you're so kind that he can take refuge in you and use you like a new octopot, so tell him how pretty he is and how much you love him and only him, so that you have the privilege fucking his merform. The moment you're entering the water, he'll unconsciously display mating signals by flashing soft lilacs and blues, a beautiful display of his need for you. He's rather large, even bigger than the twins, in his merform, so you'll need preparation as well; have no fear, his tentacles are wrapping and kneading the squishiest parts of you. I mentioned before that he can taste the salt on your skin and pulse through your wrist via his suckers. He can taste the slick from your walls, too, without even having to use his mouth as the suckers massage you from the inside. If you'd like, he technically could give you a full flavor profile afterward, though he'll probably be a bit mortified to do so. The biggest difference is his dick, or lack thereof. Instead of a dick, Azul has a hectocotylus, which is a modified, slightly shorter arm of his with a thicker spade-shaped tip that he can practically rearrange your guts with, with little effort on his part really. Most octo-mer variants will keep their mate at a distance, eons of instinct hard to forget. Azul's variant, though, will keep you close, almost dancing with you in a sweet, sensual twirl as he places sweet kissing and bites on your neck, arms, and chest. Octopi are, in fact, venomous, however, so you will be feeling a bit of a lustful high, paralyzed, and a bit helpless to the whims of a needy octopus. He's quite good at aftercare though, making sure you get an antidote and handfeeding you calorie-rich snacks to energize you back up (again, he's aware that you won't eat him, but instinct dictates that he keeps you full with both food and cum to make you a happy mate).

*collapses into heap on floor* thoughts....full.....ahahaha breeding kink go burrrrr. i was not meant to write this much and then it escaped me. also i hate tagging

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Now I never watched invincible or read the comics but from the clips I’ve seen and what the wiki says about him, but I can tell he’ll be one of those sickly sweet/delusional types of yandere.

(Look, I need me some yandere Mark with male reader or gender neutral, and wouldn’t mind if someone turned this into a fic.)

Like you told him you’re breaking up with him. You get that he’s a hero and the world needs him but you need him as well. You know that he’s strong yet you worry about his safety ever waking hour, messaging him if he’s okay. You’ve always been pushed to the side, barely get any attention or acknowledgement. Mark is confused and tries to play it off with a laugh.

“You don’t mean that right? Don’t say we’re over…”

You reaffirmed that it’s over before taking your leave.

Mark was left distraught. He really, really loves you… he understands that maybe he should’ve showed you more, been there more. Maybe he expected you to wait for him…

He turns to Eve and William and see how they both think. William was more… blunt and honest about it and Eve showed sympathy for him. Mark still pondered… that’s when it clicks: you didn’t stop loving him, he lost you because he didn’t show you love! Surely that’s it.

Mark just needs to remind you about the good times and love.

He starts love bombing you: gifts, showing up everywhere, flowers, calling, and texting. Yet, you ignored them and told him that there’s no chance of it ever working out. Devastated, Mark figures he needs to try harder.

That leads him to taking you. You find Mark in your home, teary eyed and soft spoken. “You were going to leave… I can’t let that happen.” So, he snatches you and flies you to an undisclosed location (or his place but that’s stupid but maybe interesting.)

The room was decorated with everything you liked. It felt like home, smelt like home, but it wasn’t. You were about to freak out but Mark shushes you.

“You said you wanted more time with me… now we have all the time in the world!”

Mark visits you constantly after hero work or studies. He brings you food, games, comics, anything you want. To spend more time with you, he lies to Debbie and Nolan about going to see William or Eve for the night. Cuddling you as he slept but you were wide awake, but you couldn’t do nothing.

He truly believes he’s fixing and healing you both

You tried screaming and fighting back, even escaping but nothing. Mark begins to get annoyed but he never lays his hands on you. He’ll just guilty trip you.

“Why do you do this? After everything I’m doing to make things work… everything I’ve done for us… I’ll always be here for you…”

And if you think Mark is bad… just wait till you encounter his variants from other dimensions

Author’s note: maybe when I stop being a pussy about seeing gore and violence, I’ll watch invincible.

