You wanted a make-up Fic title and "Finders Keepers" popped up in my head somehow👀

you're mark grayson's childhood friend and neighbour, and have been in love with him for a while. have been there ever since his fifth birthday where you first met him by accidentally kicking a ball in his birthday cake. (a whole mess. you didn't mean to kick it that hard.)

you get along great. william looks at the both of you and sighs, wondering why you share the same exact brain cell and why it's solely focused on seance dog and superheroes. nolan and debbie may or may not have asked mark to keep his bedroom door open when you were hanging out after you both turned fifteen.

you wish their worry was justified. mark doesn't even look at you that way. and as time passes, as his attention focuses on amber, then on eve, you come to the heartbreaking realisation that he never will. he's invincible. she's atom eve. you're nothing special. just his childhood friend, to whom he talks less and less because of "hero stuff".

when you see reports of multiple invincibles burning earth's great metropolises to the ground, you're not particularly phased. just a regular old thursday, knowing that mar- invincible & atom eve will save the day while you're busy trying not to die, half buried under rubble they don't even see, because casualties and property damage was never their forte.

you're going to die without having ever given anybody a chance because you're too hung up over markus fucking sebastian grayson to try, and the thought sickens you. you slam your fist on the ground in rage and watch as the precarious concrete structure above creaks and topples down towards you.

mark’s face greets you.

his mask is black and yellow and his smile is all kinds of wrong, and you don’t need to see behind his goggles to know there's a sheer look of glee in his eyes. 

“well, well. look who we have here.”

when your mark comes to you at last, ready to save you, all clenched fists and righteous fury, his variant holds you firmly against him, one strong arm wrapped around your waist, fingers digging in your throat.

“let her go.”

“finders keepers.” he hums, inhaling the scent of you. “shame you didn’t bother bagging her sooner.”

there’s something like horrified realisation marring the features of your world’s mark. you’re not fighting. you’re leaning against his variant’s chest, soaking up his warmth, almost relishing in the low rumble he lets out as he laughs. 

you wonder if he’ll weep.

taking requests! send me a title and i'll write a lil drabble!