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#who killed markiplier x reader

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

effloradox · 5 months

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Do you still write for Mark’s characters? If so could you write for Wilford with the prompt ‘you okay? caught you staring off into space again’?

it’s been a hot minute but i do still write for those characters!

As much as you adore Wilford, some days it's difficult to be around him. The moustachioed man is one of your favourite people to be around in the manor, but it's been clear since you first bumped into him before breakfast that this is going to be one of his bad days.

They're less frequent than they used to be and that brings you some comfort, but it's still hard going for breakfast and him rushing past you without even acknowledging you and know that it's because he doesn't recognise you.

Dark is always quick to notice when Wilford is having a bad day, but there's no such thing as privacy in the manor when it comes to this. You don't have to look towards the dining table to see the other egos exchanging glances. Wilford usually takes great delight in welcoming you downstairs for breakfast, your coffee in his hand, and ideas spilling from his lips for how the two of you could spend the day. For him to ignore you completely is almost unheard of unless he's having a bad day.

The morning sun always seems duller without him by your side, though Dark is quick to approach you, two coffees in his hands. He offers one to you with a carefully constructed expression on his face.

"Give him time. You know what he's like." You nod and try to smile at your oldest friend, but it feels like all the muscles in your face are betraying you, and your smile falls flat. You're sure Dark notices but he doesn't comment, making his way out of the dining room presumably to his office. You offer quick pleasantries to the others in the room as you gather your usual breakfast and make your way outside. It takes time but you manage to put the mornings events out of your mind.

"You okay? Caught you staring off into space again." The voice from behind you jolts you from your thoughts and you flinch back involuntarily.

Wilford has always had an uncanny ability to sneak up on you, he's one of the few people that can actually do so. He gestures to the empty seat across from you, and you nod, waiting for him to settle himself before you reply to his question.

"Yeah, I'm okay. How are you?" The man across from you shrugs lightly, though you can't discern what that means.

"I missed you at breakfast."

"Wil, you saw me at breakfast." Your tone is soft as you speak, careful not to spark an argument with your friend.

"No I didn't. I had your coffee all ready to go and you never showed!"

"Dark gave me my coffee this morning. You walked past me as I was coming down for breakfast."

"No, I walked past one of the interns. If it had been you I would've..." Wilford's voice trails off as he replays the mornings events in his mind. He takes a moment to come to terms with the situation. "It's one of those days then." Something changes in his face, and you're reminded all at once how old Wilford is, how old you both are. How much he's been through. There's something so horribly sad about the introspective look that settles on his brows that you can't resist the temptation to lean over and take his hand in yours. He tangles his fingers through yours without hesitation.

"Wil?"

"I'm sorry dear."

"One day at a time, Wil. We just need to take it one day at a time."

"I think I better go and have a chat with our esteemed leader. Would you be so good as to join me?" He's on his feet and extending his arm to you in the time it takes you to blink, and you allow him to pull you to your feet. He slots your arm into the crook of his as the two of you make your way inside, your coffee all but forgotten.

#my writing #drabbles #requested #wilford warfstache x reader #who killed markiplier x reader #wkm x reader

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thegayestmferintown · 7 months

Note

hi! i just found your blog and i’m excited to read more of what you’ve written :) could i request a markiplier x female reader (established relationship) where the reader has a bad parent situation but hasn’t told mark yet, and he one day brings up meeting her family and she’s all hesitant but he pushes, not realizing the reason she’s hesitant, so they go to dinner with her parents (who she doesn’t talk to often) and they are awful to her and mark and they leave early so he can comfort the reader? sorry for that literally being so long hahaha

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐥.

𝐀/𝐍 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬... 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲-𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠... 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 (𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬)

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬/𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡

You and Mark had been dating for roughly a year and two months.

He was probably one of the sweetest, and best, things you could ask for.

Your relationship with him was.. practically perfect.

Except for your parents.

You had a decent job, your dream job.

And yet, that wasn't acceptable to them

You made sure to keep your parents away from Mark, despite having met his mother.

You had kept your distance from your parents for some time, until Mark asked the question.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞. 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝, "𝐔𝐡. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞." 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Although, he continued to pester you. Not that you minded, you just.. didn't want him to meet your parents.

Eventually, he convinced you to give in and ask about having dinner that weekend.

Mark wasn't home when you asked, mostly because you knew how your parents would respond.

And your assumption was correct.

You told them you had a boyfriend, they asked how long you'd been together, you'd told them.

Then they started to yell at you, as expected.

Eventually, they agreed to the dinner. But you could just feel how your mother rolled her eyes, how your father stomped off as they both did when you were young.

At the dinner, you subtly made motions to show Mark that you'd rather die than stay there longer.

Your parents continuously made rude and harsh remarks that made Mark... kind of astonished that any parent could say that to a child.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

Once you both got home, he took you inside and sat on the couch with you.

And then you broke down.

It pained him, deeply, to see you react like that.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, rubbing gentle circles on your back and humming a soft song.

Once you were calmed down enough, you explained everything to him.

And he comforted you.

Then, the two of you sat on the couch, binge-watching all of your favorite movies, and eating popcorn.

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elenavr13 · 6 months

Text

Echoes of Old Friends

Darkiplier x DA

Warnings: swearing

After the events of WKM, the DA attempts to move on & create a life for themselves despite being trapped in the mirror. Against their hopes & wishes, their past seeks them out in the form of a familiar face.

*What Could Have Been- Sting*

*I may expand this & turn it into a complete story in the future.*

--------------

Daylight filters through the cracked glass reflecting the main entrance of the decrepit, forgotten manor. Mindlessly flipping through the pages of one of the books I have read a thousand times, I suddenly feel a chill crawl down my spine. What the hell? The physical feeling startles me back to reality because I haven’t felt anything like that in years. Immediately, I close the book & scan the room, nothing not even in the outside world. Faint tapping screams through the silence-drowned manor. Probably just the weather. After a few seconds, it occurs again. This time I realize the odd sound is coming from inside the house. My mind starts spinning with ideas of what type of animal has climbed through a broken window or one of the rotting walls. Maybe it’s another raccoon coming to search through the rubble or maybe the squirrel I saw the other day has come back. Excited to see a living creature, I get up to find it. Before I can even travel to the next reflection, a voice freezes me in place.

“Y/n, I know you’re in there. Come out.” There’s people here!

“Y/n?” I whisper to myself. Something about that name tugs at my heart. Then again that voice is also eerily familiar. I jump from reflection to reflection searching for any sign of the people with no luck. Suddenly, the realization hits me. Y/n, that was- is my name. My name is Y/n. I haven’t heard that name in years. The last time I…that voice…Damien? Appearing in the mirror that holds my soul hostage, I see the man who used me & shattered my heart. Sorrow in addition to hope consumes me upon seeing him but it quickly gets replaced by bubbling rage.

“Why are you back?” I seethe.

“You don’t seem very pleased to see me.” His smooth voice provokes me.

“& why should I be? You’re the last person I ever want to see.”

His jaw clenches but he continues. “I can get you out of there.”

“I don’t want your help.”

He smirks. “Stubborn as always but I can give you what you want. All I’m asking is that you…”

“I want you to leave.” He appears taken back.

“Even after all these years you still blame me. We were happy before that night & we can still be happy if you will only listen to me.” Anger emanates from his voice as it increases in volume.

Unfazed by his temper, I snap back. “We? There is no ‘we’ not after what you did, Damien.”

“It’s Dark now.” He sneers

“Oh, I apologize, Dark.”

“That snake took everything away from me! I was merely protecting you from him. It was for the best.”

“You know what would have been ‘for the best’? If I had never agreed to your fucking deal. I trusted you & you betrayed me. Mark may have been the cause of all this but he never did anything to me. You on the other hand took everything away from me! I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. Just leave me alone! Leave me alone like you have for the past however many years it’s been.”

“91” My anger immediately dissolves from his simple answer. 91? It’s been 91 years since that night? I’ve been trapped in a reflection utterly alone for nearly a century?

“You just expect me to agree to your plan after you abandoned me for a century? I’ve managed to make some semblance of a life without you- without anyone for that matter. I Don’t Need You. Why do you even want to ‘help’ me? I don’t have anything anymore. I am just a reflection of a person because of you. So tell me, what are you going to gain from ‘helping’ me? ”

He continues to stare back with a blank expression which only ticks me off more. Before I do anything irrational –like I could– I begin to leave to another reflection in the manor. “I miss you.” His baritone voice stops me.

Without turning back around to face him, I say, “Little late for that, Damien.”

A deep growl keeps me in place. “I tried to play nice & you still view me as the bad guy. I thought you were better than that.” This time I spin on my heels to face the man I used to believe was my friend.

“& I thought you were better than to destroy what we had.”

“I didn’t destroy…”

“Go ahead, keep blaming Mark for your actions.” Suddenly he takes a hold of the frame surrounding my vision of the outside world & rips the mirror off the wall.

“I have heard enough of your insolence.”

“Put Me Back! Damien, put…”

“Stop calling me that name!” I glare daggers at him but he seems to be amused by it. “How are you even going to stop me, doll?”

“I’m not your doll.” Rage gets the best of me I throw a punch which would have made contact with his smug face if not for the glass separating us. Instead of flinching, his smirk just grows as he leaves the manor with me in tow. I attempt to jump to another reflection but some force keeps me tethered to the single, wretched, glass prison. Knowing there is nothing I can do, I fall silent, exhausted from my outburst. Why can’t I just be happy? I was just starting to get better & move on. Now Damie- Dark is back to remind me of the life that was stolen from me. What did I do to deserve this endless suffering?

