#actor!mark x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writeawaythepain · 2 years

Text

Confidence

Actor!Mark x (gn!reader)

I love the idea of getting all dressed up and going to a fancy party with someone, but haven't yet really had the chance, or the confidence to do so...But that's what writings for!!

Tw: none, I don’t think

Word count: 2.8k

Prompts: I never got the chance to go to prom, and even though I’m not a huge fan of parties anyway…I decided to write this for anyone else who likes the idea of having fun with someone at a fancy party.

Summary: Actor wants to drag you with him to a necessary banquet for his sponsors, but when he realizes you’d never had many experiences with fancy parties like that, he decides to go all out to make sure you enjoy the evening. He wants to show you how fun they could be, with the right person.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“I know these kinds of things are usually a bore, but I really don’t want to deal with all those people alone and- “ Actor tries to convince you, but you interrupt him, smiling.

“Sweetheart, of course I’ll go with you. Though I do warn you, I’m not um…I’ve never really…You know how I am around big groups of people, so I haven’t gone to many ‘social gatherings’ like this.” You try to explain to him, without making it seem sad, or that you hated the idea of parties. Your thoughts around the topic were complicated to say the least. You like people…sometimes, but you never really liked being at large gathering without sticking with at least one friend the entire time, and those kinds of chances didn’t arise too often, so you would usually find yourself staying home. You didn’t feel like you were missing too much, but sometimes you wondered what would’ve happened if you had gone, if maybe it wouldn’t have been all bad.

“If it would make you uncomfortable, you really don’t have to-” he starts, but you interrupt him again, gently grabbing his hand,

“No, seriously, it’s fine. As long as you're there, maybe it’ll even be fun?” This makes him squeeze your hand and mirror your smile.

“I will not leave your side, darling.” he says before planting a soft kiss on the back of your hand. You roll your eyes, but giggle at his dramatics. That’s what you get for dating an actor, after all.

“Yeah, yeah…But like, could you maybe tell me what you uh…do, at these kinds of parties?” He blinks in surprise and cocks his head to the side a bit.

“Do…do you mean to tell me you’ve never gone to a banquet?” You shake your head.

“When would I have- love, I didn’t even go to my high school prom!” You laugh out, a bit embarrassed, even though you don’t exactly know why. When you finally look at him, Actor’s mouth is agape.

“You- How?! I would’ve thought you would’ve won prom royalty! With your good looks and charm, you cannot possibly be telling me you weren’t the most popular person at your high school.” Now it was your turn to looked shocked. Your cheeks heat up, and you laughed at him, shaking your head.

“While that is incredibly sweet, no- not at all. I was pretty shy in high school, well I mean not all the time, but I wouldn’t call myself popular. Come on, you know I’m more of an introvert.” He frowns at first, hoping that he didn’t bring up any unhappy memories. But then, you can see his eyes light up as an idea forms in his mind.

“Alright then, It’s decided.” You give him a confused expression. “I will give you the full ‘prom’ treatment that you deserved all those years ago.” You chuckle and can’t help but smile at his giddy expression. His excitement was infectious. “Except it will be even better!”

“I mean, you really don’t have to-” You stutter, but he waves a hand to dismiss your hesitation.

“Nonsense, It’ll make this boring business gathering much more fun. We can go out and buy brand-new outfits, I’ll get you flowers, and of course we’ll need to rent a limo…” Actor lists off, already planning all the different aspects, as he pulls out his phone to shoot a few select texts. It only takes him a few moments before he spins his attention back to you. “And you-” He gently boops your nose with his finger, “don’t have to worry about a thing~ Other than enjoying yourself that is.” You stand there shocked, not really knowing how to respond. “Now, what color combination do you like the most, I always like a good red, but this color matches your hair more…”

The next few days are filled with preparations you were sure wasn’t necessary for just a business banquet, but Actor insisted the ‘before’ was just as fun as the actual party, if you made it to be. The both of you went shopping for new matching outfits that were tailored to fit you perfectly, Actor insisted that manicures were absolutely necessary, and as the day of the banquet rolled up, he hired a personal hair stylist and makeup artist. Mostly for himself, since you knew how to do your own hair, but he offered to pay for you as well, if you so wished.

Finally, you look at yourself in the mirror. Actor had helped you find an outfit that you absolutely adored, it felt so…so you. You never much cared about what you wore every day, but you stood proud, feeling like the most handsome and/or beautiful person in the world. If even for a moment. You laughed at the thought, wondering where this spike of confidence had come from. Maybe Actor's over-inflated ego was starting to rub off on you, but, a little self-confidence never hurt anyone. And right now, you looked fucking badass.

You step out of the room you were changing in, and head to the main hall to wait for Actor. He always took forever to get ready, the drama queen he was, so you sat down on the couch scrolling through your phone as you waited.

After about half an hour, you finally hear footsteps come down the hall. You feel yourself get a bit nervous for some reason. You get up, fixing any piece of cloth or hair that had shifted from its place as you had been waiting. You unconsciously take a deep breath and hold it as Actor turns around the corner in a black and dark red tux. His hair was gelled back, and he was carrying a black cane that you knew he didn’t need. He just liked the aesthetic and dramatic effect of standing with it. A smile came to your face as you looked at him, he looked stunning.

Actor froze as soon as his eyes landed on you. He couldn’t help himself from scanning your entire form, taking in every ounce of your elegance. For a second, all he can do is gaze at you with a dreamy expression as he finally meets your eyes. “Wow.” Is all he can manage to say. You clear your throat.

“You look amazing, but, we really gotta get going. We’re going to be late with how long your prissy ass takes to get ready.” You chuckle, taking his arm and dragging him out the door before he can realize how red your face had gotten.

“It’s not my fault, you think it’s easy to look this good?” You roll your eyes at him as you open the door to the limo and hold it, gesturing for him to get in.

“Ladies first~” You joke, laughing at his offended expression.

“I’ll have you know that expression is very outdated.” He grumbles as he takes his seat.

“Yea, you right. But it is kinda funny.” And you close the door before he can object, making your way to the other side before getting in your self. You can see Actor checking himself in the rearview mirror, and giggle as he tries to adjust his hair.

“What?” He asks, glancing at you. You smirk, and gently grab his chin to turn his face towards you.

“Here,” is all you says as you fix the strand of hair that wasn’t cooperating, and while you were at it, fix his tie which he had gotten a bit loose. You finish by brushing off his shoulders as you look up at him again, seeing that his face had gotten even more red.

“You happy with yourself?” He asks, trying to regain his composure. Enjoying the way he was squirming in your arms, you hold on to his suit jacket and search his face, squinting. Finally, you meet his eyes, which are locked on you, half lidded. You smirk, then pull on his jacket to get him closer to you before kissing him. It's short, but gentle, and full of passion. When you pull away, the smirk on your lips just grows.

“Now I am~” You breathe. Actor smiles at you, eyes full of adoration. You don’t know how long the both of you are there, just staring at each other, but the car stopping for a red light finally snaps you to attention. You grab one of his hands, and look down at it, feeling some of your anxiousness about the whole ‘party’ thing finally seeping in.

“So…you never actually told me what we’re going to be, uh…doing, there?” Actor blinks at your question, a bit confused. But he pulls your hand into his lap, running his thumb over your hand in a comforting gesture as he looks back up at you.

“Some people will give some speeches, you have to give polite greetings and smiles to people you don’t even ever remember meeting, and then you just stuff yourself with food. There’s really nothing to it.” He brings one of his hands to your cheek. “All you really have to worry about, darling, is enjoying yourself~” You smile and giggle at him, batting his hand away, so he couldn’t feel the warmth in your cheeks.

You arrive at the party, the building it massive. Sure, it was nothing compared to the mansion, but the mansion was familiar, and this fucking castle was not. Plus, the mansion had style, this was just excessive. Large walls reach up higher than you could see, and two large fountains framed the grandiose entrance to the banquet hall. As the two of you step out of the car, you lean close to Actor to whisper in his ear. “I will never understand how people can afford shit like this.” Actor just shrugs, not at all impressed by the size of the building.

“Probably with blood money.” You start to laugh, but then notice the grim expression on his face, and go silent.

“Oh…” You turn back to look at the entrance.

“Or by sleeping with the right person-” You put on a mock appalled expression, but laugh as you gently smack his shoulder. He chuckles as well, offering his arm, which you take. The both of you walk up to the entrance, arms linked, but you freeze when you get right up to the front doors.

“I-” You stutter, heart suddenly beating erratically. Actor looks at you reassuringly.

“Don��t worry, love, I’ve got you.” You take a deep breath, push open the door, and the two of you walk in.

. . .

The first hour goes by in a rush, you're introduced to more people than you could ever remember the names of, and are given compliments just as many times as you give them out. It is a bit overwhelming, but with Actor staying by your side, you find yourself genuinely smiling and laughing with some people. Of course there were the common assholes, and some idiots who actually tried to flirt with you, until Actor glared daggers into them, but they were far and few in between. Most of the people were actually rather lovely.

After a little while, Actor pulled the both of you away from the crowds to get some refreshments. As you scan the food table, you encounter many fancy little treats you’ve only ever had at a few weddings, and some you’ve never even seen before.

Looking at your astonished face, Actor chuckles and reaches out to grab the one your eyes landed on. He picks it up and holds it up to your face. Your face flushes red, and you look around, a bit embarrassed.

“Aw, come on, no one’s watching~ Even if they are-” He shrugs, “-who really cares.” You roll your eyes, but slowly open your mouth, taking a bite out of the cracker he was holding. It tasted amazing, and you couldn’t help but smile and snatch the rest of it out of his hands, grabbing a few more.

…What? All this socializing was making you hungry.

Actor’s eyes widen, but he just chuckles at your actions, trying one of the snacks for himself.

. . .

The rest of the evening is a flurry of suits and dresses. Nice, engaging, conversations and some that left your brain hurting. Words, stories, jokes, and a few drinks all mixed to create an experience you wouldn’t soon forget. The most important part though, and the part you enjoyed the most, was the fact you got to stay at Actor's side the whole night, he was your lifeline in all this and gave you the confidence to add your own two cents into conversations and poke jokes at these fancy rich people, and most of them even laughed. It was the most fun you’ve had at a party…well, ever.

Late into the night, though, you are once again reminded your social battery is not infinite, and you can feel your genuine smile start to feel extremely fake. You were much quieter, choosing rather to listen instead of talk, and were almost leaning onto Actor as your legs were starting to hurt from all the standing. Actor was quick to pick up on your signs of exhaustion, and politely excused the both of you out of the conversation, leading you to a quiet corner of the banquet hall that led to a small balcony. The constant noise of people chattering was still there, but muffled by the distance, and you could feel the light pounding in your head fade away a bit.

“You alright, my love?” Actor asks, holding one of your hands in both of his.

“Yeah,” you smile, “just getting a little tired.” Actor returns your smile.

“I’m not surprised, with how confident and charming you were all evening. I thought you said you never went to one of these things?” He laughed, a corner of his mouth turning up, teasing.

“I haven’t…but I’m not actually as bad at socializing as I thought I was. Probably only because you were here, though. I swear you were the only reason anyone else laughed at my jokes, it’s like they were literally waiting on your approval to laugh.” This makes him chuckle, it’s a deep sound that makes your heart melt a little every time you heard it. You loved to hear people laugh, especially if it was your intention to make them do so.

“I don’t know what you're talking about, they all love you. If I hadn’t been at your side the entire evening, I think you’d have half of the bachelors and bachelorettes fighting over your attention.” You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you, turning pink.

“Oh shut up, as if they wouldn’t actually fist fight over their beloved Actor. The banquet was literally in your honor.” His cheeks flushed at this, and he turned away from you to instead look out at the beautiful view. You turned your head towards it as well, taking in the gorgeous night sky and the array of stars that were visible, twinkling brightly.

After a little while of enjoying the comfortable silence, your voice gently breaks it. “Thank you…for all of this.” You look at him, and he turns to meet your gaze. “For everything, actually”

He smiles, his eyes sparkle in the starlight, and you realize you were leaning closer to him. You stop, still lost in a dreamy state, but suddenly too shy to continue. “There’s nothing to thank me for, you deserve every good thing in this world, and more.” One of his hands move to your cheek, gently caressing it. You can feel your heart beat speeding up, but you stand perfectly still. It's as if time itself has frozen. Slowly he starts leaning closer, and you follow his lead. His hand goes from your cheek into your hair, and one of your own hands rises up and finds itself on his chest.

Your lips are dangerously close, but Actor had stopped moving, his lips turning into a smirk. The fucking tease. But you knew what he wanted, and you gave it to him. You pressed your lips against his, all the confidence you had gained from the night filling you as you dominated the kiss, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to press him closer to you. It felt amazing, having the love of your life in your arms, melting at your touch, as sparks flew through your mind in waves of happiness.

You’d always treasure the memory of this night, and never really found yourself wondering about what you could’ve missed by not going out to all those parties when you were younger. Because the real thing you were missing was right in front of you now, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

#actor mark x reader #actor!mark x reader #x gn reader #x gn!reader #x male reader #x male!reader #wkm x reader #iswm x reader #markiplier egos x reader #fanfic #markiplier fanfic #fanfiction #slimewrites #x reader #actor mark x male reader #actor mark x male!reader

193 notes · View notes

westanthewaterman · 2 years

Text

In Character - Actor!Mark x F!Reader

Rating: NSFW

Word count: 3300+

AN: This one...really got away from me. Wow. Also, if there’s any interest in a M!Reader version let me know and I can do that

MASTERLIST - AO3 - M!READER VERSION

Marcus Iplier, the star of the silver screen.

The two of you met years ago when you were both just starting out on the road to fame. He’d been a friend amidst the chaos of casting calls, paparazzi, and backstage drama. The chemistry between you showed on and off the screen. Rarely did one of you fill a role without the other. ‘Hollywood’s golden couple’ the papers called you. It didn’t matter that you were both happily married, at least that’s how it seemed, to other people. If there was a big-screen movie with a couple as the starring role, you and Marc got the call.

