#or stops the train of thought entirely

[reineydraws]

had to draw this to understand the way i feel about him now that the manga's ended. 🥲 on that note: if you like hawks and his ending, maybe don't read my tags lol. it's not bashing (imo) but they're not v nice. 😅

bg + unobstructed pose under the cut!

his expression's a lil different 'cuz i only changed the merged layer, all the lighting effects already flattened onto it. 💀 alas.

[kindahoping4forever]

Luke IG Story

[thistransient]

A time was had, but I am so ready to go home

[garygoldenbignaturals]

anyways i think if you're developing a fantasy race you should never make them have "inherent" [negative] traits that may or may not be overcame especially when there's much more interesting ways to develop them, like for example their physiology. the way they've acclimated to their surroundings for a long time and how it affects that. or even y'know, their culture. their history and how it shaped them as people now. there are many ways to do it that does not involve bullshit race science

[lelianaslefthand]

as a serial game replayer it does kinda suck that datv has very little replay value to me, personally. and its like well yes a big reason i like replaying games like that is for the romances and its lacking in that department but also there just aren't that many different choices you can make in general. nothing you've done in previous games matters so you don't have that. the "blue/purple/red" dialogue mechanic only exists in icons there's no real impact on rook's personality. then the choices that you can make are few and far between but also just... not that compelling enough to want to play the entire game again. especially when most choices just have 2 options that are both kinda nothingburgers. like i enjoyed the game, i like the characters, i really like the combat and trying out all the different classes was fun, its visually gorgeous but i dont have the urge to Keep playing it like i do with other rpgs in the same vein... idk :/ thinking out loud

oh also want to add that 'Choices' aside there's also only so much you can do in the actual game. i do very much appreciate that they went the mass effect contained explorable areas route and there Are interesting quests. i quite enjoyed all the puzzles too, but it just... it feels hollow. and we know why but it still sucks. and in this context i dont mean sucks as in Bad but as in unfortunate

[asleepinawell]

every time i overhead smash something with my giant hammer i imagine it's this pop up

[catastrxblues]

—

[champselysees]

For science. Has anyone here just even heard of tower of god? May or may not have to go bonkers about it again and just need to know. How many of yall will be what the hell is he yapping on about and how many of yall will at least have an inkling what I’m saying

[astrangergivingthestrangewelcome]

It's like every single time one of these newfangled classics email subscription things come out. I forget that I actually hate consuming media in this way.

[n3onsightss]

Hastag can my new team stop giving me anxiety like crazy please uno day of no shenanigans or heart attacks or awkward conversations 🙏🙏

[dubacheryking]

isnt it like insanely fucked up how u can suddenly be hit with this sense of grief for people who are very much alive and very much in ur life because u spent so long without them and it almost feels like there's this uncrossable abyss between u. like i'm not the person i was when i was 10, when u last saw me, and u aren't the person i remember taking care of me either. we have both been changed by what happened to us and none of it was good. the reality of my existance makes it nearly impossible to believe that anyone will stick around, so i'm distant even when i don't want to be. i wasn't there for u when u were going through the horrors, u weren't there for me when i was going through the horrors, and it's not either of our faults. we both wanted to believe the best for each other. we were both wrong. now ur here again and sometimes i don't know how to process that, because i don't feel like i'm the me i was then, and how could u love the me now, instead? how can u go from loving an innocent child to loving someone who is cold and hard and refuses to be taken care of. how do u love someone u don't really know anymore. how do u love those u should. how can i love u again, properly. how can i know if u really love me.

[kasarian]

i want my LADS MC to really breakdown once she finally feels safe and far, far away from...

from Caleb.

She's on her bed in the N109 zone, knees to her chest, blankets scattered neatly around her and on her as she claws at her legs. Unable to deal with the weight of her emotions, she instead picks at her skin, her heart still beating so loud, so heavy and almost erratically fast and slow at the same time. She felt like she couldn't take in proper breaths, even when she called Sylus and when the harsh winds of their ride back to N109.

Even now, she refuses to acknowledge her time at that floating city, desperately closing her eyes, clinging onto the memory of Zayne taking the time to sit with her for a while before they both had to go back to the realities of their jobs.

the door opens quietly as Sylus enters with Zayne in tow. She looks up with tears gathered in her eyes as the two men go to her, Sylus by the edge of their bed and Zayne right beside her. Zayne slowly peels her hands from their tight grip on her legs as he looks at her with worry.

Her bottom lip tremble as she tries to form words, but her voice seems to fail her as she sucks in a shaky breath, tears finally falling.

"Zayne, I... I-" She hiccups, sucking in her breath through clenched teeth, Zayne remains patient as he holds her hand, Sylus somehow having grabbed a glass of water and placing it by the bedside table. She sucked in a hiccuping breath and screamed,

"Why didn't he die that day?!"

Her partners startle at her voice cracking, watery and raw as she starts fully sobbing into Zayne's chest.