Taglist: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation @ghostking4m @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @your-cow-boy @mack-thedork @starboye @boypied @sleep-0-deprived @cronasluvr

Link to new Mark Drabble with some of his variants

[lazy-ahh]

ONG DUDE CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE GOOGLE-LESS/LENSLESS MARK PLS I'M BEGGING I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS 🙏🙏

HOW TO (NOT) CONFESS YOUR FEELINGS VIA ATTEMPTED MURDER

pairing goggle-less! mark grayson x gender neutral reader

they say violence is a love language—and yours is practically poetry. mark grayson knows this better than anyone. (or: the one where you punch him in the face daily and he still looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.)

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro

the sun is barely up, casting a weak orange glow through your half-open curtains, and you already want to punch mark grayson in the face.

it’s not even his fault this time (which is rare, because usually, it is), but the way he’s sprawled across your bed like some overgrown golden retriever—limbs everywhere, taking up way too much space—grinning at you like he knows exactly how much he’s getting on your nerves, it’s infuriating. his hair is a disaster, sticking up in every direction like he just flew here at top speed (he probably did), and oh look, he’s stretching out another one of your favorite shirts because now he’s got more muscle on him, thanks to his stupid viltrumite genes and training. he’s got that look in his eye, the one that means trouble, the one he’s had since you were both dumb kids throwing rocks at each other in second grade.

back then, you hated him. or at least, you told yourself you did. he was loud, obnoxious, always pushing your buttons just to see how far he could go before you snapped. but even then, there was something about him—the way he never backed down, never flinched when you shoved him, punched him, kicked him, just laughed like your anger was the best thing he’d ever seen. you told yourself it was annoying. you told yourself you couldn’t stand him.

(like that one time in fourth grade, when your parents forgot your birthday—again. you sat alone at lunch, picking at the sad little cupcake your nanny had packed for you, trying to ignore the hollow ache in your chest. then he showed up, grinning like an idiot, elbowing you hard enough to make you drop your fork. "what’s your problem, grumpy?" he’d teased, and something inside you snapped.

you don’t even remember who threw the first punch. all you remember is the scuffle, the way your knuckles stung when they connected with his jaw, the way he laughed even as his lip split open. the teachers dragged you both to the principal’s office, scolding you for fighting, but you didn’t care. you were too busy simmering in your own misery, glaring at the floor like it had personally wronged you.

then, out of nowhere, mark nudged you. when you didn’t look up, he nudged you again, harder. 

"hey," he whispered. you finally glanced over, ready to snap at him—only to freeze when he dropped something into your lap. a small, slightly dented action figure—the limited edition space knight you’d been obsessing over for months but could never afford. its paint was chipped at the edges, one arm loose in its socket, but it was unmistakably yours, the one you’d pressed your nose against the toy store window for, the one you’d never admitted out loud that you wanted.

your breath caught.

mark’s grin was crooked, his split lip still smudged with dried blood. "saw it at the thrift store last week," he said, like it was nothing. like he hadn’t remembered. like he hadn’t carried it around in his backpack just in case. "figured you’d wanna beat it up or whatever. y’know. since you like breaking my stuff."

you stared at it, your chest too tight. idiot, you thought. absolute idiot.

(you still have it, tucked away in your desk drawer where no one can see. even now, you’ll sometimes take it out when you’re alone, turning it over in your hands, pretending you don’t smile.)

his smile was bright, warm, completely at odds with the bruise forming on his cheek. "happy birthday," he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

you never asked how he knew. you never thanked him either—just scowled and jammed the figurine deep into your pocket before the principal dragged you in. but that night, alone in your room with the door locked, you carefully glued the loose arm back in place, smoothed out the chipped paint with your thumb, and spent way too long arranging dramatic battle scenes on your bedsheets. you told yourself the wetness on your cheeks was just from yawning too hard.)

now, at seventeen, you know the truth: you never stood a chance.

the memory fades like sunlight through closing fingers, leaving you staring down at mark where he’s still sprawled across your bed, grinning up at you like an idiot who’s won some secret game. he waits, smug, until the silence stretches too long—then he chuckles, tilting his head just enough to make his stupid hair catch the light. "did you even hear what i said?"

