The room was a mess. The bed creaked under the frantic rhythm you were setting, your hips moving with reckless abandon. You’d never felt more alive—this wasn’t like you; not fitting into the quiet, reserved version of yourself he’d come to know. This was something else.

And Mark was eating it up, his eyes burning with dark, primal excitement as he lay back with his hands behind his head, fully relaxed but completely obsessed with the sight of you.

“Yeah, babe, fuck yeah!” he shouted, his voice thick with lust, practically buzzing with excitement. “That’s it! That’s how you do it! You look so fucking good like this. Go harder, don’t hold back, babe, I wanna see you lose it.”

Mark wasn’t just into this. He was thriving, watching you like the goddamn Super Bowl — except the MVP was you, on top, riding him like you owned him.

“OH my god—yes, yes, that’s what I’m TALKING ABOUT!” he yelled, voice echoing off the walls, like you were hitting home runs instead of grinding down on him so hard his abs twitched. “Shy little thing, huh? Where?! I don’t see her anymore—this version? She’s my favorite.”

Your thighs shook, pace relentless even as your breath hitched, lips parted, face glowing with sweat and something far more dangerous — confidence. You didn’t look at him much, still half-embarrassed to meet his eyes even now.

But Mark couldn’t stop staring.

“You feel that?” he groaned, lifting his hips just enough to meet you halfway. “That’s you wrecking me. This is insane. I’m literally being blessed right now.”

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering shut, trying to stay focused as your rhythm wavered under the weight of his praise.

“Ohhh, don’t get quiet on me now, baby—nah, nah, nah—talk to me, moan for me, let me hear that pretty mouth, c’mon—GOD, you’re so fucking hot right now, are you kidding me?!”

He was so hyped it was almost absurd — panting, ranting, eyes wide with disbelief like he couldn’t believe this was real. His arms were still behind his head but twitching now, dying to grab you, help you, worship you. But no. He was loving being your seat, your toy, your audience.

“You’re slamming down like you’re mad at me—are you mad at me, babe? ‘Cause you’re gonna make me fucking cry,” he gasped out, then broke into manic laughter. “Shit! Wait—do it again! That grind? That little twist right at the end? HOLY—yes! YESSSS.”

You whimpered, breath catching as your pace faltered again—but he wasn’t about to let you stop.

“Oh no, don’t you dare stop now—look at me, c’mon—ride it out, ride it all the way down, you’ve got this, you’re doing so good, I swear to god I’m gonna blow just watching you.”

You finally looked down at him, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, and Mark just about lost his damn mind.

“There she is! YESSS, there’s my girl, look at you—on top of the fucking world. Queen shit. Certified. I should be PAYING you right now.”

Your body stuttered—overstimulated, trembling—but you kept going. And he felt it.

His grin snapped into something wicked. His arms finally dropped to grab your hips, not guiding you—just feeling the way you moved, grounding himself while you used him.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, you’re gonna cum, I can feel it—so tight, so wet, baby you are milking me, are you trying to kill me? Is that what this is?” he babbled, delirious now. “Oh my god I love you. Wait—marry me. I’m serious. I’ll give you the moon.”

And when you finally shattered—silently, jaw slack, body stiffening as you came hard around him—Mark practically screamed.

“THAT’S IT! THAT’S MY GIRL! TAKE IT, BABY, FUCKING TAKE IT—”

His hands snapped to your hips, slamming you down as he buried himself deep, coming with a violent groan, his entire body locking under yours. His head fell back, chest rising like he couldn’t breathe, muscles twitching as he emptied into you.

He held you there—still, trembling, connected—until the last pulse faded.

You collapsed against him, shaking and spent, and he caught you immediately, wrapping you up tight, still grinning like a man who just won every lottery ever invented.

“...That was... beyond,” he muttered against your hair, catching his breath. “You just blew my entire fucking mind. I think I blacked out for a second.”

You made a tiny, worn-out noise.

He smiled wider.

—

It was a normal debrief. Supposed to be, anyway.

Cecil was droning on about some black ops mission Mark had technically been assigned to but never showed up for, and a few other heroes were milling around the room. You stayed close to the wall, sipping your coffee quietly, trying very hard to pretend you weren’t being stared at like a snack.

Mark was across the room. Or, more accurately, posing across the room. Back against the wall, arms folded, smirk in full effect, eyes locked on you like you were the only person there.