"I- I feel so fucking gross, it's like I can't take the slime off my fucking skin, i want to claw it all off, I-" She breathes so harshly as she tries to squeeze Zayne tighter in her arms, her voice hoarse as she tries to talk through her tears, blabbering on and on and on about feeling disgusting, of this man who seemed to have done something to her to warrant her wanting him to die.

Zayne tries desperately to soothe her as Sylus tries to get her to let go as gently as he could, allowing her to grip anything but her own body, judging by the small flecks of blood dotting her legs and fingernails.

Both of her partners allow her to cry it all out while trying their best to both comfort her and stop her from hurting herself in any capacity.

Once she was reduced to calmer breathing and her tears no longer escaped from her eyes did either men move. Sylus wiped away the tears and snot from her face as Zayne helped her drink water.

All you could hear were her shaky breaths as Zayne quietly inquired the very same questions Sylus had before realizing she had gone nonverbal earlier in the day. The name she muttered in the quiet evening air made Zayne gasp quietly, something not quite expected but suspected.

They didn't question her any further, instead Zayne had insisted that she rest, as she requested that Sylus and Zayne lay by her side until she passed out. Last she heard was Zayne and Sylus's deep voices lulling her to sleep.

[twilve]

to be fair i also have OCD

[fazcinatingblog]

Why is there a random guy doing that shaka hand gesture, only in Hawaii amirite

[navydoves]

Mermaid!Rafayel and his strange habits while in heat.

He has a lot of cycles… all of which you have to suffer through.

✎ᝰ a/n. alright, rafayel is our starter for this sister series! i hope people enjoy this series as much as they did the “affectionate habits” one. if you want to be tagged in the next updates for this series, pls lmk i will be happy to. the other lis are:

- bunny xavier, cat zayne, dragon sylus, and cyborg/puppy caleb (i have to choose for caleb)

enjoy!

affectionate habits ver.

࣪𖤐

❥ he hisses! no more chirps or chitters, rafayel cannot stop hissing at everything around him. it’s not even just other men or women, it’s also like… coral reefs and amoebas. the hissing is rather loud and a bit scary, but he never does it to you. no, rafayel’s hisses are a way to ward off others in order to protect you. even if those “others” are passing crabs.

the first time rafayel started doing this you thought he was mad at you and this was his way of expressing it. you would recoil at the sound and then try and comfort him so you could figure out what you did wrong. but as soon as rafayel notices you’re upset, he immediately brings you into an embrace and reassures you that it’s not you. it’s the seaweed next to you, babe.

although when it comes to actual people, rafayel will get even louder in his hisses. he genuinely hates the idea of others being with you when he needs the most attention now. he thinks everyone’s out to get a piece of you and his anger only tells you he would never hesitate to hurt or kill those who get too close.

❥ he pins you constantly. it’s no secret rafayel is concerningly strong, but his muscle mass and strength become more prominent during his heat. by no joke, he will pin you with an index finger and leave you helpless writhing. but that’s precisely why he likes doing it. he really enjoys seeing you submissive and struggling underneath him, even if he’s not gonna do anything.

but most of the time… he is gonna do something. the whole point of his pinning is so he can keep you still as he going ramming into you from every position. his thrusts are deep and strong, so you need to be kept still or else you’re gonna go flying out the sea. he’s rough when he’s in heat and he’s practically training you to take his force because… well who else is gonna help him? only you can, no matter how much smaller and weaker you are.

❥ he speaks in lemurian. about half of the time rafayel spends in his heat he spends speaking to you in tongues. his heat is so instinctual that he can’t help be speak his native tongue even if you can’t understand him. he’s pawing at you, growling and begging right up in your ear until the entire tone of his voice changes. suddenly you’re hearing words you can’t make out in low pitches that make you shudder.

knowing he needs you is hot enough. but not knowing what he’s gonna do to you is even hotter. all the dirty talk he’s probably saying in your ear as he bend you over a rock and presses his 12 foot form against you gets you going. overtime you’ve learned a few words here and there… kind of. you know the words he says when he’s satisfied and or about to come, but you don’t actually know what they mean. you know the words he uses when he’s threatens you (not actually, just sexually) to come help him.

he’ll switch back and forth between his two languages unconsciously, especially in the heat of the moment. but if you’re being honest… you kinda want him to swoon you in lemurian all the time.

❥ he cries a lot. i think it’s well known that rafayel can have major mood swings sometimes, and his heat makes this a lot worse. while he is rough and claiming a good decent amount of the time, he’s also super emotional when you’re not around. he’ll curl into seaweed beds or alcoves to sob and whimper because he doesn’t have his darling with him. he’ll especially throw a fit if his heat becomes painful and there’s no outlet for him to use.

it’s a very sad sight to see. pearls come floating out of his eyes because he feels so lonely. his biology is telling him to give his body to his beloved, but if she’s not here or can’t, then it physically pains him. he’s physically bonded with you and can’t even think about using anything or anyone else to help him with his heat. the best he can do is stimulate his two cocks in private to best simulate what you might feel like, but it’s never ever enough.

