#mohawk mark x reader

You share a look with your coworker, who looks just as off-put by the information, her fingers curling around her phone as her brow dips. Just as her lips part to speak, the first building falls. It’s only a few blocks away, and the ground beneath your feet trembles at its sudden collapse.

You hear the screams of those out on the street, internally debating whether or not to follow suit until a notification from Mark lights up your screen, the ridiculous nickname you’d set when you were twelve a small comfort to your racing heart.

MarkyWarky: please tell me you’re okay

You: i’m fine

You: i’m just scared mark 

You: why are there so many versions of you anyway…

MarkyWarky: i wish i could tell you

MarkyWarky: just stay put alright im otw

The message does little to soothe, and you can’t help but stare at your screen with nothing but apprehension. Your coworker is quick to seize you by the arm when the sound of collapsing buildings and wailing cars draws closer, ushering you into the break room with the floor manager as though the small, unwindowed room would protect you from the raw strength of a Viltrumite.

“Holy shit, we’re gonna die…We’re actually going to die…” The floor manager, Kasandra, curls into herself with tears already welled in her eyes as she chokes back a sob. No one says anything, unable to face the grim reality at steak when debris begins to crumble around you. You all huddle into the furthest corner as your hope in Mark begins to wane.

Small pieces of rubble hit your head as you tuck your head tightly into Kasandra’s shaking shoulder, the lights overhead flickering violently when the ceiling begins to cave in on itself. There’s no use holding back the tears now and you can’t hide your anguished cries, unheard over the collapsing infrastructure.

This is it, you think, mentally saying your goodbyes to everyone you’ve grown to love. Amber. Eve. William. Mark—oh, Mark. The annoying boy next door who grew to be your first love. 

Sparks flare as the light above you finally collapses, but you don’t feel a throbbing pain in your head or death’s cold embrace, instead, you find yourself wrapped in a familiar pair of arms, still clinging to an almost catatonic Kasandra while your coworker grips the forearm wrapped around the three of you.

“I’ve got you,” a voice in your ear says, and you can feel the tears begin to well once more, though, this time out of relief. Mark is quick to shoot from the rubble, hold unwavering before he sets the three of you down and urges you to run to safety.

Your two coworkers are quick to flee, but you stupidly linger, worry etched onto your features at the sight of Mark’s beaten face and tattered suit. In the distance, you can see Eve facing valiantly against a variant, the odd cloth mask adorned on his face his most defining trait. She pants, her palms facing outward to just barely raise a shield against his erratic punches.

Mark pulls your attention back to him, face pinched as his thumb traces your lower lip in an attempt to ground both you and himself. His lips are soft against your forehead for a brief moment before he pulls back, staring at you through his cracked goggles with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“I love you,” you whisper, stroking his bruised cheek softly.

“I love you too. But, you need to go. Now. I’ll check on you soon, promise.”

So, you run as fast as your legs can carry you, doing your best to ignore the ruins and corpses that seem to block every turn.

You don’t get far.

A shadow overhead blocks the sun—its presence so oppressive and commandeering that it freezes you in place.

“Another survivor?” 

You can’t bring yourself to turn despite the way your heart lurches at the familiarity of the voice. Your breath hitches when the shadow lowers—whatever twisted version of Mark this is drawing ever closer like a lion to its prey.

“I thought those other two were the last of them, but what’s one more?” The voice is cold, almost clinical, very unlike the warmth that radiated off of your Mark. A glove is quick to find purchase on your throat, and you glance down to see the red rubber shining beneath the sun.

Blood coats the hand, tinting the glove an even darker shade of red than what you’d first surmised. You try not to think about the warmth of it as his grip grows tighter, making it harder to breathe, but not enough to kill, like he’s messing with you in some cruel, twisted way.

“You’re this dimension’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” His lips press against the shell of your ear, jerking your body to face the fight between Mark and the clothed one from before alongside Eve, who reaches out to you weakly before eventually crashing against the side of one of the buildings. Your Mark wheezes, clutching at his chest when the cloth-masked variant throws him into a nearby building by the hair. “Pathetic.”

The sound barrier tears as another Mark enters the fray, his mohawk wild and unkempt in the wind as he grins at the sight of battle, though there’s no amusement behind his smile. “Who the hell do you think you are running off like that?” For a moment, his wild eyes slip to where you and your captor reside, a flicker of…something flashing through his before it fizzles away. “Keeping hostages alive? Didn’t peg you for the cruel type.”

You barely register the click of the Invincible’s tongue over the roaring beat of your heart, his thumb remaining stationary over your pulse point; a warning. He could snap your neck at any given moment, and you don’t know what’s stopping him, but you’re grateful for whatever’s causing him to hesitate.

“Come on, just put her out of her misery already,” the mohawked Mark goads with a small shrug as he pulls his fist back to punch your Mark into the concrete when the cloth-masked variant throws him in his direction. Cracks split beneath your feet at the sheer force, the ground almost giving way, but all you can do is watch as your Mark slowly gets up from the crater his body had formed. 

He locks eyes with you, something snapping inside of him at the sight of the variant clad in a suit nearly identical to Omni-Man’s wrapping his hand around your throat.

“[Name]!” He calls out, bursting free from the grasp of the two other Marks with a renewed sense of vigor. 