He hadn't stopped looking at you like that all day.

Your cheeks were already pink, but it got so much worse when he suddenly spoke—loudly.

“You know what’s crazy?”

Everyone turned.

Cecil’s eye twitched. “What now.”

Mark pushed off the wall, casually strolling into the middle of the conversation like he hadn’t just derailed the entire room.

“I just think it’s wild,” he said, grinning, “how someone can be all sweet and quiet in public, but the second they’re on top of you—” You choked on your coffee. Actually, physically choked. “—they go absolutely feral,” Mark finished proudly.

Your soul left your body.

Every head turned to you. Even the intern looked scandalized. Cecil let out the slowest, longest sigh you’d ever heard.

“Oh my god,” you whispered into your hand.

Mark kept going. “Like, I knew she had it in her. I knew. But the dedication? The power? The whole—” he mimed someone slamming down onto a seat, complete with sound effects, “—Boom boom pow, I mean—chef’s kiss. 10/10. Academy Award performance. And the STAMINA? Un-fucking-real. Her thighs were shaking like—”

“MARK!” you hissed, face flaming.

“What?” he said, half-laughing. “I’m complimenting you!”

You were about to melt into the floor.

And that’s when Rexleaned in from two chairs down, elbow propped on the table, face lit up like fireworks.

“Wait, hold up,” he said, pointing at you with his half-eaten protein bar. “You mean quiet girl over here? She was on top?”

Mark beamed. “Oh, on top, in charge, out of body—I was literally just lying there like ‘is this how I die?’ Would’ve been a good way to go out too.”

Rex whistled low. “Shiiiit. Okay. I see you.” He turned to you, eyes dragging way too slow. “Damn, quiet ones really are the freakiest, huh? I knew it.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Rex.”

He didn’t stop. “No no, this is important. For science. So like… did you do the thing where you—”

And then Mark moved.

Slow, calm, still smiling. But the air in the room dropped ten degrees as he crossed the space between them in half a heartbeat and leaned down to Rex’s ear with that same shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

“If your eyes so much as blink in her direction again, I’ll pop your head like a grape,” he whispered casually.

Rex blinked.

“Like—pshhht. Just… juice,” Mark added with a cheerful hand gesture.

Then he clapped Rex on the shoulder, straightened up, and turned back toward you like nothing happened.

You were bright red, half-horrified and half trying very hard not to laugh. “Mark—”

He winked. “Still thinking about last night, baby.”

If you were to ask him who his mother was, Mark wouldn't be able to tell you much. A woman his father met years ago during the first leg of his mission to take control of Earth. Her name was Debbie. He's never seen a photo of her and his father seldom speaks of his life on Earth.

Mark couldn't describe her in any more detail than that. He has no memories of her, soon after his birth his father returned back to Viltrum and took him with him. From then on Mark was raised solely by his father Nolan on the planet Viltrum. Initailly, the mission parameters were like any other takeover. Infiltrate, weaken, and conquest. Nothing a skilled warrior couldn't handle. However, the changed when the something extraordinary was realized, something that would forever change the purpose of Earth in the Viltrum Empire.

The similarities between human and Viltrum DNA were remarkable. The differences between the samples nearly negligible in the grand scheme of things. And how quickly Nolan's mate fell pregnant was a good sign...

Nolan returned with an infant Mark in hand...He did Debbie the grace of keeping the name the pair decided on for the child. Upon further inspection back on Viltrum, it was revleaed that Mark's DNA was found to be nearly 99% like his father's. He was as close to a pure VIltrumite a hybrid could get...That was the only reason Mark was 'welcomed' on the planet.

The validity of Mark's lineage questioned as the years go by, the lack of powers casting doubt in the minds of the other Viltrumites as the boy grows. Each day he'd train, pushing himself to his absolute breaking point, and every night he would retire to his room, his body weak and battered.

From the moment he woke in the morning he would spar with his father, training his techniques as best he could. No enhanced strength, no durability, no healing. Just muscle and power his body built up over years of struggle. Each session more intense than the ones before. Mark didn't heal off the injuries in minuets or even over night, he got up in the morning with the pain from the days prior burning into his memory. No day without pain.