❥ his cocks are always out. usually there’s a slit on the forefront of his tail where they retract and hide away until necessary but during his heat… well they’re just kinda always there. and it’s not because rafayel can’t put them away, it’s just that he doesn’t want to. at first you though maybe it was just a biology thing. cocks always out? right makes sense, he needs them constantly. but you learned from him that no… he just likes having them out with you around.

it’s for convenience sake. any sudden surge of horny he gets, no time is wasted getting those things out. he’ll immediately have you on your back with his floater friends ready to penetrate. they’re never soft either… they’re always just kinda hard and slick. while the sight is maybe a little bit amusing, it’s also impractical. you can’t sleep next to him without having to make room for his long schlongs. you can’t graze against them accidentally unless you want to be spurted with strange lemurian liquid. you can’t look at them for too long without rafayel getting incredibly horny and wanting to fuck you.

at some point you asked him why he doesn’t just put them away until they’re needed, but he insists on having you admire impressive his assets.

❥ he’s really obsessed with baby-talk. give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s in heat. while regular, normal rafayel isn’t too keen on the idea of babies, lemurian, in heat rafayel loves them. he massages your tummy and imagines his little seedlings in there. he doesn’t let himself come anywhere else but inside you in hopes of getting you pregnant. he’s constantly playing with your breasts in hopes that you’ll magically start milking.

the biology won’t allow it and rafayel knows that, but his brain is too muddled with ideas of you becoming a mother to his children. while he is no doubt aggressive in his heat, the heat itself is a biological purpose used for only mating. and lemurians mate for life. there’s no one else. so be honored <3

࣪𖤐

[invoncible]

BLUFF ✰ mark grayson & mohawk mark w/ childhood bsf! fem! reader cw. canon compliant themes (ex. distress)

SUMMARY. when mohawk mark doesn't find debbie at his childhood home, he goes after the next best thing: you. he thinks you're together in this world too, and when he realizes you're not... well, how could he possibly give up such a perfect opportunity? / wc. 6k oops

— i started this to train my writing skills but it got out of hand T-T anyways enjoy <3

You didn't even notice your phone ringing. It must've been the third time it buzzed on your kitchen counter but for the life of you, you could not look away from the news. Invincible was laying waste to all the major cities of the globe, seemingly unprovoked.

Your breath caught when the news broke to process new information, senses finally tuning into the whirring behind you. You swiped your phone, barely glancing at the caller ID before answering.

"Hel—"

"Y/N, thank goodness." Debbie gasped on the other end.

You stood rigid. You've known Debbie your whole life. You and Mark were inseparable growing up—it was a rare occurrence to hear her so unnerved. Her unease was contagious, zapping through the wireless connection and taking root in your conscience.

"Are—" You cleared your throat, clutching the phone tighter. You walked over to the window, dragging down the blinds with two fingers and peeking outside. "Are you okay? You sound—"

"Fine, I'm fine." A shaky exhale was what you were met with, along with the sounds of a car starting up. "Honey, have you seen the news? You need to stay safe." A pause followed, too long to be natural. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"

You scrunched your brows in confusion. "Um... no, I don't. But from what they're saying on the news, the Invincibles are only targeting big cities."

"Listen. If you stay there—" Debbie's line crackled as you assumed she was driving away, far away from the neighborhood and fast. “—‘ll come for you.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. I've got my car if something goes wrong.” You pulled away from your phone, glancing at the call screen when you got no response. "Hello?"

"In light of new footage, we have information that—"

The TV fizzled out next, the low drone of cable replacing rowdy chatter of the newsroom. A low-pixel message of NO SIGNAL floated around the screen, bouncing off the edges.

You stared at yourself in the black reflection, wishing it would flip on again so you weren't alone with your thoughts. The paranoia was setting in... you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mark is—”

beeeeeep.

"Hello?" You whispered over the phone, desperate for Debbie's familiar comfort. “...Debbie? Mark is what?”

A rhythmic beeeep beep met your ears instead. You glanced at your phone once again—CALL FAILED.

"Ohhhkay." You muttered under your breath. This is fine, you soothed yourself.

The electricity in your house died out, gently setting you into darkness. With the TV signal lost and your phone disconnected, the cell towers and power grid were probably down.

This is fine. As long as you stayed inside, you'd be fine.

You pulled down the blinds once more, letting a shred of the sunset glow into your home. Your gaze travelled to Mark's house; across the street, a couple houses down. So easily accessible yet so distant at the same time.

You and Mark were attached at the hip for seventeen years—your entire lives. Separation should have felt strange. But just two years since growing apart, his absence almost felt... normal.

Almost like he was never there to begin with.

You went off to university. You assumed he did, too, but got more reliable intel when you connected with William. He shared that they both got into Upstate, as well as his girlfriend, Amber.

Girlfriend?

You remember the pause you took to process that information—the moment you realized he was moving forward while you remained where he left you. Facing the reality that you were no longer a part of his life.

"Stop fidgeting," You whispered with a little chuckle. "It's high school, not the end of the world."

"High school is where things start to happen." Mark whined as he pulled down the hem of his sweater. "Grades matter, who you hang out with matters, girls matter."

"Uh-huh."

"You think I would make a good jock?"

"You've got the look for it."