Time seems to freeze the moment your name leaves his bloodied lips, the Mark holding you hostage too stunned to react when your Mark’s fist collides with his jaw hard enough to send him three blocks away. It isn’t long until you’re swept into Mark’s arms, the hold both protective and possessive as he glares at the other two, his chest heaving with each labored breath he struggles to take.

“No fuckin’ way.” The mohawked variant blinks slowly, his lips pulling into a mix of a grimace and a smirk. “That’s unfair on so many levels.” He turns to the Mark in a cloth mask who seems to share the same sentiment, mumbling under his breath about how unfair it is that this version of him gets the hot babe.

Omni-Man Mark merely scoffs when he floats back, his suit still pristine as though he’d never been thrown at all while he crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing the way you tremble in this version of him’s hold. You aren’t the best friend he’d killed mercilessly back in his dimension. Here, you were a woman—his woman. And he’d be damned if he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone.

A best friend and a wife. Who would’ve thought?

While he’d never seen the other, male, version of you in a romantic light, his heart stirs at the thought of taking this version of you for himself. It’s not like it’ll take much to kill this Mark; he’s already as good as dead anyway—

“Is everything alright here?” Clad in white and silver, yet another version of Mark descends from the sky like some sort of disgraced angel. 

“Ugh, why are you here?” Mohawk Mark rolls his eyes obnoxiously, his gaze only briefly flickering to the new variant.

“Angstrom sent me to see if you all were sticking to the plan, which clearly you aren’t.”

“Aww, the lil’Viltrum baby can’t do anything without a mission? How sad!” He bats his lashes dramatically before sneering. “What are you gonna do next, bark? Who gives a shit about the plan? You’re acting as if you weren’t gonna kill him after anyway!” 

The Mark in the Viltrum uniform chooses not to dignify him with a response.

Unbothered by his counterpart’s nonchalance, the mohawked Mark sets his sights back on you, spreading his arms wide as if to welcome you in with a hug. “Hey, [Name], it’s just me. Just Mark. Your best friend, remember? We used to play CoD and shit when your parents were out.”

Viltrum Mark’s brows furrow at the familiar name, steady gaze finally paying you mind as you try to sink further into the Mark of this dimension’s arms. You’re a lot…softer than he recalls you being, your form far less filled out; almost feminine. But, that couldn’t be right, right? How cruel would it be for this version of him to have the perfect mate whilst he, while grateful for your prior companionship, was stuck with nothing more than a best friend? One that he’d ultimately killed for resisting.

Surely, his brain is playing tricks on him.

Then he hears it—they all hear it.

The small terrified whimper you let out, the sound almost heavenly as you try to curl into Mark like your life depends on it. Which you suppose it does at this very moment.

A collective groan settles across all the present variations of Mark, all differing levels of arousal. They can practically taste the fear emanating off of you, stalking closer like a pack of deranged wolves.

Disgust pulls at Mark’s lips at the look in their eyes, his arms trembling around you as the last line of defense between you and these monstrous versions of him. “What the hell are you guys on about?” He seethes, only to be met by a suffocating silence.

Viltrum Mark appears in front of you before you and Mark can process his presence, tearing you out of your boyfriend’s arms despite your screaming protests. His grip is firm, but it’s the underlying softness in it that has you trembling with both fear and confusion. One of his hands finds your chin, stroking the contour of your jaw while his thumb gently presses down on your lower lip in a similar fashion that your Mark had done earlier.

“You’re [Name].” His face twists with perplexion as he speaks. “But, you’re so soft.” You feel his other hand fall from your arm, settling on your hip as if to prove a point. He squeezes and prods the fat, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the soft skin underneath, his fingers splaying against your stomach while his nose buries itself in your neck. “You’d be a great mother.”

No.

No.

No.

This can’t be happening—

You’re pulled into another set of arms. These ones leaner yet more possessive than the Viltrum Mark’s. But not yours.

“Jesus what the fuck is wrong with you.” Mohawk Mark’s voice rasps mockingly above you, his arm curling around you and dangerously close to your breasts. You know he feels your heart stop, snorting cruelly as he pulls you flush against him. His gloved hand tilts your chin up to him cruelly, relishing in the way tears well in your eyes.

“P-Please…” You weakly claw at his wrist despite knowing how useless it is in comparison to his innate strength.

Holy fuck, he could get used to the sound of that.

Man, why couldn’t you be a girl in his world too? Oh, the things he would do to you. How he would ruin you. He wonders if you’re similar to his [Name], the [Name] who trusted him to do the right thing only to die trying to stop what’s already been done. Do you play the same sport as your male counterpart? Enjoy the same food? Ah, whatever, you’re still his, no matter his relation to you. Best friend or otherwise.

“Get away from her you fucking freak!” Your Mark’s garbled voice reaches your ears, his fist colliding with the side of the mohawked variant’s head, sending him careening into the white-clad Viltrumite. Mark doesn’t even get the chance to look over you before he shoots into the air with you in his hold, tucking your head into his shoulder as he whispers calming words into the crown of your head. “I’ve got you, baby,” he echoes his prior sentiment, flying as fast as he can with the cloth-mask and Omni-Man wannabe hot on his tail.

A familiar red glove catches Mark’s leg, snapping it easily. Mark screams, his teeth grinding as he pivots his other leg directly into the variant’s face, no doubt breaking his nose before he crashes into the cloth-masked Mark, who yells obscenities as the two of them crash into the city below.

