ྀིྀི|His favorite comic shop employee

⋆— ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ —⋆

In a life that seemed determined to change every time he blinked, Mark had learned to cling to consistencies wherever he could find them. They were rare, fragile, even, but they mattered more than he ever admitted out loud. The way his room always looked exactly the same whenever he trudged into it after a mission. The way his mom’s voice softened when she asked if he’d eaten. And best of all, his local comic store, a place untouched by Viltrumites, alien invasions, or the constant pressure of being Invincible.

He tried to stop by at least once a week.

On the weeks he wasn’t in space.

Or barely alive in some pallid hospital bed with machines beeping around him.

The store smelled like old paper, plastic sleeves, and nostalgia, a comforting mix that grounded him more than he’d ever admit. It was one of the few places where he could pretend, even for a moment, that he was just a regular guy who liked comics and had normal problems.

And honestly? One thing had always kept him coming back.

Sure, the newest issue of Séance Dog was a big part of it.

But also... you.

You’d been working there for a few years now, long enough that Mark had memorized your schedule without meaning to. He told himself it was coincidence, that he just happened to show up when you were working, but deep down he knew better. Most days, he was more excited to see you than the comics themselves. After a week of getting his ass handed to him like clockwork, it was nice to have something warm to look forward to. Something human. Something that didn’t involve blood or bruises or saving the world.

When he pushed open the door to the shop, the familiar chime rang out, and the smell of old paper washed over him. His shoulders loosened. His heartbeat steadied. The world felt... quieter.

Then he spotted you.

You were stocking something on the shelves, humming under your breath, completely absorbed in your task. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered softly, catching the edges of your hair and the curve of your smile. Something deep inside him loosened, a knot he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying all week.

He found himself walking toward you before he even realized he’d moved.

“Hey,” he said, voice a little softer than he meant it to be. His hand drifted to the back of his neck, that nervous habit he’d never managed to break. “Sorry, uh-"

You turned toward him, and he felt his chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with injuries.

“Have you guys gotten issue seventeen of Séance Dog yet?”

There was a hopeful lilt in his voice he didn’t quite manage to hide.