you roll your eyes so hard it aches, turning back to your homework like the scattered papers and dog-eared comics might save you. your desk is chaos—pencils chewed at the ends, textbooks splayed open to the wrong chapters, a half-finished doodle of (embarrassingly) mark in the margins. it’s as messy as the thoughts in your head. "i’m sure it wasn’t anything important anyway."

your brows furrow deeper, teeth gritting just slightly when mark laughs—that laugh, the one that starts low in his chest and spills out like he can’t contain it, bright and reckless as a car crash you can’t look away from. it hooks under your ribs, warm and irritating, like sunlight burning through closed eyelids. you hate it. (you crave it.)

mark's laughter settles into quiet huffs, but he doesn't look away. no, it's worse than that—he's studying you like you're some priceless artifact behind glass, his gaze tracing the curve of your frown, the way your fingers twitch around your pencil, the barely-there flush creeping up your neck. it's not piercing. it's reverent. the way morning light memorizes every detail of a landscape it's about to paint in gold, the way a poet lingers on a favorite verse, committing each syllable to memory. it makes your skin prickle, makes you want to both hide and lean closer.

then,

"how do i know if i have a crush on someone?" casual as anything, like he hasn't just turned your room upside down with his presence yet again, like he hasn't made himself at home in your space, in your head, in the quiet places between your ribs where you store all the things you'll never say out loud.

you glare hard enough to bruise, knuckles whitening around your pencil. "not my problem," you mutter, but the words lack their usual bite. when he just keeps looking at you with those stupid hopeful eyes, you cave with a growl. "fine. you can't stop thinking about them. you feel all...weird when they're around. and then you want to—" your voice catches as you finally register his expression, the softness there that wasn't there before. "—why are you looking at me like that."

because he is. looking at you like you're the last firework of summer bursting against a midnight sky—all spark and glow and unbearable brightness. that stupid, lopsided grin cutting across his face like he knows a secret, eyes crinkled at the corners and focused with terrifying intensity, like you're the only thing in this messy room, in this entire city, maybe in his whole damn universe that matters. it makes your stomach swoop like you're falling from a great height, makes your pulse stutter in that traitorous way you'll never admit out loud, and you hate it. you hate how warm it makes you feel. you hate how much you don't hate it at all.

"no reason," he says, but the words dance with barely contained laughter, too light and too amused and too everything. he props his chin on his palm, fingers drumming an absent rhythm against his cheekbone, still watching you with that infuriating focus. "just thinking."

"thinking is dangerous for you," you snap automatically, your hand already moving to flick his forehead hard enough to sting. but he doesn't even blink—just leans into the contact like a cat seeking pets, his laughter bubbling up like carbonation in a shaken soda can. ever since the viltrumite blood decided to make him near-indestructible, he's become absolutely insufferable, turning every shove, every punch, every irritated smack into some twisted game where the prize is the way your hands linger a second too long against his skin. (and you know he loves it. the freak. the absolute, irredeemable, beautiful freak who makes your chest ache with something terrifyingly close to affection.)

if people knew this was invincible—son of omni-man, earth's 'golden boy', the living weapon who could level city blocks before breakfast—they'd piss themselves at the thought of laying hands on him. they'd tremble at the idea of shoving him, of snapping at him, of treating him like anything less than the walking natural disaster he is. but you? you've never been normal. and this isn't invincible. this is mark. the same mark who used to eat glue sticks in second grade, who cried during disney movies, who still sleeps with that ratty old seance dog poster above his bed. you knew him when he was just a scrawny kid with scraped knees and too-big dreams and questionable morals, and that knowledge makes him somehow more terrifying than any superpower ever could. maybe that's why you're like this—two fucked-up puzzle pieces that somehow fit together despite all the jagged edges.

"c'mon," he says, rolling onto his back with that infuriating, effortless grace that shouldn't belong to someone so stupidly powerful. his arms stretch above his head, muscles flexing beneath golden skin as his stupid shirt (your shirt) rides up—revealing the sharp v of his hips, the tantalizing trail of dark hair leading south, that unfairly sculpted abdomen that looks like it was carved from marble by some greek god with too much time on their hands. you can see the way his sweatpants sit dangerously low on his waist, the faint outline of—nope. absolutely not. you swallow hard, throat suddenly dry, and pointedly focus on your homework like it holds the secrets of the universe instead of just random scribbling.