The bruises that painted his skin only getting worse over time, never having a moment to heal. Broken bones barely managing to heal before they were broken again weeks later, if they ever fully healed to begin with. His body held on to every ounce of pain that he was given.

Nolan was a harsh teacher. But he has his reasons...How desperate must a man be to push his son to the brink of exhaustion day in and day out?

He had his reasons...Nolan was given an explicit warning. A word of caution.

If on the day of his eighteenth birthday the boy was still without powers, he would be publicly executed. Mark along with every other Viltrumite on the planet was there when Thragg made the declaration.

The whole planet knew he was on borrowed time.

There's no need for a weak Viltrumite in their empire.

With every passing day that deadline got nearer. There wasn't anything Nolan nor Mark could do to stop the timer as the days ticked by. One by one, the time they had to together ever dwindling with each passing sunset.

When the day finally came that Mark got his powers, it was a relief to the father son duo. Instead of intensive pre-power training, Mark could now start transferring all he's learned and adapt it his new powers. Mark's training wheels were finally off.

Overlooking part of a pseudo-grassy pavilion, Nolan stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his son. Off in the distance, Nolan watched as Mark honed his flying, the boy was fast but untrained. Unrefined. Sloppy. Looked almost like he was p-

"Seems like he's having fun"

The deep voice voice cuts through the otherwise calm moment. Shifting his eyes to the side just enough, Nolan sees Conquest float into his view with his own gaze trained on the young Viltrumite.

"Seems that way."

"Bet you were nervous. Weren't ya?"

"I knew his powers would come in. And if they didn't then it would've been handled."

"Don't pretend you would've been ok with it. I see the way you look at him."

"He's my son, Conquest. Of course I prefer this outcome."

"You can't fool me, Nolan. I've seen it before. You know aswell as I what might happen. Can't get too attached, even to your own."

"I know. And I'm not."

"Sure you're not...But remember, even we can get bleeding hearts. Don't forget that"

It's only a matter of months before Nolan and Mark are sent back to Earth. The next part of their reformed mission underway as the enter the Earth's atmosphere.

"You weren't lying. It really is shockingly similar"

Flying to the left of his father, Mark studies the blue green marble with the smallest hint of curiosity lacing his tone. A soft hum is the only acknowledgment Nolan gives as they approach. Mark fails to notice his father's slowing speed, only realizing Nolan stopped when he failed to hear the rustling of fabric following him.

Stopping just a few feet closer to the planet than his father, Mark turns to face Nolan with a raised eyebrow. Nolan's lips pursed into a line with narrowed eyes as he looks passed Mark, his blue orbs fixed on their destination.

"Father, what's wrong? Aren't we-"

"We are. But...not yet."

Mark straightens his back but relaxes his shoulders as his father speaks. Their mission was conquering this 'under developed' world as part of the Viltrum Empire, under set parameters of course. What his father was explaining to him well within those guidelines, just shocking for Mark to hear.

"You do understand what I'm telling you, don't you?" Nolan's tone low but sincere, his eyes mildly softened as he speaks.

"I...do. But, why? I thought that you said what you had with her was purely advantageous to your mission. I didn't think there was any emotional reason behind it?"

"These people Mark, they...they're the sentimental type. They form these lasting attachments and bonds quickly. I'm sure your mother would like to see you , even after all these years I'm sure she still thinks of you."

"I don't think it's necessary. I don't remember her and I don't know what good it wi-"

"Mark, it...This isn't just for you. I-I wan-Need. To speak with your mother about what happened."

"Why? What will it do?"

"Mark, I always tell you to get ahead of your enemy's attack. Get ahead of and deal with any problem before it is one. This is no different, understood?"

"Yes, sir. I...I do." It's a lie, they both know it. Mark couldn't possibly understand what he means. Viltrumites, his people, the ones Mark was raised with, don't do attachments the likes the kind Nolan is referring to. Neither dares say that out loud, both simply going along with the lie. Nolan comes closer to him. Reaching a hand out, he rests it on Mark's shoulder before a curt nod, patting his son's back once his with other hand before they continue on their path.

The only act of psychical contact besides training he's gotten from Nolan in all these years has been that gesture there. A shoulder grab with one hand or a pat to the back. Nothing more.

It takes no time for the pair to get to their small pit stop, even after all these years Nolan still had the address and the directions committed to memory. Following Nolan's lead, Mark drops down into the backyard and takes a cautious look around. No concern, just simple curiosity as he surveys his surroundings.