"Dumb?"

"Yes."

Mark rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips as you both walked up the steps to the next phase of your life. "That's not very nice."

"You can be anything you want, Mark." You groaned, deciding to be encouraging. "Literally. You're good at everything. You'll fit in wherever you want to."

"Okay. Too nice." He huffed and bumped into your side. "But thanks. I just..."

Your brows furrowed in concern when his head dipped, distress sneaking its way through his cheerful disposition.

"Stuff's supposed to happen this year. Big stuff." He was mumbling, unfocused like he regretted taking the conversation this direction to begin with. "I don't want to mess this up."

You wanted to tell him high school wasn't that deep. There were complete losers that all turned out just fine. Something about his expression, though... it was heavy.

You weren't sure what he was talking about, but you knew what he needed. You always did. "Whatever stuff you're talking about... it's gonna work out. You'll take it one step at a time just like you always have, and you have your parents at your side.... William, me."

He offered you a little smile. "We'll do this together?" He held out his pinky finger.

You giggle and interlocked yours with his. "Together."

He broke that promise pretty quickly. Different classes were the first step apart. From there, it only got harder to see each other.

Family stuff was Mark's favorite excuse—vaguely explaining family stuff had become 90% of your conversations. You figured he didn't want to tell you whatever he was really going through, which was fine. It hurt, but it was fine.

Before you knew it, you stopped talking altogether. You didn't think much of it at first—you were approaching adulthood, obviously you were going to get busy. You just thought you'd get busy together. You didn't even know what he was up to these days.

You drew back from the blinds with a long sigh, hoping that Debbie and Mark were safe. Wherever they were.

You trudged down into the basement to turn the generator on. The wooden stairs of the unfinished space crrrrrreaked under your feet. You waved away the dust, pounding your chest to cough the particles that snuck their way into your airway.

It was cooler down here, much darker without the ambient lighting of the sunset above. With your trusty phone flashlight, you managed to maneuver your way through the storage buckets and old boxes to the backup generator.

You grunted trying to pull the lever down. "Shit..." you cursed in disgust, feeling the grime and dust underneath your palm. i want electricity i want electricity, you repeated over and over to block out the icky sensation.

"Need some help?"

"Ah—!" you shrieked, spinning around in a panic. Your flashlight illuminated the figure in front of you, shadowed by the soft light of open door upstairs. "What—" who—?!

"Damn. Relax."

Vaulting over your initial dread, you grabbed something—a wrench or a hammer, you didn’t know, you didn't care—and swung it with all your might.

They caught it in their fist. Your breath shriveled up in your throat at how stiff they were, intercepting your attack without even budging. Their fingers curled tight around the tool and yanked you close.

"tsk, tsk," Their low voice chuckled. "Thought you'd be happy to see me, pretty girl."

You shone your light into the intruder's face, the tension in your body dissipating when you recognized—

"...Mark?" You squinted in the darkness, the flashlight just barely illuminating his face in a ghastly glow. "Wha... what are you doing here?" You huffed.

Blood was pumping through your system, telling you to get ready to run. Your nerves wouldn't calm their tingle even though you realized it was just Mark. Cuz it was Mark, right?

"Checking on you."

"Where's your mom?"

"Smart enough to leave home."

"Oh, yeah. She called. I thought you'd be with her..." You trailed off, frowning when you heard him laughing. "What?"

"Nothing." He hummed. "You're just so..."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Okay..." You gave him a weird look. Then your brain caught up to you: Pretty girl? "Aren't you dating Amber?"

He took a moment to think, tossing the wrench aside and grabbing your wrist in his hand instead. "Am I?"

You pursed your lips, eyes narrowing. "I'm... asking you?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"What—" You exhaled, brows knitted in confusion. You tried to pull away but he held firm; for every step back, he followed. "Mark, wait—"

Your phone clattered to the ground, the ray of light spinning chaotically through the darkness before it fell on its back.

"I missed you." He murmured lowly, almost reverent in the way he boxed you against the cold generator. "Shhh..." He calmed your trembling frame with his strong arms (when'd he get so strong?) wrapped around your shoulders.

He burrowed his nose in your hair. "It's me, bunny. Why're you so scared?"

This isn't Mark. Your heart pounded at your chest, eyes frozen and piercing into the darkness over his shoulder—Wake up, dumbass. This isn't Mark.

When your tremors refused to quiet, he pulled back with what you hoped was concern. That's when you saw his hair...

"Is that..." You whispered. The soft light from the main floor was fading, but reflected off the shiny sides of Mark's head. "Are you bald?"

What was he doing in the two years since you saw each other?

"Aw..." He laughed heartily, leaning further towards you and flattening his palms over the top of the generator. "Not quite."

He leaned to your side, breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he continued to snicker to himself softly. He grabbed the lever of the generator and shoved it down.

Your body jostled into his firm chest as it sprung to life. It went clank-clank-clank-clank, pumping electricity back into your home. You heard the melodic trills from upstairs as devices booted up again.

The light in the basement flipped back on. It didn't reach you. Mark towered over you and kept you in shadow. But you could see him—rather, who he wasn't.

