#a date with markiplier x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

US Tumblr user growth rate is estimated to slow down to 4.1%.

#a date with markiplier x reader

clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

(Pina Colada Anon) Could you perhaps write the Tie Pull Kiss scene with Dark? Or do you want more detail?

"I CAN GIVE YOU ANYTHING-!!!”

“Hey, hey..chill out. Is this any way to impress your date? Especially after you rudely interrupted mine?”

Blinking slowly, Dark just stared at you from across the table with gritted teeth. But he sat back down, brushing the black fringe away from his eye as he regained some of his composure.

“I was rude? I hadn't realized..” He grumbled, clearly still annoyed and upset. “But you think I can just...”chill out” after what I’ve seen him do to you?!! HE LIES!!! HE WANTS YOU TO COME CRAWLING BACK TO HIM! But no...I won't let him get that satisfaction. Not now. Not ever.”

Once again, he was back to screaming and going on another angry tirade. But you didn’t flinch as much as before.

Was he that mad about you choosing Mark over him? You’ve never even met this man before in your life. You didn’t know what history they shared, but from the way he was speaking, it was probably was a shitty one.

Why else would he act like this?

Regardless, you didn’t like seeing him this way. Especially on your first “date” in this creepy monochrome void. The ringing in your ears was starting to become bothersome, though you ignored it and just tapped your fingers against the table, wondering what you could do to get him to calm down.

Something that would shut him up.

And then..

An idea sprung in your mind.

As the table glitched and brought Dark closer to you, he pointed at you in an threatening manner, almost snarling like an animal.

“THERE IS NOTHING THAT YOU OR HE CAN DO TO STOP M-!!!”

In an act of both bravery and stupidity, you reached out to grab him by the tie, pulling him towards you. Eventually your lips collided against his cold, chapped ones, though only for a few moments before you gently let him go, watching him slump back into his chair in disbelief.

You swore the darkness was covering his blush, as he struggled to process what on earth just happened.

Meanwhile you just smiled--though secretly just as bashful at that impulsive action--as you leaned an elbow on the table. You were proud of yourself for wooing this handsome dark entity into silence.

“I’ve always wanted to do that."

#you got it uwu #clanask #pina colada anon #iplier egos x reader #adwm x reader #a date with markiplier x reader #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader

349 notes · View notes

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.

237 notes · View notes

gaymingwriter · 3 months

Text

Valentine’s Day Headcanon/Drabbles

I’m very slow with requests but I’m currently working on them! I just wanted to write something for Valentine’s Day. Also I don’t usually write Date Mark but since it’s Valentine’s Day I think it fits

Characters in Order: Darkiplier, Damien, Googleplier, Date Mark, Illinois, Eric Derekson, Jameson Jackson

Category: Fluff

Pronouns: They/Them, not used directly

Warnings: Writer’s favorites are obvious, swearing, somewhat spicy reference in Illinois’s but it’s not much

Darkiplier

- This is one of the only holidays he actually plans for and looks forward to

- He actually takes the day off for once to spend time with you

- Would wake you up with your favorite breakfast in bed

- After you’re done eating he cuddles you for a while

- Then he takes you shopping. He’ll buy you pretty much anything you want

- (He’d think it’s really sweet if you got him something too though, so you should do that. It doesn’t have to be expensive)

- Takes you to your favorite restaurant for lunch

- Y’all go for a walk and go to the library/zoo/aquarium (or whatever you prefer)

- He takes you to a fancy restaurant for dinner

- Y’all cuddle and watch movies when you get home <3

Damien

- Y’all stay in for the most part

- Cuddling and movies all day

- He got you flowers and a small gift

- He’d be happy with anything you got him <3

- Makes breakfast and lunch for you

- (Though he will love it if you both cooked together)

- Took you to a nice restaurant for dinner

Googleplier

- He didn’t really understand Valentine’s Day?

- He does his research though

- Goes probably too hard with it

- Ends up planning way too much

- When he wakes you up, he excitedly tells you about everything he planned

- …you very gently let him know that all of his plans would be incredibly stressful

- He’s a little sad at first, but he doesn’t want to stress you out, so he changes his plans to be a couple things

- You get each other some gifts

- You go out to your favorite restaurant for lunch

- Y’all spend the rest of the day cuddling

- Takeout for dinner

- He’s honestly really flustered the whole time

- Even if it isn’t exactly as he planned, he’s still really happy with how everything went <3

Date Mark

- This fucker lives for Valentine’s Day

- The whole speech he gave during ISWM about all the things he planned for the date?