"Father, was this where you lived during your time here?"

"Yes, for part of it."

Nolan heads towards the sliding back door, holding his hand out for Mark to stop when he realizes his son is following him.

"Mark, wait out here...Give me a minuet to-to talk things over with your mother. Humans can be delicate and irrational beings...Let me prepare her, first, alright?" Looking back over his shoulder, Nolan tries to bury the emotion in his eyes to little success...Mark sees something in his father's eyes he's never witnessed before.

He can't even put a pin on it, can't find the way to describe the truly foreign look in Nolan's eyes. A sense longing? A twinge of loneliness? A pitiful display of true emotion for the first time...

"Yes, of course..." Stepping back off the porch, Mark settles for walking around the backyard, the lush grass giving under the weight of his body as he explores. Watch catches his eye first is the small partitioned wooden gate that's situated in the middle of the fence at the edge of the yard.

Seeing nothing else that might hold his attention, he approaches and without hesitation pushes it forward. Unlocked, the weathered wood door wings on it's hinges, a low creaking squeal coming from the corner as it opens. Another house similar to his 'mother's' home on the opposite side is the background while his eyes scan the newly opened territory. Hearing a distant slam, his eyes fall to the dwelling when he sees a person exit the home and enter the backyard.

Unaware of the figure lurking, you slip out of your house, flinching as the door closes behind you just a little too roughly for your liking. You head further into your backyard as you stretch your arms above you head and give a light yawn. The familiar squeal of the gate catches your ear. Looking over, you expect to see the gate lazily swinging in the wind, probably because you forgot to lock it after coming back from Debbie's house earlier in the day.

Instead you find a nearly 6 ft teenager in your backyard who is looking at you like you're out of place.

"Gah-ack! Hey! The fuck-who...you?" You stumble over your words, the tray of fresh cookies in your hand nearly sliding out of your grip as you take a quick step back. Whipping your head back to the intruder after you stabilize your hold on the cookies, you glare as the individual looks unphased by your question...Although in his defense, it could've been hard to understand since your words came out jumbled.

"Hey! Who-Who the hell are you!?" You take a few steps back towards your house, ready to run back inside and call the cops if this guy starts acting weird. Well, weirder than he already is...Like seriously, what the hell is this outfit he's sporting...

He doesn't speak, instead he watches you intently before he turns his head back towards Debbie's house. Your eyes follow his and your heart sinks, a sudden swell of panic washing over you as you realize that your neighbor could be in trouble.

"What-what did you do?! Where's Debbie!? Did you fucking hurt her?!" Slamming the tray down on the patio table, you rush off your deck and cross the yard in a hurry, no longer worried about this guy. Your only focus is on her. You get only about 10 feet from him before he looks back over to you, your approaching form nonthreatening as he ponders what might be being said in the other house.

"She's fine. Her and my father are talking"

You stop mid-step when you hear that, a small blush crossing your cheeks when you realize you may have overreacted and jumped the gun. Hand coming up to rub the back of your neck, you offer a weak apologetic smile as you look up at the male. He couldn't be much older than you, the strong features present on his face still holding a youthful look.

"Oh, sorry about that..I didn't mean to imply anything! It's just your uh-I mean you just...Uh..." You trail off as you give a quick glance down at his attire before you shake your head and look back up to his face. Watching you carefully, he says nothing and just lets you stumble through your apology, as unnecessary as it is.

After introducing yourself, you inquire about him, still more than a little confused at his sudden appearance and rather odd clothing choice.

"So...you are? Also, why did you wander my backyward? Kinda rude honestly." You let out a small chuckle, trying to be playful while still rooting around for some answers.

"Markus. My father told me to wait outside while he talked with mother."

"Markus! Nice! Do you go by Mark...? Wait..."

The gears in your head start turning, you remember what Debbie told you years ago...She had a son named Mark but he disappeared years ago with her husband...

"Are-are you...You said your dad is in there talking to your mom but that means...is your-is your mom Debbie?! Are you!-Holy shit!!"

You nearly squeal in delight, bouncing on your heels when you finally piece things together. Pulling yourself together quickly when you see the shocked, almost disgusted look splay itself over Mark's face at your reaction, you calm down, or try to, as you look up at him expectantly.