"What?" Mohawk Mark grinned down at you, sadistic and teasing. "Not who you were expecting?"

No, not who you were expecting. He looked like Mark, sounded like Mark, felt like Mark... But your Mark had a kind face.

"You're not..."

"Nope."

You felt the heat drain from your body as you simply stared up at him, wide-eyed. Run. Where? Why the fuck was he dressed like ... Invincible...

A connection snapped together in your head, synapses clicking together like legos. Oh. Invincible. Everything made sense now, and you felt a little stupid for not figuring it out sooner.

And now one of those murderous variants you saw on the news was in your home.

"You're really out of it, huh?" He frowned, waving a gloved hand in front of your face. He sighed and looked away, "I thought you'd—"

You had the itch to burst into a sprint. You snatched your phone off the floor and ducked under his arm, skipping stairs to the main floor. Car. Keys? Where the fuck did you put them?

A shuddered whimper tumbled off your lips. You felt helpless, mind racing with too many things at once to pick one task and get out of there. You snatched your purse from the sofa, rifling through it to make sure your keys were inside before going outside.

"Come on, come on," You whispered, out of breath.

"Don't run from me, Y/N," Mohawk Mark sang teasingly, drawing out the last syllable of your name. "Hey, I'm just playing with you."

You screamed anyway, the sound harsh and high-pitched. He pouted, hand firmly around your arm to prevent you from breaking away.

"C'mon, baby. You're hurting my feelings. We're just having fun, yeah? A little roleplay?"

First off, you wished he'd stop calling you things like that. It felt wrong, but... good. With every pet name, he let butterflies loose in your tummy. Your heart pulsed, sending heat to your cheeks. Your brain reminded you, this isn't Mark... this isn't Mark... this isn't the real Mark...

Second, what kinda freaky ass fuck did he turn into?

You rolled out of his grip, barely making it a step away before his arm circled around your stomach, pulling you back into his chest.

"Get the fuck off me—" You squirmed uselessly, your phone and bag tumbling onto the floor. You yelped when he threw you over his shoulder, patting the small of your back affectionately as if securing cargo. "Mark!"

He just laughed, taking off through the door at a abnormal speed. Your nose smushed into his back under the acceleration, stomach somersaulted twenty times over as you soared up into the clouds.

He stopped in the air. With a hoarse shriek you clung to him as if he was your lifeline. He was, in this moment, despite everything. Your legs immediately latched around his waist, and he supported you with hands under your thighs.

"Oh, come on, now." He chuckled with a shake of his head. He easily held you and brought a hand to wipe your cheeks. "I'm just playing around. If I'd known you were this sensitive, I would've taken it a little bit easier on you..."

You hadn't even realized you started crying.

He stared at you, eyes trailing over your face. He laughed softly to himself. "Who am I kidding. No, I wouldn't have. You know how cute you are when you cry?"

You glared at him but his grin only grew wider. "What? M'not gonna hurt you! Haven't I shown you that?"

You stared at him incredulously, finally finding your voice and blowing up at him. Your fists curled, pounding at his chest and jabbing a finger in his face. "You broke into my home and have me hanging 100ft in the air?!"

"So? I'm not dropping you, am I?" You felt his fingers tap against your thigh.

"That—" Your cheeks burned. but from being embarrassed or flustered, you couldn't quite place.

"This world's Mark is the biggest piece of shit for leaving girlfriend all alone."

You blinked, "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, you're..." Mark's head tilted, sharp eyes acutely aware of your confusion. "Ohhh. Don't tell me that fucker didn't lock you down."

You didn't even know what to say. Things were being thrown at you left and right and you were still on the fact that Mark was Invincible. Your mind rifled through all the headlines that had his name... all that pain, death, and destruction... and how you weren't there for him.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Well. I'm a better version, anyway."

[]

The sun finally set on day 2 the war with no hope in sight. Mark just admitted Eve into the hospital—she stubbornly decided to help him with two of his variants and paid the price. Her broken leg was under construction, and she was unconscious.

Mark sighed as he closed the door behind him, looking up to see Cecil waiting for him in the hallway.

"You can't be here, kid."

Mark scowled. "The other Invincibles know about this place. They could kill her to get at me. I... can't lose another friend. I won't."

After Amber, Mark wanted to be with Eve. It was the next logical step, right? Both superheroes, went through a lot together, understood each other... But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not even under Future Eve's advice.

Not when he still held space for you in his heart.

He was an asshole for it, he knew that. He couldn't put a date to the last time you spoke and he selfishly held onto your memory. Were you pining for him like he was pining for you?

His time with Amber taught him a lot. He wasn't going to make you suffer like she did. He wasn't going to ruin the friendship he had with you just because he selfishly wanted your love.

"We're losing this, Mark." Cecil sighed, snapping Mark out of his thoughts. The bruise on his face throbbed with every word. "The world needs you."

"You got every superhero on the planet fighting for you right now." Mark shot back angrily, shutting his eyes only to see you behind his lids.