Finally, silence settles between the two of you. Heavy with confusion. Heavy with fear.

“What the hell was that…” You cling to him, trembling like a newborn fawn in his hold.

“I—I don’t know.” He buries his nose in your neck as he lowers into a desolate field miles away from any civilization, breathing in your comforting scent beneath the smell of iron and ash that seem to cling to your skin while he settles against a tree. The field is peaceful; untouched by the destruction that plagues the rest of the world.

“...What about Eve and the others?” You hesitate, palms hovering over his broken leg to do your best to put the limb back together. The bone melds back together grotesquely, it's disgusting snap a sound you think you’ll never get used to.

“Eve slipped away before things got ugly. I’m not too sure about the others…” He lets out a low hiss, his fingers digging into the ground when his skin gets pulled tautly back into place. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I won’t let them get to you, not as long as I’m still breathing, alright?”

“Okay,” you breathe out, collapsing into his chest as you try not to think about everything you’ve lost in such a short amount of time. He kisses your forehead gently, leaning back against the tree for only a moment of respite.

“Aww, what a cute sight.” A patronizing voice overhead has both of you snapping your heads to the sound. Clad in yellow and black with a billowing cape behind him, this version of Mark sneers, his gaze looking between you and Mark. His brows raise beneath his mask, lips forming something akin to a sadistic grin. “Well, well, well. You’re looking a bit different here, aren’t you, [Name]?”

Shit.

Soon enough you were growing impatient, knowing at any moment family could knock at your door for some random inconvenience. With that said, you lifted the toy from your breast, lowering it down between your legs. It always took a moment for you to align the hole with your clit, eyes squinting as if trying to visualize the perfect angle.

But the moment you got it, the moment you felt those delicious vibrations right against your sensitive bud, you let out the softest moan, legs opening more as the pleasure grew.

Your finger pressed into the button, amping the power up to its second level, strong vibrations thrumming right against your clit. Your legs began to squeeze shut, hurried breaths falling from your lips as you began to etch closer to your orgasm.

You wanted to personally thank whoever thought of vibrators. As pathetic as that sounded..

Your head knocked back against your pillows, the tightening cord in your stomach nearly snapping when a familiar sound entered your ears.

“Babe, oh man— I gotta tell you what this gu—..”

In a flash you felt that pleasure melt from your body, your eyes peering open to spot your one and only Markus Grayson standing in your bedroom in all his glory. His glory being that godforsaken supersuit and the stupidest grin on his features.

Which only seemed to deepen the moment his eyes trailed down your body.

Curse you for forgetting to close and lock your window.

“What’s this?.. Having fun without me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, yelping as wind flew past you far too quickly. Mark was a blur for a moment before he stood still beside your bed, currently inspecting something in his hand.

You quickly realized that it was your vibrator, under his inspection.

“The fuck is this..”

“It’s—“ You moved to your knees, reaching out for it, only for him to hold his hand higher, cackling to himself. You gave an aggravated huff, hands dropping to your thighs.

“— a vibrator.. It’s a vibrator.” You murmured, trying to ignore the tinge of shame invading your form. Of course, the two of you have talked about masturbation, but toys were a different story. You’ve heard plenty of horror tales of men growing angry at their women for using them in the first place.

All that ego man stuff.. blah, blah, blah. And as much as you loved Mark, he was a man.. with a ridiculously big ego.

Your eyes slowly trailed up his body back to his face, watching the way an unrecognizable glint developed in his dark eyes. His gloved fingers tapped against the toy, fiddling with the settings, turning it off and on completely.

“A vibrator huh?..” Mark hummed, more to himself than you, gaze switching between the vibe and your features for a moment before a devious smirk pulled his lips.

Before you could think Mark was moving closer, using a hand to push you back onto the bed whilst the other went for your legs, tugging them open.

“Let me try.” The grin on his face deepened, reaching down with the toy towards your center. Clumsily, he forced the hole upon your swollen clit, eyes flicking back to your features as he amped up the vibrator.

Your hands clenched, lips parting once more to release a sharp moan. You weren’t alone anymore, released from the mercy of slowly building yourself up. No, Mark had selected one of the highest setting without a care, pressing it right against your already sensitive clit. Your legs threatened to close, hands falling to the bed and gripping your bedsheets tight.

“Ma—mark.. baby please— turn it down..” You whined out, gasping the moment you felt him twist the toy a little, the vibrations hitting your swollen bud at a different angle. Droplets of arousal trickled from your hole that fluttered around nothing, sliding down to your taint.

“Aww.. can someone not handle the little toy?” Mark mocked, twisting the little machine once again and giggling to himself at the high-pitched moans that escaped you. He rose himself high, face hovering close to your own whilst resting on a forearm.

“C’mon baby, you’ve had bigger! Don’t wimp out on me now.”

You couldn’t even dare to reply, far too focused on that band ready to snap in your stomach. Struggled gasps and moans continued to escape, as your legs tightened around his arm— as if trying to decide to push him away or keep him there.

Your decision was null the moment you came, hips rising into the air as you made a mess of his hand and your beloved toy. Your stomach ached, clit feeling raw from all the attention. Your body rested back onto your bed, attempting to calm yourself after your release.