"Ok-Ok! Hold on...Is your mom Debbie? Are you her son Mark?! Like, little baby Mark that had big ole brown eyes when he was born?!"

Standing on your tip toes, you lean up to get a better look at his eyes. The color is a little lighter than the picture's you've seen, but it's fairly close. He rears back when you get a little too close, not even sure why he's done it. He's never reacted in such a way before when someone gets in his personal space, so why...why did he just do it now?

"Yes, 'Debbie' is my mother-"

Another excited squeal leaves you, your hands coming out to grab his arm happily before you speak.

"That's amazing! Come on! she-she needs to see you! Have you seen her yet, I bet she's so happy! Come on!" You try to tug him in the direction he came, your hands wrapped around his muscled arm but he remains unmoving. You turn back at him, your eyes soft while your lips are parted slightly, your brows furrowed as you look up at him confused. Your face showing the softest expression he's ever seen a sentient creature make...

"What's wrong? Don't you want to see your mom? I know she misses you."

He says nothing but he looks down at your hands on his arm, your grip is weak and unimpressive. He could easily break out of your hold but yet he remains there, the most gentle way someone's laid hands on him his whole life and he can't bring himself to free his arm.

Why? Why won't he pull his arm back from you? If he could, he'd be boring holes into your hands, his gaze unwavering as he subconsciously burns the memory of your gentle gesture into his mind. Your left hand brushing against the top of his and your right resting on his forearm as you hold him there. He traces over your delicate fingers as they testing run back and forth on his sleeve, the fabric assuredly foreign to you. His hand races and wanders...so much that they only thing that breaks him from his thoughts is the sudden recoil of your hands from his arm.

He quickly raises his gaze up at you at the sudden loss of your touch, his eyes widening slightly as his eyes meet yours. You have the same look in your eyes his father had before he went inside. That near glossy, low hued and sorrowful look...Like your heart is about to break just from looking at him. He can feel the smallest most minimal heat rising to his cheeks, something up until this point he's never experienced before.

"Are you alright?"

The saccharine voice you ask him in so jarring. It's sweet, calming, and so inviting. It feels...safe.

"I-I...I'm fine..."

"Are you sure? You look...spaced out. You were super lost for a second...Here, lets go sit on the deck, give you a second to rest while your parents talk."

You reach back out to take his arm and he happily lets you, his arm extending out as you to meet halfway. In a moment of weakness, he allows himself to be pulled in the direction of your house. You hold onto him in the same gentle way as before.

Following you up the steps, he sits in the chair you pull out for him as you sit across. He watches you with careful eyes, as in no uncertain terms he just doesn't quiet trust you. The care and compassion shown to a total stranger throwing him completely.

"Oh please! Help yourself! I just baked them..."

You gently slide the plate of cookies towards him while you relax in one of your deck chairs, taking on of them yourself before taking a bite. He accepts and gives a small nod as thanks.

"Your mom actually gave me the recipe. Said that she thought I might like to try it out."

"You sound...close...to her."

"Debbie? Oh, yeah..." Looking down, you kick your shoes against the woodgrain of the porch before you feel his eyes on your body. Lifting your gaze, you see him watching you expectantly, a raised eyebrow practically asking you to continue. But in the back of his mind, he can't help but shake a nagging question plaguing his mind...

Why does he care?

"Well, we moved in when I was like 9. There's no other kids in the neighborhood so I grew up just playing in our backyward. My parents got close with Debbie and she....I dunno. Just became a close family friend! She'd babysit me, we'd have fun together. I didn't know about...everything-" Taking a cursory glance at Debbie's home to detail your point- "until I was a bit older. She said that after you were born, you and your father both went missing. She said it was hard for her to move on but...having a kid next door kind of helped, in a cathartic sort of way, ya know? She just...kind of became part of the family! She cares about us and we care about her! That's just...how it is."

Mark can see the small etching of a smile cross your face as you speak but can't contain the rather rude remark he makes.

"Why?"

"Huh?

"Why? Why do you care?'

"Why wouldn't I? It's human nature....To want friends, family, to care? I think everybody wants to be loved and be cared about, atleast a little."

"Don't you think it's pointless? To care about people even though they'll leave you? Or hate you? Or die?"