"you're the expert on this stuff, right?" he continues, completely oblivious (or more likely, completely aware) of what he's doing to you. his voice drops into that teasing lilt that makes your stomach do backflips. "so tell me more."

"expert?" you scoff, digging your nails into your palms just to feel something other than whatever the hell his smile is doing to your insides. "what, because i've rejected every loser who's ever asked me out? because i don't fall for cheap lines and emptier promises?"

"because you're you," he says, simple as breathing, easy as gravity. like it's the most obvious truth in the world. like you hung the stars yourself instead of just being some messed-up kid who never learned how to love gently.

(it makes your chest ache something fierce, a dull throb beneath your sternum that feels suspiciously like hope. you crush it immediately, shoving it down deep where it can't ruin you.)

"shut up," you mutter, grabbing the nearest pillow and swinging it at his face with enough force to knock out a normal person. but mark isn't normal—he's mark, so he just lets it smack into him full-force, the impact sending his stupid hair flying in every direction while that infuriating grin never wavers. if anything, it grows wider, like you just handed him a gift instead of attempted assault with a throwable object.

"see, this is what i mean," he says, voice muffled by the down-filled fabric still pressed against his face. when he finally pushes it aside, his cheeks are flushed pink from the impact, eyes sparkling with something dangerously close to affection. "you're so violent with me. it's kinda cute." he says it like it's a revelation, like he's just now realizing how your sharp edges fit perfectly against his soft spots. because that's the thing about mark—he's invincible to the world, but for you? for you, he's always been vulnerable. he loves the way your punches linger a second too long, how your insults carry the weight of inside jokes, how every shove and smack and pillow-to-the-face is just your fucked-up way of saying 'i care' without having to say it at all.

"i will end you." the threat would carry more weight if your voice didn't crack halfway through.

"you won't." his reply is instant, smug, accompanied by that look—the one that says he knows you better than you know yourself.

you growl, grabbing another pillow and launching it at him with all the pent-up frustration of a thousand unresolved tensions. but this time he catches it, his laughter bubbling up as he yanks it toward him—and because the universe hates you, the momentum sends you stumbling forward until suddenly you're way too close, noses almost brushing, his stupid warm eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. his grip on the pillow tightens just slightly, and for one terrifying, exhilarating moment, you think he might actually close the distance between you.

your heart does something unforgivable—a traitorous somersault that leaves you breathless, your pulse hammering against your ribs like it's trying to escape. you can feel the warmth creeping up your neck, the way your palms suddenly feel too clammy against his stupidly firm chest.

"...you're the worst," you mumble, but the words come out all wrong—too soft, too fond, lacking their usual venom. your voice betrays you, cracking just slightly at the edges like it always does when he gets under your skin like this.

"you love me," he counters immediately, that smug, shit-eating grin spreading across his face like wildfire. he says it like it's fact, like it's written in the stars or carved into the fucking constitution, and the worst part is he's right. he's always been right.

you shove him away with more force than necessary, desperate to put space between you before he notices the way your face burns hotter than a supernova. "in your dreams, grayson," you snap, but the effect is ruined by how your voice wavers.

he just laughs—that bright, unrestrained sound that makes your stomach do backflips—before flopping back onto your bed like some overgrown golden retriever, limbs splayed out like he owns the place. and you could kick him out. you could scream, could throw his stupid jacket at his head, could pretend he means nothing to you like you've done a thousand times before.

but you don't.

(because the truth is, you'd rather die than admit it, but he's carved out a space for himself in your chest, nestled right between your ribs, and you can't remember what your heartbeat sounded like before it learned to sync with his. the truth is, you're terrified of how empty the world would feel without his laughter echoing through it. the truth is, you're so, so fucked.)