Only to realize the vibrator was still stuck securely to your clit, not having moved an inch despite your orgasm.

You quickly back to fuss, reaching down at your partner’s wrist whilst a strangled, “Ma—mark, let me breathe..” escaped you.

But he didn’t budge, even pulling himself back to his haunches, keeping his one hand steady on the toy whilst the other went for your wrists, securing them into a tight single-handled hold right against your stomach.

“Oh, [Name], I’m not done. I wanna see what else this little thing can do.”

With two more presses, the vibrator was now thrumming at its highest setting, the sound of it on your sloppy cunt nearly echoing over your music— second to the whines and moans that you released.

Your mind was going blank, the pleasure teetering between bliss and pain in one fluid motion. Unlike the Viltrumite before you, you were only human— your stamina not being able to keep up at all. It was growing torturous the longer the toy played at your clit, yet you couldn’t escape. Even as you attempted to move your hands, Mark wasn’t budging an inch— nor was he fazed by the twitching of your legs, eyes so trained on your pussy he was currently tormenting.

It’s not as if Mark had an issue with you using the toy. Not at all, he found it quite amusing actually; you attempting to find pleasure in such a measly device— that couldn’t even began to compare to him at all. It was truly entertaining watching you struggle to keep yourself together, your moans and cries for mercy music to his ears after an already eventful day.

The man had things to share with you, like some idiot that tried to attack him from behind— however that could wait, until after he was satisfied with examining the limits of this little device.

“Such a fucking mess, you’re ruining my gloves, babe.” As cocky as ever, voice clear and loud so you could hear through the blur of your mind. You wanted to cuss at him, maybe tell him to fuck off and wipe that little smirk off his face. But you couldn’t— physically anyway, given any words were turning to jumbled mush that the man couldn’t make out.

Mark even had the nerve to tilt his head, pushing his ear a little closer towards you.

“Huh? What? You say something— I couldn’t hear it over all that moaning and whining of my name.”

If your hands were free you would smack him, but now you could only whine louder, trying your best at an annoyed pout, eyebrows clenched close together.

Mark quickly caught on, laughing to himself as he slowly moved the vibrator in circles on your clit, watching that anger dissolve from your face so quickly. Your eyes were glossy at this point, even rolling back to meet your skull as the pleasure thundered through your body.

And as quickly as it started, your second orgasm came even quicker; erupting from your body in shaky spasms. Your voice was etching on hoarse at this point, seeing white for a moment as you came undone so harshly it began to ache.

Your lover let out a boisterous sound, eyes trained on your messy cunt, your arousal trailing down to the bed, making a little pool of slick.

You panted heavily, struggling to keep your eyes open as they slowly lifted to Mark.

“Mark..” You were able to release, attempting to move your arms again, only to feel his hold tighten. You cried out, wiggling about in desperation.

“Ma—mark! Turn it off— fuck!” Tears of overstimulation were threatening to spill at this point, and in one swift motion you somehow were able to flip onto your stomach, scooting away from the man quickly.

Your face pressed against the bed for a moment, before turning to the side, releasing heavy breaths as your heart pounded against your chest. So focused on calming down, you couldn’t hear anything behind you at all.

Not the sound of Mark chuckling to himself.. his hands moving against his body, or even his clothes falling to your carpeted floor.

You hadn’t realized a thing until a familar hand was locking around your ankle, basically dragging you towards the edge of the bed and up onto your knees.

You rose to your hands, mouth open and ready to practically yell at him until you felt two things. His length prodding at your entrance, and that blasted toy finding your abused clit once again.

In one swift motion Mark was thrusting inside, leaving you unable to adjust with the vibrations buzzing against your swollen bud. Your hands nearly give out, nails digging into the fabric as tears began to stream down your chubby cheeks.

You could no longer form a single coherent sentence, voice switching between hurried gasps and a mush of his name, tangled with the loudest moans. Soon enough you felt his hips move, a bruising pace being set inside you, with little care for your overly sensitive pussy.

You felt Mark move, coming to rest his chest against your back whilst wrapping his arm around your body, leading his hand to gently grab your face— a completely contrast to how he has been ruining you for the past forty-five minutes.

“What a crybaby.. can’t even think straight can you, huh?” His lips pressed right up against your ear, hips flicking back and forth as he fucked you with no remorse. The corner of his mouth twitched, truly entertained by your reactions. The sweet wails you were releasing, the way your pussy clenched and clenched around his length, and how shaky your entire body was overall.

You sniffled and whined, hearing your love cooe as he slid his thumb over your skin. Once again, the only gentleness he’s shown you since he flew in.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? All this attention you’re getting, greedy little pussy..” Mark began to drill into you, now being the only thing keeping you sitting upright at this point. “Can barely handle me, yet you go out and buy this toy— isn’t that funny, baby? Hm?”

The man spoke to you so easily, fully expecting you to reply to the best of your ability. But you were only releasing whimpers, completely lost to the feeling that flipped between pain and pleasure.

Mark chuckled at this, pressing the toy just a bit harder against you.

“Guess you’re too fucked out to speak, huh?”

That was an understatement, truly. The word itself didn’t exactly describe how you felt. Your entire body was trembling, the two sensations of his dick and your toy eliminating any logical thinking inside your brain. You couldn’t care less about being too loud for your family or even neighbors, no, your entire focus collected into a single point, the orgasm that was rushing towards you extremely fast.

