stuck writing from my phone for now so sorry for the crap
so we aaall know the trope of the variants all losing their version of reader & then immediately coming for them during the invincible wars but what about this
variant!mark who can’t even LOOK at reader during the war. he’s sick seeing them—like just that act alone is a betrayal of HIS you. the one he sees every time he closes his eyes. the one he talks to in his sleep. the one who’s photo he kisses every morning
variant!mark who is so devoted to you that no other version could ever compare. he doesn’t care how identical you look, how similar your personalities—he knows with every aching beat of his heart that it’s still not you
you are not replaceable, and will live on, untouched, beautiful, and alone on the dark hill in his mind, forever
so i love the idea of sinister being a literal nightmare for every other being on the planet, except you.
the only thing that makes him switch like a circuit.
you don’t understand the dynamics of your relationship. how he can be so unforgiving in every other facet of his life, then turn around and hold you like a newborn.
the way he understands and supports everything you do. never forces. never questions. he is completely enthralled in your existence and strives to help you flourish. you didn’t want to live in some grand high rise. so now you stay in a small a-frame nestled beautiful by a winding river.
you told him one day it scared you how he would come home like a firestorm. how the sight of the blood on his suit made you cry. now he walks through the door clean, quiet, gentle.
he usually finds you sat at your desk, tapping your pencil to your lip as your brows pulled together in thought. i’m back, he says softly, and even with the effort to be unsurprising you still jump a little.
but then you sit up straighter, eyes wide as you turn to him. your lids flutter into something delicate, setting down your pencil and outstretching your arms to him. there you are, i’ve missed you. your voice is tender, and all but completely erases the screams of the people he’d just slaughtered.
he goes to you and immediately moves to his knees, resting his face against your thighs as he wraps his arms around your legs. you fingers are gossamer as they move through his hair. how was your day? you ask, so innocent. so in denial about what he does when he leaves this house.
he has no problem indulging your fantasy.
it was good, he replies. saved a lot of lives today…
you hum a sound of happiness, or maybe contentment, letting your fingers drift down his neck and ghost between his broad shoulders.
the world is lucky to have you.
he doesn’t disagree. but for reasons completely unrelated.
i love you, he hears you say. he pulls back to look up at your sweet eyes. a view he has etched into his mind and saved for days when he needs it the most and you’re not around.
Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader | Viltrumite!Mark x f!Reader | Sinister!Mark x f!Reader | No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x f!Reader | Omni!Mark x f!Reader | Shiesty!Mark x f!Reader | Mohawk!Mark x f!Reader
Warnings: Umm there’s a mention of Lensless making his dick jump LMAO but that’s it
Tags: Fluff, comedy, romance, just cute silliness – you get the vibe
Word Count: uhhh the whole thing’s 3,236 but each part for all the variants is between 350-650
Synopsis: It’s so nice to have a superhuman boyfriend who relishes in the idea of you being so weak and helpless, he does EVERYTHING for you. Except, also, sometimes it’s kind of annoying and you just want to do things on your own. So when he’s gone on a mission that’s supposed to last a few days? You plan to take FULL advantage. Only, he comes back sooner than expected…
a/n: man, sorry i’ve been dropping the ball on posting lately. i wasn’t lying when i said losing all my old shit really killed my motivation. BUT i’ve been going dumb reading this comic and bruhhh i’m SHOOK by some of the differences – i digress. i feel myself slowly getting back to my usual grind so pls hang in there with me lovies!!!!
also, Shiesty is DEFINITELY my fav from this series lmaoo
The Set Up...
The thing about being home alone was that it gave you the rare chance to get things done.
No overprotective Viltrumite boyfriend hovering the moment you touched anything over ten pounds. No “babe, let me do it” every time you reached for the step stool. Just peace, music, and the triumphant satisfaction of moving the bookshelf to the wall it should’ve been on this entire time.
You’d nearly gotten it there, too—angled just right, towel under the bottom, scooting it across the floor one slow, squeaky inch at a time.
Main!Mark
You were mid-push, maneuvering the big bookshelf across the floor with a towel under it for glide, when you heard the familiar whoosh of a landing behind you.
“Hey, I’m—whoa.”
You turned around, sheepish but proud. “Hi!”
Mark stood there, mask off, still in his suit, eyes flicking between you and the halfway-moved bookshelf. “Were you… moving that by yourself?”
“Technically yes. But, like, strategically. No lifting. Full physics. Minimum chaos.”
He blinked. “That’s… kind of impressive.”
You beamed. “Thanks!”
He nodded slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, no—super cool. Really cool. Totally capable. Independent. You got this.”