#markiplier #darkiplier #youtuber ego #ahwm #darkiplier x y/n #ahwm darkiplier #darkiplier x da #who killed markiplier #a heist with markiplier #wkm district attorney #wkm #wkm damien #darkiplier x reader

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mothgodofchaos · 8 months

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A R K for Dark, please?

A - Affection:

He's very passive in the way he shows his adoration. He enjoys doing things for you, or simply being in the room with him is enough. But when it comes to physical, it's the small touches. The kiss to your palm or knuckles, brushing your hair out of your face, a gentle hand on the small of your back when you stand together.

R - Remember:

Those moments up at his cabin, that one week of the year in which he'd be able to take a reprieve from his mayoral duties. Snuggling by the fire, making coffee or tea on the wood stove, and watching movies on the old projector.

K - Kisses:

When he's being a gentleman, your hands are his favorite place. Your palms when you hold his face, or your knuckles when you take his hand in yours. When he holds you, he kisses your temples and cheeks. He's always slow, gentle, and savoring.

#150 Follower Event #darkiplier #dark #markiplier egos #wkm darkiplier #wkm dark #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #wkm darkiplier x reader #wkm dark x reader #a heist with markiplier #ahwm #who killed markiplier #wkm #midnight mint #chaosanswers

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coff33notforme · 1 year

Text

The Actor falling in love

A/n: Shorter break than expected, but I probably won't get back to posting regularly right away, I wanted to do some simple headcannons but this became a whole ass fic, so I'll probably do more headcannons with Actor soon. Enjoy!

Pairing: Actor and Gender neutral Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, being intoxicated, swearing, and a pinch of angst

Mark wouldn't realize he's in love, not for a long time, it might even take years for him to realize. But once he did it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Marks been your friend for seven years now. Frankly he's surprised you've stuck around for that long, but hes grateful, grateful you've decided to put so much effort into the greedy person that he is. Especially considering you didn't have the humblest beginnings.

Mark was a piece of shit, well he was to everyone, but it seemed he had a specific hatred for you, he detested you more than anyone else. As though your mere presence brought him complete and utter anguish.

So why would you choose to stay with him? Why did you beckon him closer, despite his protest.

Yet, no matter how much he pushed you away from him, you always seemed to come back. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of letting someone in, letting someone see all of him not just the cocky, ignorant facade he put up. Yet you ignored the red flags, you broke down his walls without warning. And begrudgingly he let you in.

And soon he felt every time you had to leave he only longed for you closer, he wanted to pull you back into him and never let you go. As selfish as it sounded, you completed him, you made him feel loved for who he was, not who he was supposed to be.

Whenever he was with you he felt complete, not like the half of a whole he felt when he sat by himself, not a shell of a man, that he was when he was lost in thought.

And the more time he spent with you the more his admiration for you grew, when you entered a room his heartbeat quickened, when you flashed him a smile his cheeks grew red, and when your hand brushed his he felt his head became dizzy.

He had grown to care for you more than he had cared for anybody, he felt like a better person when he was with you, you didn't make him feel like a bad person, you forced him to accept the bad parts of himself with the good. And at first it was horrifying, but you made it seem worth it. And thats when it hit him.

Fuck, he was in love with you

At first he tried to fight these feelings whenever you were near, he couldn't stop the hammering of his heart in his chest. He contemplated running, running from it, from you. But he couldn't. He needed you more than he realized.

And he couldn't bring himself to just disappear from your life, he didn't want to hurt you like that. But he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t in love with you, so he had two choices, he had to leave or he had to confess.

Mark felt a sensation of dread well up in his stomach, for days he contemplated every possible outcome, each scenario growing darker than the last. He had to tell you how he felt, even if it was selfish to hope that someone like you loved him, it was a risk he was willing to take, for his love for you was far greater than his fear of rejection.

He needed it to be casual, though his dramatic fantasy of kissing you on the beach the sun setting behind the two of you, the blend of orange, red, and pink creating the perfect backdrop. No, he couldn't get ahead of himself only to get his heart shattered.

He had invited you to dinner at his house, a simple meal shared between friends, everything was going well you’d spent the evening chatting, just enjoying each others company out on the balcony. That was until Mark had poured you two some wine, he just couldn't help himself.

It wasn't long till Mark felt like his head was lighter than air while his body felt heavier, as though he was glued to the chair.

While you talked you held your gaze among the stars above you twinkling brightly in the dark pool of blue. Mark couldn't help but zone out, enraptured in your beauty as you babbled on Mark didn’t even know what you were saying at this point.

But then you turned to meet his gaze, maybe it was the wine but he could have cared less that you caught him staring

You tilted your head at him your eyebrows furrowing in confusion

“Mark, are you okay?” you asked, his head bobbled drunkenly.

“You're so pretty, my love.” he slurred, his fears washed away by the wine in his hand. The man wore a lopsided smile, that tugged from one corner of his face to the other. Your eyes widened, before a sweet smile spread across your face as you chuckled lightly

"Okay, well I think you're drunk enough, time for bed." you whispered gently, taking hold of the wine in his hand and placing it on the table set up on the balcony.

You swung his arm around your neck hoisting him up as you dragged him off the balcony, though it took time and effort you managed to drag him into the kitchen, you propped him up against a chair, his body slumped over lazily while Mark let out a deep groan. You walked into the silent kitchen, opening a wooden cabinet to fetch Mark a glass of water that would, hopefully, sober him up.

You flicked the cold water on, watching the cup fill up as you glanced at the man slumped over on the dinning table. As the cup filled you switched the water off, walking to Mark you placed the cup down, taking a seat next to him as you pushed the water towards him.

Mark grumbled in response, lifting his head from the table to peer out at what had been shoved towards him, he frowned at the cup placed in front of him, sending you a fretful pout.

"What is this for?" he asked, his words jumbled together as he spoke.

"I need you to drink this Mark, or you're going to feel awful in the morning." you spoke in a hushed tone, like a mother cooing to her child. Mark frowned putting his head back down ignoring your concern. You sighed as you scooted closer to the stubborn man.

You lifted him up with a grunt, his body sat against the chair like he was a rag doll that had just been tossed across the room, in any other circumstance you would have found this amusing, maybe even cute. But right now Mark was being a pain in your ass.

"Mark, open your mouth please." without question the man opened his jaw, you grabbed the cup and placed it to his lips gently, pouring the liquid into his mouth.

"Swallow, all of it." you stated firmly. Again, Mark obeyed your instructions. Leaning back in his chair he threw his head back closing his eyes.

"If you want to sleep we have to go up the staircase." you said, earning another groan from the man. You deadpanned, feeling you, yourself groan at the man's antics.

Swinging his arm over your shoulder again.

Shit, This was going to be a lot harder

You thought to yourself as you gazed upon Mark's imperial staircase. Begrudgingly you began to drag the man up the stairs heaving, with each step, you looked up, you weren't even close to the top.

"Why are you so good to me?"

The question caught you off guard, it was uncharacteristically gentle, it felt sincere, which was a rare thing from the cocky man.

You looked down to Mark.

"What do you mean?"

There was a moment of silence, before the man spoke again.

"You're still here, my arrogant, selfish nature drives everyone away, they all leave. But not you, why?" his voice held a genuine sound of confusion.

"Well, I care about you, and I don't think any of those things about you. Sure you can be ignorant and sometimes even stubborn. But I still care a lot about you." and to this Marks head shot up a hopeful look dancing in his chocolate eyes.

"Do you love me?"

Your eyes widened, what could you say? You wanted to tell him the truth. Taking a deep breath, you turned your gaze to the top of the stairs now nearing closer than before.

"I do, I love you Mark." you mentally cursed at how your voice wavered. Mark let out a dramatic sigh, catching your attention.

"Oh love, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear those words from you."

And with that you had reached the top, looming down the dark hallway you hobbled into Marks room. Flicking the lights on, you dragged him to his bed laying him down on his velvety sheets. He looked so peaceful, his dark eyes resting, his face softening as his chest rose softly. You smiled, turning to leave the actor to rest.

You stopped as you felt a hand wrapped around your wrist. You turned to see Mark peering at you behind heavy eyes.

“Where are you going?”

"Downstairs to sleep."

Marks face fell, a pleading look in his eyes.

"You're not going to leave? Leave me?" he asked, his grip tightening.

You sighed, turning and crouching in front of the man.

"Of course not."

"Then would you please stay? Just for a little longer." he paused "I can't let you go."

You smiled, yawning feeling a bit tired yourself.

"Of course." you replied, standing up, and crawling over Mark as you laid beside him, resting your eyes, as you allowed yourself to fade into the darkness. It wasn't long until you felt arms wrap around you as, Mark's heart beat lulled you to sleep.

BRO THIS TOOK FOREVER, if you enjoyed please consider reblogging because that does more for me than just likes and I also like to read your comments in the tags <;33

#iplier egos x reader #actor mark x reader #actor mark #who killed markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos #a little angst #x reader #fluff #ahwm mark #markiplier cinematic universe #markipler egos

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 months

Text

When Do We Ditch This City? - Mayor Attorney

Word Count: 549

“So when do we ditch this city for good?”