"Mark. Oliver's out there. Your mother's out there." Cecil pressed, pulling out his phone. "Which reminds me. She left a voicemail."

With his interest successfully piqued, Mark listened as his mother's panicked voice played over Cecil's device.

"I can't reach Mark—if you see him, tell him I'm at Paul's. Oliver insisted on going out there, and I let him on the condition he finds his big brother."

Mark's gaze dropped down to the floor guiltily, a war of emotions swirling inside him.

"I couldn't stop him if I tried. He was going to sneak out anyway, but..." A sharp inhale. "I'm worried. I know they're strong, I know that. But these other versions... they're nothing like Mark." Seconds of silence passed as she collected her thoughts. "Can you check on someone for me? If all these Marks grew up the same, there's a childhood friend on our street that he was never without. I tried to reach her but service went down. Please."

Cecil pulled back his phone. "I already sent agents to her home—"

Mark's head snapped up, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "What did I say about going near my family?"

"I wasn't aware she was family." Cecil raised an eyebrow, pocketing his device and pulling down his cuffs.

"They're my responsibility. She's my responsibility." Mark retorted, running a anxious hand through his hair.

"A thank you would be nice." Cecil mumbled, unperturbed by the boy's argument. "Seeing as you are currently shirking said responsibility."

"Don't—" Mark lurched forward, a threat on his tongue. Cecil flinched backwards, his hand firmly in his pocket finding his controller.

Mark pulled back, dropping his fist. "...Just shut the fuck up, Cecil." He blasted off through the halls.

Cecil watched him leave with bated breath, exhaling slowly when he got the intel that Mark was off the grounds. At least he was out there.

[]

"I killed the Guardians, yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah. No big deal."

You raised your eyes in surprise but the notion wasn't as gruesome as you thought it would be. Blinded by love, maybe? Or were you just happy to be talking to Mark again, regardless of the version?

Hours ago, you couldn't imagine sitting in your bedroom with the man who invaded your home. But, genuinely, what were you supposed to do? Pick a fight and lose? Worse, die? You weren't so stupid to waste the goodwill he held for you.

"What happened to me in your world?" You asked, your voice quieter now.

Mark tilted his head, exhaling through his nose. His jaw flexed, like the memory alone was an irritation.

"The resistance killed you to get at me," he muttered, his voice dark, laced with something sharp and unhinged. The crazed gleam in his eye flickered under the dim lighting, like a fire burning just beneath the surface. Then, with an almost amused sigh, he shifted his weight, offering you a small, self-satisfied smile. "Don't worry. I made them pay for it."

You didn’t bother asking how.

Mark’s arm stretched behind you, draping lazily across the back of the pillows, his fingers idly toying with the fabric of your sleeve. Every casual brush of his fingertips sent a ripple of goosebumps across your skin.

"We were a good thing, you know," he mused, voice lower now, softer. gentle. "You didn’t fight me. You didn’t run. You loved me." There was a teasing lilt in his voice that you recognized.

That’s not so different here, you swallowed the thought, masking it with a roll of your eyes. "Did you love me?"

That made him pause. His gaze flicked to yours, brows furrowing slightly, like the question had caught him off guard. Then a slow smirk tugged at his lips, amusement flashing in his expression before he let out a low chuckle.

He leaned in so close you could feel his breath ghost over your lips. "Let me show you," he murmured, voice dark and filled with intent.

The air between you tightened as his hand trailed from your sleeve, fingers dragging along the bare skin of your arm, slow and deliberate. His touch was light, teasing, like he was waiting for you to react—to pull away or lean in.

You offered him nothing but a careful stare and the slow rise and fall of your chest.

His eyes narrowed, delighting in the challenge. His nose brushed against yours, his lips lingering just shy of touching.

Pull away, your brain screamed at you, ringing every warning bell it had in the book. This isn't right.

But his other hand came up, grazing along your jaw... and his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes... all of it felt so familiar, like something out of a dream. And it'd been so long since you saw his brown wells, you couldn't tear your gaze away.

Your daze was broken when you heard him laugh again. He adored the way you frowned in confusion, the moonlight twinkling in the reflection of your eyes.

“Aww,” he cooed, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “look at you. So easy. This world’s Mark has left you all alone, hasn’t he?”

Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as he tilted his head, watching you squirm.

“S'like you’ve been waiting for this," he hummed. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes darkened at whatever he saw.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours—you could feel him smiling. “Since he won’t.”

Stop, stop, stop. You wanted Mark, wanted him desperately, but not like this. Not with him.

You released the breath you were holding when he paused his fixation on your lips, head turning minutely to the side as if he was hearing something.

"For fuck's sake..." Mark scoffed, a low chuckle passing through his lips. "Speak of the devil."

What?

Mohawk Mark heard the whistle of air before you did, only clueing in when it grew louder. It reached a peak when a projectile CRASHED through your window—

You scrambled backwards on your mattress as splinters flew everywhere. Mark caught you before you tumbled off the bed, shielding you from the broken glass and wood.

"What's—" You began to ask, but over Mark's shoulder you saw him—the real Mark.