"Jeez! Mr.Cynical over here! Damn man, no it's not pointless! It's...it's life! Every human cares about something or someone! People are naturally social! We're basically hella evolved pack animals...We love being with each other...even if some of the shit is bad! We're here for a short time...might as well make friends along the way, yeah?"

Your bright smile and the light giggle that leaves you does something to him. Such utter nonsense coming from you but you manage to make it sound so believable, so understandable...so real. His heart thumps in his chest as he listens to you, the glint in your eyes so bright for just a brief moment.

His eyes quickly shift towards a small bug flying towards him, the instant flinch back making you jump yourself. He raises his hand to swat away the creature but your panicked protests stop him.

"Wait! Don't dont!" You reach across the table and clasp his hand in both ofyours, trying to stop him from killing the small insignificant buggy that lands on his cheek.

"Why? It's on me."

"Mark! It's a ladybug! Those a good luck! Here..."

You move you hand to the side of his face, the back of your fingers gently caressing his cheek as you scoop the ladybug into your hand. You bring it down to table, gently pressing it off your hand before it flies away towards the Grayson house.

"Why did you..."

Bringing a hand up to his cheek, he rubs his fingers over the spot where you gently touched him.

"Don't worry, they don't bite and they aren't dangerous. It's just good luck to say them! I couldn't let you get back luck for killing one, now could I?"

You grin playfully at him, taking another cookie in your hand as you smile. The bright expression on your face, the gentleness of your touch, and the sweet way you've been talking with him almost too much for him to bear.

In such a short time he's learned why...Why Nolan had to see his mother after all these years. What his father meant by 'delicate and irrational', your overly optimistic and compassionate nature juxtaposing his ruthless upbringing...

Why would humans, who are so weak and feeble themselves, strain and exert so much energy to make meaningless, fleeting connections with others?

Simple...

Love.

Love for life. Love for humanity. Love for their fellow man.

You can always feel the strength of someone's love by how softly they speak to you.

The soft look in your eyes, the one fell so hard and so fast for, is one he thought he'd never see again.

An argument erupting next door, you stand up from your seat and Mark floats out of his. His body turning in air to face the back gate he'd come through himself not long ago as it's forced open by a woman screaming and cursing.

"Nolan, I said no! I'm not going with you and-"

Her voice wavers, dropping as she whips her head towards the pair of you. You've backed away from Mark when he lifted himself from his seat, your legs shaking as you move away from him and stare bewildered.

"Oh god, no...."

Mark stays silent as he looks at Debbie, a heated look, one interlaced with pain, fear, and rage as she took the first look of her son she's seen in 17 years.

"Debbie, what's going on!? I don't under st-"

Your panicked state and anxiety riddled question is interrupted by a well built male rising out from the Grayson's backyard and over your fence. Your legs buckling as you fall the ground, completely overwhelmed by the sights you're witnessing.

"I really had hoped with would go differently, Debbie. I really did. Mark, we're done here."

"M-mark?"

Your trembling voice twists something in his chest. His face dropping as he turns back to look at you. Those bright eyes, the ones that had shown nothing but some beautiful spell of light in them the whole time, now looking at him in terror.

"I...I'm sorry...I really am..."

That was the last time he saw you.

Until now.

You had called out his name. In the midst of all the chaos going on in the world. The pure carnage he was apart of spreading. And yet you still called for him.

He never thought he'd get a chance to see you again, but here you are. Right there in front of him.

Slowly descending from the air, he keeps his distance at first, trying to get a read on you. This you. A you he'd not yet hurt. A you he'd never hurt.

"Mark...Are...Are you ok?"

His feet land gently on the ground, a puff of dirt rising into the air before it settles. He doesn't move towards you but he looks at you with sad eyes. Ones that scream hurt, fear, loneliness.

You'd only ever seen Mark this broken before one time, after his fight with Nolan. Your heart broke seeing him like that, your best friend so abused and broken by someone he cared about, someone he still cares about... He might not be your Mark, but he's hurt and scared, and he just needs somebody to care. And he came to you, in all this, he still came for you.

Moving closer to him, you extend your hand and gently brush away a tear that's rolling down his face. Leaning into your touch, he presses his hand against yours to keep you there. His eyes slowly closing, savoring your gentle touch he's been missing ever since that day.

"Mark, hey...Talk to me..." You all but coo at him, speaking so softly as he nuzzles into your touch.