It didn’t take long for your husband to get fed up with all the gossip and the tabloids saying the two of you were having a secret affair. No matter how many times you assured him there was nothing going on behind closed doors, he couldn’t believe you. He had said you looked at Marc in a way you’d never looked at him.

It wasn’t until after your divorce papers had been signed did you start to hear the rumors about an affair between Marc’s brother William and his wife Celine. You’d thought it was just gossip, but Marc’s reaction when you’d asked about it told you all you needed to know.

After that, his life began to spiral. Between trying to save his marriage and keep his career alive, Marc got lost. You could see it in his eyes, in the way his passion for acting slowly disappeared. It was no surprise to anyone when the news of his divorce started to spread. Not long after, Marc fired his manager and disappeared from the public eye for months. You tried to reach out, you left messages with his butler, but it was no use. Marcus Iplier seemed to just vanish.

And then one day he reappeared.

You’d heard the news that Marc had hosted a party with a handful of old friends, including his brother, and they had all hashed things out, agreeing to turn over a new leaf. It wasn’t long after that he reappeared in the limelight and started taking roles again. The first time you saw him, you hugged him tight and told him you were happy he was okay. He had smiled at you then, eyes still tired but there was a light there you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Now several months later, you’re sitting in the lounge of Marc’s new house, going over lines with the man of the hour. Filming starts in a week for the new movie, some romantic drama you hadn’t had any interest in until Marc had called you to let you know he’d be playing the leading man.

“Come on, I know the script is cheesy, but it won’t be any fun without you. Besides, it’s the first romance I’m doing since…everything and I’d feel a lot better if I was doing it with you.”

And how were you supposed to say no to that?

So here you are, sitting on the couch, one hand on Marc’s face and the other holding your script. He’s looking at you with those dark eyes and a sweet smile that sends your heart racing.

“My love, we were meant to be together,” Marc speaks softly, barely above a whisper, stroking his fingers over your cheek. “You don’t have to fight it anymore.”

“I…don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Is anyone ever truly ready?”

He closes his eyes, leaning in to press a tender kiss to-

“Stop!” You shriek and jump from the sofa, covering your mouth with a hand to fight back a laugh. “God, this script is terrible.”

Marc chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “It really is. I’m not sure why people watch this sort of thing. It’s so…dramatic.”

“Oh please, you love this kind of stuff. You’re the drama king!”

Pink colors his cheeks and he laughs. Marc stands and crosses the room to the bar in the corner, pouring himself a drink of something light and bubbly. You try not to let the concern show on your face but he’s always been able to see right through your facade.

“Oh relax.” He smiles lightly. “I said no more drinking and I meant it. It’s sparkling apple juice; I think I might like it more than champagne.”

“Always one for the finer things in life.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Marc sits back down, gesturing you over. You take your place beside him, opening your script once again and flipping through the pages.

“Why did I agree to do this again?”

“Because this film is going to be the hit of the summer and it’s going to bring in a lot at the box office.”

You scrunch your nose. “I could care less about box office numbers.”

“Fine, fine. You agreed because you’re a good friend and I wouldn’t be able to do it without you.”

“Yes, and you’re going to take me to a very nice dinner once we’ve finished filming. Don’t forget about that part.”

“I would never forget something so important.”

“Yeah? What restaurant did I want to go to?”

“The…restaurant…with the food.”

“Your memory is impeccable, my dear. I’ve no idea how you remember all these lines.”

“It’s not about memorizing lines. If a script is done right, like this one clearly isn’t, you don’t need to memorize anything, you just fall into it, you feel it.”

You roll your eyes, shoving him playfully. “You’re such an old romantic.”

Marc purses his lips, eyes dropping to the floor. You sigh, reaching out to take one of his hands in yours.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s alright, really.” He squeezes your hand. “It’s so funny. Back then, I thought I would feel the way I did forever. I couldn’t imagine life without her, without the ache. It felt like I was suffocating. Now…it hurts but it feels okay. It feels like I’m healing. I still find it hard not to be angry about what she did and I have a right to that anger, but I know she wasn’t happy with me and I don’t fault her for that.”

You nod. “Time and patience really do wonders for one’s self.”

“How’re you? I was in the thick of it when I heard about your divorce, I’ve never really gotten to ask how you feel about the whole thing.”

“I was sad at first. Not because of the divorce, but because he was so unhappy. There was nothing we could’ve done to work it out.”

“What happened?”

“He thought I was putting my career before him, and maybe I was, I don’t know. I don’t think we ever truly loved each other. He loved the person he thought I was and I loved having the company.”

Marc nods. “Well, you’re a wonderful person and a joy to be around. You’ll find someone that loves you for who you are.”

“Well if you keep dragging me into sappy romance movies, I’ll never have time for real love, will I?”

He grins. “Maybe that was the plan all along. If you fall in love and run off, who will star in all these sappy films with me?”

“It’s a heavy burden, but someone must carry it and I guess it has to be me.” You pick up your script. “Now where were we?”

“I believe I was convincing you to finally give in to your undying love for me while we kiss under the moonlight in Paris or somewhere equally as stereotypical.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Let’s just get back to where we were.”

You take a deep breath and pull yourself back into character, cupping the side of his face once again. Mark looks down at you with the same moony expression as before but this time something is different, although you can’t quite pinpoint what. Have his eyes always been so dark and endless?

“My love, we were meant to be together.” He strokes the side of your face, his fingertips barely ghosting over your skin but it’s enough to send goosebumps flaring up all over you. “You don’t have to fight it anymore.”

“I…” You swallow dryly. He’s so close. You can feel his breath fanning out between the two of you. It would take barely anything to lean forward and close the distance. “I…don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I don’t think anyone is ever truly ready. Sometimes it just hits you out of nowhere and …sometimes it creeps up on you before you even realize it.”

“Mark, that…that’s not the line.”

“I know.”

You stare at each other, hesitant to look away in fear of breaking whatever spell has fallen over you. Marc leans in slowly until there’s only a hair’s breadth between you, the tips of your noses touching. This close, you can see flecks of gold in his dark, honey eyes. Your heart is pulsing frantically in your ears and you wonder if he can hear it.

God, he’s beautiful. This wonderful, dramatic, kind man who’s pulled himself back from the brink of despair and is doing everything in his power to be better.

You think you might love him.

With that thought comes a rush of emotions and suddenly everything makes sense. You’re not sure why you didn’t see it sooner.

“Marc,” You whisper, and you can feel his lips just barely brushing yours.

“Tell me to stop. Tell me to stop and we can pretend this never happened.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Don’t you dare.”

Marc closes the distance between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours. He tastes like apple juice and you can’t help but laugh against him. You’ve kissed in a film before many times, but it was never like this. His hands slide from your shoulders and down your sides, stopping to rest at your waist, pulling you flush against him. He speaks your name like a prayer against your lips, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours.

“Is this okay?”

You nod, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Very okay.”

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this, about having you in my arms like this.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Marc.”

“Hm?”

“Kiss me again.”

Unlike the first kiss, which had been chaste and soft, this kiss was hungry. Your lips press together almost painful as his tongue traces over your bottom lip, asking for entry. When you oblige, his tongue slips into your mouth and twines with yours. You groan against his mouth, one of your hands getting a handful of his hair and the other white-knuckling the front of his shirt.

His hands pull you until you’re seated in his lap, knees bracketing his thighs. Through the layers of clothes, you can feel him half-hard beneath you and it starts a fire in the pit of your stomach.

“Marc,” you groan.

He pulls away from your lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, the tip of his tongue slipping out to tease over your skin. “What is it, darling? What do you need?”

“You. I need you.”

Marc straightens, looking down into your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I want you. I think I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“And now who’s the old romantic? I thought you didn’t like sappy romance.”

You laugh in disbelief and start climbing out of his lap. “Nevermind, I take it all back. You’re insufferable.”

“Oh come now, don’t be like that!”

“No, I’m going home. You can find someone else to star in this ridiculous movie with because I-”

He silences you with a quick press of his lips against yours. Marc pulls you back into his lap, running a hand through your hair.

“Better? I promise not to make fun of you again.”

You roll your eyes but there’s a goofy grin on your face. “Fine, fine.”

“I hope I haven’t spoiled the mood.”

With a smirk, you roll your hips down against his and he groans. “I don’t think you’ve spoiled it at all. But we are both very overdressed.”

You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and Marc returns to kissing down your neck and over your shoulder, being no help at all. A particularly harsh nip on your collarbones forces a moan from your lips and your fingers fumble over the task at hand. Finally, you get fed up with the whole thing and rip his shirt open, buttons flying every which way.

“Darling, was that really necessary?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Marc helps you divest him of his shirt and then his hands settle on your thighs. He slides them up over your hips and to your waist, pulling your dress up and off as he goes, eventually leaving you in just your undergarments and a pair of silk stockings.

“God,” he throws his head back with a groan, “you look good enough to eat.”

You bite your lip, running your hands over his chest. “Hm, maybe next time. I’m far too impatient to wait that long.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

You reach behind yourself and undo the clasps on your bra, letting it slip off your arms and fall to the ground. Marc reaches out slowly, hands cupping your breasts.

“Absolutely gorgeous.”

He leans forward and kisses a line down from your collarbone to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it slowly. He twists the other between his fingers gently, earning him a high-pitched moan.

“Oh darling, your little whimpers and moans sound downright sinful. I can’t wait to hear you sing for me.”

“God, Marc.” You dig your fingers into his shoulders, arching your back to press your breasts further into his touch.

“I love the way you say my name, sweetling.”

Marc pulls away, patting your thigh lightly and hooking a finger into the waistband of your underwear. “Go on, take these off for me.”

You smile, a dark look in your eyes and you stand, turning your back towards him. Bending over at the waist, you slip your panties over the curve of your ass and down your legs, stepping out of them.

“That’s not fair,” he groans, cupping himself through his pants.

“All’s fair in love and war, darling,” you wink at him over your shoulder before climbing back into his lap.

Reaching between you, you undo his belt and open his pants just enough to reach in and pull his cock out. He’s about average length but much thicker than anyone else you’ve seen before. You wrap your fingers around him, admiring the weight of him in your hands before you start to stroke up and down the shaft slowly. A bead of precum has started to drip from the tip and you smear it over the head of his cock with your thumb.

“Fuck!” Marc curls his hand into a fist and shoves a knuckle between his teeth, trying to keep quiet.

“None of that. I want you to sing for me,” You pull his hand down, mirroring his words from earlier.

He throws his head back against the couch, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs. You take one of his hands and guide it down between your legs. Marc groans at how warm and wet you feel as his fingers slip between your folds until they stop at your clit, rubbing it in slow circles.

“Oh darling, you’re so ready for me already, aren’t you?”

“Fuck Marc, yes.”

Your hand speeds up on his cock and Marc slips two fingers inside you, curling them just so to send sparks shooting up your spine. There’s a knot forming in the pit of your stomach and you can feel it getting tighter and tighter. Your concentration falters as he starts working you open, scissoring his fingers while his thumb rubs over your clit.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Marc whispers, tracing his tongue over the shell of your ear. “Just give in, my sweet, cum for me.”

The knot pulls taut and finally, it snaps, sending a wave of white-hot heat rolling through you. You clamp down on his fingers, forcing a moan from both of you. Marc watches you fall apart with dark, hungry eyes.

As you come down, you take deep, steadying breaths, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. Marc strokes your back gently, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“That was beautiful, darling. How’re you feeling?”

“Great.”

“Think you can handle more?”

You nod enthusiastically and he laughs.

Marc takes a gentle hold of your hips, pulling you closer until you’re hovering over his cock. He strokes himself slowly, guiding the head to your entrance before pulling you down. You sink onto his cock slowly, whimpering as the tip seems to catch on every sensitive spot inside you.

Once you’re fully seated on him, hips flush against his, Marc strokes the side of your face tenderly.

“You feel so good, darling. Does it hurt at all?”

You shake your head, rolling your hips down, the base of his cock creating delicious friction against your clit.

“Oh,” Marc groans, “keep going.”

Slowly, you raise up onto your knees until just the head of his cock is still inside you and you drop back down, forcing a moan from both of you. You set a steady pace, rising up and sinking back down onto him, squeezing around his cock. One of Marc’s hands tangles into your hair while the other slips between your legs, rubbing over your clit. The room is filled with your moans and the sound of skin hitting skin.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You whine, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Oh, do you like it when I whisper obscene things into your ear, darling?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling your head up so he can whisper in your ear. “You feel so good around me. I’ve thought about this so many times, how I would fuck you, how I would make you moan my name.”

“M-Marc.”

“Yes, just like that. You’ll cum again for me, won’t you? I want to feel the way you tighten and clench around my cock.”

A moan, high and desperate, leaves your lips as you feel his finger on your clit speed up, dragging you closer and closer to your second orgasm. Marc begins to thrust up into you, meeting every downward thrust of your hips with an upward thrust of his own. The friction has fireworks exploding behind your eyes and you’re right on the edge, so close.

“That’s it. I can feel how close you are. Cum for me, darling.”

That’s all it takes. The desperation in his voice sends you free-falling into your second orgasm, the pleasure almost drowning you as you tighten around him. Marc throws his head back with a groan, grabbing your hips and moving you up and down on his cock until he still, cumming inside you with a shout of your name.

The two of you stay frozen in place, fighting to catch your breath. Marc cradles your head against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat thumping beneath your ear.

“That was…” He sighs, pushing hair out of his face, “perfect.”

“I agree.” You smile up at him.

“I hope this wasn’t…a one-time thing?”

You take his face in your hands, tracing your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks, and kiss him softly, passionately. When you pull away, Marc is looking at you with a dreamy look in his eyes. “Does that answer your question?”

He laughs. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

“So,” you kiss his cheek, “should we get back to practicing our lines?”

#actor!mark x reader #actor!mark x f!reader #actor!mark x reader smut #drama king #west writes #nsft

70 notes · View notes

melancholypancakes · 2 years

Text

*Actor! Mark pretending to fall asleep*

Actor! Mark: Oh sorry, I fell asleep while I was waiting on you for making me a sandwich.

Y/n:….GO BACK TO SLEEP. AND STARVE.

youtube

#y/n #y/n said fuck you actor #y/n doesn’t like actor’s ass #she rather be with ya boi dark #darkiplier x y/n #actor!mark x reader #unrequited love #funny memes #funny vines #Youtube #actor mark wkm #wkm #darkiplier wkm #wkm district attorney #reincarnated!reader

31 notes · View notes

itsyourimaginaryworld · 1 year

Note

i humbly request a ship 🙏

i'm a 5'1 gay dude with brown hair and brown eyes. i tend to be pretty loud, eccentric and slightly self centered. i have adhd and when i get hyperfixated i will [not] stop talking about what i'm passionate about. i enjoy any and all musicals, going to see them is my favorite thing to do in the world. i am also an artist and a writer. my humor tends to be either dark or incredibly stupid things, no in between. i'm a big softie for any and all animals, though i do have a cat allergy.

hope you have a great day and thank you so much if you decide to do this request :DD

I ship you with Actor Mark!

Eccentric and slightly self-centered? And into musicals? Everything about this makes Actor Mark happy to know you. He would use his riches to take you to any and all musicals to win over your heart, and you'd talk about the plays and things you've seen for hours on end. Of course, he'd also brag a little about the things he has been in, but generally admires you when you talk about yourself, too, as he wants to hear everything. He can joke with you with the dark humor - "I could be dead tomorrow" - and he'd roll his eyes at the silly jokes, but secretly enjoy them, too, just because they're making you happy. He would probably get you a bunch of cats at some point, not realizing you're allergic. Oops.

#love it that you can admit you are slightly self centered #that is some bravery haha #be who you are!#wkm #ship requests #markiplier #who killed markiplier #markiplier egos #wkm actor #actor!mark #actor!mark x reader #actor mark headcanons

2 notes · View notes

theknightmarket · 7 months

Text

"What do you get out of this?"

In which Dark finally reunites with his victim in the mirror. Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - AO3 TW: cursing Pages: 27 - Words: 11,500

[Requests: OPEN]

As it often was, the manor was silent. The staircases lost their breath long ago, the floorboards coped with the expected and constant weight, and the doors fell into disuse to the point that they faded into the walls. Altogether, even the rats were too spooked to enter those abandoned hallways, for fear of exciting ghosts or ghouls from the mist. Nothing went in, nothing went out.

And that was just how Dark liked it. Society had moved too fast for him, leaving him in the dust as some poetic punishment. Some part of him had always been alone, another part abandoned, and the last part dictated by it. He didn’t want any part in a thing that would only work against him, so he was content to stay in the confines of the manor, not that leaving it was ever an option. If he could, he would have by now; he would have escaped and found some quiet shelter where the memories of his actions couldn’t haunt him.

From time to time, he would be reminded of the events all those years ago by three simple things. Or, rather, people. The first of which was anything but simple – Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache had not visited the manor in quite a while, instead, roaming both space and time, looking for his next interviewee. Dark had heard about a robot he constructed, or stole, that he used to get his next, for lack of a better term, victims. He knew of one person that had already perished from the faulty wiring, and he was not planning to be his next, the fact that he couldn’t die notwithstanding.

The second was someone less dramatic. In fact, despite him definitely being around, Dark never saw hide nor hair of him. Benjamin was an elusive creature, skulking around the corridors and making noise in the kitchen at the most random of times. When he had first arrived, he went about making meals and snacks for the ‘new masters’, but what with Wilford never being there and Dark not needing to eat, his habits were just that: habits. The faint smell of baking cookies was ever-present though, which made a venture by the kitchen a pleasant treat on a hard day.

And, as he passed that room, it was indeed needed.

Because, for the third and final reminder, not only memories lurked around the corners, but consequences, too. Cruel, despairing consequences that almost had Dark turning tail and rushing back to his office. His still heart was in his throat as he moved through a hallway, unnecessary breath quickened when he glided under an arch, and, when he stepped foot into the foyer, he felt as though he would pass out then and there.

At the side of the entrance, as it always had been, was a mirror, one that he had never touched or looked at in the last hundred years. Just the thought of it made the room seem colder, if it were possible, because one thing was undeniable; this one was his fault. He had trapped a dear friend in perpetual darkness for nearly a century, acted as though he had no knowledge they still existed, and went about his business.

He wondered if you could ever forgive him.

Although he would never know if he didn’t do the one thing that struck fear into his heart like lightning igniting the ground. He would have to talk to you. That was, if you even wanted to talk to him, because – despite Dark’s lacking social skills – he knew that conversations had to be a two-way street, and he wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to cross that line.

But first things first.

Heaving a dramatic breath was harder than the 12 labors of Hercules, but Dark managed it anyway, if only to get over the first hurdle, and carefully brought his fist to the corner of the mirror. If this went well, he could finally get that nagging part of him to quieten down.

One knock was easy. Simple. Almost instinctual. The second was much less so. The brief pause between sounds was empty of condemnation or acceptance, but the quietness that followed his next knock was damn-near painful. Was he doing something wrong? Had he already messed everything up?

He supposed he did that when he locked you in the mirror in the first place.

“Hello?” he spoke numbly. Some part of him wanted you to come right out and yell at him, curse him, do whatever just to show that you were open to confronting him. Another part perished the thought. It couldn’t bare you emerging from the darkness with unquenchable wrath towards him, a thirst for vengeance that he couldn’t manipulate his way out of – so give him the calm you, the one that would listen to him when he apologized, probably scold him some, and then let your relationship build back up again. Notably, that was the part of him that reminded him of what had happened every time he crossed the foyer. And then there was the smallest section of his heart, nestled at the very bottom and buried beneath years of guilt and denial… that didn’t want you to appear at all.

But that would negate his reason for being there in the first place, and fleeing with his tail between his legs was not Dark’s forté. So, crossing his arms over his chest and digging his heels into the floorboards, he stood his ground.

“Hello?” he repeated, confidence creeping steadily into his tone. “We need to talk.”

Technically, that was a lie. You didn’t need to talk, nothing bad would happen to you if you didn’t show up, but there had been a steadily creeping feeling of distress for Dark that urged him to take some action. Obviously, you wouldn’t be doing much initiating from behind the glass, so that left him standing before you. Hopeful, hesitant, alone.

“I have matters to discuss with you.” He reasoned to himself that he could communicate, if not as a friend, then as a business partner. The cold logistics were his strong suit, after all, and it negated the risk of developing an emotional attachment. It did mean ignoring a large part of him – the part of him that wanted to make that connection – but it was better than the alternative.

However, as he waited, it became apparent that he didn’t have to worry about that struggle. You weren’t going to appear, it seemed, the seconds ticking by on the grandfather clock behind him. The damned thing taunted him, and he was sick of it as soon as he noticed. If you didn’t want to talk in that moment, fine, but you wouldn’t be getting away with the silent treatment that easy.

Besides, it wasn’t as though he had gone into this interaction with any kind of plan, and that was what he was good at, planning. So, the only reason why this hadn’t worked first try was because he hadn’t thought it out well enough. Tomorrow, then, you would talk, he would make sure of it. He couldn’t fail twice in a row?

He failed twice in a row. The next day, after Dark had knocked again at the wooden edge of the mirror, watched the glass in the frame shiver ever so slightly, you didn’t appear. You denied giving him even the slightest hint of recognition.

“We need to talk,” he insisted, acutely aware that he was repeating words from before, but what else could he say? He wasn’t one for patience, and you would find him dead thrice over before he begged. No, you would have to take what he gave you, accept that he wasn’t going to throw himself before you in desperation.

It didn’t make this any easier on him, though. The seconds that shuffled past him felt like wading through mud. They grated on his nerves, pulled at his skin, his hand leapt to his jacket to fiddle with the edges. Normally, it was enough to ground him and keep him from acting out, but, as before, Dark was not one for patience.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” he started, relatively soft in comparison to what he could be, “but we don’t have time for it. I don’t have time for it.”

He understood that creating false urgency was somewhat backhanded, but he really did have to speak with you. Perhaps overexaggerating the situation, if it was needed, was something he was prepared to do.

He pressed on, “I came here to talk to you and that is exactly what I’ll be doing. You’re not going to get me to stop just because you’re acting like a child—” nothing, “—because you are! You are a child, and, right now, you are not helping anyone by staying silent.” Still nothing.

The air around him flexed and popped as Dark grew more and more agitated. Red and blue bent around each other like oil in water, droplets and sparks and smoke that curled over his shadows. He was racked with indecision, the three parts of him threatening to tear him apart, drawn and quartered, just to have their own way. He hated not being able to make up his mind, because that left him not entirely focused on the thing in front of him. In such an important moment, he had to be, lest he say some undesirable things.

“What are you doing?” As such, it was unfortunate that he was indeed undecided, “Are- are you throwing a tantrum in there, are you sulking? I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me!” A crack spiderwebbed itself in Dark’s little bubble. The sound of a sharp fracture echoed through the manor’s halls. Despite Dark straightening his back, dropping his shoulders, adjusting his grip on his suit jacket, the crack remained. “Okay,” he huffed, “I accept that I’ve made mistakes, but they weren’t horrible. This was for the best, and, frankly, I believe you’re being selfish. Three lives are more important than one, and, yes, I admit that our method was… backhanded, but that doesn’t give you the right to ignore me for it.”

He gave it ten seconds before squinting his eyes. Goading hadn’t worked, pseudo-apologies be damned, what else was he supposed to do? He refused to stoop so low as to concede his wrongdoings, far more there were in your opinion, leaving him with nothing. He stared at himself through the glass, clear as day, practically crystal.

“Fine. Act like that,” Dark muttered, “You’re the one who’s trapped, not me.”

A beat passed. The glass didn’t change. Just plain indifference.

“Oh, be quiet.” With that spat towards the mirror, he turned on his heel and marched back to his office.

Four times. Four times. When the clock struck nine for the past four nights, Dark would make his way towards the mirror in the foyer, disregard anyone and anything in his path, and knock on the wood, never to receive an answer. Four times over.

And it wasn’t as though it was getting any easier to wait; self-restraint was being exercised more than patience, because it was all he could do to keep himself from shattering the glass even more than it already was. The other mirrors were not as safe. Those in the bathrooms, library, and two of the bedrooms fell victim to Dark’s frustration, leaving messes of shards and splinters where they used to hang. They were disposable, your mirror was not, nor the one that met his eyes across his office. It was cleaner, less fancy that the one in the foyer, and he found it the only one that he could handle being in the presence of, and the only one that could handle being in his presence.

Although, one living being did manage to hold his own in the same room.

“Oh, Dark! I’ve been looking for you.”

Wilford had been flitting in and out of the manor recently, more rapidly than before but just as unreliable. Dark didn’t know what he wanted, but he wasn’t going to waste time asking him outright. The man could straddle a fence all he liked, he had more important things – not that they were working out any better.

But now that Wilford was confronting him directly, he didn’t have a choice in talking to him. If only you saw it the same way…

“I’m where I’ve been for the past century, Wilford,” Dark responded, eyes not moving from the documents in front of him.

“Hmm—” he pulled himself onto the desk, “—Is that so?”

He didn’t bother to hide his sigh as he dragged his glare up to his friend’s face. The look on his face spoke more words than he could be bothered to say. Confusion, annoyance, a general ‘get on with it before I kick you out’ sort of tone.

Wilford was unaffected. “Well,” he drawled with that unpinpointable accent, “I’m just saying that there’s been a few times I’ve popped in when you haven’t been here.” His hands darted for the pen stand on the desk. “Though, the mirror was definitely a surprise.”

Damn it. If there was one thing that Wilford and Dark had in common, it was a certain omniscience for things in the manor. Whether he had actively seen his attempts to talk to you didn’t matter, he would know either way, like a nosy child. He was quickly growing tired of childish antics, but that could have just been the permanent mood for the week.

The weariness not only had Dark pushing his chair away from the desk to swing one leg over another, but it also halted his reaction time, if only for a millisecond – unfortunately for him, that was all the time Wil needed to notice.

“What were you doing, anyway? You haven’t spoken to our friend in the entire time we’ve been here, and you weren’t there to worry about your appearance.”

His permanent sugar-coated smile turned sour, the edges pulling taught and his teeth sharpening. The knowledge of everything and everyone in the building doubled into annoyance at not knowing a secret. Wilford liked to be in on the joke.

Dark wouldn’t let him in that easy, not when his attempts had gone wrong every time. “We were only,” he paused, “talking.”

“You certainly were!” Wil’s chortle came out boisterous, clashing with the shadows of the room. “I can’t say the same about them, now, can I?”

Dark never liked giving in to his more dramatic urges, but rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics was the very furthest he would go. Always turning things into a joke, stripping them of severity and seriousness. Sometimes, on the very oddest of occasions, he could understand it. He’d seen his mental break when he stole your body, and he had accepted his denial for the next month or so, but there was a point when things had to matter. Getting you to talk to him mattered.

Wilford looked over his shoulder at the mirror. His smile barely softened as he raised one hand to send you a wave. You hadn’t fully appeared, you never did in Dark’s office, but there was the faint outline of some shape that hinted you were at the very least listening in. Of course, you didn’t say anything back. Wil thought you were both similar in some respects - for instance, you were both as stubborn as a mule. You’d decided to look into the office, so you were interested in what was going on, and Dark’s last week of trying to talk to you proved his persistence. Another thing you shared was a hatred for Mark – and, no, he wasn’t going to censor that man’s name in his own train of thought, he was a big boy – so if you both agreed to work together, Dark might actually make some headway in his search for the criminal. You could finally put that combined pig-headedness to good use.

“I’m trying to get them to respond, but they steadfastly refuse to.” Dark’s fluid complaint had Wil swinging his head back to him.

“I can’t say I blame them.”