- Yeah, since that didn’t happen, he saved it for today

- He’s actually a real sweetheart when Actor isn’t using him as a character

- Gets you a bouquet of roses, a teddy bear, a box of your favorite kind of chocolate, one of those heart lockets with a picture of both of you in it, and a little heart that he knitted for you

- He sobs of joy and appreciation when you get him something, no matter how small it is

- He takes you to dinner, the fair, and a movie

- And you both hold hands <33

- Y’all binge watch shows and cuddle for the rest of the night

Illinois

- He may be a flirty bastard

- That’s it that’s the sentence

- He does plan an adventure for the day!

- …y’all don’t really leave bed for a while though

- Most of it is cuddling!

- He ends up just taking you to the zoo or aquarium

- He almost cries in public when you get him a gift at the gift shop

- Dinner at the zoo/aquarium food court isn’t the most glamorous, but it was perfect for both of you

- Afterwards you watch cheesy romantic movies until you fall asleep

Eric Derekson

- He made plans! He’s just incredibly nervous to tell you!

- For this reason, you made sure he knew that you’d prioritize any plans he had, but you still had your own ideas

- He shyly brought up that he wanted to have a picnic

- You loved the idea, and your lunch was spent on a blanket in the park <3

- You got him a gift and it made him feel so loved it was great

- He got you some flowers and something you’d had on a gift wishlist

- He was so afraid you wouldn’t like it but he was reassured when you hugged him

- The rest of the day was just the two of you being sweet and romantic with each other

Jameson Jackson

- Gentleman of the year, honestly

- He crocheted some hearts and a little plushie for you

- Turned on some music and danced with you for a while <3

- He made you breakfast, and you make him lunch

- Y’all watched some of yours and his favorite movies for a while

- You gave him some flowers and chocolates

- He loves the classic gifts <3

- You order from y’all’s favorite restaurant for dinner

- The rest of the night is spent chatting and watching movies

61 notes · View notes

zee-stars · 10 months

Text

The ego's giving you their sweaters

Includes: Actor Mark, Darkiplier, Yancy, Illinois, Space Mark, Damien, Heist Mark, Date Mark, Wilford

Actor Mark:

He forced you to wear one of his sweaters. He would hide yours just so he could give you one of his.

He is a jealous prick so he definitely likes you wearing his stuff so people know you are his.

I feel like his would be the most comfortable cause he would spend all his money just to make sure he could give you the best.

Tbh his would smell like makeup wipes and strong expensive calone cause he would pour that shit on there.

Overall 9/10 cause at least the smell would last long 🤷‍♀️

Darkiplier:

Tbh he probably doesn't have very many hoodies.

The only one he owns is probably a plain black one that's kinda worn down.

But like say one day you're cold and complaining about it and he just throws it at you and is like "stfu"

Warm on the inside, soft fabric on the outside 👌👌

I think its an overall 10/10 cause idk its just perfect.

Yancy:

I think he probably only have 1 hoodie cause he is in prison but he also like owns the place... so he could probably get more if he needed too.

But like he has one that is his og one. I think its like black and has some cool design on it that's kinda worn down cause he's had it so long.

It smells exactly like him and he likes to wear it for comfort. But he would easily give it to you.

One day your complaining that it's cold, next minute his giving you the sweater.

Its super comfy and also smells exactly like him so def 10/10

Illinois:

Man has one sweater and it is almost disgusting.

You saw him wear it once on a colder night. It was covered in stains, small holes everywhere and stitches. It doesn't smell bad and it felt soft when you touched it.

One night you and him are under the stars and you are freezing. to the point your shaking. He sees you by the fire all wrapped up in a blanket and he takes off the hoodie and gives it to you.

Claims that he's a big boy and doesn't need a sweater to keep him warm

Five minutes later hes clinging to you wrapped up under a blanket and as close to the fire you can be without burning.

8/10 cause the stains.

Space Mark:

Tbh if he saw you in his hoodie he would probably faint.

Its not so much a hoodie it's more like a jacket. Like yk those sports team type jackets, if you dont google it and i'll make sense.

Anyways its amazing, kinda fuzzy on the inside and it has like patches on it of things he likes. Stars, planets, chica, etc.

He doesn't wear it often cause he is usually in his space uniform.

But one night you and him are enjoying a nice sunset together (after the events of iswm) and he notices you shiver.

So he runs back to his room and comes back with two cups of coffee and his jacket.