2.4k of my FAVOURITE INVINCIBLE VARIANT and GO AHEAD AND CALL ME A BASIC BITCH but look at this little guy i love him and his little twisted(?) sense of love and how he thinks that reader's love language is violence and how he takes the hits but never EVER gets violent with reader and AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[writing-mlm]

How about scarlet witch male reader during the invincible war? Like all the invincibles lost their reader and their kids(billy and Tommy or you can make up kids) and it's different headcanons on how the variants react when they see reader protecting his and mainstream marks kids and basically it's the "you're just as beautiful as the day i lost you" trope and you can include nsfw if you want to

Invincible Variants finding bf!reader and their kids + you’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you trope

tags/warnings: they’re less so headcanons and more like connected blurbs, uh reader doesn’t have a handle on their powers so it’s hardly shown, canon-level things, although I quite like this concept

Variants shown: Omni-Mark, Mohawk Mark, Sinister Mark

Background

“So,” Rex was drunk, his speech slurred, and his body slumped against Rae as she nursed her own beer. “If you have this… chaos magic and can do anything—“

“I can’t do anything,” You blinked, moving your beer to the side and Rex tossed his head back, groaning. “I have limits and I’m still practicing—,”

“Don’t!” He holds his finger up to your lips, which you quickly smack away. “Interrupt me,” Nodding, you look at Mark who’s snickering into the rim of his cup. Kicking his ankle, he forces himself to stop laughing. “So, can you create kids for you and Mark?”

“Huh?” You blink again, turning your ear closer to him because you’re sure you didn’t hear him right. Unfortunately for you, you’d heard him right and even more unfortunately, you were tipsy enough to actually try. The four of you shot the shit, brainstorming names and genders before settling on twins: a girl and a boy, Terra and Ryan. 

“How does this work?” Mark asked and you shrugged, staring at the blankets laid out on the table.

“Focus,” Rex nodded as if he were an expert, pressing his fingers to his temple to really sell it. “Combine your DNA with your magic and do it.” Rolling your eyes, you did as he said for two minutes. Humoring him. Only, it started to work. Like actually work. And soon enough, you were staring at two crying babies on the dining room table. 

“Holy shit.” 

Omni-Mark

He’s actually the first one to find you, believe it or not. Sure, he had his own secondary goal but this… you and the twins, you were going to be the first on his list every time. 

You hadn’t gotten the news yet, you’d been at a doctor's appointment when Eve called you. Apparently, there are Invincible’s around the globe, killing people and leveling entire countries. Mark was headed to a prison and he called you next, begging you to go home but you told him you’d pick up Debbie and Oliver. He agreed and you set off, carrying them in a twin carrier rather than the stroller you’d come with. 

You were about halfway to Debbie’s place when a red cape covered your vision and you flew back, your hands instinctively covering your children’s heads. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you,” It was Mark’s voice but it wasn’t him. His hair was different, his suit was red and white, and the way he spoke wasn’t like Mark. You slowly backed up, your hands slowly growing red. “Don’t be like that.” His voice is level as he inches closer and reaches out to grab Terra. You push him back and create even more distance. 

“Touch my kids,” You warn. “And I’m going to kill you.” He rubs his chest a little, his suit a little charred from your magic and tilts his head. 

“They’re our kids.” He corrects. “And I won’t lose you again.” He flies forward and you fly down, holding the twins heads so they wouldn’t slip out from the carrier and turn around. He’s barreling towards you now so you swipe him away. At this point the twins are crying and he stops midway back to you. “You’re hurting them, stop this,” He switches tactics, holding his right hand out to you, floating slowly. They feel heavier for some reason and their crying grows louder. 

You glance down at them—

“Big mistake,” He’s behind you, his arm around your neck and lips against your ear. “I’m not losing you, again.” He repeated while you calm your breathing, looking around in the sky as if the answers would be there. His left hand reaches down to Ryan, stroking the baby’s head and the crying slowly stops. 

“See,” He cooes. “They miss their daddy, right, Ryan?” Ryan laughs, reaching up to grab his finger. “Let’s go. I’ll keep you safe.” Slowly, the arm around your neck drops and he grabs your hand, pulling you after him. He doesn’t look away from you as he flies, smiling as if he’s won. Your heart skips when you see Invisible flying over but as he crashes into this Mark, you realize he’s also not your Mark. 