You tilted your head. “You okay?”
“Me? Yeah. I’m good.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Mark.”
He scuffed his foot across the floor, eyes cast down. “It’s just… you didn’t wait for me.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to help me push furniture around after flying halfway around the world.”
“Still,” he muttered, glancing at the bookshelf. “It’s kind of my thing, y’know? Being helpful. Picking up stuff. Making your life easier. Super strength is kind of… my niche.”
Your chest ached a little. He wasn’t mad—just quietly, adorably bummed. Like a golden retriever watching someone else throw the ball.
So, naturally, you took two steps back, turned just slightly, and just happened to stub your toe on the side of the coffee table.
Loudly.
“OW—oh my god, ow, okay nope, I’m dying,” you yelped, grabbing your foot and hopping in place.
Mark was instantly at your side, arms out. “Wait, what happened?! Are you okay?!”
“Stubbed my toe,” you whimpered. “On the corner. I think it—ohhh nooo it’s broken.”
He crouched in front of you like a concerned EMT. “Which foot?! Can you walk? Want me to carry you to the couch??”
You blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Would you?”
He was already scooping you up, like a knight cradling a wounded princess. “Of course. I’ve got you.”
You let your head fall dramatically against his shoulder, hiding your grin. “My hero.”
He smiled. A real one this time. “You can move bookshelves, sure. But I’m still the toe-stubbing emergency response team.”
You kissed his cheek. “See? Still irreplaceable.”
A pause.
“…You faked that, didn’t you.”
“No comment.”
Viltrumite!Mark
“…Sweetheart?”
You froze.
“Are you… are you moving that? Alone?”
You turned to see Mark standing in the doorway, uniform still on, brow furrowed in a mix of horror and disbelief, like he’d just caught a toddler wielding a chainsaw.
You opened your mouth to explain—but something in his expression gave you pause.
So instead, you took a slow, shaky breath… and rested the back of your hand against your forehead.
“Ohh…” you sighed. “You’re right. That was… so reckless of me.”
He was at your side in a blink.
“[Y/N],” he murmured, already cradling your face in his hands, inspecting you like you might crumble. “You should’ve waited for me. What if you got hurt? That shelf is solid wood.”
“I just… I didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, leaning into the moment. “But I feel so faint now…”
He gently brushed your hair from your face, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You shouldn’t be lifting a finger. Not when I’m here. Let me take care of you.”
You almost felt bad.
…Almost.
Mark pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go sit down. I’ll finish this.”
You gave him your best helpless nod, then flopped dramatically onto the couch as he lifted the bookshelf with one hand and carried it across the room like it was empty.
“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want it?”
You sat up, pointing. “Against that wall, just—yeah, right there. No, wait—actually a little to the left.”
He adjusted.
“Hmm. No, sorry, more to the right.”
Another adjustment.
“Okay, now turn it a bit. Clockwise. No, my clockwise. Yeah, okay—wait, back a bit.”
He tilted his head. “Back? Or back back?”
You squinted. “Like… scooch it. A half scooch.”
He sighed (very soft, very loving), and scooched.
You stared.
“…Okay, I think it’s—wait. Nope. Now it’s too far.”
Mark blinked. “Sweetheart...”
You gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped your head into your hands. “This is why I just wanted to do it myself.”
He chuckled—low and warm—then gently tapped your knee. “And miss out on being treated like royalty? Why deprive yourself of such a treat?”
You smiled softly "Very good point..." Then you paused, glanced at the shelf and looked up at him again. “If I’m royalty, does that mean I can tell you to move it back to where it was?”
His face went stony for a moment, but then was already turning. “Only for you...”
You smiled. “I love you so much.”
Mark was ready to move planets that point.
Sinister!Mark
You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the floor when your body stilled.
The hair on the back of your neck rose. The air shifted. Then you heard his voice. Smooth. Amused.
“…Interesting choice of project.”
Your blood froze. No. There's no way he's already back, is he?
You turned your head slowly, painfully, like a horror movie character about to meet their doom.
There he was. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly red, with the kind of cold smirk that said “so this is how you betray me.”
Without even thinking – no hesitation, zero shame – you let out a gasp, dramatically tripping over the edge of the towel you’d been using to slide the shelf on and falling down in what felt like slow motion.
The entire bookshelf tipped sideways with you, crashing to the floor with a thunderous BOOM.
Books everywhere. You sprawled in the wreckage like a tragic Victorian heroine struck down by an airborne piano.
“OHHH NOOOO!” you wailed, arm flung across your face. “Why did I think I could do this alone?! I was so foolish! I was so fragile!”