You aren't each other's you.

He isn't yours.

You aren't his.

But in this moment, you're all each other needs.

--------------------------

The house howled, glass splintering as you catch yourself on the counter..as the floor trembled beneath you. Your ears rang. Dust and debris filled your lungs as you gasped.

Then the sound hits you.

Flesh on flesh. Bone on bone. Impact after impact, each one heavy enough to rattle your teeth.

The sound of two godlike beings bashing each other brutally with no signs of stopping.

Your Mark…Your Invincible drove Sinister straight through what used to be your living room, through beams and wiring and dust, until the outside world crashed in around them chaotically. Trees splintered. The ground caved in. Your breath hitched heavily, body shaking with fear and adrenaline—

Pink light snapped into existence around you before anything else could touch and you look behind you to see fiery red hair, and a face you knew well covered in a few scratches and cuts.

Samantha Wilkins.

Atom Eve.

She’s there with you, kneeling and assessing the situation, one hand braced against your lower back to steady you, the other glowing as she steadied the collapsing space.

“I’ve got you,” she says, sharp and grounding. “Stay with me.”

Your breath comes in broken pieces, body shaking. “E-Eve you’re hurt..and the…the baby—”

“I know,” she says. “I’m okay. Right now, you’re okay. And so is the baby…”

Outside, the battle continued.

Sinister Mark didn’t go down easy.

No, of course he wouldn’t.

The first impact had sent him skidding through the yard, carving a trench through dirt and concrete as he hit the base of nearby tree hard…But, in a black and yellow blur, he flew through the air, the heel of his boots slamming into Mark’s chest hard enough to throw him back into the next door neighbors house.

Sinister laughs mockingly as he landed in the wrecked backyard, that shit-eating grin still plastered on his face . Not manic. Not sloppy.

Calculated. Blood poured from his nose and he flicked his tongue out to lick up the liquid before speaking and standing.

“Finally,” he says with a bored droll, rolling his shoulders and clicking his tongue. “You show your pathetic self….im glad the others didn’t finish you off…I’ll do it myself.”

Mark answers by charging him with a snarl.

“Shut the hell up!”

They collide again, sending shockwaves rippling outward, windows shattering down the block. Blow after blow…but it’s obvious Mark can’t keep up even to you. And especially to Sinister. The variant caught Mark’s wrist mid-swing and twisted it with a sickening crunch, using the momentum to hurl him straight through what’s left of the fence, his body hitting the ground hard.

You let out a strangled sound of distress.

Eve’s barrier constricts closer and instinctively around you.

Outside, Sinister stalked forward, black lenses trained on the other. “Man, this version of me is so much slower…so much weaker,” he sneered. “I guess daddy issues and Attachment’ll do that to a guy.”

Mark rockets back at him, driving his shoulder into Sinister’s ribs and surprising the variant before he lifted him up into the air. They slammed into the side of the house again the structure groaning as they tore through it and revealed the front yard and road. Then they were in the air, going at it like wild animals.

Sinister landed hits ….good ones. A knee to Mark’s gut. An hard elbow jab across his jaw that snaps his head sideways and has Mark seeing stars. He fought dirty, ruthless, smiling cruelly the entire time as blood coated his gloved hands and face.

“Come on!! Is that all you can do, boy wonder???”

Marks face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, his suit torn and revealing dark bruises all across his skin. He stood panting and wiping sweat from his brow as Sinister’s smile disappeared and he sneered viciously.

“You don’t get it…do you?” Sinister snarled as he grabbed Mark by his suit, catching him off guard, and drove them down into the street brutally, the road collapsing as he slammed his back into it.

You let out a cry of fear for Mark and Eve held you tighter, trying to come up with a way to escape if …if Mark…

“That control? That’s why you lose…That’s why when I’m done with you I’ll proudly take what’s mine and you’ll be left with nothing. She’ll be MINE again. Because you’re weak. You’re pathetic. Because you’re inferior to me!! “

Mark spits blood, eyes burning with pure, unbridled rage.

At the thought of someone hurting you, his love, his treasure. His entire world.

There were no words that could be conveyed in that moment to properly express how he felt.

He surged forward again, body moving faster than before. Sinister jumped off of him and allowed him to attack again, thinking he’d just win again.