You take the opportunity to fly away, going as fast as you can without injuring the babies. 

Sinister Mark

He’d gotten Omni-Mark distracted enough that he changed courses and went to fight this world's Mark and Eve. While it wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about the three of you, of course he thinks about the three of you. It’s just… the mission comes first. But he’s not going to pass up the opportunity when it shows up to him on a silver platter. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you,” You spin around, seeing the yellow and black suit floating less than three meters away. “Y’know, I killed Eve for what she did to the two of you.” He looks at you, raking his hand through his hair before he laughs. “The plan was just to paralyze her, y’know, but,” He shakes his head as he remembers, acutely aware that you’re backing away. 

“She just had to shoot that support beam,” he says, looking at you, smiling. “And it won’t happen again. Come home, please.” He holds a hand out, floating closer inch by inch. 

“Stay away,” You tell him and the smile drops immediately. You’ve never fought with the babies in your arms, your fighting style isn’t suited for this. Mark often says you fight as if you’re indestructible, flipping and flying with little regard for anything else because you can just fix whatever you break. But you don’t know if you could… you hold their heads as they whimper, about to start crying. 

“Just stop fighting,” He huffs. “I don’t play games, you know this.” 

“I don’t know you!” For a moment his face darkened, as if it’s clicking that you’re not his you. You aren’t from his world. 

“But you did and you will.” He insists and flies towards you. You fly away, throwing magic behind you whenever you feel him getting too close. Some of the hits land but you can tell most of them only rile him up more. You fly over fights, dodging falling buildings and eventually make it to your Mark. He’s at a prison, fighting another variant of himself. Well, he had been. The one with the mohawk is lying on a pile of rubble.

“(Y/n),” Mark holds your face as you land. “What’re you doing here? It’s not safe?” He checks over the kids and you shake your head. 

“There’s a bee you following me,” You inhale, looking back and see him getting closer. “There was another— they want the kids? I don’t… I don’t know. I can’t fight with the twins on me.”

“And they’ve grown,” He comments, eyeing them before shaking his head. “Get to the safe house or the GDA, I’ll meet you there as soon as possible, okay?” He kisses you and the twins' heads before taking off into the air. Watching as he crashes into the one that had been chasing you, you take a moment to check on the twins. And yeah, it looks like they’d grown a couple of months in the span of a few minutes. 

Mohawk Mark

“So, you’re here too?” You don’t even look back at the Mark with a mohawk and take off into the air. It amuses him, to your surprise. His laughter catches up to you as you make it the distance from the prison. Eventually, he’s in front of you, licking the blood from his lip and a shine in his eye growing as he sees the twins.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you,” He grins, his lip quivering as he holds back his true emotions, masking it with glee. His eyes dip down to the twins and he smiles, holding his arms out and making grabbing hands— they don’t reciprocate. Clinging to you as their carriers gets heavier. They’re growing again. You look down and they look like they’re at least a year old. 

“Eh, fu— frick it,” He shakes his head, covering his mouth before he cursed in front of the twins. “Screw Angstrom and his mission, let’s run away together! Be a family again.” 

“We’ve never been a family,” You correct, squinting. “But what is Angstrom’s mission?” He waves his hand dismissively. 

“Something about ruining Invincible's name. I don’t care, I wanted to destroy this world but now, I want my family back.” He rushes forward and before you could react, he’s holding your face. It’s tender but not in the way you’re used to, it repulses you. “I’m not losing you again. Any of you.” The babies start to fuss, feeling the tension in the air. 

“You’re scaring the twins,” You tell him and he pulls away, checking them over and accidentally wiping his blood on Terra’s cheek. You inhale, raising your hand but before Bolt knocks him away. 

“Go!” Knockout encourages as her team jumps the Mark you’d been talking to. You nod, flying towards Debbie, praying that was the last variant you’d be seeing.