Mark was in front of you before the dust even settled, crouched low, eyes narrowed as he looked over the scene. Not at the bookshelf. Not at the mess.
At you.
You peeked between your fingers. “Is it bad? Am I concussed? Paralyzed?”
He tilted his head. “You’re not hurt.”
“I’m emotionally hurt.”
“You don’t have a scratch on you.”
You whimpered. “But what if I had? I—I thought I was strong enough, but I’m just a weak little thing, aren’t I?”
He leaned in close, his tone syrupy and sharp. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”
You gave a broken little sigh. “You were right. You were so right. It was arrogant of me to think I could do things on my own.”
Mark finally smirked something deep and you felt a wave of relief rush through you. “Well. At least you’ve learned something today.”
He gently lifted you into his arms, stepping over fallen books like they were debris after an explosion. “You won’t be lifting so much as a fork without my help from now on.”
You clung to him like a damsel in distress. “Oh nooo, what a shame.”
He paused at the doorway and looked down at you.
“You’re not lying to me, are you?” he asked, voice suddenly low and flat. “Because you know I’ll find out.”
You blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Mark. My bookshelf fell on me. I’m lucky to be alive.”
His eyes searched your face for a long, unnerving moment… then he smirked again. Kissed your forehead.
“Good girl.”
You sighed dramatically, burying your face in his chest as he floated you off to the couch.
Another day, another tragedy avoided. Except for your bookshelf, you supposed...
No Goggles/Lensless!Mark
You were really just starting to make progress on the move when you heard it.
Click.
Thud.
“Hey,” Mark said casually, suddenly perched on top the bookshelf and looking down at you with a lazy grin. “Didn't realize you were this strong, babe. You ever think about joining the Viltrumite army?”
“Wha—Mark!” you gasped, heart racing just a bit. “W-What the hell are you doing?!”
“Just watching you work, babe! Gotta say—I’m impressed. Keep going. Show me whatcha got.”
You flushed a bit. “…But you’re sitting on it.”
Mark gave you a dramatic blink. “Yeah, and? I mean look at you! You’re so strooong, move it with me on it.”
“Mark...”
“C’mon!” He kicked his feet a little. “Let’s see that strength. I’ll just stay here and supervise.”
“…Can you get off please?”
“Nope. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”
You furrowed your brows, pouting for a bit. “Alright. Fine.” You braced yourself and tried to nudge the bookshelf forward, only for it to not move an inch under the added weight of your lovely, idiotic boyfriend.
He grinned even wider. “Aww, is the strong woman struggling?”
You scowled, leaning back off the piece of furniture. “I can’t do it with you on it. Get off.”
“Nah, I’m comfy.” He shrugged. “But if you really need help, I guess I could show you how it’s done.”
Before you could say anything, he jumped down and scooped you up in one smooth motion, plopping you onhis shoulder like you were a prize.
“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he says with a sigh. “I got this.” He reached over with one hand and picked the bookshelf up like it was a cardboard box.
“Wait, but—I didn’t even tell you where to put it!”
He grinned as he moved it toward the far corner of the room. “Right here’s perfect.”
“Noo, I wanted it on that wall.”
“Ehh, I’m feeling this spot more. Looks better, don’t you think?”
“Mark, I’m serious, that’s not—”
“You’ll love it,” he said with a laugh, already walking away from it and towards the sofa. “Trust me. I’ve got an eye for these things.”
You thought about arguing but stopped yourself short, realizing there was no point. He wasn’t even listening.
Mark kicked the couch aside with a careless boot and dropped down into the cushions like a king on his throne, moving you smoothly to straddle his waist. His grin was wide and feral, hair a little messy, pupils blown.
He looked very pleased with himself.
“Yup,” he said, hands sliding to your hips, smug as hell. “Pretty strong, babe. Got, like... crazy stats.”
You couldn’t help but look a bit amused. “….Stats?”
“Oh, you know,” he said casually, voice dropping as his eyes dragged slowly over your body. “Strength. Speed. Stamina. Core control.”
You bit back a smile.
“Wanna see what else I can do?” he grinned, and didn’t wait to hear your answer. You suddenly became very aware of the repeated tapping between your thighs.
He was making his dick jump.
You choked.
“Mark!”
Omni!Mark
You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the living room when his voice cut through the space like a blade.
“You shouldn’t be doing that.”
You froze, hands still on the edge of the shelf. “Jesus—Mark?”
He stepped into view from the hallway, calm and unreadable, but his gaze was locked on your hands. On the effort. On your shoulders straining beneath your t-shirt.
“I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow,” you said, breath catching just slightly.