You don’t remember which of you had asked the question in the Mayor’s office. There was a function happening in the main hall, but Damien had opted to step out citing a headache, and you were quick on his heels to check he wasn’t sick.

As it turned out, he was fine. He was merely ‘sick’ of the formalities. You two had slumped onto the couch together, partially tangled up as you both willingly blocked out the existence of the party.

Leaving the city? After everything you both had put into it?

“My term will end in a year. I don’t plan to run for a second one.” Even with all the precautions he had taken, Damien was exhausted. “I’ve been saving, and I intend to move out of the city. Find a home of my own somewhere far from the claws of my parents. But… I’m willing to postpone that plan if you wish to continue working here.”

You pulled yourself up just enough to give him a bewildered look. You’d quit your job tomorrow if it meant Damien could escape his horrible family situation. Once you knew when his tenure would be up, you would hand in your letter of resignation. You were sure you had some medical ailment that you could ham up.

“I don’t want people thinking you are dying.”

You dismissed his concern with a light bat of your hand. You will be unwell with a bout of ‘stringititis’, which makes you want to lie on your bed and wave your arms like they’re made out of noodles.

Damien snorted, which only served to bolster you. More severe cases would make you want to learn how to tie your arms into ribbons so you can look very pretty.

“You’re already pretty. I can give you one of my bowties if you’re that desperate.”

As much as you appreciated the offer, you opted to decline, stating that bowties were his thing, not yours. Leaving a kiss on his forehead, you admitted that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant you two could stay together.

“It will be grand when we’re both free,” he promised in a whisper. His right hand reached up to gently cup your cheek. “I would love nothing more than to find a place in the world with you. Somewhere quiet, somewhere small. A place where we can be near people, yet stay entirely separate if we so choose. Where would you want to go? It doesn’t have to be America.”

Anywhere? That was a rather important question that you couldn’t possibly think of a good answer for. All you could think of was how Damien’s plans sounded nothing short of perfect.

That was the right thing to say. His smile grew wider. “If I can live out my days with you as a family of our own, in whatever form that may take, with the ability to finally showcase my love for you in public without fear of having to avoid my family’s gaze, I will be the happiest man in the world.”

However cheesy that response may be, the sentiment behind it made something in your chest flutter as you leaned in to kiss him again.

#writersofmark #mayor attorney #selfshipping #mayor damien x reader #who killed markiplier #mayor damien

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theknightmarket · 3 months

Text

"I'm glad it was you."

In which Dark and the district attorney finally unite, for good. Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - AO3 TW: cursing Pages: 20 - Words: 8,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Your return to the manor was not marked with fireworks or cheering or parades. Nobody met you at the door and welcomed you in with fruit baskets and wine. The place was just as drab and cold as it always had been, but that was fine by you. You radiated your own heat now, with a living, physical body that you could walk with, talk with, control to your beating heart’s content. The grin stretched across your face was your own slice of heaven. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands still since you left Mark’s house – the bastard that you beat, so you weren’t afraid to say his name anymore. Your fingers brushed against the curve of your cheek and danced along your sides.

Even the rotting wooden handle of the manor’s front door was welcoming. A rough texture to remind you it was there as you pushed the creaking thing open. The empty foyer failed to dissuade you while you strutted in.

You were confident. You were excited. You were so goddamn happy to be alive.

“Dark!” you called, hearing the sound of your very own voice echo. It echoed! You could barely believe it. All of this felt like a dream, but you refused to accept that. You deserved this after so long, you wouldn’t let a little doubt creep in to spoil your fun.

The air flexed around you alongside the arrival of someone new in the room. He peered round the corner of the kitchen archway at first, but within seconds he was in front of you. The ribbons of red and blue danced around his figure, the same you had seen through the barrier of a screen for weeks before and was now standing in front of you.

Dark spoke simply, “Hello.”

And you replied, “Hello.”

You tried to hold back; you really did. The records would show that you restrained yourself for a full five seconds before you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his waist. You savored the smoothness of fabric beneath your fingertips, but you cherished the squeeze of Dark’s own arms around your shoulders more. There were no tears, not this time, because you reminded yourself that you weren’t going to lose this. Should he let you, you would gladly spend another century in this position.

But you were sure there were other important matters to tend to. It didn’t make you pull away, but you were aware.

“You’re very cold.” Words muffled by the jacket collar against your mouth, you gladly forfeited the joke for the comforting pressure he provided.

“Does that bother you?”

“Nope.”

His laughter was music to your ears. Deep, genuine, dare you say, dark. You were slightly mad that you weren’t strong enough to swing him around, but you settled for a comical squeeze.

“You are warm,” he muttered, a coat of confusion on his statement, as though he expected you to be as cold as he was. Unbeknownst to you, he did.

“Does that bother you?”

“Of course not.”

You stayed like that for another ten seconds without shifting. This was good. You liked this. You pushed the idea of moving away back like it was an incessant dog. The normality of your old life was long lost to you, but it reminded you of knowing you had to get to work but wanting to stay under the blankets for that much longer. The height of winter, the sun not yet risen.

You sighed, “My legs are getting tired.” And, while they were, the dull pressure rising from your knees, neither of you made any attempt to cut the contact. This wasn’t how it had gone when you first escaped the mirror. You were springy and enthusiastic back then, so this ache was likely psychosomatic, a possibility you relied on in order to stay right where you were.

“Are you,” Dark started, then he stopped to swallow. Being this close didn’t make you a mind reader, but his nervousness was obvious either way. “Do you feel like you can talk about what happened, because I have many questions.”

Did you? You supposed after effectively beating the hell out of Mark, you had calmed down enough to go through some of it. It was the best you would get from him; you weren’t about to get a written and signed apology.

Gently, you pulled yourself away from Dark, but you thought it best to keep your hands on his shoulders when you saw a spark of guilt in his eyes.

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I have a lot of questions, too, but I’ll answer what I can.”

Dark nodded.

A second passed.

And then another.

Dark cleared his throat.

“Oh, you mean now.” He nodded again. “Sorry, I forgot what we were doing.”

The chuckle you drew from him was worth the slight embarrassment.

“That’s perfectly alright. I expected nothing else.”

When you had left the manor, you had been in a haze of bloodlust. You were prepared to burn the house down with Mark in it. Now, with your mind clear, you noticed that the few things had changed since your disappearance. The foyer that you walked through, towards the staircase, was full of more rubble than furniture. The most obvious was the pile of wood that had presumably fallen down from the landing above, but you were well aware of the splintering support beams and steps that you took to the second floor. It was almost disappointing to see the damage the place had sustained. From your perspective in the mirror, despite only being able to see a small portion of the rooms, you never saw any real effects of time. It was as though it was frozen, just as you had been, but everything caught up to it at once, leaving you to see a ruined temple instead of a magnificent manor.

When you reached the last step, you glanced along the hallway. “Is Wilford around?”

Dark hummed. Not even he could keep track of that man. “Possibly,” he answered, similarly vague as the topic was. “You’re back, that’s something interesting to lure him in, but then again, it is Wilford that we’re talking about.”

The one consistent thing about Wilford was his inconsistency, no rhyme or reason to his appearances. You thought about asking after Benjamin for a second, but spite had gotten you this far, so both the comments about your outfit were ones you decided to carry with you.

Beside the peeling wallpaper and the shattered console tables, the door to Dark’s study looked completely untouched. You couldn’t say that you weren’t surprised. It had seemed a focal point in the recent events, sweeping in and out, pushing and pulling the handle, and yet it was as good as new. Time barely touched it.

Dark sidled up next to you and opened the door to the room. Just as it was before. The sight of it alone, outlined by sunrays streaking through, instilled a tiredness in you, though the added relaxation made it feel like getting into a warm bed instead of forewarned fatigue. You felt comfortable before you set foot across the doorway.

There was already one chair parked by the window you were facing, so Dark moved the one from his desk into place next to it. A simple gesture towards the pair made you lightly comment, “How gentlemanly.”

“I do try.”

You enjoyed seeing him like this. When you were in the mirror, it was rare for you to see him smiling, and even rarer for it to be in your direction. You’d seen the perk of the corner of his lips when he reached whatever paragraph of the book that he enjoyed – you were always tempted to tell him to just laugh, it was obvious he was holding back the smallest chuckles. You never found out why, but, now, he was being unabashed with his happiness.

While you were enjoying the moment yourself, a worry gnawed at your heart. You weren’t here to stare at Dark, you were here to answer questions, and hopefully, get some answers to your own. Still, you felt guilty, knowing that the peace had to be broken, and the hammer rested between the two of you.

Dark was the first to pick it up.

“Ah, well, to business,” he spoke calmly, a guise he was proud of. In truth, he was just as disappointed as you were to move on. You were smiling, too, though he wasn’t sure if you knew it. It was all the better for him because there wasn’t a barrier between you, glass or distance or memory; he could see the way your smile bent into your cheeks as clear as day. He could reach out and cup your face if he wanted to.

To business.

“I have to ask,” he began, settling back in his chair, “how did Mark get you out of the mirror?”

Your reaction was immediate and volatile. That smile turned into a grimace at the mere mention of that man, so Dark was quick to continue.

“I know the circumstances on your end, but I had only just found a way to take down the mirror’s barrier, let alone get you out, and that was with Celine’s help.”

You sighed. It felt good to breath, as weird as it was to say, in a confined space. You drew as much comfort from that as you could.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know specifically how he got me out, but, when he did, he just snapped his fingers—” You copied this action, and the click reverberated against the walls and molded with the small rings of light emanating from Dark, “—and I was gone.”

That was what he had feared. Mark hadn’t needed a book; he hadn’t needed anything but the experience of the void in order to bend it to his will. He could do anything, and had done something, on a whim. Having been a part of the void was not the same as practice, it seemed. That thought scared him.

“Do you know why Mark did this?”

Your simple answer was, “Bragging rights.”

Dark knew that. When Mark had appeared in his office, he told him. Flaunting, he had called it, and teased him with the fact that taking you didn’t matter to him while it meant everything to Dark. Despite all the proof, there was still something inside him that hoped it wasn’t true. He didn’t want you to just be a pawn on the chessboard, caught in the middle and then captured because it was convenient – because that meant that if he had not talked to you on that fateful night, you wouldn’t have gone through any of that.

The undertone of pleading was hidden by a groan. “Anything else?”

“Why would there be.”

You sat in silence for the rest of that moment, thoughts overcoming you in a way that got on your nerves. Against your will, they latched to the image of Mark beaten to the ground. What was he doing now? Was he planning? Was he recovering? Or was he doing what you largely suspected; getting ready for his next scene in a makeup chair to cover up the cuts and bruises, not a goddamn care in the world. Because the villains always lost and the heroes always won, and it wasn’t a mystery which role he saw himself in. He would find solace in thinking – knowing – it would turn out right for him in the end.

You felt a pressure on your hand. The one that lay on the arm of the chair was now covered by a gray one. Just yesterday, that might have seemed unnatural, but, this time, it reminded you to take a deep breath and look at Dark. He was calm, so you should have been, too. In and out.

You nodded with a small, tired smile for him to continue.

“You’re warm.”

“Yeah, we’ve established that.”

“No,” he laughed lightly, “as in you’re not cold.” His fingers curled around yours, as though having more contact would help him to figure out this confusing aspect. “Whose body is that?”

You hadn’t considered that. Getting you out of the mirror was one thing, but your old body was, well,occupied. But, after a second of thought, you were pretty sure you had an answer. You brought your legs up and your hands to your eyes, not enough force to drive the balls of your thumbs into your sockets, but enough that you could ground yourself.

“Well, it’s not mine, that’s for sure. Someone Mark deemed unimportant, which, in his eyes, could be anyone.” You felt Dark coaxing your hands away. You let him, until they were in your lap again, and he was holding them tighter than before. “But he wasn’t caught, so it can’t have been anyone socially important, either. I-I don’t know.”

His thumb brushed yours. You put one foot on the ground and tucked the other under your knee.

“And you have needs?”

That hit you like a freight train.

“I’m sorry?”

Dark didn’t look phased. He had the slightest tilt to his head and his hands stayed right where they were. Given his thought process, it made sense.

“You need to eat, drink, sleep?”

“Oh!” You weren’t given enough time to fluster, taken from one to one hundred and back to one, so you wasted no time in confirming, “Yeah, yeah, I do, and so does Mark.”

This was the most perplexing part of you to Dark. The whole pseudo-dying and resurrection, he understood that, he had gone through it himself. However, you were much more human than he was. The taste of food in his mouth was lost to time for him, and yet you needed exactly what anybody on the street needed. You fit in well enough with them, while he was confined to the manor. The entity that made him who he was kept back everything else. His humanity. Earlier in his life, he would have appreciated it.

The patter of rain drew his attention to the window. A gloomy day to suit the topic of conversation and the moods you had both been moved into. It was difficult to confront it all, but you had to, and you knew that. You had to move forward with everything, but the concept was warred over in your mind.

“It’s a pity Celine doesn’t have any books on necromancy,” Dark said, “I wish I could be of more help to you.”

Whether it was the time spent in the modern world or the century since you’d used your manners, you found yourself barely stifling a laugh and eyeroll. “Are you serious?” A glance towards him told you he was. “I’m the one who was missing a batch of their memories, you can’t be the one to forget our conversation.”

He didn’t respond in the pause you gave him, so you sat forward further to look him directly in the eye.

“The self-loathing, Dark, it’s not good for you. You’re also just wrong.”

You held your clasped hands higher between you. “Without you, this wouldn’t be happening. I’d be locked behind glass or trailing after Mark like a puppy. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the one who got me out, even if you don’t believe it.”

All it took was lifting his hands slightly for you to lean down and kiss them. On your end, it was an appreciative gesture that occurred to you from somewhere unknown. On Dark’s end, he froze, meaning you were the only force to lower his hands to where they originally were. His eyes flitted around your face, like a bee searching for a flower. He never found the confusion or regret that he assumed he was going to find, only honesty, and he didn’t know how he should react. It was no secret that he wasn’t the best with social cues, and neither were you and neither were any of the others in the manor. The only thing that he felt right doing was letting slip the little smile that danced at the corners of his mouth. So, he did.

The emotion behind it changed when you asked, “But, uh, do… do you think Mark’s able to put me back?”

You were scared, and that smile softened to a comfort, as best as he could.

“After the state you left him in, I don’t think he’ll be able to put himself back.”

That image flashed in your mind again, your eyes losing focus and your jaw clenching.

Dark rushed to continue, “It doesn’t matter. He’s not going to get the chance. Now when you’re here.”

Albeit unspoken, he hoped you understood; not when you were with him.

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Look, this is my first real day of being out, and I think I’d rather do anything than keep talking about Mark, so could we…?”

“Whatever you want.” He hadn’t expected to get even this far with his questioning, and there wasn’t much else he thought you would know. At least, nothing worth drudging up the experience again. “Though I can’t promise a sunny stroll through the gardens.”

The raindrops were pelting the glass even faster now, a group of storm clouds swept in with it. Weather like this didn’t worry you, but you wanted to spend some time with Dark, and he wasn’t about to go dancing in the rain with you for himself. So, you sat and thought for a few seconds, and then an idea struck you.

“I know what we can do.”

Despite you keeping the plan to yourself, Dark got up when you did and followed you into the hallway again. It didn’t take long for you to wind up at the door to the library, and his hesitance catching up with him was just as quick. You had already seen the carnage he left behind in there – why you would want to get close to the room, he didn’t know, but you gladly strutted in regardless with your arms spready out wide.

Did you think things would be different? No. You knew fully well that it was going to be as bad as it was when you had searched for some memories. Dark’s frown made it obvious he wasn’t going to repair anything, and the thing about being dead was that you couldn’t touch anything, so that ruled out Benjamin. Wilford wasn’t around enough to devote any time to a project, if he was able to stay focused long enough, anyway. And who did that leave?

You spun around, back against the wall and hands settled on your hips, and announced, “Cleanup duty.”

Grabbing one of the more intact books that was within your reach, you stepped forward and threw it to Dark. He caught it without a second thought, though not yet done processing the situation.

“Can’t make a new start without fixing the old one, right?” you said as you moved towards the first bookshelf that needed de-toppling.

Your companion watched you, hands clutching the book. The leather binding was bent away from the pages, and some of those were shedding from the glue. The knicks and gouges were a feature of every book that he saw, but this one had three sizeable dents in the sides, and, when he opened it, the first paper was labelled at the twenty-seventh.

And yet, he couldn’t help but concede, “If this is what you want to do.”

Your bright smile was all the push he needed to place that book to the side and help you to reset the room.

It was an endeavor, to say the least. The shelves and cases were heavy, but it was harder to avoid stepping on the remains of encyclopedias and journals. Paper was strewn on every inch of the floorboards, and you were not proud to say that you almost slipped over once or twice. A side-table had to be made right, and, underneath, you found the missing pages of the book you had thrown to Dark. With them all in one place, you safely moved the copy to the salvageable pile. Somewhere along the way, roughly half an hour in, you had developed a system. The utterly destroyed books were packed in one corner, ready for an unknown future. Dark felt the rush of guilt whenever he added to the steadily growing mound.

Then, there was the stacks of the aforementioned salvageables. The only important thing was that they had most of their pages together; the covers could be remade, but the contents were what mattered. They were in the first corner you had cleared, as though a protective ring were summoned around them. And that was another positive of the inhuman inhabitants of the manor! There was no dust for you to clean up beneath the papers.

Nevertheless, it was only right that the survivors, the very few books that might have sustained a scratch or tear, were placed in the hallway on a console table. Only the ones that had been stashed far into the bookshelves were of that nature, but you still felt prideful when you fished one out.

Your merry pair of cleaners was an hour in by the time that Dark picked up a book that was very literally hanging by a thread. He shifted it carefully in his arms to avoid agitating the binding, barely moving in a centimeter, but it didn’t work. The connection snapped and the bound pages drifted to the floor in a heap, like feathers after a bird was shot. Dark kneeled next to the remains and, with a gentler hand, he picked one of them up.

“Unfortunate, really,” he spoke, noticing you begin to crouch at his side, “I rather liked that one.”

It was true. In all of his years in the manor, he had the option of doing two things; either he could follow the trail after Mark that was undoubtably going to run cold, or he could read. When things got too much, or Wilford forced him out of his office, he would end up scouring the shelves of the library. His library, technically, because Celine was the only one to ever use it. All her early occult guides were on one side, while the other held the recreational books. Non-fiction, mystery, horror… The Lady in the Lake had come from one of those shelves, and so had the one that Dark looked down at.