Alarm shot over one’s face while the other looked pleasantly calm. Siding with someone you refused to even look at him was a surprise, but it shouldn’t have been so shocking; the manic time-traveler was the definition of a wildcard, he always had been.

As he spoke, Wil snatched a pile of papers from a semi-open drawer to rifle through. “From what I’ve heard,” he began, “you were being quite rude last time. Calling them a child, really, what did you expect?”

“I was expecting some kind of answer.”

“Ah, so you were goading a response out of them. Not at all releasing any pent-up aggression, eh?”

Dark didn’t like this. He didn’t like the sudden turn of the tables. Wilford had gone from the eaves-dropping child to the parent giving their own a scolding. He didn’t like the loss of control he had over the situation. But what he disliked the most was the idea that he was lying about his intentions. Too many people had been accusing him of that, neither straightforward, and it was becoming an unfavorable pattern to him.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating, Wilford.”

“Oh, but I’m not insinuating anything! I’m only suggesting that this was not the most effective way of getting them to talk. If you wanted them to play nice, you’d better do so yourself.”

“I am playing nice.”

The words came out with his namesake in mind, a volume walking the line between a growl and a yell. His ashen knuckles became as white as snow against the edge of the desk, Wil was surprised he couldn’t see inactive veins underneath his skin. Although he didn’t meet his eyes, they were sure to be glaring daggers at whatever he was looking at. None of this worried him. Noisy neighbors, stray dogs, the occasional estate agent who thought this looked an easy sell – they all were topics of Dark’s anger. This, though, was something a little different.

The blue and red that echoed around him fought against itself in a desperate attempt to both stay close to Dark and throw distance between the colors. The dangerous aura of power surrounding him was getter less and less stable with each passing day, and he had some theories on what could be causing it – undoubtably, it was you, that much was obvious. However, he didn’t know whether it was him going near you or staying away that created this unpredictability. What he did know was that he would have to sort it out soon, or risk something happening that was out of his control.

The least he could do for now was rein himself in, so, almost begrudgingly, Dark straightened out the lapels of his jacket and contained himself to his chair. Wilford watched him all the while, not scared, but with a knowing look on his face that made Dark want to kick him out of the manor entirely.

“I’ll try again in the morning. Now, I have business to attend to, and I would appreciate no distractions.” The excuse was not subtle, but it worked in getting Wil to slide off the desk and ready himself to leave to whatever time period tickled his fancy. Dark, meanwhile, immediately dropped his gaze to the paper in front of him, not sparing him a second glance.

Wil called as he began to strut out, cheery as if nothing had happened, “And don’t forget your manners, Dark!”

He merely huffed in response. Pale acknowledgment he was known to give even in times of calm, though, a thing he lacked now was attentiveness. He directed all of his focus to ignoring Wil, meaning he also ignored his next words sent towards the mirror.

“The same goes for you, old friend. It’d be nice if we all got along,” he spoke. Both his tone and expression were imploring, something you had not seen for a good while. Hell, any emotion beyond crazed carelessness was a rarity, so it would be a lie to say you were going to disregard the change in behavior that easy.

You don’t say anything when Wil passed by, nor when he lets the office door fall closed. Normally, you would leave the second he did; you weren’t a fan of being in the same room as Dark for longer than entertained you, and, without someone who knew you were there, it became boring. Why this day was any different, you didn’t know, but your subconscious urged you to stay behind. Watch.

You nearly laughed at yourself, even though it would give your position away. You yourself were practically a subconscious, a physical body long gone thanks to the very person in front of you. You couldn’t interact with the world outside the mirrors, you couldn’t leave the manor, you couldn’t do anything, that was his fault.

The very faint lines of a figure dispersed like a cigarette’s smoke as you left the room, a single thought that sent you fleeing.

Why did it feel like you were trying to convince yourself?

Nine o’clock. Wilford had tried to get him to come earlier, but a routine had been established, and Dark, although he would never admit it, did find himself using the time to mentally prepare himself. That, and his space-faring friend had only appeared ten minutes before to see the interaction through.

Speaking of which, that very man was standing a few feet away from him in the kitchen’s archway, an encouraging and pleading grin marring his face. He hadn’t asked why it was so important to him that you get along, his sudden interest seeming suspicious, but he wasn’t about to try and get an answer out of two stubborn mules.

His fist met the wooden frame three times. His feet shifted on the floorboards. He waited with bated breath.

“I would appreciate if we could have a civil conversation.”

One, two, three.

“I’m sorry, but my mommy told me not to talk to strangers.”

It had been such a long time since he had heard your voice that Dark flinched at the sound of it. It was bitter and hostile and mocking and a part of him damn near blushed. He quickly shut it down with a swallow and grab of his lapel, but, for a brief second, he couldn’t deny that he was happy. You showed up. Progress.

But the look on your face didn’t suggest there was going to be much more. It was his job to fix that, and, from Wilford clearing his throat somewhere behind him, he was going to have to do that without getting into an argument.

Dark thought for a moment. Just like before, it was difficult not having his full attention on something. He couldn’t lose this opportunity to talk to you, but it would help to collect himself. The best he could do that was by talking slowly and clearly, and under no circumstances could he lose his temper.

“I apologize for calling you a child. I had planned to talk to you, and it,” he sighed, closing his eyes, “annoyed me that I couldn’t do that.”

Good news: you were still there when he opened them again. Bad news: you looked expectant at best, still pissed at worst.

“And what else?”

Dark squinted, back tracking the lecture he had given you and your history together. “I apologize for calling you selfish.”

“And what else?”

The corners of his lips tugged downwards harshly into a frown, the most he could do while he resisted rolling his eyes, but he managed to choke out, “What else? I apologize for everything I said last time I spoke to you.”

He wouldn’t deny that he felt smug. It wasn’t a look he liked for himself, but it was a good feeling. Knowing that you had outsmarted someone was enjoyable, and that someone being a person you’d recently got into a disagreement with was even better.

He did not feel smug when you repeated for the final time, “And what else?”

In fact, he spluttered, a fish pulled out of water. What else could there possibly be? He hadn’t spoken to you for nearly a century, he can’t have done anything to insult you without ever interacting with you, could he? Or were you trying to outsmart him back? That sounded like you, you were the district attorney, after all. You were probably hoping he would admit to something that you didn’t know he did. Well, he wouldn’t play your game.

“What else is there?” Dark asked, staring you dead in the eyes.

You stared back.

There was something about the mirror that made it impossible to look at you. Every second, the image of you was switching out between your hazy form and his own face. Both equally ashen, both equally annoyed, both equally inhuman. In one hundred years, the pair of you had gone from friends sharing a cup of coffee, talking over that one unenviable case, to bulls waiting to see who would make the first move. Neither dared move, not for fear, but for displaying weakness.

Your pupils were the first to shift. While the rest of you remained stock-still, they dragged up and down his body. From the face to the suit to the legs, it was almost as though you were cataloguing everything that he had changed from what you used to look like – until you brought your eyes back up to his.

“Well, thank you for apologizing for that.”

That sentence had his shoulders relaxing somewhat. You had taken his olive branch, it was the second step in constructing a partnership that would, hopefully, turn out to be mutually beneficial to you both. Dark could move in the manor, sure, but you had the void, a place where he spent a lot of his time. Maybe he left some clues, or even a body—

“I don’t forgive you.”

You snapped the olive branch between your cold hands.

“What?” Dark hissed, practically outraged, “I’ve already apologized for everything I did, what else is there?”

A strange sort of enragement flashed over your eyes at his words. You kept your cool, but there was no doubt that, had you the option, you would have strangled him. Although he didn’t know what he’d done this time, the snarl beginning to curl over your mouth and the flexing of your hands gave more than a hint. When you moved them to gesture wildly around the void, Dark thought you were going to give it a try anyhow.

It didn’t make him think any deeper about it though, him simply answering to your silent point, “I’ve covered that.”

You let your arms drop to your sides. “Yeah, and then you had to apologize for it, so you obviously didn’t do a good job.”

What was meant to be a helpful little chat, maybe that would grow into something else, was rapidly collapsing in on itself. A snake eating its own tail to satiate its hunger. Except, this time, it satiated nothing, save for the want to have the last word in an argument. Both of you suffered from that fatal flaw. Stubbornness ran like a virus through inmoving veins, without mercy or pity. Maybe if it had been only one of you, you could have gotten along, but that was not the case.

“I’ll reiterate, then,” Dark began as he straightened himself out, “Mark stole Damien’s body and one entity of this house commandeered Celine’s. That left three spirits wandering the void: Damien, Celine, and the remaining entity. Are you keeping up with me?” He needed to slow down. “Good. Now, and I feel the need to emphasize this, it was coincidence that your body was left unoccupied when you were shot. We didn’t plan for that.” He really needed to slow down. “We didn’t plan for any of this, but it’s what happened, and we took it in stride. The next course of events is simple. We appeared to you, you agreed to let us occupy your body, and so we did.” Pump the brakes, pull the plug, slow the roll. “Don’t talk because I know what you’re going to say. Two spirits in one body is pushing it, three is dangerous, but four? It’d be a waste of a perfectly good host; it would self-destruct as soon as the brain caught up.” Stop talking! “So, I’ll ask again. What else is there?”

Had he been alive, Dark’s heart would have been beating so hard that you might have been able to see it through his suit. Of course, he wasn’t alive, and neither were you, so he wouldn’t have been able to see yours trying to force its way out of your ribcage, either. If there ever were a chance that you would feel sympathy for this man, he had wiped it out just like that. His little monologue might have felt nice at the time, but you promised that you would make him regret it. Talking to you like a child, who did he think he was?

“For someone so high and mighty, you sure are dumb,” you spat back. Explaining it in a more courteous sense had crossed your mind, but it was stamped out.

An annoyed “What?” was the only response you received.

“Do you think that I’m mad at you for stealing my body?”

“I wouldn’t call it stealing, but yes, I do.”

You scoffed. All that preaching and he wasn’t even right on what you were pissed at. “I don’t care that you, fine, inhabited my body without me—” Even giving that little leeway was painful to you, but you struggled through it, “—I’m mad that you left me in here.”

That gave Dark pause, something that no one had been able to do for quite a while. Sure, they could get him to quiet down, mostly through annoyance in Wilford’s case, but it was an achievement to get him to stand and contemplate someone’s words, genuinely. He didn’t understand what you meant entirely.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” he settled for saying.

“Of course, you could.” Your voice had fallen quiet. Where that had been fire and fury and blinding stubbornness, you seemed to have slipped into a smaller volume. Simple. If he didn’t know you any better – and after such a time, there was a chance he didn’t know you at all, anymore –, he might have said there was a hint of pleading.

“Like what, for example?”

“You could have spoken to me, you- you could have stopped to look at me, for once!” You were rearing up again, the collapse of the walls hadn’t lasted very long, making Dark wish he hadn’t asked for that example after all. But even though you were on the offensive again, once the dam had broken there was going to be no fixing it. Going without anyone to talk to for so long completely disregarded all of your social skills, and, apparently, keeping your emotions and real opinions to yourself were some of those skills. “It’s been terrifying being trapped in this mirror, alone, in the dark, without anything to do but think. The number of times I’ve had to recount the night we died or else I’d do insane is too high for me to count.”

If you lost track of the events, you might end up wrongly forgiving some people and wrongly villainizing others.

Despite you showing a bit of weakness in admitting you were scared, Dark was not an emotional man. Hell, the only person he’d spoken to was an insane murderer, so give him some slack if he didn’t pick up on every feeling you showed. Thinking back on it, he would have accepted some of the blame instead of shifting it to others with a snarky, “I’m not the only one here, I hope you know.”

You bit back, “Wilford and Benjamin, how could I forget? Except Wilford actually has gone insane from denial, and Benjamin has said one thing to me since I’ve been in here, and it was an insult to my clothes. Neither of them is around enough to talk to anyway.” The last bit you muttered quieter to yourself, but it didn’t slip past Dark.

“How would I be any better?”

“Oh, cut the self-loathing. It’s not a good look on you, and it’s pissing me off.” He had half the mind to ask what didn’t piss you off at this point – decorative language that you’d picked up from real estate agents notwithstanding – but he held his tongue. “I thought we were in the same situation, victims of Mark, together. Apparently, we’re not.”

And, with a shift of your attention to the edge of the mirror, you followed it up with, “You’re less like me and more like Mark.”

That set Dark’s red and blue waves alight like a rabid flame doused in gasoline. The crack from before splintered itself along his frame even more so, sending high-pitched squeals into the air. All parts of him were having different reactions, from outraged to regretful to accepting, leaving the final physical output a frigid glare. Your own eyes flitted around him, watching the energy strike out of control, and, for a brief moment, you wished you had stayed silent.

It was an odd feeling to see someone you once considered a friend – whom you knew fully well wasn’t that same friend – respond in such a way. The visage that used to belong to Damien sent your subconscious wanting to comfort him, but, the logical part of your brain knew he wasn’t the same. Trying to be kind to him now would be fruitless, and an insult to your past together.

You let yourself sigh the smallest breath that you could when he managed to corral himself. The waves of light returned to the surface of his skin. He blinked.

“I suppose a century is bound to do some damage—”

“A fucking century!?”

That was the last straw for you.

“You’ve been avoiding me for a century!?”

You knew that you couldn’t force your way out of the mirror, but this delightful news threw all reasoning out of the window. The glass barely flexed with your shoulder pressing against it, nor the fist you chucked, or even launching a foot into it. With no clue, no night-day cycle, no nothing, you had no way to tell how long you’d been abandoned for. Only your shattered view to the outside world helped, and even then, nothing in the manor would change for you to tell how much time had passed. A vague internal clock was no help either, leaving you to a guessing game. A month, a year, maybe a decade or so.

Instead, a goddamn century had passed with barely a word from this man who stood in front of you, wearing your friend’s skin and using your bones.

“I’m sorry.”

Pitiful. An entity with so much power that some part of him could help bring someone back from the dead.

“You’re a coward, Dark.”

He was starting to dislike how he looked – not for any insecurities, but because whenever he was looking at it, it only meant that you were not there. His reflection tried to goad some spat out of him, but the only thing there was an emptiness that was quickly spreading to consume all the anger and resentment that had been there before. The voice that had originally urged him to talk to you was silenced, sure, but he didn’t feel any better. He felt worse if that were possible.

A whistle broke the silence behind him.

“That was quite the fit you two had.”

Wilford stepped beside Dark, both gazing at the mirror, and just the mirror gazed back. It felt wrong.

“Do you understand what I said before?” He punctuated his question with a twist of his heel.

“Oh, but you got an answer out of them this time,” Wil slapped a hand onto his shoulder, “that’s progress, friend!”

“Progress is arguing to the point of storming off, then?”

Walking away from the mirror felt, to Dark, too much like giving up. Having indeed received some kind of response, regardless of whether it was positive or negative, just made it more of a failure to leave without succeeding. At least when you hadn’t appeared entirely, he could blame it on you not wanting to talk – this time, though, you were there, and you had spoken, and, because of something he did, you left.

Approaching the staircase closest to his office, he fought back the thought.

“Progress is getting a verbal response,” Wil called after him, rushing to catch up, “and you can make more if you so choose, which I highly implore you to do.”

With a huff, Dark caught hold of the banister. “Why don’t you try? They might be more susceptible.”

Wil practically chased him up to the landing, refusing to let him go and sulk in his office that easy. “I spoke to them within the first year. The only thing stopping them from coming out to play more often is you.”

Having just rounded the corner and with his hand hovering over the doorknob, Dark found himself wishing that he were ever-so-slightly quicker. Maybe if he had skipped the last step, not paused at the bottom, or simply sprinted for his door – maybe he wouldn’t have had to hear that. Wil’s tone may have been sugary and light, but he wasn’t dumb. Saying such a thing had him struggling to maintain a cool exterior. Was what he did really that much of a problem? He assumed that your outburst had come from him finally showing to you, but had you gone so long without any interaction?

He twisted the handle.

“Does it matter that much to you?”

“Of course! The manor could use a little activity, I’d say,” Wilford spoke as though he’d already won the battle, and, as Dark stepped over the threshold, he had.

A brief pause, in which he looked around his bleak office – the desk, the bookshelf, the mirror – and then he answered, “Alright. I’ll try once more tomorrow.”

Wil practically erupted into fireworks. He clapped his hands together, spun around on the heel of his shoe, and announced, “Splendid! It’s a date!”

He was gone a second later, leaving Dark to himself. The minimal amount of light that had breached the room was dispelled with a closing of the door. He had a lot of work to do, but, for once, it had nothing to do with tracking down Mark or keeping the authorities away from the manor. No, because this time, it employed the quant, little library that Celine had made for herself when she lived in the place. With no one having gone in or out in the past century, there wasn’t even dust along the shelves, nor disrepair of the books. Everything would be pristine, just how she left it. And, matched with the knowledge of where everything was, Dark knew that this would be a piece of cake. His plan would go off without a hitch.

Although, that had been his belief when he had prepared to confront you, and look how that had turned out.

Surrounded by darkness, listening to darkness, seeing darkness, you had a lot of time to think. For most people, the ennui of an eternity might soften them up, or make them think differently. Not you. In fact, you were certain in any and all of the convictions you had at the very moment of your death. Resentment built up under the surface of your skin like rot, and, without the ability to leave the void, you were never given a chance to clear yourself of it.

There were the odd opinions that barely hardened, but there was also a good amount of them that solidified into steel. Kings of them all were the reasons you were trapped in the mirror in the first place. Though, as said before, you didn’t begrudge Dark for keeping you there, only that he ignored you.

Mark, on the other hand, you would gladly beat with a stick the second you saw him, or even your bare hands if you lacked anything else. The thought of touching him made you grimace, but you would struggle through it, if only to see that monster of a man dead at your feet as he should have been years ago.

That was the worst thing about the void, beating out the loneliness and the silence, was the fact that – if you were to look at a very specific place, your head placed just so and tilted within a fraction of a degree, you could see the familiar and infuriating face of one man. He was still dressed in a satin robe, splayed on the ground, arms held out like a false idol.

Mark’s body had long since gone cold, abandoned just as you were, to the place in the mirror. When he had taken Damien’s body, he’d left his behind, a literal shell of a man. You would see it sometimes when you moved your head quickly. A flash, a strike of lighting. It was still there to this day, but you’d never gotten the bravery to get any closer to it. It wasn’t as though you could trip over it, so why bother?

Between reliving the memories of your demise and thinking of how much you hated those two figures, you wondered if this was a punishment. The body was placed there to remind you of your loneliness, while the mirror taunted you with a glimpse of freedom that you would never reach. It gave you the only sense of direction in the void; a roughly 3 by 2-meter screen with decorated edges that just hung there. You had once tried to knock it down, but that just served to dent the corner.

You had… mixed feelings about the window. On one hand, it let some light in. It let you see your hands, your torso, the body at the edge of your vision, your legs. You could appreciate that part. And, although not overly effectively, it gave you a sense of self. You existed, you were present in time and space, you hadn’t just disappeared, as much as you were otherwise convinced – which led you to the other hand; it mocked you. Constantly. You could see out, people could see in, but it was rare that you acknowledged one another. Wilford waved at you a few times, and Benjamin had insulted the outfit that you’d died in. The one to give you the most attention overall was Dark.

Your head snapped to the mirror.

Dark.

He said he would try again tomorrow, didn’t he? Was it tomorrow yet? You weren’t good at keeping track of time, it seemed, but the draining and filling of the light outside that you, for once, stayed awake long enough to notice, gave you some indication. Shadows danced from the windows, the rise of a sun, and the fall of a moon. A day had passed, it had to. Timing always got finicky after six o’clock, when you couldn’t discern when it was getting brighter or if clouds were just passing through. Just to be sure, you decided to watch the screen for a bit longer. He normally appeared when it was darker – you sometimes laughed to yourself about that kind of thematic symbolism – but maybe today would be different.

The next minutes were not different, which was to be expected, so you sat yourself down for a little longer. The next hours were not different, but you had waited a century, you could wait some more. The rest of that day was not different, though you could assume that he was just busy – stuck in that suit all day, talking of nothing but paperwork, he had to be busy.

But the day after that was not different, either, nor was the next. Flittering between the few remaining mirrors didn’t help, because, for once, Dark was not in his office. He had to be somewhere that you couldn’t access, and, for a moment, you wondered if this was his plan. Questions about his real intentions stuck into your mind like darts on a board; had he meant to trick you, had he wanted you to get your hopes up? The idea that it was all for fun briefly topped your theories, but it couldn’t be right. You didn’t think that fun was a part of Dark’s vocabulary, regardless of the nature of it, so you knocked it down to the bottom of the possibilities.

However, after yet another fall and rise of the sun, you stood before the screen of the void. A prisoner staring out at the world through their iron bars. Only one notion remained, a small, simple notion that you had harbored since the beginning.

He was a liar. He was a coward and a liar, and he never cared about you, not one bit. Everything was fake, he wasn’t sorry about anything he said, and he didn’t care about you being alone. He threw people to the wayside the second they weren’t useful anymore, and whatever he needed you for had solved itself, so there you go! Brushed to the side like an inconvenient pile of trash, because he was Dark, and that was what Dark did. A selfish, lying coward, he was worse than Mark—!

You lifted your foot. Glass littered the ground. You didn’t hear the mirror smash, and yet, the evidence was there. A slice of the screen carved out hastily and let fall to the floor of the void. The space it had occupied before was now empty upon you putting your hand through it.

“Huh,” you muttered to yourself. You still weren’t full comfortable with the sound of your own voice. Too scratchy from disuse.

The couple of shards of glass that were somewhat intact on the floor reflected something back at you as you moved. Carefully, you crouched down to cradle one, and then promptly fell backwards.

You couldn’t remember what you looked like when you were alive. When you thought of yourself, all you could see in your mind’s eye was a blank slate of a face and a line downwards, like a stick-figure. Staring into the thing in your hand, you questioned again if this were a punishment.

Smoke. Smoke in the vague shape of a person. That was all you could see, and, no matter how you tilted or twisted the glass, that was all it would show. The billows of gas threw themselves around over one another, cascading down along the side of a face and then shoulders, like waterfalls creating a path with no end. A misty hand brought to your face conflicted with the image. It felt like there was something solid there, your hands felt solid, as well. You didn’t know what to trust, but that was the same age-old story, wasn’t it?

The tears looked like smoke, too.

Nine o’clock. The day had passed painfully quickly. Normally, that would be a godsend, but it only reminded you of the hiatus when things actually happened. Not anymore. It changed very quickly back to what it had been before, like your mind was trained to accept abandonment.

You weren’t mad anymore. At least, you didn’t think you were. The office had gone uninhabited for the past four days, so you didn’t have anything to direct your anger towards. It was more as though you were frozen, back to spectating the manor through a sheen of frosted glass with your legs crossed. You’d give anything to feel the snow again, or any change in temperature at all. The void was completely neutral – maybe 15 degrees if you paid close attention. It didn’t matter to you anymore.

You were drifting. Your train of thought kept straying from the subject, and reliving the memories gave you no satisfaction, no sadness, no fear. Frozen. To the point that you barely registered that someone was standing in front of the mirror.

You wouldn’t admit that you clambered to your feet, nor that you jogged closer to the mirror to strengthen your image. Did you look like smoke to him, too? You shook your head, that didn’t matter. Attention roving his body, you inspected Dark for any sign of what had taken his time up so much. You got your answer quickly when your gaze landed on two books, one in each of his hands, though only the right was open. The other’s cover, meanwhile, was exposed to you. ‘The Lady in the Lake’ it read, in a striking, slightly yellowed font. On a positive note, you felt some sort of coherent emotion stirring within you. The bad news on that front was that it was anger that was returning. Had Dark ignored you, again, for a fiction book?

“Hello to you, too?” you risked speaking. No reaction to you; instead, he began muttering something that you couldn’t make out, not for lack of trying. You suddenly found a blockage between the words he was saying and your brain, as though he were speaking complete gibberish with English intonation. You struggled to rationalize anything until a mass of gray and red and blue flocked to the fiction book. A smoky substance danced around the cover, under and over Dark’s hand, like a swarm of flies. It wasn’t long before they drifted to the ceiling, leaving an empty space behind.

And then something in the void changed. For once, something new was added, and it was right at your feet. You weren’t going to question what his book did – you were trapped inside a mirror, after all, less explainable things had happened. You damn-near cried again when your hand brushed the paperback while your heart went while in your chest. Had you been able to, you would have lunged at Dark to hug him, but you couldn’t – for one, the mirror, obviously, but you were still somewhat annoyed with him. You schooled your expression as best you could from awed to simply appreciative.

Dark, meanwhile, didn’t bother trying to hide his smugness.

Tentatively, you drag your attention away from the gift and ask, “What is this?”

“A book.”

Your chest instinctively cramped with a bark of laughter. Short, solid, and, to someone on the other side of the mirror, sweet. A grin spread over your lips with such a reaction that you hadn’t felt in years. That someone preferred this look to your spiteful sarcasm.

You looked down again, finger spreading across the indented title, and then your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t want to break this already brief moment, but you just had to know…

“What do you get out of this?”

Dark’s shoulders set straighter. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t sound defensive, just confused, which helped to settle your concerns, but it wasn’t enough. So, you prodded, “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything.”

The conversation may have been over, but the interaction was not. Dark stood there with his hands now clasped behind him and his book resting on the side table. A subtle smirk played on his mouth, though it didn’t exude the sadism you’d come to expect from it. This time, it just looked natural. He stayed unmoving as you looked him up and down, once, twice, before you let your own shoulders sag. Your posture bent and your eyebrows flattened.

This was all reversed when Dark whirled on his heel and started to walk.

“Where are you going?” Keeping your voice stable took all the energy in the world from you.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” was the answer you received, alongside his disappearing steps as he took himself away from the foyer.

You didn’t like that. It left a foul taste in your mouth – not for him leaving, but for the way that you felt about it. It stirred something in your gut and squeezed your heart with a vengeful vice grip. The next few minutes that Dark was away you spent arguing with yourself.

One side of you reminded you of how things had been for the past hundred years; you hated that man because he left you alone, he trapped you in this mirror, he stole your body. Without him, you would be dead and buried, allowed to rest, finally. And, with him, you were here. An endless void, eternally missing and ignored by the world. You should hate him.

But the other side of you pointed out that you should hate him. But you didn’t. Dark had apologized, he’d given you a book, he was trying to atone for the pain he had caused you. Why go to all the trouble of ignoring him when he could be your only viable interaction? You were here to stay, so it would be a waste to disregard him that easily. Besides, you had another person to be mad at, one that was more deserving than someone who was also a victim of his actions.

Weighing the options, you asked yourself if this was what Dark went through every time that he tried to make a decision. If it were true, well, you should have been grateful that he’d agreed on talking to you. It was difficult, and your conclusion definitely upset some part of your brain, but that didn’t stop you from making it concrete in your mind.

That you would give Dark some time.

Your body jolted in alarm at the knock that broke you free from your thoughts, but the shock was quickly remedied when you focused on the return of Dark at the front of your mirror. Likewise, he was brought to the front of your mind, and the choice to trust him was left to settle.

“You’re back,” you stated.

“No need to look so surprised.”

Your eyes searched him efficiently as he situated himself. Though, it didn’t take long for you to see what was different. The most glaring thing was that he had retrieved both a chair and a new book from who knows where. He laid the seat surprisingly gently on the planked floor but did not actually sit just yet. Instead, he stayed standing, almost awkwardly, as if waiting for permission.

A curious look you sent him bid him explain. “I thought we could read.” He cleared his throat, barely met your eyes. “Spend some time together. I think it would go better than talking, given our record.”

