#♡ : mark grayson hearts club !!

[bratdotcom]

WHEN YOU'RE CLOSE TO ME

( Mark Grayson x reader || taking care of his little brother with you, SPOILERS for Invincible s2, mentions/alluding to character death)

"Tell me why we're doing this again?" Mark asks as he watches you prepare some sort of setup. Filled with colorful eggs, Gerber baby puffs, and various bowls. He holds Oliver in his arms, trying his best to keep his little brother from grabbing at the eggs in front of them. "It's an exercise." you reply, filling the plastic eggs with small handfuls of baby puffs. The sight of the puffs makes Oliver squeal in delight, making grabby hands in your direction.

"An exercise?" he repeats, looking down at the counter top. You notice him glancing down and smiling a bit. "Not for you, Mark." you chuckle softly. Mark glances back up at you, slightly embarrassed that you noticed him looking down. "I knew that." he says back, adjusting his hold on Oliver once again. 

The baby was squirming in excitement, looking at the Gerber puff-filled eggs with wide eyes. "Down, down!" he exclaims, swatting at Mark's hand. He puts the boy down, letting him stumble in his socks towards the table, unable to grab at the snacks due to his height. 

The both of you watch Oliver attempt to grab the baby snacks. You with a smile, and Mark with confusion. "You invited me over for.." He gestures with the back of his hand towards the small station you put together. "This?" he says, trying to make sense of exactly why you invited him over.

"Yes, I did." you reply curtly, hoping he could make sense of things himself. You knew Mark was clueless sometimes, but he wasn't that clueless. 

You wait for him to say something, ask anything, but he doesn't. He stares at the counter in confusion plastered all over his face. His lower lip jutted to the side as he stared blankly at the eggs. "You really don't know why I invited you and Oliver over, do you?" you ask with a chuckle, gesturing for him to come near the table.

He follows after you, glancing over to the side to check on his little brother. Oliver was playing with the toys his mom packed for him before they left, clinking toy cars together and making explosion sounds with his mouth. 

"He has a big imagination, huh?" you comment, an endearing tone in your voice.There was some sort of gentleness behind it, like you cared for Oliver the same way he did. "Yeah. My mom says he gets it from me." Mark replies, the corners of his cheeks lifting up into a small smile. Mark saw Oliver as his own brother, despite the circumstances it took to bring him back to Earth. Seeing how much you cared for him would've made Andressa proud.

He glances back at you, your elbows propped against the edge of the table. Now that you have his attention again, you pick up one of the eggs. "My parents used to do this with me when I was little," you say, showing him the egg. You shake it with a flick of your wrist, catching Oliver's attention from the living room. "It's an exercise that's supposed to help with motor skills and stuff." you explain, Mark didn't know exactly what you meant by "stuff" but he nods along anyway.

"Does Oliver know how to count yet?" you ask, looking at him. The question catches him off guard slightly, but he nods again. "Yeah, my mom loves singing this one song in Korean to him. I forgot the lyrics but she does this little hand thing-" 

Mark gestures with his hands, holding up his pointer fingers and swaying them to a nonexistent beat. He smiles awkwardly, hoping you'd get what he was trying to explain. You smile at him, the corners of your eyes folding along as well. "Good! This helps with counting, too. It's more hands-on." 

Out of curiosity, Oliver pads over in his bear-themed socks, lifting his arms up to signal that he wants to be carried. "Up!" he shouts at Mark, making him bow his head down to look at his little brother. "Looks like somebody wants to start now." he comments in amusement, scooping Oliver into his arms.

"Let's start then." you smile as you slide over a stepping stool for Oliver to stand on. Finally, he was able to grab at the colorful eggs you had set up for him. The gears were already turning in his head as he grabbed a pink egg, unlike his older brother who had to have the process explained to him word-for-word. 

You both watch as Oliver toys around with the eggs, watching as he grabs another one from the carton, smashing the two eggs together. This makes his eyes go wide in joy as puffs explode from their inner contents. "We're just...gonna watch him?" Mark asks you, tilting his head slightly. "We help when we need to, but other than that, yes." 

You carefully grab the Gerber puff bottle out of Oliver's field of vision, not wanting his attention to pull away from his way of playing. That being, smashing the eggs together in glee as puffs explode from their shells. Impressively to Mark, you open the bottle with one hand, using your elbow to hold the bottle in place. "Hold out your hand." you ask him, which Mark does silently, wondering to himself exactly what you'd do. "Here. As a thanks for your cooperation." you try not to laugh as you pour him a handful of baby puffs, before pouring one out for yourself. 

He smiles to himself, picking up one of the puffs in between his index finger and his thumb. "These things are flower shaped? Cute." he says, popping the snack into his mouth. 

"They're supposed to help with pincer grasps." you say, sounding like you had the fact readied just for this exact conversation. He nods along as stuffs the handful of puffs you gave him into his mouth. "Huh." Mark says in reply, his words muffled.

[bratdotcom]

BRUISES AND BANDAGES

( Mark Grayson x reader || you don't know he's Invincible- but you patch him up anyway )

"I never knew you could be so nice." Mark comments as you patch up his hands, watching as you intricately tie little bows on the joints of his fingers. "I'm not that nice." You say, trying to downplay his praise as you tug the gauze on his pinky, looking up at him as you sit on your living room floor.

That stupid smile on his face made your heart flutter. Even with all those bruises on his face, he still looked pretty.

"I'm just looking out for you. Next time, try to actually look where you're walking." You try to lecture him. You try to sound mad that he got himself hurt, but you simply couldn't. To Mark, your words came off as endearing. Even when you tried to deny it.

"Do you have any of those Pochacco bandages?" He asks, smiling down at you despite his injuries. "You want to waste my good bandaids, Grayson? You're spoiled." You say back, clearly not meaning your words. Mark knew that. You knew that. You both knew that.

You get up from the floor of your living room carpet, dusting off your sweatpants. "Stay here. Don't even think about moving an inch, you hear me?"

"I won't, I won't." He reassures, putting his bandaged-up hands up in the air as he rests up against the couch.

You cared for Mark.

And it showed with the little bows you tied on his fingers while he rested his sore back on your living room couch, it showed through when you hurried him inside without a second thought.

"You better not." You shoot him a glance before you slip your house slippers back on, making your way into the bathroom to rummage around in your medicine cabinet for said bandages.

Mark's eyes wander around the decor in your living room. Sure, he's seen it all before but he didn't know where else to look besides directly at you. "Stay still." you steady his face by tapping the side of his jaw gently, making him face you. "You gotta stay still or else this bandaid's gonna go on wonky." Mark quietly studies your features as you cover his cuts with dog-themed bandages you had to restock weekly because of him.

Awkwardly, he says a small "sorry" in your direction, eyes flitting from your face to your hands. "It's fine, Mark. You're gonna make me go broke one day, but it's fine." you pat his shoulder, signaling that you were done with your handiwork.

Not having anywhere else to be besides home, he slides on the house slippers you gave him.

He studies his own face in the mirror near the door, tilting his head from side to side to see just exactly where you put those 'good' bandages of yours.

As he checks his face for damage he sees you in the corner of his eye. "You still look pretty, don't worry." you reassure him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Mark smiles to himself, covering his smile with his hand as he traces over the bandages you put on his cheek.

[bratdotcom]

BROKEN BOY (ENDEARING)

( Mark Grayson aka Invincible! x reader || shitty pizza date after an even shittier mission, pizza in the image below does NOT correlate with how badly the pizza tastes in the fic, mentions of minor injuries bc mark is being mark)

"This pizza tastes like cardboard." You comment as you try to chew on its crust, giving up entirely once your jaw starts to hurt. You toss the half-eaten pizza onto your plate, catching Mark's attention.

He can barely look out of his left eye, but compared to most of the fights he's been through, this was probably the best shape he's been in weeks. "We could go somewhere better." He suggests with a glint in his right eye, the one that wasn't swollen and bruised. Mark already had an idea in mind, carrying you in his arms, bringing you all the way to Italy-

You quickly shoot his idea down before he can even say it. "Nuh, uh, mister. Your ass isn't going anywhere till you can look straight without squinting." You say as you get up from your chair, rummaging through the fridge for something else to eat besides cardboard pizza crust and thinning dough slathered in artificial tomato paste.

Mark frowns slightly at your answer, even though he wholeheartedly expected it.

"I can order takeout if you want." He suggests instead, trying his best to reassure you with a smile. Even though it hurt for him to lift the corners of his lips.

"I'll order takeout. Sit your ass down, Mark." You say, lifting your head out of the fridge.

"There's nothing in the fridge anyway." You close its door with a sigh, not surprised in the slightest that there wasn't anything remotely edible besides some questionable-looking orange juice. You haven't been grocery shopping in weeks.

"How do you feel about pho?" You ask, looking over at Mark for his answer.

"Haven't had pho in a while." Mark subconsciously smiles again, seemingly growing used to the slight pain in his cheeks. He was Invincible, after all. Even if he got his ass kicked, he still bounced back.

You walk up to his seat, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you lean in for a kiss. "That's the spirit." You praise sweetly, kissing the apple of his cheek.