He was only drawn out of his regret by your shifting. You glanced at the first few lines, then to the mess of papers that joined the rest of the graveyard, and finally to the door. Dark looked at you when you got up and left, barely processing what you were doing without an idea of what you were going to do.

Luckily, he only worried for a minute at most, before you were back in the library with a picture frame in your hands, and his worry melted to confusion. It had lay in the hallway, empty now, as it had once held a distasteful photo of Mark and Celine. Dark sat tight while you popped out the back and handed him the glass and wood.

He blinked.

You nodded.

Restraining whatever strength might have torn the page more, he placed it facing into the frame and reattached the back, slotting the clasps into place. Your hands moved it out of his own grip as you got to your feet. Dark followed suit so that he could see you setting it onto one of the upright shelves in the neater corner.

And, just like that, you went back to inspecting more books and readjusting the furniture.

Dark didn’t know what to do. That seemed to be happening a lot today, but he was getting no more use to it. Maybe it was because the last century hadn’t been action-packed, but he was being surprised and confused and simply flustered recently, all by the same source.

You were a variable in his life that he hadn’t planned to plan for. Getting you back was the goal, and, when he passed that goal, it was done. End of the story. Except it obviously wasn’t because there you were, fixing the mess he’d made of the library, surprising him with every movement you made and every emotion you made him feel, even when it wasn’t an emotion he could name. The warmth you exuded, body and soul, he had never felt it before. Normally, he would immediately distance himself from any kind of uncertainty, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Leaving you again, when you spooked away ennui like a nightlight in blackness, was impossible for him. He wasn’t going to deny that he needed you – though, it might have been harder for him to accept that he wanted you. This situation was one fate had plotted since you had first stepped across the threshold of the manor.

“I don’t suppose you know what’s happened while I’ve been gone?”

Dark snapped his head towards you.

“How do you mean?”

Your back was turned to him, eyes focused on stabilizing the wooden plank in front of you. “People aren’t wearing suits and smoking everywhere anymore. How have times changed?”

Dark huffed a slight laugh as he rearranged the paper of another book. “To be quite fair, I’m not all that up to date either,” he forewarns, separating one of his favorite pages from the rest of the brutalized chapters. “From what Wilford has told me, a lot is different. I was… unaware of the earlier years—” You didn’t need to know the explicit, dehumanizing, jarringly goopy details of his first ten years, when he was barely holding himself together as a creature instead of a person, “—but there were more wars, some hot, some cold. We got to the brink of annihilation at one point, but Wilford glossed over that fact. He was more focused on the disco in the 70s and 80s, he still is.” You shared a breathier chuckle with him. “If I may ask, what have you seen in the last month?”

This was where he had you caught. You had asked what was different solely to get a grasp on where you were. Wilford’s time travel talk was going to need to be backdropped with the current events, after all. However, in your time with Mark, you had seen some things, and being asked about them pushed your preparation to the back of your mind.

“Hollywood got big,” you stated immediately, “I saw a lot of movies, for obvious reasons, and every single one was,” you took in a breath, spending it on another giddy laugh, “they were beautiful. They had these special effects and computer-generated imagery and, Dark, they could take people’s voices and replay them over and over again, and they’d never run out. They put normal people in space or in Ancient Greece.” You abandoned your current task to bounce towards your friend. “They even put people in the 1920s, and you could see the color of their clothes! Everything was bright and expressive; I’d love to show you.”

Dark hadn’t seen many, or any, movies. You would expect that to just be during his time in the manor, but that did include all of his time as him. He had vague memories from Damien and Celine’s theatre experiences, but all of them were clouded over with time and fatigue. The way you described these new ones, though, had him joining your smile regardless, and helpfully disregarding how your proximity to him and your hands on his upper arm made his breath labor.

“I’d love to be shown.”

And ignore that, when your smile spread further, his did, too, and his eyes darted around your face from your sparkling eyes to your grinning lips to your cheeks flushed with excitement.

Meanwhile you fully accepted the rapid beating of your heart with open arms, not only because you now had a heart to beat. Dark cared, no matter how much he tried to hide it, he cared. He did things with you that he wouldn’t do alone in a million years. He paid attention to you when nobody else did and he made up for the time that he didn’t, twice-over. He saved you because he cared. How could you not love him?

Was that the right word for it? You hadn’t felt like this in so long, you never had to put a name to the foreign feeling. But when you looked at Dark, saw him smiling back at you, face to face with nothing but the smallest gap of air between you, you couldn’t think of anything else to call it.

In total, repairing and cleaning the library had taken three hours. The shelves were straightened, the curtains were replaced, and the books were sorted. All you needed to do now was wait for the next day to get out into town, so that you could go on your hunt for supplies and a manual on how to actually fix the books.

While you stood next to Dark in front of the door, staring at your project so close to its finish, your heart ached at the thought of waiting. The hands on your hips clenched and you inwardly groaned. In your humble opinion, you had done enough waiting for multiple lifetimes.

You spun on your heel to face Dark, who looked pretty happy with himself. Good.

“What else needs fixing up?”

He glanced at you like he hadn’t expected you to say anything. “My dear, I do think you should take a break.”

“You’re one to talk.”

As hypocritical as he may have been, even Dark could see what state you were in. Your breathing was fast, blood rushed to your face, you jumped from one task to another.

“I’m not the one who has needs.”

“Y’know, I’d love for you to not call them that.”

“You have to eat,” he stressed, not letting you deflect another time.

You took a step towards him and reassured, “And I will.” You appreciated the concern but the idea of slowing down at all make your stomach churn. “I don’t want to waste all this energy.”

“You won’t lose it, I can assure you.”

Thinking of a last resort, you huffed, opened your mouth to retort, and then stopped. Had you not just said this was why you loved him? Because he cared? And who were you to ignore him, a man whom you trusted with your very life? Being out of that mirror was bringing you back into some bad habits, it seemed.

In the end, you nodded and pulled open the library’s door.

“Fine,” you groaned with no real annoyance, “but I am coming straight back.”

“Where are you going?”

“No offence, but anything that’s been left in the kitchen is going to be well past its expiration date, if they even have them. I’ll drive down to a fast-food place, pick something up and be back by eight.”

Your promise was exchanged for Dark’s confused expression, making you chuckle to yourself as you moved halfway out. That confusion shifting to blunt worry stopped you.

He didn’t know what two of those things you mentioned were, but he knew that it meant you were leaving the manor. An hour at most, but leaving, nonetheless, into the outside world, where he could not go.

“I don’t have to go, I could—”

“No, no, you should,” Dark cut you off, steeling his emotions for however long it would take to convince you and himself. “Go, just stay safe.”

A smile and a squeeze of his hand.

“Straight back,” you reminded softly.

And he repeated, impossibly more so, “Straight back.”

He watched you leave into the hallway and then walk down the staircase in his line of sight. This was okay. He watched you make it to the foyer and open the door. This was fine. He watched you shoot him one last look before closing the creaking wood behind you.

He lasted all of thirty seconds until fear seeped in through the floorboards and window cracks. The pacing started at the forty-five mark, as though his legs had decided that, if he couldn’t go with you in person, he would in spirit. But you said that you would be straight back, and he had to trust you. It wouldn’t do to start this relationship off with assuming the worst. You were able to take care of yourself. The best he could do was patiently wait for you to get back, safe and sound, like you’d promised.

That thought did little in of itself to get him to calm down. Regretfully, Dark was never good at convincing himself of the bright side, and, yes, he understood the joke. What helped him was catching a glimpse of that frame again, all of the backboard now plastered with pages from the best of the collection. He trotted up to the shelf until it was within arm’s reach, but he didn’t take it off just yet. He simply looked at it.

Was this too much? Did this domesticity suit him? It felt good to slow down for once and take a breath. Mark was on the backfoot, you were safe in the manor, there wasn’t anything else to do. Dark had forced you out because you were so keen to keep working, but there he was, clenching and unclenching his jaw. It felt good, but that itself felt wrong. He wasn’t built for this. He hadn’t been brought into the world as an innocent child, he was the amalgamation of three different beings that shambled around in the rough approximation of a man in order to carry out the singular shared goal of vengeance.

The wooden frame was smooth against his fingers.

It didn’t matter if he was destined for this peace, he was choosing to enjoy it. The slow moments, with you, were better than the volatile decades of constant hypervigilance.

If he had to guess, he would think that the affinity was coming from Damien’s side of the family, but he also liked to think that this was just himself.

The frame in hand, Dark walked from the library down to his office, the lack of surfaces giving him few options – the desk or the windowsill, really – but that was obvious enough to give him only one. He secured it next to the lamp on the left side, the light igniting the ink with a white sheen.

He left the room within the next minute, barely a glance over his shoulder. He didn’t need to; he knew it was right, and he would be seeing it every time he sat down to work. He would be reminded of when he read those books, and of who gave those books back to him, and of why he couldn’t wait to find more copies so he could share them with you.

That went further than he thought it would.

Benjamin wasn’t in the kitchen when Dark entered. He’d made himself quite scarce since you got out of the mirror, but the comments you had exchanged with each other didn’t leave you on the best of terms, so perhaps it was the wisest move. Nevertheless, the smell of baked goods helped relax him to the point that he didn’t look any different from your departure when the front door opened again.

Sitting at the island gave Dark a good view of your approach, a white, plastic bag of presumably food in one hand and twirling your keys with the other. A few questions popped into his mind – what a fast-food place actually was and whether you really had a valid driver’s license – but he brushed them aside when you waltzed through the kitchen’s archway.