They began to move again, fast, brutal, equal. You could barely track them, just flashes of black and blue colliding with Sinister’s warped yellow and black.

Until equality turned into superiority. Until Mark overpowered Sinister completely, shocking the demented variant as he was forced down into the ground, every strike measured and brutal….no wasted motion, no hesitation. As he was beginning to tire and shake from the pain this dimensions Mark was inflicting on him.

What you were witnessing now wasn’t just unbridled rage. It was pure intent.

Sinister croaked out a wet laugh through a split lip, even as Mark picked him up and slammed his fist into his face hard enough to break in a regular humans skull. Sinister collapsed onto the ground and looked up at the other.

Something sparkled in his eyes as he smiled up at Mark with bloodied teeth. It was like looking in a mirror.

It was recognition and possibly a newfound revelation.

“I see it now…” Sinister coughed and let out another raspy laugh.

“You’re not so far along like the rest of us…it won’t take much for you to snap and become just…like….ME. Maybe we were monsters all along..You won’t be able to pretend forever….ha ha ..ha ha HA HA-“

Mark answered by mounting the other and punching him directly in the nose, bone splintering against his knuckles.

And another.

And another. And another. And another.

Each one landed with sickening finality, smashing into Sinister’s face, down, breaking his nose, his bones, him. Your Mark didn’t speak. He didn’t falter. He didn’t slow.

Seeing this….you realize now, that it was all too much….

And that’s when You feel something warm rush between your shaking legs and your hands flew to your stomach.

Your heart pounds hard and your breath stutters.

“Oh….oh no,” you whisper, terror blooming sharp and bright. You look down, hands shaking.

Your water had broken.

Eve is there,solid, glowing, grounding, hands hovering just long enough to confirm what you already know and she holds you against her.

“Okay,” she says softly but firmly, swallowing slowly . “Okay. Look at me. You’re alright. I’ve got you. You’ll be okay.”

Outside, Mark continued his one-sided massacre.

His rhythm had picked up speed, his face a mask of cold malice.

Each blow dulled Sinister’s confidence.

Each hit steals more of his voice

He gurgled, his blood spraying the ground, the concrete, Mark himself.

You watched through the broken wall, tears falling down your face as you tried to stabilize your breaths..….not from shock now, but from the way Mark fights like there is no universe where he walks away without you.

From how much he looks like his father.

Sinister attempted to weakly stop Mark’s onslaught, his hands raising to shield his face, to push the other off….but to no avail.

His fist continued to come down….

Again.

Again.

Again.

His eyes blazing, his muscles coiled and tensed….

Until the other’s body stopped resisting.

Until his eyes roll back.

Until Mark’s fist hovers, shaking, and then stops.

Overkill…..

Absolute Silence.

Sinister Mark was still beneath him…..somehow not dead….only unconscious, face bruised beyond comprehension , chest barely moving.

Mark didn’t move for a long while.

Eve and You held each other, waiting with bated breath.

Then he stood.

He turned.

The moment his eyes find you…kneeling in Eve’s arms, shaking, clutching your belly……everything drains out of him at once.

He’s inside in a heartbeat, already down on his knees in front of you just as Eve’s Barrier disappears, hands hovering like he’s afraid to touch you wrong, trying to avoid using his bloodied hands.

“I’m here,” he says, voice cracking with raw emotion.

“I’m here, baby….I…I’ve got you.”

You sob as he slowly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest, your hands grippin his suit like it’s the only thing holding you together.

“I saw you,” you choke out, body shaking from your water breaking, from feeling everything so intensely. “I saw…you…you didn’t stop, Muh..Mark—.”

“Of course I didn’t..,” he whispered fiercely, forehead pressed to yours, brown eyes boring into yours. “I would never let anything happen to you or the baby…I love you, baby…”

Behind the two of you, Eve stood watch, pink light still shimmering faintly around the room…her on the open sky, the broken walls, the unconscious variant outside.

Because threats never come alone.

And as Mark picked up your aching body, his voice soothing you as he tries to figure out how to help you since you’re water broke.. to get you to a hospital….

And You allowed yourself a moment of reprieve and closed your eyes.

For now….

You’re held.

You’re protected.

You’re safe.

And your Mark was never letting you go.

I hope yall liked it..I completely rushed ts and I was half asleep☠️😭…

For these little darlings who motivated me to finish!!: