("Mark"

It's a peaceful morning, a weekend. As always, you spent those at his house and wake up on his bed with him wrapped around your midsection. You know he's awake but doesn't want to get up since he tickles your stomach with his nose and hair as he tries to find a better position.

"Mmh?" That's the only thing that comes out of him as he just tightens his hold. You smile, amused, because out of all the people around the globe you're the only one that can 'tame' Invincible, you're the only girl in the world that has the opportunity to see him like this, make him like this.

Even if your parents don't approve of him.

They never did actually.

You wonder if their dislike comes from the fact that when you two were little he broke your wrist from playing too roughly. Maybe it's not that, but the fact that his eyes are a little too apathetic to be normal, his way of handling things is too rough, too harsh, sadistic at times. Nevertheless they don't know what you see in that mess, in that boy that smiles at you only when things go his way. Mark hated them just as much, they were nuisances in his opinion.

It's not that you don't see. You do, you do it better than anybody. It's just that you don't want to acknowledge, accept, that they are right. After all he is not a good person, he is not kind, he is merciless as he slaughters another monster in a way that's too gruesome to even record and show on the news. But he is so good to you, they just don't see it.

You know he loves you in his own distorted way, and that's enough. Because you'd prefer having Mark than not having him at all.

"I have received my acceptance letter from that culinary school. The one that has that two year experience course."

"The one in Paris?"

"Yeah", for a moment nothing comes out of his mouth as he is thinking about this, or maybe he is waiting for you to give him the answer he wants.

"I've been thinking we could go to Paris, since you dropped out of high school". After his father's indoctrination, he didn't see a point in completing his studies when instead he had to train for more important things, like the empire he was going to build.

"I don't know". It's almost a warning, it feels like one.

"What do you mean 'you don't know'? There's nothing that's holding you back". He's the one holding you back instead, because everyone knows that wherever you are, Mark is not far behind.

"What about the GDA?" His voice is calm, collected, a bit scratchy like always, and he has yet to look at your face. To him this conversation is meaningless, it's pointless, just a way to pass time as you comb your fingers through his hair. At the end of the day, no matter how much you whine, you always give in to what he says.

"Mark don't give me that bullshit, we both know that you don't give a shit about them", your statement is not authoritarian, it doesn't question the dynamic between the two of you, but your tone is enough to make Mark finally turn around and look at you.

His gaze is always so dark, so cold, it makes you wonder if he loves you at least a little bit.

"Are you going to keep wasting my time with this nonsense? Why would we even need to go to Paris anyway?" It's not as if in the long run you're going to need the certificate from that course if you're with Mark, the next ruler of the viltrumite empire. You frown, obviously. He knows how much you love baking, he knows how much you've trained and how much sacrifice you've put into this passion, and yet he remains selfish, even if it's you, the only person that's ever made him feel something.

"Then I'll just go alone", he laughs, of course. Where would you even go without him?

"[name]", his laugh tickles your stomach and then you feel his breath move higher and higher as he gets up from his previous position—like a wolf does to his prey as it decides which part to eat first—until your noses are almost touching.

"Do you really want to try me?" He stands now fully on top of you, his breath hot on your lips as he stares at them. You know he is a monster, you know who you're dating is not sane. He is dangerous, a killing machine that stands above any other man, any other creature on this planet, and in this little fantasy you're above anyone else too, above all the carnage and the blood.

But you're caged.

Like a little exotic bird who's known nothing else but that cage for their entire life. You dream, you dream big, you try to chase the feeling in your chest that screams that out there there's something else other than bars of metal, that there's a big future ahead. The cage is big, there's a lot of space to roam, it's not locked and your wings are not clipped. You could fly away at any moment, you've had plenty of opportunities before, you could leave him behind and stop following his twisted rules, and the funniest thing is he would let you. But you don't, because you've never known anything else but the cage, nothing else but Mark in your short pathetic life.

Right now you could tell him to fuck off, to let you be and let you live out your dream and have the life you want for yourself, you could get up right now from the bed and go home, and throughout all this he would look at you with those cold, dark eyes and then let you go.

Then you would be a person like the rest, nothing special, just a nobody like everyone else on this weak, miserable planet.

And you couldn't live with that, you could not live in a world where you're nothing for Mark Grayson.

And he knows it.

There's a cruel mocking smile as his lips get closer to yours with each word, his hand moves up your leg as if you were made of glass, a contradiction to his cruel behaviour. You don't give an answer to his threat, you just frown and look away, giving away your decision.

He doesn't say anything more, content with you as he closes the distance between the two of you. He almost crushes you against the headboard, your head banging against it as he assaults your lips. He's cruel, everything about him is. Everything about Mark is rough and bloodthirsty as he just bites your lip in the frenzy of the 'kiss'.

You nearly scream as you feel his canines rip through the skin, piercing it. It's muffled anyway as he doesn't even let you breath, he just takes, and takes, and takes.

Then, just when you think you're going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, he finally lets you breathe. You slump against his shoulder like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, dizzy and lightheaded as the room spins. Your lips hurt, they are swollen and red, just how he likes them.

You don't shed any tears yet, he's done it many times before that you almost like the pain now, but your eyes are glossy as you try to recollect yourself against his shoulder.

Mark' s grin becomes bigger, happier, as he looks at your unfocused stare, at the trickle of blood that runs down your mouth and that you don't bother to clean as you regain your breath slowly.

In mock comfort he nuzzles his nose against your neck, enjoying the way your vein is pumping faster to compensate for the lack of oxygen. He inhales your scent and then he sighs, genuinely pleased with the outcome.

"Maybe if you like we could go on a date in Paris?" You don't answer, still trying to get yourself together from this murderous make out session, even if you're already thinking about what he'd like for you to wear.)

-

Your feet collide with the glass roof of the factory as you smash your way in, the twisted version of Mark had not returned yet from his little trip, but it was only a matter of time before you would have to face him.

Your parents are relieved to see Ladybug here to their rescue, but not enough since that man is out to get you.

"My daughter" your mother gasps as you remove the gag and untie her as quickly as possible.

"Where is she? Is she safe from him? They were on a call just now". She sobs as she thinks of what he might be doing to you right now, and wonders how you knew this man. It was difficult to ignore his desire that radiated from every word as he talked to you on the phone, even harder to not puke at how quickly he had launched himself in the air after you had given up your location.

"She's safe, you don't need to worry about him, I'll take care of him." You make quick work of your parents' restraints, your only thought is being quick, hoping that you'll be fast enough to be able to not fight another version of Invincible. Even if you really want to murder him, you know it will be nearly impossible to do so, maybe it could also cost your life. "Go somewhere else, not your house, it's not safe".

"But our daughter, where is she—"

"She's fine!" You're sweating bullets as you feel the air change, your instincts already feeling the ripple in the atmosphere as something approaches. Something fast, murderous, angry.

"You need to go! Now!" You scream as you suddenly need to push your parents towards one of the doors as this Mark comes crashing down going straight for their heads. You manage to evade near decapitation by jumping acrobatically over his flying body, everything seems to go in slow motion as the both of you make eye contact.

Then, before he can stop himself and you can land on the ground, your yo-yo wraps itself around his whole body sending him flying against one of the machines. The whole building shakes from the collision, but you don't even hear him grunt as he just grabs the string of your yo-yo and pulls you to him. You yelp as you don't have enough strength to stop him, he's smiling, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he throws a lethal punch to your head, finally free from your yo-yo's hold after you were forced to let him go because of his pull.

"This is entertaining and all, but you've just interfered with a personal matter, did she send you?" His outfit comically matches yours as he flaunts the colours black and yellow.

You were a ladybug and this Mark looked like a wasp, aggressive like one two.

You would have laughed if you weren't busy shitting bricks thinking how to come out of this alive. Some dark part of you screamed to just kill him, to murder this tainted copy of your Mark not only to avenge your parents, but also the ones of the other version of you. Another part of you, the most rational one probably, tended towards a more cautious approach, one that would make sure you would come out alive with intact limbs.

"Very personal might I had, and now you're even blocking my path", then he laughs, all teeth and gums, "What's with the costume anyway? A ladybug? And those ponytails?"

"Could say the same for you with all that black and yellow", he doesn't even look at you, deeming you insignificant as he just dusts himself from the remaining debris on his costume.

"You sure do talk back for someone so pathetic"

"And you talk too much" you glare at his pitch black lenses, hoping to find at least something in those eyes that for a moment could make you remember that he is Mark, no matter what universe.

"You don't want me to be silent, little bug, after all I'm giving you time to think." He smiles cruelly, gloating at the large disparity between the two of you. Your hate returns triplicated, your whole body trembles under its weight. You know it's the truth, you know how limited you are. Yet you don't like not being taken seriously, you never did.

There's a moment of silence, the both of you waiting for the other to do something. You don't want to ponder too much on the proof of how twisted Mark could have become, had he made different choices. His cape twists around itself due to the wind, it's caked in blood along with his costume. Some of it is old and dried, some of it is bright and fresh as it drips on the ground, but no matter what form, that is still the blood of millions of people who were annihilated along with the city he chose to destroy.

People you can't bring back to life with your powers, because death is not something you can reverse with a quick smile and an object thrown in the air that vanishes in tiny little ladybugs and pink sparkles.

Death is permanent, the only irreversible act of destruction.

He doesn't wait for a remark, suddenly remembering why he was there in the first place, and he makes the first move by flying towards you with the intent to kill.

Every single one of his punches is deadly, so you're forced to dodge every single one of them.

This man doesn't even let you summon your lucky charm, he doesn't move like the Mark you have fought a couple of hours ago. His movements are the manifestation of years of honing his technique, of sharpening his body and mind in a machine that only works to massacre his enemies.

You don't have time to even say the famous words, since he just violently makes his way through the contraptions that surround the building, just to get to you.

You've seen yourself nearly decapitated, or with a hole in your chest as he just squishes your heart in his hands. You don't know how much longer you could escape all these near death experiences, you're just running on pure adrenaline as the beast in front of you gets more restless with each punch and kick that hits the air and not your guts.

Your luck for a moment falters, maybe it's just you making a tiny mistake, but it costs you dearly as the yo-yo you send his way is caught by him. In a matter of seconds your arms and legs are tangled around it, tying you up as he uses the other end of the weapon to send your body through at least three walls.

He hears the cracks your bones make, you feel all of it as you groan.

"Look at that, the little bug doesn't even know how to use her own silly 'weapon'." Your body is suspended in the air thanks to him and you're still tied up like some sick sort of present, all blood and cuts.

"Pathetic", the strings tighten around you, ripping through the costume and cutting your skin. Your yo-yo is indestructible, so you know that before the strings even think of snapping from his brute force, your body will already be a lifeless, sliced mess.

At every scream you make, his smile grows bigger. If he could, he'd take his sweet time with you, maybe even taste your thick dark blood that is now regrouped in a puddle on the dirty floor. Some of it splutters out of your mouth, adding some more red to his collection that stains his body which he wears proudly.

Before he can finally squish you like the bug you are, he's blinded by the pink sparkles of your de-transformation, shocked when he doesn't feel your yo-yo in his hands anymore. When you hit the ground, all tired and rapidly approaching blood loss, you struggle to get up and transform back.

"[name]?" It's a mix between euphoric and speechless, your name once again sounds like it hasn't been said in a long time, and it deeply freaks you out. You're afraid, don't really know what to do as you shed some tears that mix with the blood that coats your chin. You're back in your costume, but you feel naked in front of his gaze that speaks volumes, that almost devours you whole.

He laughs, ugly, like a maniac as he just hugs you tightly like you're the only medicine that can soothe his ache.

"I hate you so much" his words are fused with disbelieving laughter, his tight hold nearly makes you see god as he just inhales your scent, taking it in with deep long breaths and exhaling it in hot sighs that make you shiver.

"You don't know how much I hate you, after all I did..." He sounds so desperate, all his previous composure discarded. "You—you just left me, after everything I did for you—for us", he squeezes you even tighter, you can feel his rage, maybe even disappointment. You're scared like never before, cold sweat runs down your forehead, afraid of what he might do to you, seeing as he is losing his marbles ranting about things that happened with the you from his world.

"I fucking hate you so much, you had to go and ruin everything", he sounds like he might cry as he grits his teeth, but he doesn't, and you know he won't since instead his hands grip your blood coated skin even tighter, almost as if he was trying to imprint the feeling of it in his memory. He won't cry now, not when he didn't even flinch when he saw your lifeless body hang in the kitchen.

He had buried you, you had made him bury you.

He had taken care of every problem that stood in your way: his father wanted to get rid of you? Murdered in cold blood with his heart as an offer for you, people who did you wrong? Gone in the wind, your parents when they decided they had enough of him? Fucking ripped in half, bodies bent in the most gruesome ways imaginable.

You had always accepted him for how he was, because you couldn't live without him or with the thought of being nothing to him. You had flinched when you saw his dad's bloody heart, you had grimaced at the smell of the blood of your friends, of his coworkers, of innocent people, but it had never repulsed you enough to hate him or to not hug him, to not kiss him.

Yet, when he finally decides to murder the bastards that stood in the way of your future, the world he had envisioned for the both of you, you suddenly think it's too much?

How hypocritical could you be?

Your struggling is useless, you're punching him, trying to kick him, but it's all futile.

"Maybe deep down, you knew that I would have never let you go, even if I was so cold and 'heartless'". Without meaning to, you had given him clear access to your neck, to your vein that moves so rapidly due to the frantic beating of your heart.

"You're satisfied now, right? I let you make the choice you wanted for once." He hates how much he needs you, how dependent you had made him.

"Let me take care of the rest, now you just need to listen and be good for me, alright?", you don't understand how a statement could be both so malicious and adoring at the same time. After witnessing his delirium, anguish consumes you, were you the reason why he was such a psychopath? Was Mark destined to go rouge if he stuck with you?

Your speeding thoughts come to an abrupt stop as you feel teeth sinking in your neck, a scream erupts out of your dry throat, but he's quick to silence you as he just licks the blood running down your neck.

Your neck becomes his canvas, he covers it in bites and hickeys, brandin you like an animal and tasting your flesh and blood as if they were the most delicious things he has ever tried. A sob escapes you as you just close your eyes and take whatever he is giving you, but when you open them he is staring directly at you.

His mouth is covered in your blood—just like yours—then, as if he couldn't get enough, he slowly licks the blood that's running down your chin, loving the taste too much to let any of it go to waste. Your eyes widen as you feel his warm lips move against yours, your hands fly up to his hair and he moans in the kiss after you pull them to get him off you. For a moment your mouths separate but your lips collide again in a vicious cycle of tugging and pulling. He's panting, hair sticking in every direction, and you're light-headed, most likely due to the blood you're losing.

He doesn't give you any room to breathe, uncaring that unlike him you need oxygen to survive.

So you do the most logical thing really, you bite his tongue.

Nearly chewing off the squishy organ.

Naturally, his reaction is instantaneous as he screams and drops you to the ground. "You bitch—" he splutters out with a newly acquired lisp that makes you giggle as you lay on the ground, high in the clouds from all the blood that you were rapidly losing.

Before he is even able to grab you from the floor like a little mindless puppet, you're scoped in the arms of someone else, red paints his white suit.

You can't move, your eyes slowly closing as the cold air hits your face and warm, bloody hands hold you like you were giving to die at any moment, maybe you were, maybe not, you don't really know.

"Hey, don't go dying on me", the voice sounds as if it were underwater, you don't get all the words, but hearing 'dying' is enough to understand the meaning of the entire phrase.

"Don't worry, I'm just resting my eyes for a bit, okay?" You're mellowed out, tired and giggly as you just touch his nose with a "BOop!", your bloody finger smearing your insides on his perfect nose.

He looks at you with an undecipherable gaze, or maybe you're not really in the best conditions to understand his feelings, but then he just sighs, worried? Angry? Loving? All the above?

"You better just be resting".

( "Don't you sometimes wish you could just—I don't know—disappear, even for a second." It's cold, it's a dark night only illuminated by the full moon.

"I have done that sometimes, there are so many desert planets in the galaxy—", you interrupt his calm voice, gentle and relaxed as always when he is with you.

"I—I don't know Mark. I think that no matter where we could go, we can't escape this, our responsibilities." You're sitting on a roof, your black suit clashes with his white one. Another reminder of how incompatible the both of you were.

"I can't let you conquer earth, I can't let the viltrumite empire win, but I don't want to lose you".

"You don't need to lose me" he breathes out, after his hands always find yours. Sometimes you think that it might be an instinctual response for when you need comfort, stability.

"And then what? I give up like a coward and live off the rest of my days in luxury as earth is enslaved? You know right that I can't just do that". He doesn't get why you need to make it so difficult, he could force you to just accept his way and get this over with, but he doesn't want to hurt you.

"But why not?"

"Would you give up Viltrum for me?"

A shaky breath. A twitch. The air stills.

"Don't do this to me [name]..."

Your lips twitch downwards and you don't hesitate to just get away from him, baton ready to just fly out of there.

"There you have it, your answer, why should I give up Earth when you wouldn't do the same for me?")

("If I were that girl I would dump that guy on the spot" William scoffs while sitting on the counter.

"Did you hear what he just said to her? Like, I could not take that level of disrespect, no matter the guy" he adds before slurping his chocolate milkshake. It's late, the sun is setting and the warm orange hues make the bakery the perfect setting for a date.

Or an evening with your friends.

You're working overtime since your co-worker is sick, but you don't mind, especially when it's not rushing hour and your friends are here.

"The guy is not even that hot." Is your only remark as you rest your weight on the counter, your hand on your face being your only support as you look across the room towards the couple.

Mark—the most subtle out of the three of you—almost snaps his head around to look at the them, now suddenly interested in the conversation.

Because of this, the man notices you and whispers in the woman's ear, now both of them are laughing and you feel the embarrassment creep up.

"Great job Mark, now they think we're weirdos"

"I didn't mean to! I mean—you were also looking! And I was curious."

"Yeah, but turning your head around like an owl was not the way dude" says William, who's now savouring the chocolate cake, with chocolate cream, covered in chocolate and with chocolate sprinkles.

"But back to the topic, he is not bad looking [name], it's just his personality that's garbage"

"well he is not really my type" you answer, not really focused on Will as you clean around a bit.

"Oh, oh! Then what is your type then? What about french men?" There's a teasing tone, and a brow wiggle you don't see.

"I wouldn't know honestly." The response comes out of your mouth like water out of a pitcher, you weren't thinking about the consequences of your slip up when you said the words.

Well, at least until you turned around and saw both of your friends slightly shocked.

"What?" Your brows are furrowed, your confusion is evident.

"You were in the city of love and you didn't, I don't know, date anyone? Fuck anybody? Like girl, why did you even go to Paris at this point". You don't mean to blush, there's nothing to be embarrassed about when you have had your reasons to not make any kind of romantic experience, unlike the men in front of you.

It's meant to be a joke, but you can't help but feel a little ashamed.

"I was busy!" Is the only thing that you can come up with as you raise your voice slightly. Will just laughs as if this was the funniest thing in the world, news flash it's really not.

Especially when Mark is present and is staring at you with an expression you can't decipher.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with being a virgin".

This time Mark is the one that speaks, he is not really looking at you but William can see his half lidded eyes, his downturned eyebrows. At that he can't help but laugh even harder for your dismay. (Of course he is the one who says this, of course there's nothing wrong if you are a virgin. It's not like he deeply cares about whether or not you have had any kind of experience with other men, but the possibility of being your first makes him giddy.)

"Mark is right, the concept of virginity is misogynist anyway". With William's wheezes and Mark's unfocused gaze the conversation comes to an end.

You don't even want to know what that couple is even thinking of the three of you after this)

-

Your arms are tired, your body is aching. For the last few hours you have been straining yourself to try and keep up with this version of Mark, who's not exactly holding back.

"Babe really, I can't believe that you're better than half the guys I've faced. But you don't really need to do all this you know." He is floating in the air with a smirk forever plastered on his face, there are some cuts here and there and some of your blood along with his drips on the ground as he stands with his arms crossed.

"Have I told you already how hot you are in this costume? In my world you wanted to be a superhero too, a shame you didn't have these powers". You have swung him around all day with your yo-yo and you have conjured too many lucky charms to count as you've tried to lose him while on the run, but nothing, this cat and mouse game seemed neverending.

"I'm not your girlfriend or the version of me you know about, so don't call me babe", your voice is firm as you speak, it's tired too but you can't just give up now.

"Of course you're not her, she's dead. You're the upgrade."

You're horrified by the statement that's said so lightly, did this man even love your alternative version in his world?

"What—"

"Hey, hey. Before you say it, of course I loved her, that's why I love you." The words are like some sort of tautology, a statement that's always true no matter what. He says everything with so much confidence because he truly believes in his words.

"Because at the end of the day, no matter what universe, it's still you". He is quick as he reaches out to grab you, you manage to evade him but only by an inch as his hand grazes your skin.

As you conjure your lucky charm a weird device falls on your hands, but when you look at Mark you don't get how this could work against him.

It's not like he is giving you the time to think either.

"In every universe you're the kind hearted girl that sticks with a guy like me", he doesn't stop and you need to jump as he launches himself towards you. This time you're late and before your yo-yo can wrap itself around the last lamppost standing, he grabs your leg and slams you on the ground with enough force to leave you breathless.

"You're [name], you're the girl who loves to bake, the girl who is too nice for her own good". You don't have time to get up as he is immediately on top of you, you try to crawl away from him but it's useless as he just grabs your leg and pulls you back in his possessive embrace.

"The girl that in each universe falls in love with me, there's no exception out there, we're meant to be", the words are whispered in your ear and you suppress a shiver. Your hips are flush against his and you can't even move without bringing yourself closer to him, his eyes are clouded with anticipation and no more self restraints as one hand bruises your hips and the other rests besides your nearly concussed head.

He moves, slowly, tentatively, because he wants to savour this, to unravel you with care after not having you for so long. And you whimper as a jolt of pleasure hits your body, because what could you do if not that?

And he keeps doing this, content for now to just roll his hips against yours.

Your costume is barely any protection as you can feel every inch of him rub against you.

Your ponytails are undone and your hair is let loose creating a halo around you, you don't feel like an angel as you wrap your arms around his back, one of your hands clawing on the material of his suit.

The squelch of the two fibers against each other fills the empty street along with your suppressed moans and his audible ragged groans.

Late at night, in the dark of your room, in the privacy of your walls, you had imagined how Mark would sound, how he would feel as he makes his way inside you.

And this was wrong, tantalising, but wrong.

But you can't do anything about it, or maybe you don't want to do anything about it as your legs lock around his narrow waist almost on autopilot.

You feel dizzy, your cheeks warm and rosy as the hand that was gripping your hip moves to knead your butt. The thread that's keeping you together almost snaps as he keeps his rocking steady, with your little sounds, whimpers, moans and shudders as his only fuel.

He audibly swallows at your blissed out face and then he kisses you. It's messy, it's rough, it's all teeth and tongue, it's him sucking the air out of you like he'd die if he doesn't and it's you—inexperienced—trying to follow his lead. But it's loving, it's passionate, it's everything you had desired from Mark, your Mark.

Like in the romantic novels that you used to read (and that Mark bullied you for), the kiss leaves a string of saliva to connect your mouths.