“I made it through that lawless wasteland,” you joked. He thought you would go straight to grabbing a plate, but, after placing the bag on the counter, you casually ducked down and kissed Dark on the cheek. That was the first surprise, though not unappreciated, while the second was you finding two plates. “And I know you don’t eat, but I picked something up for you, just in case.”

You were smooth, apparently. One hundred years in a mirror didn’t disadvantage you any. He was immeasurably grateful that your back was turned so that you didn’t see the warbling of the red and blue lines. They stretched and thinned like waves in the ocean, breaking upon the counter and only normalizing when he redirected his attention to the bag. You said you’d gotten him something. That was more important than the completely unexplainable and extremely unnatural effect your simple actions had on him.

You dished out what you bought, two identical meals, onto those plates before pushing one towards Dark. You sat side by side on the stools by the island, thinking less about how much of a change from the status quo of the 1920s this was and more about how hungry you were.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” you heard Dark reply, sounding surprisingly dazed, not that you paid attention to it when you were eating food and conscious of it for the first time in decades.

You missed this. You readily admitted that this kind of scene was something you had imagined many times while you were in the mirror. The food, the freedom… the only addition – which surfaced during the latter days – was the man who sat beside you. You were always alone in your fantasies. Call you a love-struck idiot, but you were so happy with this outcome, even if it took kidnapping and near-murder. This was good. You were good. Dark was good.

The patter of rain developed into a downpour as you made your way through your food. Dark was lagging behind, if only because he had trouble figuring out how to eat at the beginning. The first bite he swallowed entirely whole and somehow avoided choking, but he got the hang of it in time. You were finished when he was halfway through, giving you time to watch the patio doors. It was completely dark outside, illuminated by the few rays of moonlight that dodged the tree line. They hit the surface in specific places, one bouncing off the water feature, another the stone walkway, and a third breaking into the manor itself. All of them were interspersed with the pelt of rain, as if someone had flicked a paint brush onto a gray canvas.

A wistful sigh bullied its way out of your throat.

“Go on.”

Your gaze flashed to Dark, who stared right at you. Surely, he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. If not for the water damage the old house would sustain, he definitely wouldn’t want to risk getting it all over his suit.

But he saw the way you looked outside. He wasn’t about to stop you from fulfilling a whim, especially after so long. Briefly, he wondered how many times you thought about the weather. Such an unimportant thing, a problem in some cases, but he knew you relished it.

So, Dark nodded again. “I don’t control what you do.”

Like firing a bullet from a gun, you were off, shoving back from the island, almost foregoing remembering to open the door, and slipping out on the stones. Immediately, you were drenched. Your clothes stuck to your skin and made everything flash in the light of the moon. You looked like something he would find in the pagan books Celine had. A nymph or fae. Given that he had eaten your food, he supposed he was never allowed to leave. What a poor, unfortunate, regretful fate for him.

Regardless of the dramatics, he didn’t think he was against that thought, as long as you stayed with him, of course. He imagined he could do anything at your side, and he would do anything to stay at your side. He wasn’t going to fool himself. He wouldn’t be able to handle losing you again. He had only just gotten you back; your return pulled him out of the pit of misery, and, were you to leave for good, he was sure he would fall again, further than he had before, than he had thought possible.

Dark dropped his head into his hands, elbows rested on the island.

He wished he had someone to ask. He usually kept his own council, both figuratively and literally, and reaching out was a skill he’d long since abandoned. It would be so much easier to find an answer to this feeling if he had someone else, who could explain why his breath quickened, his waves flickered, his smile widen like he had received the best news he could ever hope to hear. Nothing made sense, and yet everything did. The logic was thrown out of the window and replaced by emotions that he never relied on, but it felt right, and he didn’t know why, and nobody was telling him what to do or what was going on. A being that couldn’t feel was feeling. He had never made a plan for this kind of situation, leaving him high and dry. Benjamin was less social than he was at this point, he had seen how Wilford’s situation had turned out, and obviously you weren’t an option, because you were the person Dark loved!

Oh.

Well, that certainly solved that dilemma.

There was really only one choice he could make here.

Dark got up from his seat and made his way to the linen closet, where he pulled out the softest towel he could find. None had been used, so it didn’t take long to get back down to the kitchen with it in his hands. Slow and steady. He split his attention between walking forwards, keeping his aura in check, and the growing headache at the back of his mind. He knew exactly what that was, he was just electing to ignore it, despite that very specific third of him trying to veto his decision. Slow. And. Steady.

You, meanwhile, were trying not to trip on the wet cobblestone. The grooves and divots of the stone made perfect targets for your feet as you danced around. The rain was a great thing, wasn’t it? Droplets ricocheted off your clothes when you spun and slid down your skin when you stilled. Your impromptu performance was a mix of graceful twirls and jagged strikes of your body. Not a care in the world for the inevitable squish of the fabric when you stopped, you embraced the adrenaline and continued to go about your business until the patio door slid open in the corner of your eye.

The infectious smile you sported as you dashed to the cover where Dark now stood spread to him. You slid to a stop in front of him, dripping head to toe.

The towel he wrapped around your shoulders had you grinning even more.

“We don’t want you to catch a cold, now, do we?”

That little joke – which wasn’t really a joke – was the end of it, leaving you both to watch the rain fall. It lightened and strengthened at a gust of the wind. You leaned against a wooden support beam, face barely peaking below the edge of the cover, and Dark stood next to you with his arms behind his back.

“I don’t remember it raining before,” you muttered. In the weeks you’d spent with Mark, every day was blasted by sun.

“It has been quite a while.”

The silence enveloped you again. It was comfortable, knowing that you could move around without limit, that Dark was right next to you.

His quiet admittance broke the quiet. “I don’t think you’ve stopped smiling this entire night.”

“Why would I?” You shifted to look at him, softness breaching your eyes and his when they met. “Look,” you gestured to the gardens of the manor, “look at all of this.” You hand made contact with the wooden beam; one side was wet from the spray of rain. “And this, this, I can— look.”

Your other hand darted forward without your thinking and grabbed Dark’s before raising it between you, much like how you had done earlier. He briefly thought you might kiss it again, and you the same, but then you stopped and swallowed the words you had meant to say. Something about how it felt, surely, but then another train of thought came to mind.

“I didn’t think I was going to get the chance to do this, ever,” you whispered, “I thought that I was going to stay in the void, watching the world go on without me until somebody broke every mirror in the manor.” What a purgatory that would be. You hated that you could easily imagine it. “But I was wrong. I’ve never been happier, and you know how much I hate being wrong.”

You clasped your other hand around Dark’s remaining one. Earlier that day, when you had pledged to admit your feelings, you didn’t think it would be this difficult. You had been running on adrenaline and fumes. Now, your mind was catching up to you and made you fear the consequences if all of this went wrong.

But you could ignore it all for a moment longer. You had to, or you would never get this out.

“And if anybody was going to talk to me in those weeks,” you continued, a shake in your voice that you tried to breathe through, “I’m glad it was you. I don’t think I could take time-travelling talk or another insult to my outfit.”

Dark was still smiling, that was good. Nothing to stop you now. You had to take the plunge.

“And I meant to say this earlier, but—” no going back now, “—I love you.”

Dark froze. You felt him freeze. He stopped like you’d knocked the life out of him.

So, you rushed to speak, words flooding out of you to rival the onslaught of rain that battered the ground.

“I understand if you don’t love me, or have any feelings for me, I just had to say it or else I’d lose my mind about it, and I did not like it when I was close before, so—”

Your rambling stopped. Not only because you physically couldn’t speak, but because your fears were abandoned in a second. Even as Dark had stepped closer, even as his lips melded against yours, you were both smiling. His coldness and your warmth meshed together, like steam rising from dousing a fire, calming the initial thunder of your heart that made up for Dark’s lack. Despite that, you felt the waves of red and blue clash against your skin, absorbing at some points and bouncing at others. You sighed into the kiss as your hold on his hands severed, only to let you grip at his waist. It was significantly dryer than yours, half the reason why you felt the pressure of Dark’s hands at your jaw and cheek. The other half was so that he could lean further in without pushing into the rain. The touch grounded you in reality, as much as it the entire situation made you believe you were dreaming, and so you kept your position, although your lips parted.

Barely an inch from your, Dark whispered, “I reciprocate your feelings.” It took a moment for him to recognize the hoops he was jumping through, and he amended, “I love you, just the same, if not more.”

“I’ve seen this before; we’re not doing that.” The whole I-love-you-more-no-I-love-you-more was overplayed and tiresome. You were happy with your shared confession.

The inch was covered, and your lips met again, moving in tandem like waves breaking on a sandy beach. A rhythm took over as you stood at the back of the manor. Everything that had happened, stretching back to that century, seemed worth it. You were certain in that fact.

You separated again, not for the last time, for Dark to ask, “What are we doing, then?” “Well, as you keep saying, I have needs.”

The alarmed expression on Dark’s face was all the entertainment you needed, though, inwardly, he was certainly not opposed to any suggestions you might have had. He felt your breath on his lips as you reprimanded quietly, “I’m talking about sleeping, Dark.”

Your spark hadn’t been lost, that was for sure. He doubted that were possible. Your amused laughter chimed in his head, chasing out any possible worries about you, about himself, about the future you would share together.

One hand in his, you tugged him forward and captured him in another kiss, the rain returned to a comforting song in the background.

[And there we go! The final part to what was originally a single chapter! Thank you, everyone, for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the ride. Of course, this was meant to just be a fluffy chapter, but, this is me, so I had to put some angst in it, and that final joke was a literal flip of the coin of whether I should include it. Nevertheless, again, I hope you've enjoyed reading <3 ]

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effloradox · 2 years

Text

everyone i know (goes away in the end)

wilford warfstache x da!reader, darkiplier x da!reader, set post-WKM

Sometimes it's hard to be around Wilford. Everyone who lives in the Manor is of the same opinion in that respect, it's actually one of the few things that everyone can agree on. The moustachioed man has good days, and sometimes great days, but he's also occasionally privy to very, very bad days (as are all of the egos though). It comes as no surprise given everything he's been through, but his habit of disappearing for extended periods of time without warning or explanation worries everyone, including Dark even if he'd very rarely admit it.

It's only happened a few times since you started your residency at Markiplier Manor several years ago, but every time it happens it sends you into a nervous spiral. Logically you know that nothing too bad could happen to Wilford without Dark or The Host knowing, and there's no way it would be kept a secret if something did happen, but it still keeps you up at night sometimes when he's been gone longer than you all consider normal for one of his usual disappearances.

Everyone in the Manor knows your history with the pink-haired reporter, and the two of you's shared history with Dark (or as you initially knew him, Damien and Celine), so you understand why, when Wilford appears back in the grounds of the Manor in a frantic state after being gone for almost a month, it's you that's called for to check up on him and welcome him back home so to speak.

It's not the first time he's been greeted back to the Manor by an old friend (and it definitely won't be the last) but you wish it looked like he remembered any of the last times this had occurred, or indeed that he remembered you. You also wish he wasn't frantically waving a gun around at anything that moved, but as you started to move closer to him, you were honestly more concerned of him accidentally shooting himself than you.

"Wilford?" It's hard to approach slowly enough to not worsen his panic whilst fighting your own growing anxiety that if you don't get close enough to him then something bad is very likely to happen to one of you. You have no doubt that back inside the Manor, the other egos have been gathered together, with The Host no doubt live-narrating what's going on so that if something does happen, everyone is more than ready to intervene.

That knowledge is doing little to comfort you though as Wilford's focus seems to snap to you once you softly utter his name. He starts to shake his head upon seeing you, and his actions suddenly get that bit more frantic.

"No, no. You're not real. You're dead. I-" A strangled sob seems to halt his line of thinking for a moment, and you feel like you don't have the words to explain how heartbreaking it is to see him like this. "I killed you."

"Wil, I'm right here, I'm okay." You put your hands up to show you're not a threat and slowly try to walk towards him, but stop when he backs away from you and points the gun at your approaching form.

"Stay back! You're just another trick! You're all gone, you all left me behind! You, Celine, Damien; you all left me behind!" It's an uncomfortable situation to find yourself in. The memories of what happened at that fateful party all those years ago still haunts you, it still haunts everyone who was present. Your death was traumatic to say the least, but you've always felt more sorry for Wilford regarding that night than yourself. Maybe that's why you think about walking towards him consequences be damned, if Abe can survive a bullet to the heart then what's to say you can't too? Maybe he didn't fully load the gun before teleporting back to the Manor so he wou-

"Wilford." Dark's voice comes from behind you, and it's no surprise that you jump at his sudden appearance. You're thankful for it nonetheless. Maybe The Host sensed that you'd not improve Wil's condition if your mind continued down that spiral and thought a tougher intervention was required. At any other time you'd turn to face your de facto leader, mainly in relief that you're no longer dealing with this nightmare of a situation by yourself, but right now it feels impossible to tear your eyes away from Wilford in case he acts.

"Damien?" You can't help but notice the flicker in Dark's aura at his old name, but aside from that, he gives no indication that anything is out of the ordinary. Seeing Dark seems to settle Wilford if only slightly and when the gun is no longer being pointed in your direction, you deem it appropriate to step forward once more, remembering what you were sent out here to do.

"See Wil? We're fine. Come inside with us."

"But I saw you die. Both of you died! When will you stop haunting me?" It's only when you see Dark's calm facade start to crack that it occurs to you that you've never seen Wilford this bad before and from his reaction you're assuming he's thinking the same thing. He's had bad days, but he's never outright denied you and Dark still being alive. It makes you think that Actor had something to do with this event, that the man has somehow twisted Wilford into believing his delusions. Wilford’s connection to the present is…fragile at the best of times, it has been since the poker night but this is uncharted waters for all of you.

“Old friend, that was a long time ago. We're all safe now. Just come inside Wil, we can discuss this further in my office." The lack of distortion when Dark speaks feels strange; he sounds…human, more human than he has in years (maybe even decades). It surprises you, and it must have a similar reaction for Wilford because the manic look that's been in his eyes since he showed up slowly starts to fade away and the frantic energy that's clung to him dissipates almost instantly.

Wilford slowly looks more aware of his surroundings and the gentle nod of his head to Dark's proposition is the only sign you need to walk up to him and pull him into a hug. His arms wrap around you instantly and the shudders that start to come from his body as he begins to cry into your shoulder break your heart. It takes everything in you to not start crying too as you start combing your fingers through his hair and tighten your other arm around his waist.

It's the second pair of arms surrounding the two of you that jolts you out of your thoughts, and the brief eye contact you make with Dark when you look away from Wilford that makes you understand the implications of tonight's events. The Actor's planning something for sure, and at some point in the future you'll have to confront Wilford about where he disappeared to for the last month. But for now, the three of you remain outside in a tight embrace, the only sound to be heard is Wilford's crying and constant repetition of the fact he's sorry he forgot the two of you.

#my writing #fics #wilford warfstache x reader #darkiplier x reader #wkm x reader #who killed markiplier x reader

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thattiredanimator1t0mblr · 2 years

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Two darks AU: Prologue

(Note: this is set in 2nd/3rd pov, Y/n will be referred as DA/you/they/them)

Dear god....

How could this have happened...

'Oh how things change people...' they thought whilst lightly laughing, unsure what to do of the...incident that has taken place.

'Damien went missing...'

Holding the papers to their chest. As they place another missing poster to the wall of an old coffee shop, they knew the owner and considering that the mayor had gone missing. It's no surprise that people would scared for their safety, the streets were empty. Everyone too terrified to even look outside, too terrified of being kidnapped and go missing too. There have been many riots and looting, but now, nobody dares to step outside. (DA) sighed and smiled softly as they walked off, still holding the papers to their chest. 'Maybe I shouldn’t have done that...' they thought and frowned while walking home, they stare at the reflection of an old broken mirror as they smirked with small tears dropping out of their eyes.

‘I miss him…’ they thought, still walking. Their house was a long distance away, considering, they have been putting up posters for a good few hours around the town. Walking felt like a burden in itself, breathing felt like a burden, D̶̡̳̟̙̈̈́̕A̴̲̺̖̙͗̐̅ had already been grieving, before hand. Maybe it was the loss of their F̶͍͝r̸̥͘ì̶̦͓̿͆ḗ̶̖͔̲̚n̵̩̾̊̎d̶̢͍̍.̸̯͒̽̈ but maybe it was something else. Tears were pouring more and more as it came slowly down on their F̸̛̞̟͆̌ȧ̷̝͊̌c̴̖̪̈́͜ẽ̴͇̼͂. So much guilt from that one faithful night. ‘I should call Celine,and check up on her’ they thought as they finally reached home, touching the cold door knob. Feeling a wash of relief, they sigh and smile, walking inside. It was a mess inside, papers and documents everywhere, some broken items, but something catches their eye. A photo frame. Slightly cracked, but still intact.

It was you….and mark,Celine,will.

And…and…Damien.

They scoffed and tears came rolling down faster then a flood. They scowled at what could’ve been a perfect friendship. But he ruined it.

It didn’t matter, not anymore.

You sigh softly as you turn away.

Maybe you should’ve stayed home that night….

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simpofmanymen · 2 years

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MARKIPLIER EGO HC

Both mark and dark are completely in love with you not just attraction but just you, but in different ways, Mark is obsessed with you which is his reason to make himself be the hero for you, he's really obsessed with you, like one yandere levels. dark just wants to hold you, wants you to realize it's just a story. Is. not. Real. he's yearning for you to break from the game as mark portrays him as the bad demon man

IDK the artists so if you do plz tell <3

thank you @that-very-tired-writer0

art credit @the-tragic-hero-and-you

(don't ask about the bruh lol i forgot about that)

#darkiplier x reader #markiplier egos x reader #actor mark x reader #markiplier x reader #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #markiplier egos #wkm #actor mark #who killed markiplier #damien wkm #actor mark x y/n #actor mark wkm #actor mark hc #markiplier ego x reader #markiplier ego hc #ego hc

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cleake · 2 years

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Giving flowers to the egos

Engineer:

-He’s very surprised, he hasn’t seen flowers in very long time, he forgot how pretty they are, how they smell

-Is so happy you gave them to him, he sees this as a very meaningful gift

-“Captain, look how pretty they are! You have a good taste, Captain”

-He keeps them in his locker, and is very gentle with them, they mean a lot to him

-He waters them regularly, even if something important is going on, they have to be watered

-He likes to look at them, it calms him and makes him think of you, and how lovely you are

-When he’s sad or stressed he smells them, he loves their sent

-If you are in a bad mood he’ll bring the flowers with him and sit with you, offer you to take the flowers

-“They are so full of hope, it’s nice to stop for a moment and just appreciate our existence”

-If they die Mark will be so heartbroken, he’ll come to you and show them, with a sadness within him

-“I tried my best, I thought I did everything right. Why they had to die? I’m so sorry Captain”

-If he himself ever gets a chance to get flowers he’ll give them to you, he wants to do something for you too

Yancy:

-He too didn’t see flowers in a while, he always associated them with goodness and he isn’t like that, why did you gave them to him?