He said nothing to that. Just looked down at the shelf. Then back at you.
“I’m fine,” you offered, trying to keep your tone light. “Promise this might come as a surprise, but humans move furniture all the time. There’s a whole job field for it, actually. Movers. Crazy, right?”
The corner of his mouth twitched downward. Clearly not amused.
“I know you’re capable,” he said, stepping closer. His voice dropped a little. “Of more than you’ll ever give yourself credit for.” You blinked. “But this?” His gaze flicked to the shelf again. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Not with your hands.”
“My hands are fine.”
He reached out and gently took your palm in his — and suddenly, the shelf didn’t exist anymore. The room didn’t exist. Just his fingers wrapping around yours, warm and impossibly careful.
“These hands,” he said, brushing his thumb along your knuckles, “shouldn’t be calloused from dragging wood and steel. They should stay soft.”
You opened your mouth — probably to argue, maybe to scoff — but no words came out. Just heat. Everywhere.
“I don’t protect you because I think you’re weak,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I protect you because I can. Because you’re the only softness in a world that doesn’t deserve it.”
And just like that, you were putty. Your entire body went slack under his gaze, your throat thick, breath gone. Your fingers curled a little tighter into his without even meaning to.
“…You’re not playing fair,” you whispered.
His other hand lifted to your face, thumb brushing just under your cheekbone.
“I never said I was fair,” he said quietly. “Only that you’re mine.”
You nodded, helplessly. Of course. Obviously.
And when he leaned down to kiss you — slow, reverent, like you were something holy — you realized the bookshelf could stay exactly where it was.
Forever, even.
Didn’t matter anymore.
Shiesty!Mark
The bookshelf barely budged as you leaned your weight into it with a frustrated grunt. You were so close to getting it where you wanted it.
“You tryna remodel or build muscle, bae?”
You froze at the very familiar but very unexpected voice.
Mark stood in the doorway, one brow raised, smirking like he’d walked in on you cheating with another man — who just so happened to be made of plywood and frustration.
“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you said, trying not to sound as guilty as you felt.
“Clearly,” he said, strolling in like he owned the floor (and the ceiling, and probably you). “You out here grinding furniture across the floor like a damn forklift. Did I miss the call for backup?”
You sighed. “It’s not that heavy. I’ve almost got it.”
Mark leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a man enjoying premium entertainment. “Oh no, go on. Don’t let me stop you. I love a strong woman. Grrr,” he teased, flexing his bicep in mock solidarity.
You rolled your eyes and turned back to the shelf. “It’s just gotta slide like three more inches—”
“Oh you tryna get precise with it,” he cut in. “Okay, okay, I see you. Interior design. Feng shui. Heavy lifting. Very sexy of you.”
“I swear to God, Mark—” Before you could finish, he was already behind you.
“I got it,” he said, voice suddenly softer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t hurt yourself, pretty.”
You stepped aside reluctantly as he crouched, rolled his shoulders back, and—because of course he did—lifted the bookshelf with one hand.
You blinked. “Did you... just curl it?”
He grinned, looking at you over his shoulder. “You like that? That was rep one. Want me to rack up a few sets? Maybe do a little shoulder press while you admire the view?”
“Mark.”
“Say it again like that and I’ll drop this bookshelf just to carry you to the bedroom instead.”
You would’ve choked if you’d been drinking something.
He moved the shelf exactly where you’d wanted it, then turned and leaned in close, mouth brushing yours. “See? I do listen. Sometimes.”
You melted. A little. Maybe a lot.
“So,” he said casually, already lifting you like a backpack, “wanna rearrange anything else while I’m warmed up? Your guts, maybe?”
“Mark!”
“Babe, I’m just tryna be helpful.”
Mohawk!Mark
You braced both feet against the floor, gave the bookshelf one last stubborn shove, and managed to move it a grand total of two inches.
You stepped back, breathing heavy, hands on your hips.
“Gotta ask,” came a gravel-rough voice behind you, “you movin’ that thing for fun or outta spite?”
You jumped. “Jesus—Mark! Warn a girl!”
He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, suit already halfway unzipped and his hair looking a little messier than usual.
“You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face.
“Clearly,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling in with that easy, heavy gait. “Figured I’d come home and find you curled up on the couch. Not out here goin’ to war with a damn bookcase.”
“I wasn’t—I am perfectly capable, thank you.”
“Sure you are,” he said, like he was humoring a toddler insisting they could drive.
“I am!”
He stopped in front of you, looking down at your flushed face and dirt-smudged palms. His gaze dropped to your hands, then back up to your eyes.