[fruitsywriting]

Spirit

Title: Spirit

Chapter: Episode 1

Next chapters: part 2

Fandom: Invincible

Type of Fanfic: Reader, self-insert

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　 ˚　.˚　

Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: death, descriptions of violence and death

Chapter Summary: You come from a universe that’s left as a wasteland, the human population constantly dwindling, as morals have gone and died, thrown aside to just survive. While you’re out to pickpocket the deceased, you find Angstrom Levy looking for Invincible- much to your confusion- as Invincible doesn’t exist here. Seeing the state of your universe, he offers you a more peaceful world- only if you do something for him in return. (set shortly before the invincible war)

Pairings: Mark x reader, variant!mark x reader, Rex x reader, (one-sided) Eve x reader, multi-paul x reader, Rae x reader, bulletproof x reader, to be determined…

Written By: MangoSpit

⌜Alt Universe inspired by: Fallout⌟

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Invincible doesn’t exist in your universe. And if viltrumites do exist, they have seemed to have left Earth alone. Maybe they would assume nothing was alive on it anymore. They didn’t even need to conquer Earth when humans had destroyed it themselves…

You walk down the broken pavement, what used to be a road years and years ago. That was before you were even born though. This is all you’ve ever known. Sure, you’ve heard stories about what clear skies looked like, what fruit tastes like, what clear lakes and oceans looked like, but you’ll never see it for yourself. Is it possible to miss something that you have never had? If so, that’s something you would feel more than you would like to admit.

Keeping down your path, you stop as you spot something at the corner of your eye. You lower your head in a fast jerking motion to see if it was a threat. No. Just a dead body. Kneeling down, you can see that the deceased woman isn’t decomposing yet. Meaning, the people who did this could be near. You look over her features, wondering what she was like.

She had a kind face, her clothing made it seem like she was guarded- but not in the way many are. She was probably one of those empaths, one that would try and teach children what morality is- even when there is slim to none left. She was probably in her 30s, and she was shot a few times in the chest. Usually you would search dead bodies for anything of use- bandages, medicine, food, clean water, weapons- but she didn’t have a bag on her. You didn’t specifically feel like checking her clothes as she didn’t have many pockets or padding on her. You hope her original soul is resting easy as you begin the sharp inhale, causing a small vacuum for her duplicated soul. Her soul was a soft peach color and it came out as a small wisp, grouping up into a ball. You quickly grab it in your hand before her duplicated soul would zip away or try to possess you. It lets out a small squeak, sounding like a mouse. The beauty of your powers.

𓉘 “047241, do you know why your veins look like that? Why your hands emit a soft yellow glow?” 

You shake your head in response, curious as to what this could mean.

“You, 047241, were chosen to become one of the divine. A weapon. Your veins are filled with divinity, you have been chosen for greatness.”𓉝 

So much for greatness. Being blessed to become divine just means they fill your veins with radiation and liquid medication as a baby so you can become a weapon for the high court. Turning you into a humanoid mutant. However, you missed the mark. Out of 34 subjects, you placed 11th place, and they picked the top 10. You were left to fend for yourself after that. 

Your divine power is complicated. You are quite literally a vacuum for souls and energy. You can vacuum up to 5 hours worth of energy out of a living creature, and can vacuum a duplicated soul out of a deceased human. Their souls usually have some sort of helpful ability to you: like living soul protection, picking up objects, dazing others, sensing others, healing, etc,. However, as soon as they are brought out of their body, they panic and try to run away or they get angry and try to possess you. And their possessions can go from 30 minutes to 12 hours if you’re not careful. They can’t talk, they're like a small animal that needs to be trained. You look at the peach colored soul as it tries to wiggle free from your grip.

“Sorry, no hard feelings.” You pull out a bottle from your bag and squeeze the soul into it as it bangs on the bottle from side to side to try and get out. You would deal with them later. Right now, you should get out of here, in case whoever killed this woman is still nearby. After adjusting your heavy backpack onto your back again, you see a figure. This figure has their back turned to you, clearly not worried about any possibility of danger behind them. You carefully scan them over, as you grab for your weapon. 

From behind, it looks like it could be a mutant, its skin is puffed up and wrinkly from the back, but when they turn around, they look normal from the front. It’s a man wearing something that doesn’t look protective or plausible for the wastelands. He seems like an anomaly almost, he feels too out of place. He looks around slightly before spotting you. You wait to see what he does, but he gives a polite smile- though you feel as though it might not be fully genuine. You tsk to yourself, looking him over before raising your voice so he can hear you.