-He’s so confused he doesn’t really know what to do, he loves them, but thinks he doesn’t deserve them

-“Don’t people give flowers to each other as a reward? I don’t deserve them”

-Even thought he feels bad about getting them, especially from you, he keeps them in his cell, and keeps them alive

-When he feels lonely he looks at them, remembering you

-He shows them to his close friends, and tells them about you, can get a bit sentimental

-“They are so nice, look what they gave me, I can’t believe someone so good decided to give me them”

-He watches them a lot, he loves noticing the details on their petals

-If someone tries to touch them he’ll remind them that stealing is illegal

-“I don’t think youse’s know what this is! This is worth more than anything in this prison and it rightly belongs to me, so I ask you to keep youse’s handy hands off of them!”

-If they die Yancy will ask everyone for help, but gardeners don’t usually show up in prison

-He’ll write you a letter telling that your gift withered

-“I’m so sorry, I tried my best to take care of them, I hope youse’s are not angry”

-If he gets more flowers from you, he’ll watch them at all times, they mean more than they look

Dark:

-He hasn’t gotten a gift in a long time and didn’t see flowers much

-He is flattered that you gifted them to him, but at the same time doesn’t think of it as something big, humans give each other flowers all the time

-But as time passes he starts to think of them more as a sign of how much he means to you and it confuses him, he doesn’t think he means something

-But accepts that you think of him as something more, and something important

-He watches them a lot, he sees you in them

-They are new and bit unusual to him, but they give him a warm feeling

-He waters them regularly, knows how much water they need and puts them in sunny place

-He sometimes talks to them, about his day, thoughts and feelings, he feels less alone with them

-He tells them things that he wishes to tell you

-“Something so small and seemingly so unnecessary is so important to me, so calming and beautiful”

-He doesn’t let them die, and never will, they are his to hold and nothing will make him not to

-He is surprised that he attached himself so much to them, he never did to other things, why they were so special? Because they are from you?

Actor:

-He gets a lot of flowers, and buys for himself

-He likes them, he thinks they are a great decoration

-Flowers from you made him believe that they can also be a great calming factor, and something more personal

-At first they are indifferent to him, just some leafs to put on his desk, but after some time he gets more in sync with them, he noticed how he feels a bit different when looking at flowers from you

-They made him focus more on themselves, and he kinda got obsessed with them

-Every morning he checks if they are watered correctly, the butler could’ve made some mistake, makes sure that there is no dust on them, and that they get sun

-He talks to them, strokes their petals gently and thinks of you a lot

-“If I knew I would get so attached to a plant I wouldn’t accept it but here we are”

-He hides them from others, he doesn’t want anyone to destroy them

-They are always in his room, locked from others

-He takes good care of them and won’t let them die, they are too important

Illinois:

-He likes shiny things, but appreciates the simple ones too

-He’s close to nature, he likes to spend time in it

-Flowers from you are something important, it’s a thing that’s always with him, that it’s familiar and even though everything around him is changing he has something that always stays the same

-He is very fond of them, they mean a lot to him, and when he feels lonely he looks at them, and remembers you

-He is in a lot of danger on his adventures but as a professional he always comes out of it in one pice, and your gift does also

-He won’t let a single thing hurt the flowers, he keeps them in a safe place in his bag, and checks a lot if they didn’t got squished

-At night time he takes them out to look at them, sometimes he hymns to them, or talks

-He always has separate water for them, or will get it some way, they can’t die, they remind him of you and feels like you are with him

Damien:

-He appreciates flowers, and thinks they are very helpful for the nerves

-He keeps them on his desk, and when takes a break from work he looks at them to calm himself

-They are always in good condition, Damien is a good gardener and takes good care for them

-He doesn’t get to see others a lot because of his job, but your flowers keep him company, and he feels less alone

-He talks to them, sometimes reads his paper work

-When his sad he’ll look at your flowers, focusing his attention on them to stop worrying

-He loves how they smell, how they look, and feel, he can’t stop admiring them

-He feels like you’re with him trough the flowers and is in a good mood because of them

Wilford:

-He doesn’t really have time to take care of them, but always does his best to make sure they are watered

-He doesn’t really understand what is so special about flowers, but somehow the ones from you seem much more appealing them others

-He talks to them a lot, he tells them about his day, his feelings and memories

-He vents to them too, sometimes he feels like he can’t talk to anyone else than them, and they will only understand

-He treats them like human being, says good morning, goodnight, maybe he sees them as you too much

-He realizes that he pretends the flowers are you, and sees how much he’s hiding from you

-He loves them, and his indifference about flowers changed a lot

-He does sometimes forget to water them, and is angry because of it, he can’t see them die, they’re too important

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jokingmisfit · 11 months

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Markiplier Egos As Contacts In My Phone

Annus- 🤍Anus🤍

Darkiplier- 🥀Dark🥀

Darkiplier(Alternative)- 😏Daddy😏

Wilford- 🥸The Stacheman🥸

Wilford(Alternative)- 🫨Bubblegum Bitch🫨

Yancy- 🔪Sinnamonroll🔪

Dr.Iplier- 🧑‍⚕Your Dying🧑‍⚕

Google- 💻Smartass💻

Bing- 🛹Radical Dude🛹

Illinois- 🤠Indiana Jones🤠

Yanderiplier- 🫶Unstable Child🫶

Captain Magnum- 🏴‍☠️Dadptain🏴‍☠️

Engineer!Mark- 🧑‍🚀M2702 Boi🧑‍🚀

Eric Derikson- 🤓Cinnamonroll🤓

Old-man Mark- 🧓Granddaddy🧓

Host- 🫥Narrator🫥

Murdock- 🦆Murduck🦆

Heist!Mark- 💣Smooth Criminal💣

Stan- 💦The Water Man💦

Actor- 🕺Dramatic Bitch🕺

Jim and Jim- 👬Jim(s)👬

Cave Man Mark- Doesn't have a phone

Heehoo- Also doesn't have a phone

#characters as contacts in my phone #i hc that jims heist!mark bing and dark all put in their own contact #also hc that heehoo and caveman mark cant have phones cause they break them #definitely would have to force dark to add a damn emoji #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier #in space with markipler spoilers #a heist with markiplier #who killed markiplier

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writtengalaxies · 1 year

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Pranks

Characters: Dark, GN!Reader as the DA

Word Count: 547

Spicy Rating: Bittersweet feels ahead!

Dark was certain that someone was messing with him. They had to be.

It wasn't every day, and it wasn't too much, but he had been coming to his office each morning only to discover entire chunks of paperwork moved around. Perhaps, in his exhaustion, he had forgotten about it. Just simply set them aside and...forgot. Unlikely, but entirely possible.

Scraps of paper would be found in his desk drawers with silly faces and doodles all over them. He began his mental list of suspects, and quickly ruled them all out. The drawers were kept locked each night. There's no way any of the people he could think of were responsible without breaking everything else on the way to do that.

And then he discovered handwriting that looked heartbreakingly familiar, though he couldn't understand why it caused him to freeze in place like that. Something, deep in the hurt past of him, the parts of a man with a different name, a man who was letting his sister rest...the parts of him that he had shoved down and back and away for a reason, called out for the owner of that writing. That didn't matter, what did matter is that he had discovered that the writing was needed fixes to paperwork, sloppy mistakes he had done after too many days awake.

The next morning he discovered his chair not at all behind his desk like it usually was. Behind the door, so he hit it when opening it. Under the window that looked out over the grounds. Upside down on his desk. Each day, a different place, and he found himself getting annoyed at this, growling lowly under his breath as he slammed it back in place.

Two weeks after that, he opened the door to discover every single book in his office had been flipped upside down and backwards on the sprawling shelves. He sighed, took his time, and began righting each book, one by one.

He was so tired of these shenanigans, and truly the only way to be rid of them would be to catch them in the act.

That night, he stayed all night, pacing, waiting for something, for anything to happen. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing with exhaustion. Was this another fruitless chase? Perhaps he needed an extended vacation...who knew when he last actually took one? If anything--

Dark froze, feeling a pair of arms far too chilly wrap around him in that same, achingly familiar way. A hug. When was the last time anyone had ever given him a hug that wasn't Wilford's forceful--

The arms retreated, and he whirled in place, looking desperately for who it was that made the long dead heart ache this way. A sliver of movement out of the corner of his eye made his head whip towards the shattered mirror that sat behind his desk, the mirror he had made sure didn't sit and rot with the rest of that house.

The specter's smile froze his blood and warmed him just as quickly, as they pressed their hand against the glass, disappearing instantly.

He had solved the mystery, and if he could still emote past cold acceptance and blazing rage, Dark would cry tears of relief.

His little monster, ever the prankster.

You.

#tall dark and spooky #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #darkiplier #dark attorney #my writing #markiplier egos #who killed markiplier #wkm the da

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