You just stared at each other for a moment, though you couldn't see much past his tinted goggles. But the slow scowl growing on his lips communicated all you needed to know.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mark—the real one—growled. "Get off her."

Mohawk Mark laughed into your shoulder, turning to face him. "Why? She's not yours, is she?"

Mark's eyes twitched behind his goggles, abandoning his inhibitions and diving at him, grabbing his variant's hair and yanking him off of you—

"Mark..." you warned, fear bubbling in your gut.

—your caution fell on deaf ears; Mark threw him up and drove him through the floor.

"Mark!" you yelled behind him, feeling the air whip past your face, following him as he crashed into the living room below. "Shit—"

Squeaking as you fought against the slope of the cavity, your feet, only clad in socks, provided the worst possible grip and you began slipping down the gap. Your breath caught in your chest as you felt yourself plummeting—

"Hey." His voice was urgent yet comforting, his arms tightening around your body in seconds, pulling you back from the edge. "I got you."

Your hand instinctively gripped his shoulder, grounding yourself as you realized you were suspended in his embrace. As he gently descended to the floor, your eyes moved quickly, scanning the outline of his goggles.

"You... I guess you know now, then." His voice was low, heavier than usual, like a weight he’d been carrying finally released.

The moment your feet met the ground, you stepped back, your heart pounding. Across the room, Mohawk Mark was sprawled on the floor, blood leaking from his nose, unconscious for now. Your gaze flicked back to your Mark, heart still racing.

"Yeah, I know." You snapped, the anger rushing through you, the frustration and confusion bubbling up.

His expression faltered, something unreadable flashing across his face before he sighed, almost too quietly, as if he were disappointed in himself.

"You’re angry," he observed, his voice tinged with regret.

"No shit, I’m angry!" Your hand shot out, slapping against his chest before it balled into a fist at your side. Every inch of you was yelling at him, every question, every unspoken feeling, everything that had been left unsaid for the past two years. "The first time I've seen you in two years and it's—it's not even you?"

"I know, I know," Mark’s hands moved to his mask, tearing it off with an impatience that only grew when it caught on his nose. He grimaced as he yanked it free, tossing it to the side. The dim light of the room revealed the exhaustion etched into his face, but even through that, you could see him—the real him, just... different. Worn down, tired.

"I can explain."

"You better fuckin start."

"Be mad at me all you want, but look at this." His arms gestured wildly around your place. "I was right to not tell you! It could've been way worse, way sooner if you knew anything about what I was really up to. Why didn't you leave when Mom called you?!"

"The phone cut off, asshole, I didn't hear everything she said, and I certainly wasn't aware that you were the one behind Invincible—"

He shook his head, dismissing the topic. He stepped into your space and held onto your arms. "Did he touch you?"

"Get off me."

"Did he touch you?" He pressed, shaking you slightly as his grip tightened around your biceps.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the urgent crack in his voice. "Yes, but I let him."

He pulled away from you as if burnt. A heavy silence hung in the air, nothing but the clattering of broken floorboards crashing down from above.

"...He's a murderer, Y/N." He whispered, eyes narrowed.

You knew that. You knew he was right. "I was... vulnerable."

"He killed people—"

"Shut up," You snapped, cutting him off. "Don't lecture me; this is a nonissue. What was I supposed to do? Hm? Want me to pick up my fists and come out swinging like you did—"

"I thought he was hurting you!"

"My hero." You rolled your eyes, the words dripping with bitter sarcasm. You knew you were being unfair, maybe a little cruel, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were exhausted from the many near death experiences you've somehow survived in the last few hours. Strung so tight you felt like you might snap.

Every inch of you was begging to cry and let him hug you like you both so clearly wanted... but the fact that it took something this bad to get him to show up? That hurt more than anything.

Mark stared at you, his face an amalgamation of emotions, like he couldn’t decide on one.

Should he be angry at you for being difficult, for making him work for this moment when all he wanted was to explain? Should he feel pain, the sharp ache in his chest that another Mark got to hold you before he did? Or was it jealousy, searing heat into his face, that another version of himself had been the one to touch you, to be close to you before he had the chance? Maybe... maybe it was the bittersweet happiness, the relief that he was finally standing here in front of you.

He didn’t even care that you were glaring daggers at him—he missed staring into your eyes, albeit hardened and displeased, making his heart race; the way you’d furrow your brow when you were frustrated, the way your voice would call out to him.

Mark’s hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach out, but he held himself back. Would you even allow it? The distance between you was far more than physical. He had a thousand things to say but in that moment, words felt hollow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he finally muttered, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than he intended.

Childish.

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes again. "All that time and that's all you have to—"

Before you could finish, your world spun. The floor tilted beneath you as Mohawk Mark launched himself into you, sweeping you off your feet and through the door.

[]

"Y/N!" Mark yelled after you, breathing heavy in a panic. "No, no, no, no—" He launched himself from your home, bursting through the roof after you.

You barely heard him over the rushing wind. You clawed at Mohawk Mark's back, the height siphoning the air from your lungs. "Stop..." You ordered weakly.