A mix of encouraging words and mockery was being purred right into your ear, followed by quick laughter with every cry you let out. Mark always enjoyed pushing your limits, especially in the bed room.

You were human, sure, but he didn’t care. He simply loved watching you struggle to keep up with anything he did, acting so cruelly only to praise you later on. A never ending cycle that he didn’t plan to change anytime soon.

“Clenching me like a fucking vice, you’re about to come aren’t you?” He questioned, fucking into you so deeply, his tip prodding against that spongy spot that caused stars to intrude your vision. The man listened to your whine, deciding to take it as approval to his previous question.

Mark grinned to himself, pulling back and allowing your body to land on the bed. Instead his free hand gripped your hip lifting you just enough to drill into that same spot perfectly.

“Go on then, come— soak the sheets while you’re at it.”

Your fingers dug into the bed, reduced to babbles as your sheets became soaked from your arousal, sweat, and tears. With blurry vision and muffled hearing you came undone, a prolonged bellow of his name escaping your aching throat. You jerked and jolted, making a mess of his cock and the bed beneath— just like he hoped.

The man’s hand smoothed across your ass, clearly soothing you as those sweet praises from his lips, continuing to chase his own orgasm. Moments passed before his hips stuttered, his load spilling into you, some trickling out from your stuffed hole.

You breathed heavily, feeling your body relax the moment the man pulled out and removed the still buzzing vibrator from your clit. You melted into the bed completely, caring less for the smell of sex and soaked blankets beneath you. Your legs trembled from the aftershocks, eyes closed as you attempted to catch your breath— and with that being your entire focus, you basically jumped out your skin the moment Mark’s hand fell to your thigh.

The man laughed, smoothing his fingers across your heated skin.

“Relax, I’ve finished my little test.. for now.”

“You’re..” You struggled to say, moving your head a little to glance back at your boyfriend. “— such a dick.”

The man grinned back at you, hands gliding up to your ass to grip whilst coming to hover over you, planting a kiss against your shoulder.

Your tone is confused when you speak again, “what the fuck does that mean? direct from the source?”

Mohawk pulls back, eyes meeting yours, his hands moving from your hips to cup at your face, one thumb tracing the line of your jaw, the other smoothing over your eyebrow, “god — forgot how fuckin’ pretty you are,” he’s still looking at you like you’re something to be worshipped, “listen, babe, I’ve got these girls back home who may or may not look like Eve — but I make ‘em smell like you. Make ‘em use your body wash, shampoo, perfume — everything I could find in that bathroom of yours.” His look turns thoughtful, “it’s never the same though.”

You feel insulted, disgusted and despite yourself, pissed off, “oh — you think I’m pretty but you found girls that look like Eve? That’s real fucking smooth, you fucking asshole.” You use the way he startles at your scolding to get away from him, jerking your head free haphazardly, “Jesus Christ — like I needed someone else to step on my fucking self confidence.”

Mohawk looks panicked at your outburst for a second— you feel a gross amount of smugness about that, and then you turn to leave with a roll of your eyes.

“it — it’s not like that, baby.” He’s chasing after you on the ground, “they’re nothing, promise. I just couldn’t do that to you— to her. I wanted to remember you how you were!”

You don’t stop, you stay steady and keep moving away from him. Begrudgingly, you’re making your way back towards your Mark.

Your hands shoot up when you notice he’s looking down at you, “Is your offer to get me out of here still standing? I’m ready to leave! Right now!”

You watch as all the variants turn their gazes towards you — fuck. This was so fucking stupid of you to do.

You’re sure it’s a sight, you trying to wave down Mark fucking Grayson, the real one, who is subsequently fighting off three other versions of him and then there’s another him— the one with the Mohawk— looming over your shoulder. This is fucking ridiculous.

Your Mark doesn’t hesitate, he’s on the ground in front of you before you can blink, hand outstretched, tone relieved, “yes — yeah, of course it is.”

The taste of resentment is bitter in your throat when your fingers brush against Mark’s.

You’re too slow.

Mohawk has his hand around Mark’s wrist, twisting it away from you before you can bring yourself to fully grasp his hand, “you’re not taking her from me, you weak fucking traitor.”

The nerve you lost when you were alone with Mohawk suddenly rears its head, “uh — yes, he fucking is.”

You’re scowling at Mohawk, watching as he smiles, “yeah? you think I’m going to let you go again?” Your gaze flickers to the other versions, landing in a wide circle around the three of you before lingering back on him, “you didn’t let me go, asshole,” you pause for a second, “you let me get killed over some fucking pussy.”

Your Mark winces at your tone, Mohawk licks his lips, eyes turning hot, “so fuckin’ mouthy, aren’t you baby? You’re fucking right, should have just stayed with you— bet you would’ve given me the best pussy I’d ever have.”

You’re almost snarling at him when another voice, still Mark’s but different, cuts through, “That’s enough.”

It’s the one in the full Viltrum uniform, closing the distance between the three of you, “She is permitted to leave if that’s what she wants.”

You aren’t paying attention anymore, you’re too busy looking past them. No — oh god, no. Is that? It is. You’re speaking before you can stop yourself, “Lily?”