"I'm so lucky that I got to you first" his breath hitches as he tries to remove your suit, not really knowing where to start since you would need to detransform to actually remove it

"Losers, all of them, fucking hate those assholes, especially your version of myself. All whiny and pathetic, a coward through and through". His inebriated gaze travels your whole body until it reaches your flushed face.

"But he's not here, the coward didn't even check on you personally". There's no one in this little evacuated area, not a civilian, not Eve, not Mark. You're just for his consumption now as he momentarily spits vitriol against your Mark, your dear Mark that is fighting tooth and nail right now.

You hadn't even texted him to reassure him you were okay.

Guilt seeps in as a few tears run down your face and your lip trembles, you don't let a sob run out of you but the face of the man in front of you changes.

(It was late, Mark's parents were already sound asleep but the both of you were still wide awake on the couch. Two blankets were wrapped around you as you're curled against your personal heater.

The movie you had chosen was tragic, not in the "oh no, doomed lovers!" sense, but more in the "I'm gonna make you cry every liquid inside of your body" type of movie.

There was only so much suffering your hormonal fifteen year old self could handle and eventually the dam broke.

.

.

.

"hey, are you crying?"

"Of course I'm crying, didn't you see how that little kid died? And his little friend was there, oh god" you sob as the snot fills your nostrils.

"It's just a movie...it's not even inspired by a real life event, don't cry.." he had never cried easily, probably something viltrumite.

You sniff, more like snort at his attempt to comfort you.

Before you can use your sleeve to wipe your tears, he is using his hands to remove them for you.

"I don't like seeing you cry, even if it's for a stupid movie", he almost cringes at how cliché he sounds. It's not like he can help it anyway when this is the truth, he just hates seeing you cry.

Thinking that maybe this was enough for one night, you rest your head on his chest and mutter something almost inaudible.

"Your movies are stupid".)

"Hey, don't cry, I'm here" it's awkward, it's guilty. His reaction is confused as he doesn't know what ignited your sadness.

Your arms are still wrapped around him as he kisses the tears of sorrow away, in a way that's too sweet for a merciless mass murderer.

The longer you cry, the longer you feel yourself coming back from that haze, because the guilt overpowers your desire, and suddenly you realise that you're still holding tightly your lucky charm.

And you see them, you see the possibilities.

You remember his weakness, the weakness all viltrumites had due to their constitution.

So you press the button on the little device and a sound comes out of it. Sharp, lethal, quick.

The man gasps and the sound he makes is terrifying. Blood oozes out of his nose and ears, it ends on your face and you don't care as you press the device against his ear.

He is trying to move, to choke you, to push your arm away, but he's too weak and with a deranged look that screams vengeance, he passes out on top of you.

Your head falls on the ground since the adrenaline is running out, you rest there with his body on top of you just like lovers would after a night well spent.

The sob that you were holding back before is finally free. You are relieved as you slowly use your last remaining forces to push him away from you, then with shaking legs you search for your yo-yo before making your way to your apartment.

You need to tell others you're okay, you need to tell Mark, you need to help others.

As soon as you enter inside your home through the window you collapse on the ground, your costume vanishes in a puff of pink and sparkles as Tikki gasps and flies towards you.

"[name]!" She's tired too, you've used your miraculous far more than usual. You didn't have a time limit like teenagers, but overusing it is still tiring both on the user and the kwami.

"I'm fine, I'm fine", you reassure her and yourself, "I just need to rest for a few seconds" you breathe through your mouth as your sweaty and hot body is pleased by the coldness of the floor.

"You should eat" you breathe out, "I need you to be in your best shape, or else we're not making it out alive". Tikki frowns at your answer, but gets to work as she thinks about how much time you have left before the man with the mohawk comes back for you.

Feeling a little bit better, a little less dead, you also get to work and you reach for your phone.

You answer various texts even if they're not online right now: Mark's, Eve's, William's. Even Debbie has tried to reach out to you as you look at the notifications on the phone.

Your parents have tried to call you.

Your face becomes as white as a sheet as you suddenly remember about your parents. You almost feel like puking at the possibility of them being hurt, or even worse, dead. Before you can tell Tikki to transform, you receive a call that makes your fear disappear for a second:

Mom is calling

You have never answered a phone call so fast.

"Mom! Mom.. oh my god" you choke out as tears of relief run down your face. "Are you okay? Where are you?" There's breathing at the other end of the line, your mother doesn't answer as you plead for everything to be alright.

"Mom? Mom, are you okay? Please, tell me something", your fear comes back tenfold, since once again you don't hear either of your parents' voices. Instead you're met with muffled sounds, distorted, but not too far away from the person that is holding the phone. There's rustling, a muffled cry and then finally a chuckle.

It's dark, twisted, but it's Mark's.

"[nameee]", the variant drags your name out of his tongue, almost tasting it, as if he hasn't said in a long time. "Where are you, [name]? You weren't home when I checked. But I got a little surprise for you, you can call it a little gift", he laughs as he moves the phone closer towards your parents. They are gagged, tied up on a chair and a bit roughed up, not too much, but enough to make them alert about his every move.

And they are afraid, so afraid. Because this psycho version of Invincible wants you, their little girl, and you can feel them trembling throughout the call as the both of them choke on the gag.

"See? They are fine, just peachy. But they would be even better if you just told me where you are", there's a hint of frustration in his voice, because why were you not at home waiting for him when he had arrived at your house? He had found your worried parents instead. But he doesn't need to worry, because you always give in to him, especially when it's about your parents.

(And he knows better than anyone how much you love them.)

Your teeth almost shatter, anger consumes you as the bastard on the other side of the call keeps your parents hostage, and for what? So he could have his way with you just like the other passed out viltrumite?

"You bastard!" You scream as your fist clenches tightly enough to draw blood with your nails. "I'll kill you, I swear I'll kill you when I see you".

There's silence on the other line, and then a loud boisterous laugh that makes you seethe, you bite your lip as a way to dissipate some of the rage, but it's useless and now the taste of iron feels your mouth.

"Oh come on dear, don't make me laugh, just tell me where you are right now and I'll come and get you".

"What if you just tell me where you are instead". Tikki has stopped eating, instead she is listening carefully.

"[name]", now he sounds cold, icy, like a man that wants control and demands respect, "I'm not playing around, if you don't tell me where you are right now I will murder your parents, and trust me I've been hitching to do it a second time".

Then you beg, because you need more time, more time to think about something.

"Please, just, just let me come to you, don't hurt them, please". Even if you're pissed, you can't play around with the lives of your parents. It's almost impossible to stay still after this piece of shit has just said that he would gladly kill them again.

From the other line you hear a disturbing sigh, one of pleasure, a sigh that belongs to a beast that is appeased.

"I just love when you beg, you do it so nicely too. A shame I can't see your face". Making a decision is difficult, you could tell him where you are but you're not sure after his revelation that he wouldn't kill them just to see your reaction.

"Do you remember that abandoned factory? The one we always went to when we needed some time away from everyone else?" You do remember it, but that wasn't the purpose of the building for the both of you. You and Mark had found the place after a whole day of exploring the outskirts of the city, but you rarely ever went there.

"I—I thought you were closer to where I am now" you mutter.

You can almost feel the way the expression on the other Mark's face changes, you can view the way the fabric of his mask creases due to his eyebrows furrowing from confusion.

"Where are you [name]?" You can taste the desperation rolling out of him in waves. You don't know if he will buy this, but Mark was never the sharpest tool in the shed compared to you.

"I am sorry, I just—I forgot that I'm not in the USA right now. I just panicked when you said you would kill my parents." You say everything fast, trying to fake being panicked in the best possible way.

"I'm in Paris right now" you say the address of your aunt's old apartment, now empty as she has moved out of it a while ago.

"You need to come get me..".

A beat, a shaky breath as your parents are almost screaming as they understand that you have given up your location.

"You're really lucky that I'm in a good mood today", the phrase almost feels like deja vu as you remember the Mark with the mohawk saying something similar.

"Ah, and wear something nice" he adds, before hanging up.

As soon as the call ends you're in the air suited up and running as fast as you can. You zap from building to building as you hope, no, as you pray, that by some miracle you were going to be faster than him.

"Tikki does it look like I can do anything else?" Your frustration was palpable in the air, you didn't want to hear the scolding.

"[name] please" she pleaded softly while flying in front of the woman who had her arms tightly crossed and her face tense. "I'm only saying that you can't keep doing whatever it is you think you're doing, it's not healthy".

"Then what other option do I have Tikki? As a normal human I was not enough, now as a superhero I can't face him without my mask." Your eyes were staring at the ground, your jaw clenched in anger and you closed your eyes for a second from feeling the tears.

"Mark... I don't understand him. How could he approach me as if nothing ever happened? As if he didn't sever ties with me, as if I didn't go no contact from everyone for almost two years." Your hands were swiftly wiping the tears away. Tikki for a second went still, shocked by your outburst, and then went to hug your cheek, not caring in the slightest if the tears wet her tiny form.

"I just—I don't understand. I can't do it, I can't go back to how things were without addressing everything. But even if I did, we wouldn't go back to how things were. I can't even face him, I can barely speak to him, or give him what he needs apparently, and now, I can't even let him go." Your deep sigh reverberated through your chest, a slight tremor ran through your spine and you felt more at peace after having let some of the build up tension out of your body.

"I'm so tired of not being enough Tikki... If I had been enough do you think he would have at least apologised?" The words were brimmed with insecurity which made the kwami of creation gasp in horror at how little you thought of yourself.

(Paris had destroyed you and those two years were a buried secret that you and the city shared. You were a murderer in cold blood, you had done it for the city, you had gotten rid of the black cat that mindlessly annihilated without remorse. That day of destruction and death, that dark day for the supposed "city of love", was the only day the Parisians had praised you. "Their saviour" they called you, "their hero", "the luck of Paris". You remember puking your guts out, your knees giving up in your tiny claustrophobic bathroom. You had enjoyed killing the cat, you had loved the feeling of creating strategy after strategy to demolish every little ounce of his hope and strength, your smile becoming more twisted each time you saw him crumble. Tikki didn't say a word to you about the ordeal, not to comfort nor punish you verbally, but while you had given a young man eternal rest in a brutal way, you had done it for the greater good. That fact alone was enough for Tikki to know that while wrong, you had done the necessary thing that many would have hesitated to do.)

"Can you believe that I really thought that I would have a chance as a superhero?" Your laugh is a ugly, almost hysterical as you wither in the corner of your room.

"[name] that's not true, I really think you should talk to Mark about this—"

"And then what?"

"Haven't you stopped to think for a second? Don't you maybe think that Mark did that years ago not because you were not good enough but to protect you?" Tikki then gave a napkin for [name] to blow her red nose in.

"What do you mean? Then why only me?" You say focusing your puffy eyes on the tiny red and black creature.

"Is it really so out of the question to think that maybe you were so special that he couldn't have risked you getting hurt because of him? Are you really going to just disregard the fact that he stuck with you through thick and thin? And for what? Because you overthink too much".

"it's not overthinking if it's the truth, he didn't even message me or call me to know if I was okay after I went to France". There were so many different little things you were focusing on, your mind was imploding from the possibilities, from the guilt of having jumped too fast to conclusions.

"I don't know about that for sure and I'm not justifying his actions, but we need to see his perspective. We don't know why he did that, yet you can ask him that". How could Tikki even propose this when you couldn't even look him in the eyes?

"You can't hide forever behind this excuse, your avoidant behaviour is just your way of justifying your fear of being faced with the reality of things again. I know you're afraid, but you can't run forever or hide behind your mask forever. Even if the worst case scenario happens and we discover an even uglier truth than what we imagined, at least you will have the truth in your hands. You will be able to finally get closure, to have a fresh start". After recovering from the shock of Tikki's wake up call, you slowly nodded while some tears made your way down your face. An ugly smile, the one you make when you cry, made its way up to your face as you hugged your friend closely and closed your eyes.