“Are you armed?

He casually holds up his hands to show that he has nothing in them, that he’s unarmed. You can’t tell if he has something hiding in his clothes but you keep your weapon close as you approach.

“You part of a group?”

“Me? Oh, no. I’m just looking for someone.”

You hum, “Oh? Bounty hunter?”

“Not exactly.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his vague answers. The way he talks makes it obvious that he is not from the deep wastelands. Maybe he’s part of the high court or some other group of people that are protected but then again, he’s out here alone. Plus, he has a scar and looks like he may be mutated. He would be kicked out in a second if he was part of a higher group. So maybe he’s been ex-communicated?

“Who you lookin’ for?”

“I’m looking for Invincible.”

You pause, giving him an odd look.

“Who?”

“So you don’t know of him?”

“Nah. Doesn’t ring a bell. Is he supposed to be a big name, cause I know a lot of big names but that ain’t one of em.”

He chuckles to himself, “I would say you are lucky to not know him, but it seems your world is already facing its own challenges.”

Own World?

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I am Angstrom Levy, I can travel dimensions.”

Before you can even ask questions, he opens up a portal with ease, emanating a bright green hue. You stare in awe, never thinking you would see something like this before. You quickly tear your eyes away and look back at Angstrom.

“And you came to this- uh, here- for this Invincible person? Why? Did he get lost in a dimension?” You doubt that theory a little as he does not seem panicked. Instead, his lip ever so slightly twitches downwards.

“Invincible is a murderer, he killed my son- he ruined the lives of millions across many of dimensions.”

You stare dumbfounded. Well, that would explain why he was looking for him. You have always heard that if you have a bond with blood relatives, you will feel a new intense feeling of adoration for them, wanting them to never be hurt. Having someone take away his son would probably trigger intense rage. You try to grasp at the concept of that intense of an emotion, but you can’t feel it.

“That must be why you’re here. You want to get revenge?”

He stares for a moment, before humming in agreement. He takes in your appearance. You do look odd, but not out of place for the wastelands. You wear a large color with a short chain on it, under it your number written: 047241. Your eyes are heavy, with prominent bags under them as you never feel relaxed and barely sleep. A big backpack stuffed to the brim with supplies you need, causing it to weigh over 100 pounds. Your shirt is a dirty forest green, paired with baggy camo pants. Underneath both your shirt and pants, you have padding underneath to act as a vest to prevent easy targets. Then, the oddest part, you have long, leather gloves on- reaching up to your elbow. He stares at your gloves, and you know what he is wondering. He’s wondering what you are hiding, because it’s even odd to wear this long of gloves in the wasteland.

“What is your name?”

“047241.”

He just stares at you, before huffing out a short laugh. Is your name one that causes humor?

“Are you happy here?”

You stay silent.

“Do you have a home here?”

You stay silent.

“Do you have loved ones here?”

Again, you stay silent.

“What if I can offer you a dimension that will give you the chance to experience all of that?”

You perk up, trying not to show off your excitement too much. However, it’s hard not to when you think of the idea of clean bodies of water, clean air, animals, fruit, sunshine, alive plants and trees, and the possibility of actually meeting and keeping in contact with new people. You have to remind yourself to not show your excitement because you don’t know what this Angstrom could be asking of you.

“What do you need in return?” Your voice comes out rough but you know that he knows he already got your attention.

“Simple, all I need in return is for you to give me updates whenever you hear about Invincible. I need to keep track of him for my… plans.” 

“Done.” You say without a moment of hesitation. You can do that no problem, and you get to potentially experience living in a world similar to yours before it became the dreaded wasteland it is today. 

“One last thing before we go. Once you get there, about a week and a half from now there may be a catastrophe, I would recommend going into hiding.”

“Can you see into the future too?”

“Something like that.”

“One more question.”

“And what is it?”

“How many days is a week and a half?”

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End Note: Hope you enjoyed this story. This is chapter 1 but it kind of serves as a setup for your character, background, motivation, and powers. This will probably just be shorter compared to my future chapters. I am open to any suggestions you may have for the story!