"Changed your mind already?" He laughed, cradling you in his arms. Your head lolled against his chest. "Don't tell me you buy his bullshit."

"Mm..." The sharp ascent from ground level to the clouds made your head spin, vision darkening as you grew dizzier.

"You're fucking dead!" Your Mark came out of nowhere, shooting up beside Mohawk Mark and bashing his nose in. With a pained groan, he dropped you. "Shit—"

"Look what you made me do, dipshit!" Mohawk Mark snarled, shoving Invincible away and bolting after you.

"Don't—" Mark growled in frustration, racing against time. He watched as your limp body dropped helplessly against gravity.

It never changed. Whether he told you or not, you would end up in these perilous situations regardless. He cursed under his breath, catching Mohawk Mark's ankle and catapulting him into the night sky before pushing forward.

He collected you in his arms before it was too late, wasting no time as he shifted his direction and carried you off to GDA's hospital.

[]

The steady beep... beep... beep of your heart monitor was the first thing you tuned into upon waking up.

"Oh, good."

Your eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting towards Mark. He was bent over your cot, his hand on your forehead while staring down at you with stars in his eyes.

"You just passed out. Nothing serious, but I wanted to make sure." He mumbled, pulling back.

Your eyes drifted back to the ceiling, unfocused and hollow. There was too much—too much to process, too much to feel, too much weighing down on your chest all at once. It pressed against your ribs, thick and suffocating, a tidal wave crashing over you before you could even take a breath. Every nerve in your body screamed with something—fear, exhaustion, embarrassment, confusion—but it all blended together into one overwhelming, crushing force. Your mind was shutting down for its own sake.

The sounds around you dulled into distant echoes, the weight of your own limbs barely registering. Your chest rose and fell, but it felt mechanical.

"Y/N?" Mark whispered, brows furrowing in concern. "Hey." he poked your shoulder.

You shook your head, turning away from him as tears pooled in your eyes. God, you felt so embarrassed.

Mark frowned when you shifted away from him, any comfort he planned to offer dying in his throat. "I'm... sorry." was all he could say.

Nothing.

His leg bounced nervously, chewing at his lip as he fought with his own emotions. "I want to kill him for putting hands on you."

Your brows tightened. Not what you wanted to hear either.

He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. "M'sorry for blowing up at you. It's not your fault—"

"It is." You sniffled. "I missed you... so much, that I pretended that he was you..." you choked on the words, turning your back to him and burying your face into the pillow. "How pathetic is that?"

Mark's heart squeezed, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed next to you. "Stop. Not your fault." He reiterated.

You scoffed and shook your head, laughing wryly. He frowned, and pulled you to face him. He saw your tears and felt his own pile up behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I told my.... uh, last relationship that I was Invincible. It didn't end well for her, and I didn't want to put you in that same position. Always unsure, always in danger, always waiting..."

"I'm not her, Mark." You muttered.

"I know." He pursed his lips. "I was gone for months at a time—"

"I waited two years for you, didn't I?" You pushed away from him and sunk back into the cot. "You didn't even give me a chance."

Childish. That’s how you sounded. Because in the end, that’s all you two were—two kids who once grew up side by side finding each other once more, with all the petulant hurt coming through the surface.

A beat of silence passed between you, with nothing but your heart monitor to keep the time.

"You said he touched you." He started.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "...don't bring that up."

"No, I want to know." He shifted his weight, hovering over you. His face was painted with something foreign, green-eyed and greedy. "Show me."

Heat blossomed on your face as you lay in his shadow. "Mark..." You laughed nervously. "It was barely anything."

"You missed me so much you had to settle for that." Mark didn't look away from you for a second. "I want to give you the real thing."

You screwed your face up. Again, the thought passed through your mind: you wanted Mark, but not like this. "I don't want this to be a pity thing."

"No," Mark shook his head firmly. "not pity. Everything I feel for you has been there since... since I can remember. And it fucking boils my blood that a different version of me got to you before I had the balls to do it myself. Please," he whispered. "I need this."

"Need what?"

"You." He answered, like the answer was obvious. To him, it was. "I'm done waiting around."

You blinked at him before a soft smile spread across your face. "Me too."

Mark's lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that made your heart ache. He cupped your face in his hands, and you melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

You let out a soft sigh when his lips parted slightly, allowing you both to breathe. You pressed forward, kissing him harder, feeling the intensity of everything that had been building between you over the years—years of longing, of waiting, of wanting something more.

Mark responded with equal hunger, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you closer. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart pounding against yours.

Where had he touched you? Mark didn't care anymore. By the time he was done with you, you'd know his touch and his alone, and he'd know every inch of you like the back of his hand. He wasn't leaving this room without it. He was allowing himself to be selfish for once; for you, it was worth it.

He sat back on his haunches, tugging his gloves off by his teeth before diving back into you, sliding his bare fingers underneath your shirt, sighing into your mouth as he squeezed your skin in his palm.

"You'll never need anyone ever again," He nosed your cheek, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. "Promise."

This time, you believed him.

— wayyy too self indulgent lmk if it was boring at places :)

© invoncible