-

Eve knew that Mark had a childhood friend, she knew that he cherished her deeply from how fondly he spoke about her when they had been together. She wasn't jealous, Eve recognised her worth and wouldn't want to exchange it with anyone else's, yet it kind of hurt to see that Mark didn't talk about her with the same fondness. For Eve you were at some unreachable peak, and in the moment she had realized it, she understood how Alexander the Great's generals must have felt knowing that he was unsurpassable.

Mark wasn't the only man in the world, but for some time he had been her world. He had been a good boyfriend, caring, attentive, sweet and so on. They had their ups and downs, like any other couple, but overall the experience had been unforgettable.

(A buried thought screams that in another universe where you don't exist, maybe there's a possibility that she's still with Mark. Even if she does think about it sometimes, she doesn't dwell on it.)

Mark loved her, she wouldn't doubt it. Yet, it wasn't enough when she wasn't the girl he loved the most.

(To their friends they say they separated on a mutual accord, but nobody knows how it had happened. One day everything was fine, while the next they were on separate ways. She couldn't stay with Mark when you were on his thoughts 24/7, but after seeing you in person she couldn't really blame the guy .)

Meeting you had been an humbling experience.

You weren't the most attractive person she had seen, but there was something about you that made you look like a flower in bloom. The kind that you appreciate early in spring after a harsh winter, the kind you don't pick off the ground just to see it alive the next day.

Alive.

That was the word.

You felt alive, not just in the literal sense. More in the fact that every little gesture, every smile, every giggle livened up the room. For Eve this kind of beauty is not something you can achieve, it's something that you have because you're a good soul and your body shows it.

You're no saint, but for a moment—the goodness in you, the pain you carry both as a civilian and a hero, your smiles—all of this makes Eve believe in something, in something good, that almost resembles hope for this world. (She hadn't meant to find out who you were, it was accidental. One moment she was following you to talk to you, the next you were de-transforming, completely clueless of her presence.)

-

"So you know Invincible's name?" Atom Eve, or Eve, had sat down next to you after asking you this question. The both of you were on the roof of a building, legs dangling meters from the ground as you munch on your sandwich.

"I heard it from you", it was the truth, but you also knew who was under the yellow mask, so partially the truth?

"Are you sure?" You were pretty sure.

"Yes, I was standing not too far away, I mean I'm not hard of hearing" you joke, but something tells you that Eve's question is not really about Mark's name.

"Look, I'm gonna be forward with you" she turned around to face you completely as you took another bite of your sandwich, for a moment she thought about just asking where you had bought it, but then she revealed something she knew about you.

"I know your identity", the words leave you comically frozen, but there's nothing to laugh about really.

Silence, complete utter silence. You had stopped chewing, the air had grown still and there was no sound whatsoever. You slowly turned to face her, with cheeks full of food and eyes wide.

"Did you tell Mark?" That was what you were worried about?

"So he doesn't know? I guessed this was the reason why he acted so differently towards 'Ladybug'. But no, it's not my place to do that, but I think I should also ask you that question." She was calm as she generated in her hands a sandwich, probably hungry too after seeing you eat with so much joy. You had found out her identity just by using your brain, after all there was no way that Samantha Eve Wilkins—the same girl who looked and sounded like Atom Eve, the girl who befriended Mark after he got his powers—was not the superhero in pink.

"To whom would I reveal your identity? I mean, as far as you're concerned my kwami knows about you", you opened your bottle of water and washed down the lingering taste of meat, veggies and home made bread.

"Kwami?"

-

You don't really know how much time you had spent with Eve, talking about your powers, about college, work and so on, but you were glad you had the opportunity. One conversation led to another and suddenly you were vulnerable:

"I mean, I might be smart but that's it. There's nothing really special about 'Ladybug'", the both of you were still on that roof fully suited up, your feet swinging mindlessly.

"You're kidding right? You defeated a villain with a hairpin and you can repair any damage. Your powers are similar to mine, but you have the creativity that I lack. My powers are almost limitless, but I just act in survival mod all the time".

"Creativity won't save me in the long run, against viltrumites I'm useless, while you can hold your ground. I'm not fast enough, strong enough to compete. I'm not weak but it's not enough, you know?".

For a moment Eve was silent, thinking her next words carefully.

"Well, you don't need to be that strong. You're not facing threats alone, you can rely on others." Eve was not a person of words, she was not as impulsive as Mark, and was not insensitive, but she wasn't used to comforting others.

"You need to embrace your confidence, and honestly—it's not really about this—but you need to tell Mark. That man is going crazy over you". With that you choked on saliva and got up.

"Eve! Don't lie about this!" You exclaimed with a high pitch. You were already delusional enough to hope that maybe you could fuck around with Mark without him knowing who you were in the long run, she didn't need to feed your delusions by saying that Mark was crazy for you, it was unfair.

"Why would I lie?" She laughed hard as she also got up, she couldn't really believe how ridiculous the situation was, how stupid the both of you were.

"You need to grow some balls [name], I mean it". You pushed her lightly as she laughed before saying goodbye and flying away.

.

.

"Why do you need to grow some balls?"

"JESUS MARK" you're startled as you jump a little, your eyes wide as you turn around to find Invincible standing in all his spandex glory.

"It's 'Invincible' to you Ladybug" He says before crossing his arms and looking at the city.

"yeah, yeah 'Invinciboy', tell that to the news, not me", your smirk is the one of a cat as you tip toe on the edge of the roof. You might not see his eyes, but you know Mark, you know every kind of expression he makes.

And if that isn't one of irritation than you never knew him.

"Don't call me that".

"You have a lot of demands today, first you eavesdrop on a private conversation and then you pretend I call you 'Invincible'? You let everyone else call you Mark when no civilians are around". You express your opinion with nonchalance, with a teasing smile as you take a good look at him, at your Mark in spandex (or in polymer fiber or whatever the material is—).

"I wasn't eavesdropping and you're not like others for the record" , for a moment you think he will add a "because you're special, so you can call me however you want", but you know he won't, so you start to question if he at least considers you a friend.

"Aren't we at least friends?"

"Why would we be friends?" There's no evil, no malice, nothing. It's just a mere observation after all.

Your playful expression vanishes for a second, your gaze falls on his eyes once again as you try to understand if the words are genuine or just a way to rouse you.

"Why would we not be friends? We fight together, joke around, talk, spend time—"

"No. We don't do that. At least I don't, you do all the joking, the talking, the laughing. All you do is stick to me like some octopus". You're not even close to him and he can feel the lingering sensation of your gloved hands against him. He calls you an octopus but then he just clings on you like a leech in your civilian form? How hypocritical can he be?

"You should be glad that at least one girl is giving you some sort of attention". You might be hurt, but you recover fast. There's no right or wrong right now, even if it's mostly your fault. You wish you had the confidence to solve this mess, but instead you fuel whatever this is under this confident façade you have created for yourself.

"That's a lot coming from you, you look like a lost puppy every time I even look at you". A hard jab, one that makes you more vicious. One that makes you laugh internally, since that's the face he makes whenever you're too busy to give him some semblance of attention.

"I don't get why you're so pressed about it. The fans love us, the GDA loves us as a duo. You're the only one so against it". You don't understand why things always need to be so complicated with him.

"Um, hello??" He says mockingly with sass. "Maybe it's because I don't like you?"

You laugh a little, because obviously he doesn't like you. He didn't like you before you became a superhero, it was foolish to think that maybe he would change his mind now, fuck Eve for saying otherwise and getting your hopes up.

"Oh really? Are we in fifth grade? Let's hear it then, who does the little baby like?" You don't bother to cover up the mix of emotions you're feeling right now as you mock him with your tone, you might have cried on the spot if it wasn't for the anger that kept you going, which was directed at him and yourself. Out of every plan, out of every crazy stunt you have pulled, trying to start anew with your secret identity has to be the one to go wrong? (And all for what? Because you don't have the balls to face Mark? Pathetic.)

His skin reddens, only slightly, as he looks away. Now he even dares to become shy? Fuck wrapping your hands around him, the yo-yo in your hands looks too good to not be used right now.

"It's not your business, but this" he makes a gesture with his hands to indicate whatever is going on with you and him, "needs to stop". Especially when he can't even make a move on [name] properly.

"Oh yeah, gee I wonder who it is with your busy social life", your tone is acidic as you mock him, "Mmm, let's list all the girls you know and find out, is that okay for you 'invinciboy'?" The man grits his teeth and is about to go away, tired from your bullshit when he halts as he hears you listing names and things you shouldn't really know about his life.

"Is it Eve? Mm, from your face I guess no. But it would have been a good guess, many exes who remain friends usually go back together", your face is gleeful, but in a mocking way, focused on his expression as you try to solve him, like one of your puzzles.

"Oh, oh! Is it Amber? She was your first after all."

"What—"

"Mm, I don't think it's anyone from the team either, is there a possibility you might be gay then? Do you like William perhaps, Gayson? I don't have other female options available and the best friends to lovers troupe is really common—" Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, you're no longer touching the ground and Mark is holding you up by your suit.

"How do you know all of this?" His voice is deep as his glare cuts your skin like butter, there's no sympathy in his tone, the words are the ones of a man who doesn't mess around with the people he cares about. It's the first time you've seen this side of him directed at you.

"Has your tiny little pebble brain thought that maybe, just maybe, I'm someone you know?" You seethe as you face the consequences of your actions, you know that Mark could rip you to shreds right now since he has the upper hand, but you don't care, because he is not a monster like you, so you know he won't snap your neck for running your tongue.

"Then tell me who you are, if you're so sure you actually know me" Was he insinuating that you, a hero, were a stalker? You knew he had at least somewhat the right to believe it, due to the information, but you weren't that bad to make such an assumption. (You were already this horrible in his eyes, and he didn't even know your worst side yet.)

"Why don't you answer my question first?" His face is still contorted in rage, yet he hasn't abandoned all common sense like you. He ponders for a second if he's making the right choice, the right deal.

"If you dare to hurt them I swear—"

"Woah, woah! Pretty boy, I would never. You're not that pretty". It's not the right moment and your joke doesn't land, yet after this illuminating discussion you realize that none of them really did, because Mark doesn't like you and he doesn't even trust you as a coworker.

"After I tell you who it is, you will reveal your identity to me". You freeze slightly, your pupils shrink at the possibilities of a disastrous aftermath. Your curiosity is too much though, you really need to know who this person is.

"Yes, yes, okay", you say, but not before rolling your eyes.

He looks at you for a second more, to see if you're honest under all this fake bravado, before sighing and letting you free from his hold.

"Do you know the bakery down the road?"

It's almost a mutter but you hear it anyway so you don't bother to mock him with a derisory "what did you say?", you're getting tired of this, yet not tired enough to just give up. This is the moment when you can finally find peace and accept that maybe Mark wasn't meant for you. (Deep down it's useless thinking this way, since you will never get over him.)

"I buy often from there", your words are almost phrased like a question. Maybe it's because you work there and there are only two people and an old lady running the place.

"It's one of the girls working, her name is—"

"Anna?"

"[name]".

The name repeats in your head like a loop as you become a statue, your smile fades as you come to the realisation that it was always you at the end of the day. Not Amber, not Eve, not Ladybug, just you.

[name].

You've tried so hard to fix things, to have a second chance. Now you're face to face with the fact that you had never needed one, that all your overthinking, all your crying about him, avoiding him, all your fears and insecurities could have been avoided if you had had the courage to talk to him.

You're not happy, you're not relieved.

You have ruined everything.