Huh. You hadn’t expected that. You appreciated the book, you really did, but offering to read withyou? Briefly, you wondered if Dark had been replaced in the time he’d been away, it would explain all the weird personality shifts, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As you flopped to the ground, one leg crossed over the other, you hissed at the part of your mind that whispered that you should. It took you all of one minute to get it to quiet down, and, from that second on, you were engrossed in the book that you and Dark now shared.

Nothing amazing happened during that first session. You read, he read, he asked what you thought, you told him it was good, and then you both parted ways. Such a pace was set for the next few nights. Nine o’clock became a very cherished time, not that either of you entirely noticed it. On your part, you didn’t even notice any of the times of day. Dawn, noon, evening – those were what you measured the passing of time by; now that you had a reason to do it down to the day, you paid more attention. Dark, meanwhile, had made it a habit to leave his office at 8:50, make it down in five minutes, and always be slightly early for the meeting. Maybe it was residual mannerisms from the 1920s, or maybe you were both still warming up to each other, but you didn’t start before nine.

It was the fifth night that a little thing changed. A subtle volta in a poem that you would only understand if you looked hard enough, and, by now, it was definite that Dark was. He’d read this book before, he knew what was before, what was happening, and what was to come. He enjoyed rereading things in his free time for just that reason, but this was a new experience that added something else to the matter; you. Being aware of the plot meant that he could spare some of his attention to send your way. That attention was used to watch the corners of your mouth crease at a part you enjoyed, to watch the flickering light in your eyes flare when there was a twist, to watch your nose scrunch if you took in new information. Pride coursed through his abandoned veins whenever you expressed any kind of emotion, but it was what you said after finishing the most recent chapter that made him react differently.

“I don’t like Eddie.”

Dark paused, a thumb brushing against the corner of a page. “Me neither.”

And that was it. That was all that was said before you drifted back into a white noise of flipping paper and shuffling. You continued to read, but Dark was caught at the start of the next chapter. His hand hovered over the edge of the pages, he willed it to move, but it steadfastly remained there. He tried to at least skim the ink printed words, nothing stuck, and his pupils ran in circles around the irises.

You had agreed on something – together. Feelings about one person were the same. You matched.

For the first time in a hundred years, Dark was hopeful.

It took a month for something substantial to happen again, not that Dark was complaining. He rather enjoyed having someone to talk to that wasn’t insane or his employee. He rather enjoyed talking to you, whether it was about the book or something interesting that had happened outside the mirror. It gave him a grim joy to see those sparks fly in your eyes when he mentioned how an aspiring real estate agent had tried to evaluate the place. You liked hearing about people the most, but they were few and far between. Most of the time, you settled for listening to him about the family of raccoons that lived in the wine cellar that Dark refused to touch. It got you laughing, and that was good enough for him.

You had just wrapped up the third to last chapter of ‘The Lady in the Lake’, the theories you muttered under your breath as Dark marked down the page number had him chuckling to himself as he drew his chair back to the wall. It was originally from the library, but there wasn’t much point in dragging it up and down the stairs whenever the clock struck nine.

After placing the book on the arm of the chair – thankfully wide enough that it wouldn’t topple off the side – he reeled back the eternal business at the back of his mind to the forefront. Something had gone wrong with his latest research, meaning he had to start again from photo-evidence. He didn’t like doing it, but he took it upon himself as a duty to the manor, to himself, to… you. If he knew where he was, he could protect the things he cared about. It didn’t help when he had to do it all over, but it was undoubtably better than giving up. He had made it this far, after all.

However, the second that he was angled away from the mirror, your voice punctured the finality of the moment.

“Hey, Dark?”

He turned again with a curious hum.

You were standing, as you always were after you finished for the night, but your hands were held cautiously together in front of you. Your pupils flitted about in your eyes, avoiding him, his now-concerned stare. You took in a breath and then made two, simple statements. “I just wanted to thank you, for the book and for spending time with me—” you briefly looked him in the face, as if to gauge his reaction, “—and I’m, uh, well, I’m sorry, for being so cold to you when you first spoke to me.”

His concern melted into understanding. “You had your reasons.”

“And so did you,” you rushed to continue, “and, and I ignored them because I was angry. A hundred years passed for both of us, I can’t think that it didn’t have some of the same effects on you as it did me. I assumed that you were just being petty when you didn’t come and see me, but… you weren’t, and I’m sorry for treating you like you were.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

The apologetic intent hung in the air between you for the next few seconds. Your eyes met, Dark willed the sincerity to cross between the glass, and it seemed like it did when you risked a tentative smile. He gladly returned it.

You offered half-joking and half-genuine, “A truce?”

“If this last month hasn’t been a truce, I’m eager to see how you act when there is one.”

“Oh, be quiet.”

Another agreement, even lighter than before. Dark couldn’t help but feel giddy, a jolt of adrenaline running through him. If his veins weren’t so vacant, a blush might have revealed more than he wanted to in such a peaceful time. Luckily for him, the fear of that escaped him, but, unluckily, it was because he wondered something else.

This sounded an awful lot like a goodbye.

“Is everything alright?”

Despite the grin that had grown on your lips, you cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

Another pause.

“No reason.” Dark shifted an inch forward, like it would help him see past a disguise. It didn’t do anything, save give you a chance to poke fun at him.

“Well, go on, then,” you gestured behind him, “go commit tax fraud or whatever it is you do in your study.”

Ah, much better. The feeling lifted from him as fast as it had come.

“I’ll have you know that my paperwork is entirely sound and legal.”

“Hmm, keep telling the IRS that, you might just get away with it.” Your amused laugh faded into the void with your body, leaving the clean reflection of Dark himself behind. He was still smiling as he pushed a curl of his hair away from his eyes, an image he hadn’t seen in a good while. When you weren’t present, the mirror looked just that. A mirror. Nothing special about it, just a slab of glass in a frame. Not that it wasn’t, and he hated to say it, a very pretty mirror. Ornate, he would say. The glass, not as much, but the wooden border was. Nonsensical designs carved into the flesh of an oak tree, swirls and sparks and curves reaching around it like a snake. Whoever had been commissioned this had put in enough effort that it looked impossible to recreate.

Dark brought a finger up to trail one of the indentations. A gorgeous cage for a gorgeous bird.

Oh.

He wasn’t sure if anyone had ever run in the halls of the manor, but he had already broken three norms, what was one more?

The manor hadn’t heard the rapid click of shoes for quite some time; leisurely walks or a slightly rushed jog, sure, but downright running through those halls was near impossible. Dark had done so on his way up to the library, and he was now doing it again to go back to the mirror. It had taken him fourteen hours, two glasses of wine, and reluctantly recruiting Wilford to find what he was looking for, but they were sacrifices he was willing to make. Even if it didn’t work, it was a step in the right direction.

Maybe he was acting irrationally, and maybe he should have spent some more time making sure this had a sliver of a chance of working, however, he didn’t care. Cautiousness be damned, this could help you, and he was willing to do whatever it took to do that – he made sure that he sped up his pace so that he wouldn’t have to ponder the implications behind that. Rounding the banister, hope overtook him and propelled him forward away from certain important conclusions.

“Darling, I have great news!” Skipping past that one, too. “Now, I know we’re not scheduled to meet until this evening, but this is more important.” He was too busy dodging the archway to the foyer to think about that, either.

He practically skidded to a stop in front of the mirror, only able to stabilise himself with one hand against it. The other was occupied by a book, but not one of fiction this time. No, Celine had left this one on a different bookshelf, the top section, at the edge of it. It seemed to thrum with energy in his hand, power growing underneath the leather binding the closer that he brought it to your prison.

When he had properly calmed himself down – or, as calm as he could get when excitement lived in his heart – he knocked once, and then twice, and a third time when he couldn’t resist another. Nothing happened at first, but that was to be expected. It was barely midday, and an enthusiastic Dark was not a common sight. You were right to give showing yourself to him a little thought.

“Darl—” he caught his word before it could throw itself out of his mouth. Clearing his throat, he fixed his slip-up. “Old friend?”

An unabashed grin spilled across his lips when he saw the faint sign of smoke rising from the void. It was sometimes hard to make it out against the background, he thought that he was getting better, anyhow. Though, it would do him some good to practice if he couldn’t make you out after a few seconds.

He stepped forward to look closer. If he’d taken his glasses down, it might have been easier, but it wasn’t supposed to be this much of a struggle to see you. The smoke had all evaporated now and yet he couldn’t see anything.

All it took was another inch forward, the smallest step, for him to see what had happened; all it took was a second for him to get angry.

You hadn’t appeared, but something else had. ‘The Lady in the Lake’ was laid out on the ground of the void, the title almost blazing with light on the inside cover of the book. A sombre idea that you were trying to give it back without confronting him crossed his mind, though it didn’t stick with the knowledge that you wouldn’t be so cowardly. Instead, it was pure rage that took its place at the sight of the next page over. Where it had used to be blank, slightly stained with the effects of time, it now had a hideous, taunting, crimson name besmirching it.

Mark’s signature.

Anyone else might have acted poorly, impulsively, and dangerously. Dark was not anyone. He didn’t act poorly as he inspected the view of the mirror for any more clues of what had happened, he didn’t act impulsively as he stalked from the foyer to his office – but, oh, did he plan to act dangerously.

The wooden handle of a desk drawer splintered with his white-knuckled grip. He drew it open with trained coolness. Slowly, painfully slowly, he retrieved the map and rolled it out on the surface. The edge that he pulled his hand from was marked by a slit.

He was going to be dangerous, but he wasn’t going to be stupid. Not again. He had thought it a mistake. The hotel a few streets away from the manor wasn’t the place Mark would associate himself with. It barely passed the mantle of motel, let alone the fancy, ivy tower places he frequented. Knowing he wouldn’t be caught dead in such a place had him brushing the destination off as a fault in his research. Dark was a fool to believe he knew the man that made façades and disguises his life’s work.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Whether he truly understood him or not, it didn’t matter to him, because he did know one thing.

One hundred years was far too long, and he was going to make it up to you, even if he had to slit Mark’s throat himself.

[Being peer pressured into writing a multi-chapter shot is for the weak. And I, am very weak]

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #writing #markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #one shots #x reader #actor mark #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #da #district attorney #darkiplier x da #no kisses #we die like real men #mirror mirror

183 notes · View notes

zee-stars · 1 year

Text

Reader and egos as love tropes

So basically I looked up love tropes and I'm gonna be writting the egos that I think fit into them :)

Rivals:

I'm thinking like Actor Mark after the events of WKM and like you guys go for each others throats but you were in love with him before WKM and you still kinda are.

Maybe also Dark but not so much in my brain.

God x worshiper:

Obviously god of night. He is literally a god and you are his worshiper. Do I even need to say more??

Has a dark side × loves them anaway:

Obviously Dark. Like you were there for WKM and after the events you always find a way to go back to him because you love him but he thinks you shouldnt cause hes evil and you're like "stfu"

Dumbasses in love:

Wilford x reader%

I think this one fits it perfectly. There is not much else to write about it. Just when I think of this trope that is exactly what I think about.

Sunshine x sunshine protecter:

Yancy x reader and probably Dark x reader.

I feel like for Yancy it could go either you being the sunshine or him being the sunshine I think it works both ways.

For dark he is definitely the sunshine protector. I can just imagine you're talking to someone and hes just standing behind you giving them a death glare.

Super cocky × tried not to fall for them but did anyways:

Illinois x reader. Man is so cocky. Like Imagine you are trying so hard not to think about him and his stupid smile or about how much you would love for him to hold you that you try to avoid him during adventures. He catches on to why its happening and then one day he just like kisses you or something idk. Idk about you guys but if that happened to me I'd just about die.

Friends to lovers:

Yancy x reader, Damien x reader, Head engineer x reader. I think this fits so many egos but these are my top three. Like when you first meet them you guys get along really well and become best friends but eventually you both catch yourselves falling for the other. Then you guys get together and you are the happiest ever.

Second chance:

Tbh I love this idea with Dark. Like Imagine you and Damien you're together or married if you would. But then everything goes down in WKM and you lose him. A while later you run into Dark and you instantly see Damien in him. At first Dark is against starting anything with you but he has Damiens heart and his heart calls for you so you start dating Dark and maybe get married again, if you will.

Fake Dating:

Damien x reader. This is before WKM. Imagine he is sick and tired of people trying to hook him up with their daughters or whatever at parties and one day he says he has a wife. Many people are shocked and they start bugging him about it. They ask for his wife's name and he says your name by mistake. They say that next party he has to bring you so now hes trying to explain what happened to you. You agree to be his fake wife for the night. You both have an amazing night and at the end of the night as he is bringing you home he starts confessing and stuff and then you kiss him.

Flirt x oblivious:

Illinois x reader. He is very flirty but you are kinda dumb and just don't pick up on it. He literally would say he loves you and you're just like "I love you too!" But he can tell that you mean it in a platonic way. Eventually when you confess to him this is how it goes.

"Look, I've liked you for so long but I was scared that you didnt feel the same way"

"I LITERALLY HAVE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR MONTHS"

"Friends do that"

"I SAID I LOVED YOU"

"Friends do that"

"what about that one time when we were walking through a narrow path and we almost kissed while you were pressed against me?"

"Okay maybe friends dont do that..."

Overthinker x never thinks:

Head engineer Mark x reader. Let's be honest. There is not a single thought going on in Head engineer Mark's head. With the captain on the other hand thinks to much. There is not a single second that they aren't thinking about something. Especially when they think about something going wrong with the ship. Luckily for Mark the captain is there to think for the both of them.

"You do realize that it's not supposed to be like that?"

"What do you mean? Was it not always like that??"

Talks x listens:

Head engineer Mark x reader. Kinda goes back to the last one. I feel like there are many times that the captain and Mark are together and he will just be rambling.

"Oh, I'm sorrry captain, I dont mean to be a bother with my rambling."

"No, I want to know why you hope the new plant has a beautiful sky."