Her little head snaps straight towards you, echoing your name back at you like a prayer. She looks terrified of the men surrounding you. You can only imagine what she’s seen. It’s your neighbor.. no, calling her just your neighbor doesn’t feel right— it’s your friend’s sweet little girl, alone and far too close to whatever fighting was just happening.

————

Lily is covered in soot, gripping her favorite little bunny in one fist like it’s the only thing keeping her safe. You’re pushing past all of the variants before you can think, movements quick and terrified, “where’s your mom, honey?”

Her tiny hands are reaching up for you and you don’t hesitate, leaning down and wrapping her up to keep her close to your chest. Lily sniffles in your arms, whimpering against your neck, “she was inside.”

You begin to scan the area. You’d been lucky. You weren’t home when your apartment building collapsed. You want to scream at the implication of what that means for Lily’s mother— your fucking friend, the only friend you’d managed to make and keep after the attack on your life.

Lily begins to cry and with her, so do you.

“Awwwwh — isn’t that sweet?” You stiffen, teary-eyed and furious when you turn to look at the one with the Mohawk, “is this funny to you?” You’re serious when you ask. You want to hear him say it — show you the monster you know has been biting under the surface this whole time.

He doesn’t get the chance, your Mark makes his move the moment you turn and he sees the ugly amount of tears on your face— you’re sniveling like he’s never seen before, sobbing and gasping as you hold the girl you’d called Lily.

There’s something broken there, right beneath the surface of your brave facade, Mark’s strong best friend, the love of his life — but there’s something that shatters in you when when you hear Lily cry harder. You try to stop crying— try to swallow the sobs and Mark feels useless when you suck in deep breaths, determined to stop and do something to get Lily to safety.

He, your Mark, notes the quiver in your hands as you fight against yourself— against the fear he knows you feel to your fucking toes as you’re stared down by four other fucking crazy hims. You’re backing away from them, slowly, like you don’t want to set them off.. and the one in the yellow cape? He’s too close.

Mark won’t let anything happen to you— not again. Your Mark needs you safe, alive— even if you hate him.

With a roar of desperation you don’t think you’ve ever heard from your Mark, he uses his full might to wrench free of Mohawk’s grip, driving a fist into the variant’s face before you can even register it hitting. And then so suddenly you hardly see him move, he’s on the one in the yellow cape, dragging him backwards, away from you.

Mark’s voice echoes loud— desperate and sure, a quivering call of your name followed by, “Go! Right now!”

It’s all you need. Your tears are fully dried up.

You can save her.

You tuck Lily closer and sprint away.

————

You do it again.

You make the same mistake of watching your feet instead of the sky. You hear him before you see him, “You are going to get hurt.” Your head snaps up and you skid to a stop, keeping Lily tucked so she can’t see him, can’t worry about what he might do to the two of you.

It’s the one in the Viltrum uniform and dispite yourself, you’re practically foaming at the mouth with rage at the implication he’s making, “is that a fucking threat?”

He’s stares down at you, stoic and sure, “No.” You stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate, “It is an observation.”

Your lips are curling up at him already, “Fuck you!” You turn and head the opposite direction, thinking quick on your feet about the bank, more specifically, the vault in the bank. It should be close— you bet that if you get Lily there she can hide until rescue teams make their way through.

You know he’s following, you can see his shadow on the ground next to you, “listen, fucker — I already had a stalker, I don’t need another one!”

Viltrum isn’t phased by your name calling or your tone, instead he’s looking around for threats and keeping his pace steady with yours, “I am just making sure you get where you are going safely.” You scowl, but keep moving, breathing a sigh of relief when the bank comes into view. You grin up at the variant, more proud than you should be in the situation, one hand motioning to the bank, “I can handle myself just fine.”

You note the thick difference— the shift in his tone, “I have heard that from you once before… It was not true.”

You blink up at him, suddenly feeling how tired you truly are, but you don’t stop moving— you can’t, “Am I dead where you’re from too?” He doesn’t answer — not with words but you can see the shift in his jaw, the way his hand twitches.

He’s flying away before you can push for an answer.

You step into the bank, working through the rubble until you make it to the far side — the vault, finally. You brush at Lily’s hair to comfort her, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her dusty head, before letting her down and guiding her by the hand deeper, “Go on in, honey.”

She does, squeezing under the table closest to her, “You’ll be safe here, okay? You stay here and you don’t move until you hear me come back.” And Lily, sweet Lily — she’s so brave when she answers, “Okay, I’ll stay here.”

You want to squeeze her, kiss her, stay with her — but you have to keep moving. You have to find your Mark.. and maybe help some other people make it to the safety of the vault on the way.

————

Viltrum hits the ground next to you the moment you step out of the ruins, “This block is secure — no fires or imminent threats. She will be safe.” You nod, mouth dry as you settle against a steady piece of rubble. You just need to rest.

All the walking has made the pain in your bad ankle flare. You promise yourself you’ll rest for just a moment.

He’s still there, close by, closer than he should be— staring at you, but not in the uncomfortable way Mohawk was. He has the lingering look of wanting to worship you but there’s something else, something almost akin to shame.

“Was I killed there too?” You break the heavy silence, fingers rubbing at the scar on the ankle that was once stomped to shatters, the one that still causes you trouble when it’s cold or raining. The one that aches when you lay down every night.