He loves you, of course, he has just said it. But he loves [name], his childhood friend, the girl who loves baking, the [name] he remembers. He doesn't love Ladybug, the superhero version of you, the one whose trauma changed her in a confused mess. His distrust and dislike is palpable, you wouldn't doubt after your epiphany that he might be disgusted too if he knew about the blood you have shed in Paris.

You're breathing hard, you know that he will hate you if he discovers your identity. Not just Ladybug, but you. (But who are you really? Are you [name]? The childhood friend that stuck to him like glue. Are you Ladybug? Are you something else you don't know of?)

You think you're crying as you walk back towards the edge of the roof, your only escape route, since running away is the only thing you're good at. (It almost reminds you of that time when Nolan comforted you, it was also the last time you had seen him and Mark doesn't tell you what happened when he comes to the bakery. He doesn't even talk about his family, about his little purple brother you saw on the streets when you were patrolling).

"Hey, are you okay?" He is tentative in his steps as he tries to approach you, he had expected some sort of reaction from you, but not this.

"I need to go", it doesn't sound right because of the tears, from the snot in your nose that's keeping you from saying the words right, together with the hiccuping.

He finds it hard to let you go after you promised to reveal your identity, yet it's even harder when you cry the same way his girl does.

He almost reaches to hug you but you're already far away, he can see your silhouette swinging from building to building. He could fly and catch you, but he doesn't find it in him to be harsh on you again after seeing your crying face.

-

("Aren't you glad [name]? He loves you!" Tikki is buzzing around happily as you try to collect yourself, as if you're the broken puzzle that needs solving.

"You don't get it, do you? He doesn't love me, he doesn't know who I am anymore, he loves the person he remembers, the one who he thinks I am. Not this mess. I thought that if he fell in love with Ladybug, it would have been easier for him to accept the person I'm now". Your hands are shaking as you look at them, as if by looking at them you could remember the sensation of the warm blood coating them.

"Let's think in a positive way, at least you know the truth..!" Tikki stops in her tracks as she sees your deranged expression.

"You and your damned truth. I don't need to know the truth!" You glare at the kwami with the build up hatred you have for yourself and this hero life that was forced upon you.

"I don't give a shit about the truth!" Your voice gets higher with every point you make, Tikki can't help but flinch at you.

"I just want Mark" you plead, almost like a prayer and not a demand. Tikki can't help but be angry at you, at the fact that you won't listen, you just drown in your sorrows even when there's a life-saver around your body.)

-

You don't talk to anyone, not even to Tikki, you don't go to work and you ask your parents to tell others that you are sick. They are worried about you, sometimes they come inside your room and sit on the bed, they tell you that they are there if you need them. You don't answer, you never do, and you feel like a bad daughter, you don't deserve this coddling when it's your fault, but you know that it's not like you can accept their help, since it's not even a possibility in their minds that you might be a superhero.

Your friends and coworkers are worried, Mark especially. You feel guilty about causing all this distress, but it's not enough to stop you from looking at flights for Paris. Would everything be better if you just gave back the miraculous? Tikki might not outright say it but you can see the way she looks at you. The way she judges you, scrutinizes you. You know she would gladly go back to Marinette if given the opportunity.

You never book the flight, you just look and think about it under the warm blankets as the bright light from the laptop makes your eyes red. Tikki can see what you're doing, yet she doesn't stop you. Maybe it's some sick test to see if you have the guts to actually leave behind one of the identities you have created, or maybe it's not, and she genuinely wishes you would press it and get this over with.

You never make up your mind, you just rot in indecision, like you always do.

Like you do with your life, with Mark and with everything else.

You don't know what is going on with the outside world, the GDA has contacted you multiple times but it's better they get used to your absence since you're reluctant to go back to the team. You're a coward, they might need you for something important, and your stomach churns at another responsibility you are avoiding.

"[name]?" Tikki after weeks of giving you the silent treatment, has finally decided to grace you with her presence. You wonder if she feels remorse for having blindly accepted Marinette's choice. You look at her, she's clearly worried and she's trying to find the right words to not activate the bomb in the room.

You don't bother to wait for her and just go to the bathroom. The one that stares at you in the mirror is not your reflection, or at least you hope that it's not the reflection of who you truly are. (A shiver runs through your spine, you knew that the black cat had gone crazy. You wonder if maybe he had been just misunderstood, if he had been just like you. Instead of trying to find a better solution to help him, you gave him a painful death.)

Suddenly as you wash your face you feel something trying to keep your hair from getting wet. You see the little creature that has been by your side until now holding your hair up, she's looking at you with love and sadness, not hate.

And you feel guilty, because how could you be harsh to her when she's always trying to fix your messes?

You repeat "sorry" all over as she dries your face with a towel, she doesn't say anything, she doesn't need to. She always knew that you were never going anywhere, but she wanted you to know that she was also not going anywhere.

While Marinette had been great, every miraculous holder had been a unique experience and you weren't the exception.

You didn't see it yet, you didn't see yourself the way Tikki, Eve, Mark and everyone else did, but maybe one day you would and she wasn't about to leave your side before that moment.

Because she loved you, not the girl who liked to bake, not the hero, not whatever distorted version you had in mind of yourself.

Just you.

"Do you feel better?" Tikki's voice is calm, gentle as she puts the towel aside.

"I think I do—I do", your words feel like a promise. A promise to be better than yesterday, for the people you love, for those who need you, for yourself, even if you don't know who she is yet.

-

"Have you read any messages yet?" Tikki says with her tiny cheeks full of chocolate chip cookies that had just come out of the oven.

"No, I don't think I will for now."

"[name]..." You glance at the little creature who's giving you an accusatory glare with no real heat behind it. You just smile and cut up the vegetables, the onions are merciless to your already tired eyes as you're hit by their pungent defence, but your knife is far more cruel as you dice them without remorse to prepare your five star meal (fried rice).

"I mean, I know I should let them know if I'm alright, but I just want to enjoy my peace a little more", you take out the left over rice and put it on the counter, the vegetables are sizzling and the aromas that cloud the kitchen make you sigh.

You're fine, not great yet, but for now being contempt in just cooking for yourself and your little friend a meal is enough.

Cooking is a big part of your life, one of your defining abilities. Your skills make people wonder how you became this good at such a young age.

You don't say to them that you cook when you're stressed, you cook when you're sad, happy, and even when you're angry.

You've lost some of the creativity over the years, pursuing your passion at an academic level has replaced fantasy with skill and technique. You have always known that academic discipline kills passion, and it did kind of murder the love you had for cooking.

But what else could you do if not that? It was either following your childhood dreams or working in an office.

You don't know where Tikki is as you lose yourself in your train of thoughts, completely focused on the task at hand. You stir, mix and add whatever is missing almost on autopilot and you sway your hips to the rhythm of the music that is playing on your phone.

In your little safe haven you don't know what's going on outside. You don't know about the dangers your coworkers are facing—the dangers Mark is facing—because the one time you seclude yourself from the rest of the world, it's also the one time it's about to be destroyed by alternative versions of your childhood friend.

You don't even think about what could be happening outside until you feel strong arms around your waist.

( "why do you always leave the window open?"

It was a bad habit of yours to forget to close the kitchen window, but your neighbourhood had always been safe. "I mean, it's not like we're in a dangerous area and the kitchen sometimes needs some air", you don't look at him in the eyes as you answer, you don't need to, because the bangs on the table and the almost moan that comes out of his mouth are enough to tell you that he is enjoying the food.

"Is it good?" You laugh proudly as you throw a glance in his direction.

"Not just good, it's better than my mom's, I'm not kidding", that's praise right there, better than his mom even? That's something to blush for.

"I'm not that good, Debbie is on another level", you jump a little as you feel him peer over your shoulder to look at what else you're making.

"Next time I go to your house I'll tell her you said this", there's a teasing glint in your eyes as you turn your head around to face him.

"It's not like she would disagree, she literally loves you more than me" he scoffs even if his lovingly warm eyes betray how he truly feels.)

You gasp at the sudden contact and instinctually elbow the person that's holding you so close against him to the point where there's no space between the both of you, no air that keeps away the heat radiating from whoever is behind you. As the hit lands you're not met with an abdomen, but with a wall that doesn't even budge.

"hey, it's me baby".

The voice is raspy, almost breathless as Mark whispers in your ear. You suppress a shiver as you try to create some space between your face and his, and while doing so that's when you take a good look at him.

"What the—what's with the mohawk? And Mark can you let me go please—" you plead before yelping from your stomach fat getting squeezed as the man behind you just sighs and just nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his short hair tickling you in the process.

"you don't like it?" You're speechless at Mark's anomalous behaviour and looks, but it's been quite a while since you got out. It's wrong to be so pleased about the situation, about the domesticity of it. You have dreamed of Mark coming home and hugging you like this while you cook your favourite meals. Now though it just feels wrong, especially after last time. You could not in good conscience take advantage of the situation without addressing the many problems at hand.

"No, it looks good" the rice is done, but you're not focused on that as you hear a deep chuckle from Mark, who just smirks and leaves feather like kisses on your bare neck. You squirm as his weight and arms are blocking you from escaping his gentle assault at your neck. A whine builds up in your throat, frustrated at your helplessness.

You know the bastard is enjoying this, you can feel his smile as he almost bends you on the stove.

"Just—hey what are you doing?" You don't know what stars have aligned to put you in this position, but you need to put a stop to this. The escalation of the situation is worrisome as teeth graze your skin, as you feel his groin against your ass.

"Can't a man just appreciate his girl?" Not when you're not his girl.

"Don't call me that" you manage to say, as your flushed face betrays you.

You don't realise that he is confused by your statement, since you can't turn around to face him, but you do feel his muscles tense. What gives you the chance to escape is the smoke coming out of the pan, the rice is not inedible but it's just slightly charred by the looks of it.

"The rice!" Your suddenly raised voice and the smoke that hit his senses made him slightly loosen his vice grip around your warm waist. It only took one second for him to recollect himself, but it had been enough for you to just step aside and not feel his hot breath on your neck.

Having the possibility to turn around you can finally have a good look at him.

Is it bad if you say he looks wrong?

You were gone for two years and there's barely any change, you're gone for a couple of weeks and this man does a whole 360?

And the eyebags, his eyes...

They are so dark and focused, almost predatory as he looks at you up and down.

"I really missed you babe" he sighs, eyes half lidded, like a full lion after a meal and he hitches closer, because unlike the feline he could be satiated.

"Mark, you're acting weird today, are you alright?"

"I've never been better", his gaze is loving as he settles for grabbing your face with his hand—squishing your cheeks in the process—and giving you a peck on the lips, as if this was a daily occurrence. It's heart warming, soft, and gentle. It's not a passionate kiss, but it's enough to make you freeze. After all it's just the start of something more as his hand settles on your hip.

"Mark—no, stop. We can't." There's a frown on your face as he lets you push his face aside with shaking hands. His face is confused and you don't understand why, what did he expect?

"Why not? Come on [name], don't tease me.." he's almost desperate as he longs for your touch once more, even the hands that keep pushing him away are somewhat palliative as he can once again feel your soft skin against him once more.

"Because it's wrong, we're not together and there's a lot you don't know about me that I haven't told you about. You would hate me if I told you." He chuckles, no, no, he laughs whole heartedly, wiping some of the tears that are about to fall from your eyes. So this lame ass version of himself is not together with you? And more importantly, you're hiding something from him?

"Babe, babe", you're tormenting him with your flushed face, with your slightly red eyes.

"I could never hate you"

You stare at him as if he just hit you with a bucket of cold water.

On the other side of the room your phone vibrates on the table from the quantity of messages you're receiving.

Mark: are you okay?

Mark: hey, answer me? Are you home?

Mark: [name], it's important

Tikki looks at the messages with a horrified face, so she flies in a zone of the room where you can see her, even with the doppelganger in your way.

When you lock eyes she rapidly shakes her head while indicating the men in front of you and your phone.