Long distance:

Yancy x reader. I'm thinking like during iswm. Reader is up in space doing Captain stuff and they miss Yancy so much. They told him that they were going to space camp cause they didnt want to explain what was actually going on. In case he started to worry. But they found a way to still keep in contact and write letters. It was tough not getting to see him in person but they knew when they got home Yancy would be able to come with them.

Temporarily one sided:

I feel like this one could fit many egos but I like Yacny x reader the most.

So you stayed in the prison with him and you guys were really close. You shared a cell and spent all day with each other. You had fallen for Yancy. It was easy too. He was clingy in a good way and always made you feel heard and comfortable. You didnt know how to tell him. He didn't realize you're feelings and he didn't recognize his at first. He didn't think it was love. He didnt really know what love was cause he had been starved of it for so long. Tiny helped him figure out and after awhile he told you.

Fell first x fell harder:

This but with Damien.

You and Damien were very close. He was you childhood best friend and now you worked by his side. His crush on you definitely started around you guy's teen years. Mark and William definitely teased him for it and Celine tried to convince him to tell you. But he never did. Around the time you guys graduated high school, you started to fall for him. You were completely smitten by him. Confused by how you went this long without noticing. It was hard to keep it in, so you told Celine.

"Omg finally. Tell him. He is in love with you and has been for years!"

After you did and you guys got together it was easy to tell that you were completely in love with him. You're guy's friends (Will and Mark) teased you by saying you were worse then Damien. It was true. You fell so hard for that man. (We all did. He's so pretty)

Workaholic x clingy:

I think this one fits Damien x reader and head engineer Mark x reader.

For Damien he is the workaholic and you are clingy. Like he'll come home from work and be like "I have work to do."

"Is it due tomorrow?"

"No."

"Then we can take a nap first."

And if the work is do tomorrow you'll but wrap up in his lap while he gets it done. Usually you fall asleep while he's working and he'll carry you to bed after.

For head engineer Mark you are the workaholic and he is clingy. You can not get work done around him. Especially if it's late at night. He will beg you to go to bed with him or pay attention to him and if that doesnt work he will pick you up and carry you to bed or away from your work.

That is all of them. I plan on writting actual stories for some of them so expect that. If there is any that you just want me to write let me know and I probably will if I wasn't already planning on doing it. Also I found the best photo of Damien earlier and I want to share it with you.

ISN'T HE BEAUTIFUL!!!!! I WANT TO GIVE THIS MAN THE BIGGEST SMOOCH!! God I love him so much.

1K notes · View notes

adalwolfgang · 6 months

Text

??? 𝘅 𝗴𝗻!𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄𝗲𝗿

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗔𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆-𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝗦𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝘂𝗽.

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗗𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗗𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿, 𝗖𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗗𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆.

𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗼 @randomwriter28 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀.

Early this morning

When you knocked upon my door

He stopped walking, his hands falling to his sides.

“No?” He repeats the word. A word so simply but holds greater meaning.

Everything felt different. Something changed. You didn’t know what it was but you could feel that something was different, and yet familiar all the same.

Early this morning

When you knocked upon my door

“You heard me. I want answers but not the ones you think, Damien.” You crossed your arms over your chest, staring at him with a frown on your face. His eyes locked onto yours when you said his name. Or at least….his old one. The one he wished to never hear again. He let out a huff in annoyance, fixing his suit jacket before holding up both his hands.

“Fine, educate me then. Ask me whatever comes to your mind.”

Truth be told you didn't know what to ask him. You didn’t need to ask him anything. What was the point? You were stuck in this loophole for good. You swallowed what saliva was building up in the back of your throat to try and calm your nerves. Short glimpses of the manor, the dark events that took place, disappear just as quickly as they had appeared.

And I said hello Satan, ah

I believe it is time to go

“Why?” It was his turn to look confused. He squinted his eyes at you, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“You’ll have to elaborate, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and clenched your hands.

Me and the devil walkin' side by side

Me and the devil walking side by side

“Why did you leave me!? You said you’d come back and get me! You said we could fix this together! I waited for so long….but you never came back…You never did.” Your voice trailed off and quieted while you watched his reaction. He didn’t respond immediately but after a long while of silence, he looked towards the ground that you both stood on.

“I was. The day he took you, I was just coming back to you.” He raised his head and looked at you, the table and glass of wine disappearing as he appeared closer, standing in front of you. You frowned more, looking at him and feeling the familiarity of Damien in him.

And I'm gonna see my man

Until I get satisfied

"I can assure you that I was going to keep my promise but...I was selfish and too caught up in getting revenge that I didnt see to rescuing you sooner," As he spoke, his hand slowly raised, and ghosted over your cheek as if worried a single touch would shatter you like porcelain.

"Just give me a chance to explain everything," he hesitated for a moment, trying to choose his next words wisely.

"and maybe you will understand my side of things and join me."

You may bury my body

Down by the highway side

~Time Skip~

After Dark had explained all that has happened and who was the cause of it, you felt as if all your emotions were about to bust. You wanted to scream into the void of darkness that you were all too familiar with when being trapped in the mirror. Dark placed a hand on the small of your back before a new voice cutoff the almost intimate moment.

“They belong to me now, old friend.”

You both turned and looked as Mark stepped into view and grinned sadistically. You felt trapped between the pair.

“They belong to no one, you piece of shi-” Dark growled before being cutoff by your hand touching his chest. He gave you a look before glaring at the man on the other side of you.

“Oh, they haven't told you yet? Go on, Tell him!” a grim chuckle came from Mark. He was getting a kick out of this interaction. That was until he noticed neither you or Dark were giving him the reaction he was hoping for. Instead you both just stared daggers at him. Now it was his turn to be confused.

See, see, you don't see why

And you would dog me 'round

“Well?! Go on then! Tell him!” The ringing in your ears grew louder as Dark looked at Mark and growled, an animalistic sound you had never heard from him before. It quickly disappeared as Dark dropped the act, a toothy grin appearing, what seemed to be for the first time, on his face. Mark watched as Dark pulled you closer to him, you allowing it, before realization struck his face.

See, don't see why

People dog me around

“Why you little-” You watched as Dark didnt let Mark finish his sentence, quickly grabbing him by the throat and lifting him up slightly from the ground, cutting off his airways. Mark simply laughed while glaring at the both of you before his whole being disappeared.

It must be that old evil spirit

So deep down in your ground

Dark turned back around to face you, his hands laying limp against his sides. You walk up to him and pull on his tie, which takes him by surprise, before pressing a soft kiss to his surprisingly warm lips. He slowly starts to kiss you back, not long after resting his hands on your hips and pulling you closer. The kiss gets more passionate while his tongue teased your lips.

So my old evil spirit

Can Greyhound bus that ride

"Does this mean you'll join me?"

So my old evil spirit

Can Greyhound bus that ride

61 notes · View notes

cleake · 2 years

Text

Hugging the egos

Engineer:

-He doesn’t have too much time for affection, he has a job to do

-But when he can take a break, he loves to be with you, talk with you, sit with you, maybe put his head on your shoulder :)

-You can hug him whenever you want, if you want a hug all you have to do is ask him for one

-He’ll wrap his hands around your neck, or put them on your back

-He’ll stroke your hair, nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck with a big smile on his face

-He’s so happy to hug you, he loves to have you in his embrace, and likes to touch you occasionally, stroking your hand while walking together, putting his hand on your shoulder

-When you’re nervous he’ll offer your a hug, he wants you to feel good

-He’s warm, smells like fresh laundry, and is so fluffy

-He’s a little shy when you hug him unexpectedly, but appreciates it so much

Yancy:

-He doesn’t get to hug people, and almost forgot how it feels

-You have to hug him first, and he’ll be so shocked, and confused

-But in a good way :)

-He’ll slowly get to it, putting his hands on your back, his head on your shoulder

-He missed this warm feeling, and almost started crying because of how good he felt with you close to him

-Stroke his hair and he’ll melt, hiding his face in your shoulder with read ears

-He’s tough but hugging him feels warm

-After that he’ll be more comfortable with hugs and ask for them more

-His hugs are slow, delicate

-He loves to put his head on yours while hugging

Dark:

-Hugs? What’s that?

-At first hugs are a big no, but you have to be patient with him and not pushy, that’s all

-To warm him up at first give him little touches on his hand, head, shoulder, side

-That will be new to him, but if it’s delicate and almost nonexistent he’ll be comfortable with it more

-When you hug him he doesn’t know what to do, where to put his hands, how to react

-You have to believe his small touches towards you, they mean a lot more than they look

-A lot of time has to pass for him to get used to your affection, but he’ll repay you

-His hugs are very soft, but full, he likes to wrap himself around you, but not to much to not make uncomfortable

-He doesn’t hug you often, but when he does they are long and meaningful

-Give him time, that’s all :)

Actor:

-The diva will make every hug memorable

-They are thigh, warm

-He likes to wrap his hands around your torso, holding your hand

-He’ll let you put your head on his shoulder, while he strokes your hair

-Maybe will give you a kiss? On forehead? On your hand?

-He likes to swing while hugging, humming softly, he’s happy :)

-He likes to hug you from behind as a surprise, he likes your little jumps, but will repay you with kiss on your head

-He’s charming, but sometimes too much

Illinois:

-Well he is a flirt, but physically affection is not so familiar to him

-He appreciates the love you give him, it’s just new for him

-He’s very delicate, he’ll softly hold your hand, enjoying the moment

-He likes to put his hand on your shoulder after difficult adventure, and give you a comforting hug

-While breaks he and you talk, admiring the treasure you found, he’ll put his head on your chest, resting and enjoying the silence

-He’s very casual with physical affection, it’s a normal thing for him, and won’t make a big fuss about it

-He’ll hold your hand when he wants, and will just smile at you with an ease, it’s just normal to him when he gets to it

-Enjoys when you hug him from behind 💓

Damien:

-He’s very happy when you hug him, he himself won’t do it much, at least not in the public, he’s the mayor after all

-But if you need one he’ll won’t hesitate

-His hugs are soft always noting every thing he does

-He doesn’t get hugs, so is kinda new to him

-But every time he gets a hug from you, he just hides himself in your arms

-He’s stressed out and needs a break, your hugs are helping him with his nerves

-Always thanks for your hugs with a shy smile

-He’s too shy to ask for a hug himself but you can see when he wants one

-He’ll softly brush his fingertips on your hand, or put his head on your shoulder

Wilford:

-He’s a energetic guy, his hugs will be almost crushing you

-He doesn’t get hugs a lot, but loves them, and if there’s a chance to hug you, he will!

-You’re sitting alone? He’ll come up to you and hug you just to despair again, you’re standing alone for too long? He’ll hug you and bring something for you to drink

-He likes hugs, he likes giving them

-May kiss your nose, or shoulder before leaving you from the hug

-He’s sweet, even though sometimes forgets he has a gun in his hand, just be careful when he’s hugging you with one in hand

- I enjoy writing these headcanons, if you have any ideas, please share them with me :)

719 notes · View notes

mildly-intrusivethoughts · 2 years

Text

Trying to Get You to Bed

A/N: I’ve been sleeping bad, so I decided to make some little fics on it. Made it GN for the besties. Enjoy <3 Word Count: 635

Wilford: “Oh dear!” Wilford was rambling on about who knows what when he finally notices how late into the night it had gotten. He turns to look at you, asking if you were ready for bed but sees that you clearly were. You had arranged yourself on the armchair with your legs propped up on one end of the armrest and your head on the other. You tucked your arms into your body so they wouldn’t dangle. He debated taking a quick picture but instead locked it away in his memory, deciding that it indeed was time for bed. He walked over to you and rubbed your shoulders, gently kissing the top of your head attempting to wake you up to go to bed. You turned away from him, mumbling “Okay, let’s go” but made no actual effort to get off the chair, instead turning in more to try to get comfortable. Eventually, he carefully picks you up and takes you to bed, kissing your face softly saying how silly you were, the words barely making it past your ears.

Actor!Mark: It was only 08:30 pm. You both were lounging in the living room, it was a quiet night. He was on one end of the couch looking over scripts while you were on the other side, browsing through your phone trying not to disturb him. Then with one long exaggerated sigh, he gets off the couch and stretches loudly, letting out a pleased hum as his joints crack. You look up from your phone with an eyebrow arched, “Where you going?” You can tell he heard you but he didn’t respond, instead he sauntered over to the few lamps that were on in the living room, twisting the knobs to ‘OFF’ one by one, till the only light from the living room came from your phone. His barely visible figure moved towards the doorway of the room. Realizing you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch he finally responded back, “Well? Are you coming to bed?” and left the room. You quickly hopped off the couch after him.

Dark: It was late into the night and you were still typing away on your laptop. The emails seemed never ending and you couldn’t stop yourself from replying. Dark simply watched you from the other side of your office space. ‘Better to finish replying now than to open up to a full inbox’ you had told him, by this point it seemed like it was hours ago. There was something that frustrated him as he watched you hunched over your laptop, screen practically inches from your face. Your eyes were clearly strained, now that he remembered, weren’t you supposed to be wearing glasses? Glancing up at the old clock in the room, he decided that you’ve had enough. You barely glanced up at him over your screen. Before you had a chance to tell him you were almost done, Dark’s fingers slid up behind the laptop’s screen and began pushing forward, slowly closing it down until they barely touched down on your hands, “I think you’re done for tonight” he said. “I was almost done” you said, laughing a little as you were caught off by his actions. Dark stood unwavering, his aura growing slightly more intimidating as he pressed a little more lightly on the laptop. Your eyes met with his, hoping you could puppy eye your way for more time but there was no room to convince him you still had time for a few more emails. With a defeated sigh, you pulled your hands off the keys and slumped back into your chair as Dark rounded the table to your side. “Let’s go,” he said a little softer this time, pulling your hand to get you out of your chair.