“Yes.” It’s simple enough but you can’t help the curiosity, “You weren’t there?”

Viltrum looks utterly miserable now, like he dreads his answer, stoic expression breaking to show something that’s almost disgust at himself, “I did not make it in time to save you.” Your head tilts, “another woman?” He looks even more disgusted now, “No. Never.”

“What happened then?”

He moves closer, eyes trained on where you’re rubbing at your ankle, like he can’t bare to look you in the eyes when he says it, “Anissa. A Viltrumite.”

You look up at him in confusion, “I thought you said there wasn’t another woman.” His gaze finally levels with yours, “She was not ‘another’ woman. She was nothing but dirt on the bottom of my boot. You were the only woman I ever wanted— and she thought taking you from me before I could confess to you would make me open to fathering a child for her.”

“Did it?”

“No. I killed her. I put my fist through her chest and listened to her gasp and plead for mercy.”

You’re unnerved by how simple Viltrum says it but you don’t show it. You test your ankle and it twinges under your weight. You can’t suppress the wince, the way you grasp for something to grip to steady yourself— and almost instantly, Viltrum is by your side, hands stretched to catch you if you fall, “You are hurt.”

You scowl at him, swatting his hands away as you adjust through the pain, “It’s nothing fresh… When,” you swallow hard, trying to fight through the memory, the very thought of it happening to you, “When I was attacked — he broke my ankle, stomped on it until it was mush, just so I couldn’t run from him again. It took four surgeries and a metal rod, but at least I can walk.”

You don’t want him to see the quiver of fear in your jaw at just the very memory of what happened to you. Instead, you look up— but you know he can tell you’re terrified of that memory by the rush of your blood, the patter of your heart in your chest— the way you’ve closed off from him. You’re trying to hide. From the pain, from the fear and you? You can tell he wants to hold you by the hover of his hands. You don’t— won’t let him. He knows that. He backs away, opting to instead watch the way your eyes move.

You’re scanning the sky, watching for any sign of your Mark. You seem him, distantly. He’s currently being strangled by the one dressed like Omni-Man and you can’t help but to wince at the sight.. despite the sick pleasure in your gut you know you shouldn’t feel.

You remember what hands squeezing around your throat feels like and you know it doesn’t hurt him as much as it did you.. but still. You can’t help the satisfaction.

You turn away quickly, looking to Viltrum, “why’re you guys here anyways?”

He doesn’t— hasn’t, looked away from you, almost like he doesn’t want to look anywhere else out of fear of you not really being there, like you might vanish if he turns away, “To conquer.”

You want to roll your eyes at the simplicity of his answer, but you don’t. Your gaze is drawn to the crumbling roof across the street. The variant with the yellow cape is perched there, statuesque in posture. It’s instant, Viltrium tears his gaze tears away from you, and he moves to shield you from the new, visor covered gaze.

“Sinister,” Viltrum’s tone is clipped. You note the hostility in his tone. He’s on edge. In response, Sinster’s tone is coy and teasing when he speaks, and his grin is nothing but teeth, “I was wondering where you went, soldier boy.”

When Viltrum doesn’t respond, Sinister continues, shifting his weight on the rooftop, “You’re trying to steal the girl?”

Your peer from behind Viltrum, bracing your hand against his back to stand on your tiptoes— you choose to ignore the sharp intake of breath and the tilt of Viltrum’s head to look at you like you’re holy because you’re touching him.

You’re still determined to look, despite the voice in your head telling you not to. You do, you fucking look — and you make what you think is eye contact with him, Sinister. That name fits.

He sends a chill down your spine you can’t explain— a chill that shoots deep into your bones, one that’s gross and heavy and itching under the heaviness of his gaze.

You can’t see his eyes— but you can feel them, observant and cruel.

He reiterates, still speaking to just Viltrum but this time— this time, it’s something less coy, something more vicious, like he’ll kill the variant you’re hiding behind if the answer is incorrect in his mind, “I asked you if you’re trying to steal my girl, Viltrum…?”

VILTRUMITE MARK:

the only reality where reader ended up being treated like a queen and not a prisoner lmfao 😭

i imagine that batsis stayed with the al ghuls in this reality, and got raised as heir by ra's. damian probably surrendered to being her right hand and bodyguard, and when eventually the pit stops working for ra's and he dies, the league passes down to her.

as the shadows were probably the only humans prone to surrendering to the viltrumites, seeing as they recognised their power and how useless fighting back would've been, i like to think that viltrumite mark immediately got interested in batsis!reader. mostly because you volunteered to take over the planet with the league in his stead as a show of loyalty LMAO.

girly you wanted that place in the empire BAD. the viltrumites propose to end world hunger and the environmental crisis in weeks when ra's didn't manage to do so in 800 years, so what if a few thousand (maybe millions) of people have to die? they're not your monkeys anyway...

in this universe, the reader isn't the one we know, as she's probably died multiple times and is thus stronger thanks to the effects of the lazarus pit. hence viltrumite mark, completely oblivious that her strength is absolutely explainable, thinking that her unnatural ability and her utter agreement to the viltrumite cause must be signs from the universe that she's the mate the universe designated for him.

honestly, nothing about your relationship would ever be considered normal, but you guys are just freaky like that. you like the idea of having a half-viltrumite offspring to bring on the league's heritage for thousands of years when you'll inevitably succumb to ra's' same fate (hence see your relationship, and later on marriage by the league's laws, as more of a deal rather than anything else) while mark might just actually be kinda interested in you aside from the whole baby-making quest.

while all of this is happening on earth, on viltrum thragg calls for an emergency meeting with the other soldiers because?? why tf is their best soldier worrying about procreating instead of conquering the planet like he was asked to??