Mark is calling

You don't hide the expression you make, it's priceless how your eyes shrink and your mouth falls agape. You don't know if he has realised that you know now, you don't know what his intentions are with you, but he had seemed so sincere, there was no way he would hurt you? What version of Mark could be so sadistic to toy with you before hurting you?

"Love, are you okay?" His tone has shifted, the words are another way of saying: "Oh, so you know now? No more faking?"

Because he knows you're not okay, and you're too smart to be fooled twice.

As you move backwards he moves forward, amused by this little waltz he is entertaining you with.

You move right using the table as a support, and he follows you.

It's fun, it's hilarious even. You were so pliable in his hands, like putty, whining about the contact even if your body craved more, and now you were making this laughable effort at evading him. You were lucky he loved you. He wonders where your Mark went wrong when you're as eager to hold him as he is.

Your back hits the open window behind you, the air is cold on your face as you turn around and look at how high up you are.

"There's nowhere to run now babe" he laughs amused as he hovers closer and closer, barely containing his desire to just finish what he started back at the stove.

"You really think so?" A smirk appears, eyes shining in a way he has never seen before, and then you do the most unexpected thing.

You jump out the window, he's not fast enough to grab you since you took him by surprise.

His heart leaps out of his throat, he almost doesn't want to see if you're splattered on the floor, your body just a stain on the floor as your organs are splattered here and there on the sideway.

As he flies outside instead of something gruesome, he's met with your suited up form bouncing around buildings as you try to create some distance between the both of you. Or maybe you're creating some other scheme to fool him once again.

When your gaze meets his, time freezes and you playfully stick his tongue out to him, to mock him, laugh at his foolish and cocky behaviour.

He laughs as one hand just covers his face.

Of course you had powers in this world, of course this was your secret.

Oh, this Mark was a real loser.

Hellooo, I hope you enjoyed part two! Honestly out of every variant, Mohawk Mark is my favourite. Originally I had just planned to finish this here, but then I just got carried away with the last part, lol.

There's a fine line between wanting to smash his head on the sideways and hug him breathless, a fine line dividing the most jaw dropping beating and the most passionate of kisses. You can't believe that someone like Mark Grayson, your dear beloved Mark, is causing so much turmoil inside your mind.

You can't really remember a life before Mark, because there was never one. Your parents had become friends after one tired nurse had brought you in Debbie's arms, who had been so tired that she didn't recognise that who she was holding was not her newborn. Of course, after not even half an hour, you were returned to your parents safe and sound. This experience made your mothers bond and therefore the path to your blooming friendship was created.

Needless to say, the both of you were attached to the hip.

Oh? Mark was at the park? Boom! You were also at the park, playing with him whatever game he had in mind. You were doing some extra curricular activity at school? Bam! Now so was Mark. The both of you knew everything about eachother: from your favourite color to your most embarrassing secret, from one peculiar preference to every little habit.

You had always been an an introverted child, awkward and not really sociable. Yet, with Mark at least, you never had to worry about anything, because why worry when he knew everything and had seen nearly everything about you? Why worry when you had such a caring person as your support? You didn't consider yourself clingy, more like affectionate.

Everytime you found a new recipe you went to his house to bake it with him and sometimes his mum, every time he had to go to the comic book store you were with him listening to his rantings about Science dog. Every single time you were somewhere, everyone knew that Mark wasn't far behind.

Your friendship while cute and wholesome to people who actually knew you (even if it took so much mental strength to not bash you and Mark's oblivious head with a baseball bat), it looked to be on the border of something more to outsiders. You had never been uncomfortable expressing your love to Mark: hugs? Kisses on the cheeks? Being all over him and at least touching him in some sort of way? They were daily occurrences. Why would it be weird? Why were they necessarily romantic gestures?

It's not like your touch lingered far more each time, as if you couldn't get enough. It's not as if when you went back home you smelled so much like him that people asked if you used cologne. At some point you couldn't argue with the fact that you were constantly craving his presence, his touch and maybe even something more.

(His lips had always looked so pretty when he ranted passionately about the comics he was so obsessed with, how would it feel if he was just as obsessed with you? You wondered how it would feel to be the only object of his attentions, just like he was yours.)

Mark wasn't really any better. Maybe on some degree he was worse.

His parents, even his father, were really, extremely, supportive of a possible relationship between you and him. New people he met genuinely thought that the both of you were together, and were left speechless when you said otherwise:

"we're not together" you'd say with laughter between each word, giggling at the silliness of it all. You had always had such a pretty laugh, so mesmerising. "Mark wishes we were together! Right, Mark?" The joke would make him laugh because of the irony of it all, because of the fact that if you hadn't been there he wouldn't have bothered to correct them at all.

Why would he exactly? With the way you two were constantly at each others necks, the only thing that needed to be done was to make it official. ( He doesn't want to think that if he was less scared of ruining your friendship, he would do that in a heartbeat.)

Sometimes he did feel bad about not being clear about your relationship, since he just blatantly ignored the question, leaving it unanswered. Yet, when you pressed your chest and forehead against his back, hugging him from behind, and he could feel the heat radiating from your soft and pliable body, he forgot all the shame and guilt. Why would he leave the person that was destined from birth to be with him to someone else?

Why would he not touch you in public? The both of you hugged frequently, you kissed his cheek, on public transportation or in general he always had a hand on your waist, when walking your hands were always holding (unless he was carrying something for you), on the couch and on the bed you were a tangled mess of limbs with his head resting on your stomach as you stroked his hair. The nights in which you both had fallen asleep like this in the arms of the other were so many to keep track, there had been so many mornings with you waking him up softly while caressing his cheek and whispering in his ear.

(he can't shake off how good it felt to wake up with you by his side, he wished all mornings were like this.)

How had you not kissed yet?

That was a question that kept him awake and a question that left his parents confused. Whenever they came home the both of you were always together doing various activities, and whenever Debbie came home late from work and there was no sound of Mark, her husband would smile knowingly and point upstairs and she would find him cuddled with you, soundly asleep. The hold he had on you was so tight that Debbie believed that not even her husband's viltrumite strength could pull Mark away from you.

Yet, the chokehold you had on him was even tighter.

Nolan had realized this not from the moment Mark had forced them to recreate a matrimony due to the fact that he had professed his love with a candy ring, not even when he had caught him reciting in front of a mirror the part of the prince, that he absolutely needed to have in the fifth grade school play since you were chosen as the princess.

No, no, what had made him realise it was the fact that Mark seemed stronger, faster, better, when around you, even if he didn't have any powers yet. It was not a massive noticeable boost, but just enough to make a difference under the keen eye of Nolan Grayson. It was in the way his boy couldn't seem to stay away from you for more than five minutes, it was in the way Mark couldn't keep his hands to himself when around you and how he seemed to preen proudly just like a peacock whenever you either reciprocated his touches or initiated them.

For Debbie it was a normal crush, but her husband would beg to differ.

Like all viltrumites, Mark was not exempt from the instincts that drove his cilization, so different and yet so compatible with humans. Mark, like all viltrumites, just like him, was love sick and possessive because of the unknown instincts that plagued the viltrumites' rationality. Undoubtedly, Mark's subconscious had claimed you and it pushed Mark to protect you and be all over you. To give in to one's irrational half was a mistake, a weakness, yet Nolan couldn't bring himself to separate the two of you when it was just because of this that Nolan had seen at least a glimpse of his heritage in Mark.

And it had been all thanks to you.

Nolan genuinely liked you, you were a good and smart kid after all. Yet, what he appreciated the most was the fact that you were the confirmation that his son was just a late bloomer. If not for this he might have been against his son's silly behaviour and crush, after all he would have preferred someone more powerful (viltrumite), but this fact and your intelligent mind made up for it. So in his books the only human worth his time, was you.

Therefore everytime his wife came home late from work and asked where his son was, he just smiled and pointed upstairs.

Your predicament was damning, because why was Mark avoiding you? Giving you the cold shoulder? Acting as if you were mere acquaintances? Every time you tried to hug him or kiss his cheek he would move, not in a noticeable way to make it embarrassing for you, but he still moved to make sure he avoided your touch. Every single time you tried to talk to him he would respond to you in short sentences and with quick strained smiles, to then go back to what he was doing. Each damned time you tried to go to his house and spend time with him, for some reason, he wasn't home.

The former you could understand, maybe you were just unlucky, but the latter? No, no.

Mark was plainly avoiding you and now it was even more noticeable: why did he walk away each time you approached him? Why did he not walk home with you anymore? Why was he sitting so far away from you in class? You were going crazy, but you would eat shit before not finding out the reason why.

Since you were a kid, you had been granted an incredible intelligent and observant mind: not even one single tiny detail could go unnoticed by you, not even one subtle change. You were awkward and socially inept, sure, but your problem solving skills were top tier. Being in a group with you in school was like a blessing in disguise, it didn't matter that you were that clumsy unatlethic girl that couldn't form a coherent sentence without Mark as support, from the moment you were assigned in the group all the members would breathe a sigh of relief. No matter how hard a problem, how hard a test, how difficult a situation: you always seemed to find a solution.

Superstitious people would say your ancestors had done really great deeds to grant you this blessing, others would say that you were just extremely lucky, but deep down everyone knew you were just one of a kind, the unstoppable kind.

You can't think of one time you had given up, you were just an unstoppable force that hadn't found it's immovable object yet (and surely Mark's change in behaviour was not going to be it).

You had noticed Mark's change in behaviour months ago, but they were slight differences not really worth focusing on or mentioning, at least when you had noticed them. (At least when he wasn't avoiding you yet).

His hands had become calloused, bruises had begun to appear over his whole body, and sometimes on his face, and while you had been really worried at first, he always had some sort of excuse to justify his beaten up body, which, by the way, had changed drastically. Mark had never been fat nor too skinny, so you wondered when he was pressed against you so nicely why you could feel toned abs, your mind travelled miles to find out why your Mark was now ripped with a marvelous back and strong shoulders.

"Mark!" You had screamed out his name when out of nowhere on the way home he had grabbed you with so much ease and thrown you over his shoulder. You don't really remember what you were talking about, but you had been teasing him about something and then you had sprinted in a run while laughing. In just a second you were hanging from his body like a sack of potatoes, gaping and with rosy cheeks from what had happened. Sure, you were unathletic, sure, you didn't have the strength of a man, but there was no way, simply no way, that your Mark, the same Mark who read comics everyday, had just grabbed you and put you over his shoulder in matters of seconds with only one hand. Back home you could still feel his hands on your lower back and thighs, and remembering how easy he had manhandled you made you weak in the knees. (Oh, how you wished his hands had travelled further).

His touches were rougher, his hold was more firm and unescapable, and it excited you. (You don't want to entertain the possibility that you liked this change so much to just completely have dismissed the causes of it. God, you were so enamored with this nerd it was crazy.)

Just now you realize that the problems might have started when he had begun to treat you like you were made of glass, as if even with one gentle hold you would crumble under him. It was subtle, almost undetectable, but it was there: the constant feeling that you would shatter and pulverize in his hands if he even so slightly grazed your skin.

You can't even seem to shake the fact that you couldn't surprise him anymore, it was as if he could feel your presence before you could even try to spook him (or just touch him like usual). There were so many things that were wrong, how could you just brush off how tired he was? How busy he always seemed to be? What was happening in his life for him to always look beat up?

You knew that people out there had superpowers, but it was just so difficult to say that Mark had them too. It was difficult to accept the possibility that Mark could be a superhero until his father slipped. (Yet, why did that new superhero, "Invincible", coincidentally appeared when your dear Mark disappeared?)

"Are you alone? Where is Mark?" You were used to going to the Grayson's house, it was like your second home and nobody minded, especially when you brought fresh pastries with you. "I thought you could tell me that Nolan", there was no point in calling him 'Mr.Grayson', this man was almost like a father to you. (You'd prefer to say in-law, but life is so unfair sometimes).

"I think it's time we have the talk, Y/n"

You were a bit taken a back by how serious he was, in his eyes there was...pity? Sadness? You didn't really know. Were you about to receive a sexual education talk? Did he think you and Mark had sex? (Some part of you wouldn't be surprised if he truly believed it).

"Mark...you know since he is a viltrumite.. he might not seek human company, or the company of non powered people—"

"—viltrumite??"

"—I know the both of you have never been separated, I hope you won't take it too badly, I mean it's a lot to take in—"

"sir, what do you mean 'viltrumite'??"

If he was honest, Nolan thought that by now you knew that two thirds of the Grayson's family was not exactly human, due to the fact that Mark had always told you everything (he had been so excited to have manifested his powers that in Nolan's mind you had probably known about them even before him). He knew you had never seen him come in the house with his costume on, since you were too busy focusing all your attention on Mark, but he couldn't believe that his son had never talked to you about this. It took about an hour for the man to explain the situation, and while it didn't exactly hurt that Mark was not 100% human, you were really rethinking your friendship.

You obviously didn't expect him to hide this big of a secret, especially when the two of you had been so close. It was just that your judgement was now clouded by a million of different self deprecating thoughts: were you not enough for Mark anymore now that he had powers? Had you been too clingy to the point were he had to keep something to himself, because you knew too much? Was the fact that you were a mere human the reason why he was avoiding you? If so, why was he not avoiding his other friends, like William for example?

Had you become unbearable?

Maybe now with all the stuff on his plate, he needed someone who set him free. Not someone that caged him with her clinginess and obnoxious presence.

"kid, are you okay?"

Someone like Amber maybe. (You wish it could go unnoticed by you how his gaze always seems to go to her now that you're out of the picture. Not standing beside him, but far away, has made you see just to who his attention goes to, and it's to everyone but you).

"Breathe, you're with me, it's okay let it all out", was Nolan hugging you? (Nolan doesn't know what came over him, he doesn't know why him, a viltrumite, had felt the urge to comfort you. It's not because he loves you like a daughter surely).

You think you need some fresh air, you think you need new lungs actually, because why were you so sad? Your chest was feeling so heavy, the world was so blurry and why was your makeup coming off?

You don't think you had ever left house Grayson feeling so ashamed.

Mark didn't know if being distant had been the best course of actions, he saw how much it hurt you but this was better than the suffering you would face by being with him. It wasn't just the thought of someone using his love for you against him, it was more a whole series of things that made him realize how fragile you were, so painfully fragile to the point were he himself was a danger to you.

(For him you might as well have hung the stars from how ethereal you looked, you were unreal. He doesn't think he could forgive himself if he ever so slightly hurt you unintentionally, you just get him so worked up that it's nearly impossible to control his strength. You make it so difficult to be delicate when he would just like to melt and become one with your body.)

This was a momentarily solution badly executed, at the end of the day you didn't know about his second identity, so you were safe from the horrors he had to face. Yet, that didn't mean you could escape the possibility of him causing you pain if he sticked close to you. William had argued with him about this, saying that he at least should have talked about this with you, since communication was key (but it's not like William knew about his second identity, yet).

But how could he do it?

There was a lot to unpack, and revealing his identity meant making you face more risks. Why couldn't it be so easy? He really missed you, but the fear of hurting you was stronger. If it meant that he had to stay away for a little while, than it was fine, it was okayish.(It was not).

His father had petrified him with his gaze after he had asked if Y/n had stopped by, since there were freshly baked pastries on the counter (you always smelled like baked goods, he just wishes he could eat you up). He didn't say anything afterwards but it was clear that he wasn't particularly happy about something. His mother had tried to dissipate the tension but it was clear that the family dinner was not going to run smoothly that night.

"Why didn't you tell [name] you are a viltrumite?" There was something in his voice, he doesn't know what it was, but it wasn't reassuring.

"I just didn't think it was important" then he saw his father's expression falter and he clenched his fists tightly.

"You didn't think it was important to tell her about your heritage? This is your future we're talking about!" He screamed. (Nolan was still set on conquering earth with Mark, so obviously you needed to at least know that his son was not human if he wanted you around in the big picture).

"It's not a big deal! You said that less people know, the better!"

"But we're not talking about anyone, are we, Mark? Just like it's not a big deal the fact that everyone can see from a mile away how smitten you are, you went from not being able to keep your hands off her to keep your distance with her!" His mom then yelled his father's name from the shock, but it was late.

"What?" He was now looking at Debbie, anger still in his face. "It's not like they were being subtle about it, you know that you were afraid of finding them in a compromising position one of these days! Don't lie!" His mom was looking elsewhere and was unresponsive, yet it was clear that what his father had said was not a lie.

"She's not my girlfriend, we would have never done anything like that!"

"Mark, first of all,don't lie to us and yourself. Second of all, she might not be your girlfriend but she is your friend. Don't you understand that you might destroy whatever kind of relationship you have with her if you keep this up?" (Didn't his son understand that out of 8 billion humans they would enslave, he was giving him the chance to keep close the one that truly mattered?)

"It's better like this for her, it's much safer". The gears in his father's head had slowly started to move at his son's answer.

"Are you serious right now, Mark? Are you so weak that you can't control your strength? Is this what it is? I can't believe it—", his father had closed his eyes and brought two fingers to massage his nose bridge.

"why do you care? Whatever I do with my friends is none of your business".

"Don't lie to yourself Mark, 'friends'? Don't make me laugh". His mom had long gotten up from the table, fed up with that nonsense. Nolan had also gotten up and followed her, he could hear mom arguing with his father about how harsh he had been, but not about what he had said.

Now he was left alone contemplating his choices and the entire evening with a cold plate of food at the table, his head was resting on his crossed forearms and his eyes were shut tightly.

(Why did he decide to leave you again? Ah, he was scared.)

You had never travelled much, but you weren't kidding when you had realized you needed fresh air. Next thing you knew, you were on an airplane to one of Paris's best cooking schools. (You don't think that after this revelation you could have handled seeing Mark, so you were lucky when you came home that night and found the acceptance latter on the table with your joyous parents to cheer you up. You had applied to other cooking schools nearby, but this one was your dream).

You weren't there for when William discovered his identity, for when he got demolished by his father and killed tons of people, you weren't there when Mark realized just how weak he was when he got beat up the second time by another viltrumite, you weren't there when he acquired a purple baby brother.

You weren't there for a lot of things, but for him you were everywhere.

One part of you was in every thing he did, the other was in the girls he had dated after you had left. Amber and Eve shared so many similarities with you, and while they were beautiful and special in their own way, his true desire was to actually be with you. (He remembers the meeting with his father and Amber, he remembers the words he had said to him about you when beating him to a pulp, about how he would have never accepted any other human but you and how stupid he had been to have just given you up. "And for what reason?" His father had said with bloodied fists "because you are afraid and weak".)

William had told him that you had decided to go to France and stay in your aunt's apartment for a while. Your dream was to open a bakery, possibly here in the city, and make freshly baked goods everyday. What better place to learn how than Paris?

He shouldn't feel bitter about you leaving without saying goodbye, but it's not like he had given you any choice. He doesn't want to mull over the fact that you had actually left, that his wish for you to be safe from him had manifested itself to reality. To be frank, Mark can only dream about what your years had been for you in the city of love, since you had nearly cut all contact with William too from how busy you were apparently.

In fact he can only dream of you mixing batter and piping vanilla cream inside croissants or macarons, he doesn't dream of you fighting crime in a red and black polkadot costume. (He actually dreams of you hugging him close, caressing his hair and playing with his locks like you always did, he dreams of being able to lose himself in your touch, to show you how much he loves you, he dreams of worshipping every little mole, scar and curve on your body. He wouldn't leave any piece of skin unmarked, he swears it).

Because why would he even imagine you fighting crime? In what world his dear [name] would have to face battles to save the world in a skin tight costume? (He has imagined you wearing his costume, or one similar to Eve's, and he has had a hard on one two many times because of said thought.)

Life in Paris hadn't really been easy, to put it simply it had drastically changed you. You felt like a new person if you were honest, without Mark around, without the people you had shielded yourself with, you had learned to face the world headstrong overcoming any kind of social anxiety. Your future required social skills and cooperation, not only creativity and following the recipes to a tee.

Yet, sometimes you wish this had been the only change.

Your Aunt's friend, Marinette Dupain Chang, a famous parisinian fashion designer known worldwide (you still don't know how your aunt could be friends with someone like that, but you're glad), almost everyday participated in the baking classes for a couple of minutes.

"it's so nostalgic" she would say while mixing the dough and reminiscing about her parents own bakery, while also giving some tips. She wasn't a teacher, no, no, she was better. You think you'd learned more by spending that one day with her at her house than in a week at the prestigious school.

She was magnetic, her dark blue hair, nearly black, shone in the light just like her eyes did. Those eyes were mature, gentle and caring but they held something, some kind of pain you didn't know about, until, of course, Marinette herself revealed this to you on the day of her wedding anniversary.

Her husband had been dead for a couple of years now, and she couldn't be Ladybug anymore (you remember being speechless when a tiny ladybug like creature flew in front of your face to greet you), due to the fact that not only did Paris not really need her anymore, but she couldn't bring herself to fight without her dear Chat by her side. (You shed a few tears with her thinking about what you would do if one day Mark died fighting a villain, what would you do in that situation?)

You were skeptical to accept the proposal and you could see how hard it was for the kwami and Marinette to separate, but ultimately the 40 year old woman didn't back down and pushed the box in your hands, saying that nobody would be better than you to fill her place. (You want to disagree since she probably wouldn't let the world burn if it meant keeping safe the people you love).

So from then on you had to juggle both school and superhero duty and training. You weren't really fighting what Mark was fighting (you don't want to remember your fight with the cat miraculous owner), but thanks to being able to experiment with your powers, you had realized that even if you weren't athletic, when transforming your body felt 50 times stronger and faster, to the point were even holding a collapsing building with a yo-yo didn't make you break a sweat.

The critique had been harsh with you (especially after what had happened with your supposed "partner"), in fact the media kept comparing your feats with the ones of the previous miraculous owner. It's not like you minded, but sometimes it did sting you a little that no matter what incredibly creative strategy you pulled out of your ass with your lucky charm, you were still second. (Apparently you had to get used to being second, or even third, since you had heard from William that Mark had got together with Amber after you left and was now with Eve. But how could you be angry? Those girls were literally perfect, it was unfair, sure, but you couldn't be angry at Mark for choosing a girl who made him happy instead of his childhood friend.)

You could have stayed more, you could have opened a bakery right in the middle of Paris, but you were tired of Paris (you can never truly repair everything, can you? You can never wash the blood from your costume, from his clothes, from his unmoving body). You really missed home, you missed your family (you missed Mark).

"Sir, we are out of cinnamon rolls right now. You can buy something else or wait until a fresh batch is ready". When you said you wanted to work in a bakery, you weren't really thinking about facing rude customers. All these social interactions were draining you out and in the mean time Tikki was giggling in the pocket of your apron while munching on the 10th cookie of the day. She was in heaven to say the least, and sadly you couldn't say the same for you.

"[name]?" You could recognise this voice everywhere.

"Mark?" You almost couldn't believe you were finally face to face with him, after two eventful years you were back where you started: fearful. Due to the fact that seeing Mark was inevitable, you thought that after all you went through that seeing an old friend, your long time best friend (ex-best friend?), was going to be a breeze. You really wanted to talk to Mark, but not the boring conversations you have with strangers, no, you wanted to go back to how things were before, even if some part of you screamed that maybe, just maybe, you deserved better. To have that, you needed to address all the baggage of stuff that you didn't really want to open, why would you really? Why would you want to go back to how things were before? When you were an awkward social reject who had nobody else but Mark.

(You're contradicting yourself, do you or do you not want to go back to how things were? Now you have anyone but Mark and your heart cries, because why do you miss those times so much? Why do you miss him so much?)

"You're looking good" the compliment is like a breath of fresh air, because to Mark you are indeed one. It's not just because he is ecstatic to see you (if the place had been empty he would have jumped across the counter), but because you're literally glowing. You were already really gorgeous before, now though, having grown in your features, you are shining.

He should order but he really doesn't want to move his gaze away, were you always this captivating?

"thanks, you look great too! So, have you decided yet your order?" Mark looked good, yet your gaze seemed to fall on the red-head at the small pink table. She was focused on her phone and while you had seen photos of her, the selfies William had sent you didn't do her justice.

"I haven't decided yet, how have you been?" Mark doesn't think you noticed his little love struck gaze as you put a couple of croissants in a small bag for a sweet old lady, but he wouldn't have minded if you had.

(He just can't help but have some shred of hope that maybe he didn't ruin everything).

"Not much, honestly. What about you loverboy? Are you going to keep your lady waiting?" Your brows wiggled as you spoke with a joking tone. As you said the joke, your giggles didn't really reach your eyes, giving away partially how you kind of felt about the couple. You couldn't give up Mark but at the same time you couldn't accept the reality that you hadn't been enough.

His brows furrowed slightly as he took notice of your devoid laughter, suddenly remembering that you two were now mere acquaintances and not those two kids that were attached to the hip.

"Well, she was my girlfriend..."

"trouble in paradise, Grayson?" This was awkward, but joking had kind of become a coping mechanism at this point.

"No, no" he laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth, believing that your joking nature was maybe you releasing some tension. "More like we just didn't work out, we just need different things, you know?" You didn't really know, because, unlike Mark, your dating repertoire had been devoid of men, or in general devoid of people as a whole. You had just been so busy that romance had practically flown over your head!

"Yeah, I get it... Anywaysss, what are you getting? Honestly I recommend the chocolate muffins or the strawberry cheesecake", you are actually smiling now, not because the air was less awkward, it was just that talking about your passion really got you going.

(You vaguely remember your first attempts at cooking, and they were done with dirt, sand and water. As decorations you used some grass or some rocks you found in the garden, then you proceeded to serve it to Mark on your little pink plastic toy plate. It was funny to think that your younger self genuinely thought he ate it, while instead he was throwing the brown goo on the ground whenever you were distracted.)

Mark was almost tempted to ask if he could just buy you instead, since you were the pastry he was craving. But he opted to keep his thoughts to himself since the joke would probably make you cringe so hard to the point where you wouldn't look at him for a while.

"I'll take two chocolate muffins", then with a nod you picked up the small brown bag with the bakery logo and you put two piping hot muffins inside it, then you focused on packing the goods and you stated the price after going to the register.

"Have a nice day, Mark" you said with the smile you give to all your clients, the one you give out of courtesy. Some might say one of relief after a painfully draining interaction (you don't recall a time when Mark had ever drained your social battery like this).

"Have a nice day too". It all went too fast in Mark's opinion, weren't your conversations supposed to last hours? Why hadn't he asked at least if you would have liked to hang out?

(Looking at you felt exactly like looking at those love interests that appeared in slow motion, with a pink background and with sparkles all around you. You can't blame him for getting enchanted by your beauty, just like you can't blame someone for having their jaw on the floor when looking at a incredible painting.)

Eve was waiting for him with a smile, immediately going for her muffins and giving hers a generous bite before walking out of the glass door.

"oh my god, they taste so good! Did they always make them this delicious?" Obviously not, since only your pastries could be this delicious and, while he hadn't eaten one in a long time, he still recognized the differences with the sweets made by other people.

"I know right? She's fantastic at baking", with that it was like a little lamp turned on on top of Eve's head and she asked him the fatal question:

"mm! Do you know her? You two seemed pretty close", in the tone of her voice her curiosity was made apparent, especially since she distantly remembered seeing you in school.

"She's an old friend" answered Mark while not looking at her in the eyes.

"You don't need to lie, you know. We're not together anymore, I don't care that much about who she is to you"

"She's a childhood friend but we drove apart after I got my powers.."

"That sucks I guess", in all honesty it also sucked that Mark hadn't bought more of those addicting muffins.

"yeah, it does..."

Staring at Eve and Mark had made you nostalgic. You might or might not have tried nearly every bakery in the zone with him, you said "it's to perfect a recipe" each time, and while it was partially true, at some point it was just to spend even more time with Mark. Now, after retracing the events that occurred in the last fifteen minutes, you can't help but feel guilty about how you had handled it. It was Mark after all, why were you so closed off? So awkward?

(Didn't he know everything about you? Wasn't he the person who had seen nearly everything?)

With a sad look in your face you continued your shift alternating with your coworker between the kitchen and the counter, hoping that at least this was going to be a one time thing.

Except it wasn't.

Not only was Mark everywhere and trying to spark a conversation and following you throughout your errands ( you can't forget that time when you almost shit your pants after seeing his smiling face on the other side of the shelf with the canned beans after grabbing one). Not to mention that he had made it a daily occurrence to just drop at your workplace, he bought something and then sparked a conversation with you while laying with his arms on top of the glass counter that displayed your work. It's not like you truly minded his presence, but you still couldn't shake that feeling deep in your gut that made it difficult to look at him in the eyes. (The constant reminder of what had happened kind of made it impossible for you to act like you used to).

Mark was not entirely happy either about the arrangement (why weren't you hugging him? Touching him?)

Especially when you moved before he could even put a hand on your shoulder, when he could close the distance that kept you separated.

It was better than nothing anyway, considering your two year absence.

It was fun now that people once again, from the fact that Mark once again was everywhere in your life, mistook you for a couple. You never corrected them with a laugh, you were always uncomfortable by the supposition that the both of you could be more than old friends.

While his gaze had been only dazed and love sick when looking at you, he couldn't really say the same for you. Yes, he was a guy looking at you through pink coloured glasses, but that didn't mean that he didn't know when you were uncomfortable (a two year change was nothing compared to the fact he had known you your entire life). The worst was when you acted just like you did years ago to strangers, awkward and shy, not really knowing what to say, not even looking at him in the eyes sometimes.

It was just too much to bear.

He should have expected something like this, but it still hurt. It was frustrating, especially when he could have had it all now. So it's no wonder that he was a tiny bit more aggressive when fighting, it was not a surprise when he came out of battles a little bit more bloody than usual.

It wasn't a surprise when he answered coldly or in a passive aggressive way to the new hero who was clinging on to him all the time.

She called herself "Ladybug": she paraded around in a red and black polkadot skintight costume that was fitting due to her name, her (h/c) hair was half up in two small high pigtails while the rest was let loose, shaping her face in a cute way. Her eyes were as playful as the 'weapon' she used, which, by the way, was an indestructible yo-yo that also worked as a cellphone.

From the moment you had defeated a tricky villain with just a hair clip and then you had repaired all the damage and healed all the hurt civilians with your "miraculous ladybug", the GDA and all the heroes were sold. Cecil was so happy to have someone in his team like this that he let you have many privileges, including keeping your identity a secret, and even if each battle made him respect you even more, he was so jealous of you.

He had trained for so long and then you had dared to come along and defeat villains with freaking utensils, but not only that, no, you also fixed and healed everything and then you got the praise he wishes he had got when he had started.

It's selfish, really, especially when it's your fellow new coworker that you should support no matter what since being a hero was no easy task.

Nobody knew who you were under the mask, but each one of his hero friends/coworkers adored you. It felt oddly reminiscing to the times when everyone used to want [name] for group projects and he would laugh internally when you rejected each of their offers shily, saying that you were partnering with him to do the work. He remembers how smug he would look at the frowning faces of his previous classmates.

"I'm going to patrol with Mark tonight" you say, even if he never really agreed to it. (He never agreed with you and the GDA deciding that the both of you were now a package deal.)

At this, He always turned his head ever so slowly and found you looking at him with such heart melting devotion, it was almost sickening. (You're a really nice girl, but in his mind he is already married to his little soft baker. He is a loyal husband who doesn't need.. what do they call it? Ah, a "work-wife".)

He never really said no but you should have got the hint at this point, because why were you always all over him so casually? Your hands always found a place on his body, either straight up massaging his shoulders when you saw he was too tense or carding through his hair as you explained how you were going to handle the villains.

When you fought with gymnast like movements, swinging your yo-yo left and right, you always at some point ended up using his solid figure as some sort of rest from your acrobatics. One time you sat on his shoulders, another you used his extended arm as a surface to jump, other times you just kicked and punched villains while moving on his body. Your agility and fighting style was respectable, but this was crazy.

Fans, FANS, had started shipping the both of you, and the funniest thing? You laughed and showed him compromising fanart while just hugging his arm and pressing yourself against him.

He couldn't lie and say that the two of you didn't look good together, but him and [name] just looked so much better. (Is it too much to ask for his girl to stop avoiding him and sit on his lap? Why the hell are you doing that instead? The first time you had done it he had briefly froze and then he had pushed you off. Mind you, it was a freaking skyscraper.)

He didn't know how to handle you without blushing and snapping at you, he didn't know how to properly interact with your bold self without his pungent remarks and comments laced with frustration. The worst part? You responded to his attitude with your sassy one and then clung to him even harder, as if this could have magically changed the way he felt about you.

You were attractive and smart, and you reminded him an awful lot of [name], especially in your mannerism, but he was sick of settling for people who were similar to [name], and not [name]. (First Amber, then Eve and now you? No, no, he wanted the real deal to himself, not someone who just reminded him of [name].)

You never looked disappointed when he blatantly rejected your advances, no, you smiled and tried again. You never really got tired of playing around with him, of touching, nagging and pulling at his strings.

Because you liked a good chase and if you couldn't have Mark for yourself due to your pressing fears, at least you'd have his alter ego. (You had seen videos of Invincible on TubeYou, but seeing him in front of you with his chiselled body wrapped in latex made you weak in the knees.)

You got bolder and bolder each time, you were each time more shameless both in gestures and remarks. The battles were fun as long as you were assigned Invincible as your partner. (You try to avoid the desperate look in his eyes as you make your way to him, opting to avoid feeling bad from the fact that not even your superhero alter ego was able to woo him.)

You didn't care if he didn't like you yet, because you knew him. You knew that one day he would crumble and not push you away so roughly, but instead pull you in and give you the kiss of your life. (You're kind of scared of that day actually, because what if things get serious and he wants to know who you are? What do you do then? Run? Move to another country?)

("Aren't you forgetting something?" The blood from the weird creature was sticking all over him, his hair was disheveled and he just really needed to see you with that little short skirt and that cute apron. In your equally bloody suit, you were staring at him as he combed his fingers through his hair, with a light sheen of sweat on his face and a light, almost unnoticeable, blush on his face due to the intense physical performance. The way he had said the words was laced with irritation and impatience, but you didn't care as you hazily laid your hungry eyes on his figure.

"A kiss goodbye?" Your honey-like voice, which just so happened to sound like his [name] at times, caught him off guard.

"Are you brain-damaged? Your "miraculous ladybug!"

"oh, right! Yeah, I almost forgot", you pouted before throwing the item in the sky and saying the so famous words.)

Bye <3

I hope you guys enjoyed it, this will most likely have a part 2, especially if you guys would like it. Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you gave your opinion or support on the fanfic, don't be shy to ask about the au, or about giving constructive criticism or signalling spelling mistakes. Honestly I just can't wait to write more for the Tumblr Invincible girlies since there's a criminally underrated amount of fanfics both here and on ao3 especially.