#mildly-intrusivethoughts #tidbit thoughts #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #wilford warfstache #actor mark #darkiplier #wilford warfstache x reader #actor mark x reader #actor mark x y/n #wilford warfstache x y/n #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x y/n #markiplier egos x y/n #wilford warfstache headcanons #actor mark headcanons #darkiplier headcanons

486 notes · View notes

rat-that-writes · 2 years

Text

Play-Wrestling the Egos | HCs

a/n: i finally acquired the braincell

taglist: @softladyhours @chaos-carnation

tw: 2 references to sex but theres nothing explicit

🖤Dark🖤

sometimes he cheats and uses the shadow void tendril thingies

but most of the time he likes to watch you struggle to push him off you

he lets you sometimes just to see you all proud and determined but then just squishes you again

if you get him while he’s not focused on Squashing You then you could maybe win if he’s tired

8 times out of 10 you are getting folded though

evil evil evil boy /aff

💙Damien💙

ALWAYS lets you win hes a gentleman

he loves seeing you so proud of yourself

although he does put up a bit of a fight so you’re even more proud when you do win

hes usually the one to initiate it

just tackles you into bed sometimes

one time you wrestled on the sofa downstairs and the poor butler almost had a heart attack he thought unsavoury activities were taking place

you both ran upstairs blushing and giggling

❤️Actor Mark❤️

always loses

even if he’s physically bigger and/or stronger than you he will lose every time because he doesnt know how to fight

he just pouts and tells you if he doesn’t get kisses he will die immediately

baabyyyyyyy you’re gonna mess up my hairrrrr

you could fold him like a wet towel and he couldn’t even do anything about it

sopping wet pool noodle of a man /aff

💛Illinois💛

“awww, darlin, you look so cute trying to be tough”

sometimes he lets you win because you look so cute all proud

but you also look cute all pouty when you lose

hes enjoying it immensely either way

but if you wear his hat he’ll be too distracted to win

but that involved stealing the hat first and he knows what you’re going to do if he gives you his hat

CHASE him for the hat

🤍Yancy🤍

lets you think you’re winning then BAM you’re underneath him and he is GRINNING

apologises with kisses

“i’m sorry angel i just love the squeaks you make when i flips youse over”

tell him hes mean and he will smother you in kisses

he will tackle you without warning if he’s consumed caffeine

🚀Engineer Mark🚀

its 50/50 with him

sometimes he’ll let you win and sometimes he will remind you about all those muscles underneath his space suit

“come on Captain, you can’t fight me off? you’re adorable. Maybe i’ll let you win next time.”

but if you REALLY try he will let you win because oh my god thats even cuter look at youuuuu

celci caught you two once and didnt speak to mark for 6 days she was absolutely disgusted /hj

to be fair she did also think you were indulging in unsavoury activities

🔪Murdock🔪

if you ask him if he wants to play wrestle he will chase you first

with no warning

“hey murdock wanna wrestle-“

*gets up and bolts towards you menacingly*

then when you’re too tired from running to fight back he gently holds you down and smiles so evil at you

awful bastard man /aff

but sometimes he lets you win if he’s really tired and you’re already in bed

he does little growls when he’s tired

he pretends to fall asleep once you think you’ve won then he flips you over and sleeps on you

nasty terrible boy /aff

🌌God of Night🌌

“why are you trying to fight me”

“because it’s fun!”

🧍🏻‍♂️

he doesn’t know what to do about this

you are pushing him and dragging him with all your strength but hes yknow a GOD so he’s just

🧍🏻‍♂️

eventually picks you up like a wet sponge and kisses your head

its like a “good effort” sticker

🏃🏻‍♂️Heehoo🏃🏻‍♂️

why would you even try this

he is winning the second you put your hand on him

you are getting tumbled around like sack of onion

one onion

your brain is the onion

if you let him he’d throw you up in the air like pizza pie

he makes sure to keep you from getting any bruises or injuries though

careful boy even if he is treating you like a tennis ball

529 notes · View notes

westanthewaterman · 2 years

Text

In Character - Actor!Mark x M!Reader

Rating: NSFW

Word count: 3300+

AN: You ask and you shall recieve.

MASTERLIST - AO3 - F!READER VERSION

Marcus Iplier, the star of the silver screen.

It didn’t take long for your wife to get fed up with all the gossip and the tabloids saying the two of you were having a secret affair. No matter how many times you assured her there was nothing going on behind closed doors, she couldn’t believe you. She had said you looked at Marc in a way you’d never looked at her.

And then one day he reappeared.

And how were you supposed to say no to that?

So here you are, sitting on the couch, one hand on Marc’s face and the other holding your script. He’s looking at you with those dark eyes and a sweet smile that sends your heart racing.

“My love, we were meant to be together.” Marc speaks softly, barely above a whisper, stroking his fingers over your cheek. “You don’t have to fight it anymore.”

“I…don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Is anyone ever truly ready?”

He closes his eyes, leaning in to press a tender kiss to-

“Stop!” You shriek and jump from the sofa, covering your mouth with a hand to fight back a laugh. “God, this script is terrible.”

Marc chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “It really is. I’m not sure why people watch this sort of thing. It’s so…dramatic.”

“Oh please, you love this kind of stuff. You’re the drama king!”

“Oh relax.” He smiles lightly. “I said no more drinking and I meant it. It’s sparkling apple juice; I think I might like it more than champagne.”

“Always one for the finer things in life.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Marc sits back down, gesturing you over. You take your place beside him, opening your script once again and flipping through the pages.

“Why did I agree to do this again?”

“Because this film is going to be the hit of the summer and it’s going to bring in a lot at the box office.”

You scrunch your nose. “I could care less about box office numbers.”

“Fine, fine. You agreed because you’re a good friend and I wouldn’t be able to do it without you.”

“Yes, and you’re going to take me to a very nice dinner once we’ve finished filming. Don’t forget about that part.”

“I would never forget something so important.”

“Yeah? What restaurant did I want to go to?”

“The…restaurant…with the food.”

“Your memory is impeccable, my dear. I’ve no idea how you remember all these lines.”

“It’s not about memorizing lines. If a script is done right, like this one clearly isn’t, you don’t need to memorize anything, you just fall into it, you feel it.”

You roll your eyes, shoving him playfully. “You’re such an old romantic.”

Marc purses his lips, eyes dropping to the floor. You sigh, reaching out to take one of his hands in yours.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

You nod. “Time and patience really do wonders for one’s self.”

“How’re you? I was in the thick of it when I heard about your divorce, I’ve never really gotten to ask how you feel about the whole thing.”

“I was sad at first. Not because of the divorce, but because she was so unhappy. There was nothing we could’ve done to work it out.”

“What happened?”

“She thought I was putting my career before her, and maybe I was, I don’t know. I don’t think we ever truly loved each other. She loved the person she thought I was and I loved having the company.”

Marc nods. “Well, you’re a wonderful person and a joy to be around. You’ll find someone that loves you for who you are.”

“Well if you keep dragging me into sappy romance movies, I’ll never have time for real love, will I?”

He grins. “Maybe that was the plan all along. If you fall in love and run off, who will star in all these sappy films with me?”

“It’s a heavy burden, but someone must carry it and I guess it has to be me.” You pick up your script. “Now where were we?”

“I believe I was convincing you to finally give in to your undying love for me while we kiss under the moonlight in Paris or somewhere equally as stereotypical.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Let’s just get back to where we were.”

“I don’t think anyone is ever truly ready. Sometimes it just hits you out of nowhere and …sometimes it creeps up on you before you even realize it.”

“Mark, that…that’s not the line.”

“I know.”

You stare at each other, hesitant to look away in fear of breaking whatever spell has fallen over you. Marc leans in slowly until there’s only a hair's breadth between you, the tips of your noses touching. This close, you can see flecks of gold in his dark, honey eyes. Your heart is pulsing frantically in your ears and you wonder if he can hear it.

God, he’s beautiful. This wonderful, dramatic, kind man who’s pulled himself back from the brink of despair and is doing everything in his power to be better.

You think you might love him.

With that thought comes a rush of emotions and suddenly everything makes sense. You’re not sure why you didn’t see it sooner.

“Marc,” You whisper, and you can feel his lips just barely brushing yours.

“Tell me to stop. Tell me to stop and we can pretend this never happened.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Don’t you dare.”

“Is this okay?”

You nod, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Very okay.”

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this, about having you in my arms like this.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Marc.”

“Hm?”

“Kiss me again.”

“Marc,” you groan.

He pulls away from your lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, the tip of his tongue slipping out to tease over your skin. “What is it, darling? What do you need?”

“You. I need you.”

Marc straightens, looking down into your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I want you. I think I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“And now who’s the old romantic? I thought you didn’t like sappy romance.”

You laugh in disbelief and start climbing out of his lap. “Nevermind, I take it all back. You’re insufferable.”

“Oh come now, don’t be like that!”

“No, I’m going home. You can find someone else to star in this ridiculous movie with because I-”

He silences you with a quick press of his lips against yours. Marc pulls you back into his lap, running a hand through your hair.

“Better? I promise not to make fun of you again.”

You roll your eyes but there’s a goofy grin on your face. “Fine, fine.”

“I hope I haven’t spoiled the mood.”

With a smirk, you roll your hips down against his and he groans. “I don’t think you’ve spoiled it at all. But we are both very overdressed.”

You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and Marc returns to kissing down your neck, being no help at all. A particularly harsh nip on your collarbones forces a moan from your lips and your fingers fumble over the task at hand. Finally, you get fed up with the whole thing and rip his shirt open, buttons flying every which way.

“Darling, was that really necessary?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Marc helps you divest him of his shirt and then his hands settle on your thighs. He slides them up over your hips and to your waist, pulling your shirt up and off as he goes, eventually leaving you in just your pants.

“God,” he throws his head back with a groan, “you look good enough to eat.”

You bite your lip, running your hands over his chest. “Hm, maybe next time. I’m far too impatient to wait that long.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

You reach down and undo your belt, slipping it free and dropping it to the ground. Marc reaches out slowly, hands sliding up over your stomach and to your chest

“Absolutely gorgeous.”

He leans forward and kisses a line down from your collarbone to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it slowly. He twists the other between his fingers gently, earning him a high-pitched moan.

“Oh darling, your little whimpers and moans sound downright sinful. I can’t wait to hear you sing for me.”

“God, Marc.” You dig your fingers into his shoulders, arching your back to press your chest further into his touch.

“I love the way you say my name, sweetling.”

Marc pulls away, patting your thigh lightly and hooking a finger into the waistband of your pants. “Go on, take these off for me.”

You smile, a dark look in your eyes and you stand, turning your back towards him. Bending over at the waist, you slip your last articles of clothing over the curve of your ass and down your legs, stepping out of them.

“That’s not fair,” he groans, cupping himself through his pants.

“All’s fair in love and war, darling,” you wink at him over your shoulder before climbing back into his lap.

“Fuck!” Marc curls his hand into a fist and shoves a knuckle between his teeth, trying to keep quiet.

“None of that. I want you to sing for me,” You pull his hand down, mirroring his words from earlier.

He throws his head back against the couch, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs. You take one of his hands and guide it down to your own cock. Marc groans at how warm and hard you feel as his fingers slide up and down the length teasingly.

“Oh darling, you’re so ready for me already, aren’t you?”

“Fuck Marc, yes.”

“Just a little longer, darling.”

Marc bats your hand away, wrapping his hand around both of your cocks, starting a slow, maddening rhythm. With his free hand, he holds two fingers against your lips and you obediently slip them into your mouth. You run your tongue along the seam between his fingers, along the sides, laving attention over his fingertips. Once Marc is satisfied, he pulls his fingers free and reaches back behind you. He presses his wet fingers against your entrance, pushing them inside slowly.

He works you open on his fingers, scissoring and spreading them to get you nice and relaxed. Eventually, he curls them just so, sending sparks shooting up your spine. There’s a knot forming in the pit of your stomach and you can feel it getting tighter and tighter.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Marc whispers, tracing his tongue over the shell of your ear. “Just give in, my sweet, cum for me.”

The knot pulls taut and finally, it snaps, sending a wave of white-hot heat rolling through you. You clamp down on his fingers in your ass, cumming all over the hand around both your cocks, forcing a moan from both of you. Marc watches you fall apart with dark, hungry eyes.

As you come down, you take deep, steadying breaths, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. Marc strokes your back gently, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“That was beautiful, darling. How’re you feeling?”

“Great.”

“Think you can handle more?”

You nod enthusiastically and he laughs.

Marc takes a gentle hold of your hips, pulling you closer until you’re hovering over his cock. He strokes himself slowly, using your cum to lubricate himself, guiding the head to your entrance before pulling you down. You sink onto his cock slowly, whimpering as the tip seems to catch on every sensitive spot inside you.

Once you’re fully seated on him, hips flush against his, Marc strokes the side of your face tenderly.

“You feel so good, darling. Does it hurt at all?”

You shake your head, rolling your hips down, rubbing your oversensitive cock against his stomach.

“Oh,” Marc groans, “keep going.”

Slowly, you raise up onto your knees until just the head of his cock is still inside you and you drop back down, forcing a moan from both of you. You set a steady pace, rising up and sinking back down onto him, squeezing around his cock. One of Marc’s hands tangles into your hair while the other slips between your legs, rubbing over your cock slowly. The room is filled with your moans and the sound of skin hitting skin.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You whine, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“M-Marc.”

“Yes, just like that. You’ll cum again for me, won’t you? I want to feel the way you tighten and clench around my cock.”

A moan, high and desperate, leaves your lips as you feel his hand on your cock speed up, dragging you closer and closer to your second orgasm. Marc begins to buck up into you, meeting every downward thrust of your hips with an upward thrust of his own. The friction has fireworks exploding behind your eyes and you’re right on the edge, so close.

“That’s it. I can feel how close you are. Cum for me, darling.”

The two of you stay frozen in place, fighting to catch your breath. Marc cradles your head against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat thumping beneath your ear.

“That was…” He sighs, pushing hair out of his face, “perfect.”

“I agree.” You smile up at him.

“I hope this wasn’t…a one-time thing?”

He laughs. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

“So,” you kiss his cheek, “should we get back to practicing our lines?”

#actor!mark x reader #actor!mark x m!reader #actor!mark x reader smut #ego x reader #nsft #west writes #drama king

54 notes · View notes