MOHAWK MARK:

bro actually hates you so much that you're like that one itch he never managed to scratch.

until he just kills you off ofc ❤️ then proceeds to spend the rest of his life trying to make women around him resemble you as much as possible because AT LEAST YOU MADE HIM FEEL SOMETHING. it seems this guy doesn't get the difference between sexual frustration and pure unadulterated hate, and the girls around him dressed up as you aren't even half the person you used to be. this could've been a good enemies to lovers but he just HAD to kill you.

so, that's just great. now he's got a harem of bad pretenders and actresses and he doesn't feel anything but vague indifference towards all of them.

don't tell this dude you're still alive in the main universe pls.

SINISTER MARK:

he's like that one manager who's kinda creepy and most certainly a molester that you can't do ANYTHING about.

another universe where reader got raised by the league! here, ra's was still alive when invincible and omni-man started to take over the world, and again, sided peacefully with the viltrumites, trying to ignore the way the guy absolutely wasn't even listening to him but instead staring into your soul.

sinister mark agrees not to obliterate nanda parbat and all the league with it - on one condition. that he gets to have you.

ra's isn't amused with the request at all. you're his heir, after all, his first grandkid and his best soldier- what is he supposed to do without you? but then again, it's not like any of you have much of a choice. he'll either have you willingly or he'll just take you, and the lot of you figure that going without a fight will be better for both you and the league's sake.

but life with the guy is no joke.

on the way to viltrum (because of course he just HAD to uproot your entire life) you figure that you'll go mad before you even set foot on the planet because the guy. is. crazy. and your grandfather is ra's al ghul, for fuck's sake - so you'd say you've seen some things in your life - but he's just on a whole other level, and not the good kind. let's not forget that this guy literally eats people lmao.

you technically can't escape, seeing as he could obliterate the entirety of nanda parbat with a kick, but that doesn't mean you don't try. every subtle attempt is blocked by the man himself, and while he never manages to get you to admit that you were actively trying to escape, that doesn't mean he can't lock you up in your room for weeks after... just in case.

viltrum is brutal on you. the other viltrumites never seemed to care that you were more fragile than them, and mark cares just enough not to let them do unrepairable damage to you because that's HIS job.

being raised the way she was, i honestly doubt reader would've lasted much in such a humiliating environment. she probably made sure to end it for good as soon as a food knife ended up in her hand.

sinister mark? he was just mad he didn't get to kill you first ngl

OMNI-MARK:

so what if for once it wasn't the league to raise reader, but bruce? :D

in this universe batsis ends up being much softer and kind, and probably has no warrior training whatsoever aside from the self defence lessons her father insisted on giving her. i like to think that onmi-mark and her got together young and were high school sweethearts, and when he killed omni-man and took over the planet, she convinced herself that it was just a fluke - that the boy she'd known for years just had enough of his father and took matters into his own hands.

because with you, he's as he always was. attentive, caring, gentle - sure, once or twice or a few times he was a little too rough and sometimes he raises his voice when not needed to, but so what? everyone has bad days.

even with the whole planet-conqueror thing, he makes it work. the two of you get married in a wedding that couldn't be described as anything but normal - aside from the fact that the father of the bride had to avoid trying to kill the groom because that would've been terribly suicidal - and afterwards he makes sure that you have a nice house, not too big like the manor but not too little, either.

it has a nice yard for your future kids to play in and enough space for you to worry about the decor instead of the morality of it all. nevermind that all the neighbors turn out to be working under your husband and casually just forgot to ever tell you.

soon enough, you're pregnant, and your baby boy ends up looking so much like his father that you wonder if he just used you as an incubator for his clone or something. hopefully he won't turn out like him, tho. bruce is already trying to get you out of a situation that is doomed to fail, and he does not need another manipulator in the equation.

MASKLESS MARK:

the only one with no interest in reader aside from being friends with her.

another batsis who grew up with bruce! you guys met in high school and became fast friends alongside william, and you were also the first one to notice the chemistry between them.

soon it became rare to see mark without you or william around and vice versa - so much so that the teachers are pointing out your friendship at parent meetings, empathizing how rare a bond like yours is.

if mark knows something, it's a given you know it too. at some point words aren't even needed anymore, and a glance is all you guys need to understand what's happening. it's uncanny, really.

but like in most universes, unfortunately, things just have to go downhill.

when mark gets his powers and nolan explains viltrum's true intentions to him, he fights his father. he tells him that he's got friends, people he loves - a vaguely normal future ahead of him that doesn't entail becoming part of a colonial empire built on heinous acts like genocides and planet obliterations.

so nolan proceeds to do the only thing that comes to his mind - he destroys that future while mark, beaten to an inch of his life, isn't able to do anything. first, william. then, eve. last, you.

nolan holds a hand around debbie's neck and tells mark that unless he changes his idea about the empire right now, his mother will follow the 'other insects' to the grave. and mark's already seen too much death to try denying him again.