“Babe,” he said, voice lower now, quieter. “You don’t gotta play tug-of-war with your furniture every time I’m not in the room. You miss me? Call me. I’ll fly in, carry you and the couch if you need.”
You opened your mouth as if intending to explain your reasoning, but he was already moving. Already crouching. Already sliding one hand beneath the bookshelf like it weighed nothing.
With a casual exhale, he lifted it off the ground and nodded toward the other wall.
“Point where you want it.”
You furled in your lower lip, trying to ignore how hot this was. “...There,” you mumbled.
He walked it over. No strain. No effort. Just raw, grounded strength like it was part of his muscle memory now.
He set it down exactly where you needed it before turning to you again, rubbing sorely at the back of his neck.
“You good now?” he asked. “You wrestled the inanimate object. I showed up to finish the job. Domestic bliss achieved?”
You smiled, trying not to laugh. “I’m good. Thanks.”
He gave you that familiar crooked smile. “Next time just call,” he muttered. “You think I won’t drop a whole planetary threat just to come move furniture? Priorities.”
You snorted. “Didn’t want to bother you.”
He stepped a little closer, lifting your chin with two fingers. “You’re never a bother,” he said, voice just slightly softer now. “Maybe a bad decision, sometimes. But never a bother.”
You were biting hard into your bottom lip at this point, really trying to hold back your smile.
“…Bet you want me to carry you around now, too?” he asked, already bending to hook an arm under your thighs.
All you could do was squeal and giggle as he hoisted you up bridal-style, with a dramatic grunt that was absolutely just for show.
“There we go,” he muttered, planting a kiss on your temple. “Soft hands, remember? You keep ‘em pretty. I’ll do the heavy lifting. And the thinking. And the rescuing. You? You just sit there and look smug.”
You melted into his chest with a sigh. “Well, I was doing just fine before you showed up.”
He snorted as he lowered onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. “Yeah, you moved it a whole two inches. Might as well call NASA.”
You leaned back slightly, lips twitching. “I did move it though.”
He gave you a slow, unimpressed blink.
Then muttered, “You want a trophy or a chiropractic bill?”
You laughed—loud and warm—and when he leaned in to kiss you again, you didn’t even mind the dirt smudge still on your hands.
i’m foaming at the mouth lately for lensless i swear
i love that he’s so multifaceted. like, he’ll be dom, sub, somewhere in between — he doesn’t gaf. he’s OBSESSED with you, like even if you’re not dating lmao
he’d just lazily drift in the air behind you, following as you walk to the store. you’d keep stopping, looking back up at him while he busies himself with something to look like you aren’t the reason he’s there. noo, never! he’s just counting leaves on this tree branch, or VERY fascinated by the bird shit crusting this 2nd floor window
at least he has the good sense to walk at the supermarket. even grabs a shopping cart — one that’s suspiciously loud with a wheel that seems like it’s about to fall off — and just HAPPENS to be going down every single aisle you are
you look behind you at one point, fully expecting to see him there, but find with a relieved sigh that the aisle is empty. did he finally remember he had havoc to reek somewhere else? you exhale and keep strolling, but just as you’re about to turn the corner—
CRASH
he’s colliding into your cart with his, eyes wide, grin wider. woooow, [y/n]! funny seeing you heeere!
your expression could not be more deadpan
yeah, real coincidence…
he shoves his cart brashly away from him, it barreling into a shelf of cereal with disregard. he closes the space between you in a single, exaggeratedly long step. is it just me or did FATE bring us together in this canned vegetable isle?
you can’t help the way you’re fighting a smile. this guy was such an idiot but very sincere about it
you just steer your cart around him, shaking your head while you continue your shopping mission
yeah i’m pretty busy too—sooo much shopping to do, y’know? he calls after you, still standing in the spot you’d left him in
he’s there when you check out, suddenly materializing just as you go to pay. i’ve got this—with looks like that you shouldn’t have to buy a damn thiiing he practically sings, patting around the skintight fabric of his suit as if he was going to pull a wallet from his ass
…y’know what i’ll get you back—don’t worry babe i promise i’m good for it
was he though? pretty sure that guy never had an income source in his life
but he does carry all your bags on the walk back, barely looping his fingers around the plastic handles like he might drop them just because he forgot they were there. he’s all but vibrating by the time you reach your front door, absolutely convinced he’s finally going to step foot past the threshold instead of just creeping through the window
but you quickly collect your groceries and only open the door enough to barely slip inside, closing it save for an inch behind you—just enough space to say with a sigh, thanks Mark, and give him an almost sympathetic smile
the door clicks softly shut, and he stands there for a minute. then you hear …so are we dating now or what?