It smells like him, has coffee and some grease stains on it. Very comfy and a little big.

10/10 love it.

Damien:

This is before wkm obv

He has like an entire closet section just for sweaters and hoodies

one day you're spending the evening at his place. during dinner Damien was his usual clumsy self (he def was) and spilled something on you. You ask to use his shower and had forgotten to pack an extra set of clothes.

So he offers you some of his. He gives you a hoodie and sweatpants that match and let me tell you. That is some of the comfyist shit you're ever gonna wear

I just feel like he is the master of comfort and just always has the comfyist clothes.

10/10 for my boy dames

Heist Mark:

Im like imagining the most detailed scene rn

Like yk when you choose the car in the heist and you fall asleep and he makes you breakfast?

that but the night before when you're falling asleep you get cold and he gives you his sweater and you're like "where tf did you get this?" but put it on anyway.

its honestly pretty comfy and keeps you pretty warm. He also secretly loves seeing you in his hoodie (remember this is right before he asked you on the date ;)

9/10 prob a basic ass hoodie but comfy and warm, serves its purpose.

Date Mark:

Another very detailed scene

we aren't gonna be basic and have it be during the movie no no, it's gonna be during the vanilla ice cream ending.

You and him are eating ice cream together and it makes you cold. So what else would a gentleman like him do than give you the jacket he was wearing.

tbh not super comfy, its part of a suit :/

so like... 6/10? it was nice of him but not comfy or warm so...

Wilford:

Come on guys yk i wouldnt forget about my little willy would you?

Tbh he has the best hoodies 1000%

He rocks the pink and all of his hoodies are pink and they look amazing!!

Also they def smell like cotton candy or some other sweet.

(they might also have a few blood stains but who cares)

anyways.... imagine you and him go out to a party or something.

some dumb guy spills a drink on your and wilford just like pulls out a hoodie randomly and like takes you to the bathroom to put it on

side note no one ever hears from that guy again but like...... thats totally unrelated...

but its comfy, smells good, looks good, 100000/10 fr fr

wilford is simply the best

I hope you enjoyed this and im def down to write more things like this if anyone has any ideas!! my request are always open

311 notes · View notes

amee-racle-ofmyown · 5 months

Text

your hands have always held their own

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1,063 | read on AO3

Heist!Mark finally asks his partner in crime out on that date.

It was early evening and you and your heist partner sat nearly shoulder to shoulder in your shared living room. The sun hung low, just barely brushing its rays against the clouds, tinging their edges amber and yellow.

Recently, there had been a lot more of these calm afternoons where you would sit together, discussing everything and nothing, perhaps watching TV or whatever videos took both your fancy; sometimes you simply watched the sky until you felt sleepy. Occasionally one of his hands might come up to play idly with your hair (a more affectionate gesture than either of you had ever previously initiated, but you didn't really mind, and neither of you mentioned it).

'This next heist…’ he started, ‘it's supposed to set us up, pretty much for life. And it got me thinking—'

'That's dangerous,' you interrupted.

'Yeah, maybe for you,' he quipped back, eyebrows raised mockingly, but there was no malice in his voice.

'Anyway,' he continued, voice softening. 'I was thinking about the future and stuff. Like, what do we do after this? And as nice as it would be to be able to relax and just enjoy the rest of our lives without worrying about the next spot to rob, I think I would kind of miss doing these jobs with you.'

That got your full attention. He wasn't quite meeting your eyes — instead, a loose strand on his clothes was apparently very interesting — but something about his words and the gentle sincerity with which he'd spoken them took you a little off-guard.

‘...I hadn't really thought much about it. About what happens after.’ And it was true, you hadn't; nothing past the first few wild, exciting dreams that sprung to mind when reading the amount of money the pair of you were being offered for this particular artefact. No real, solid plans.

‘I think I'd miss it too,’ you continued quietly. ‘But I mean, who's to say we can't do a couple more every once in a while, just for the fun of it, y'know? We don't even have to go after anything that valuable. More like just… for old times’ sake.’ You caught his gaze and he smiled, a little fond and a little hopeful, dark eyes twinkling.

‘Yeah, cool… So, uhm,’ he averted his gaze again and you couldn't help but find his uncharacteristic hesitance and bashfulness adorable, wondering what was on his mind that was making him act this awkward.

‘So I was wondering, once this heist is over, if you'd maybe wanna go out sometime?’

‘Sure, is that it?’ you question, oblivious. (Or maybe not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Surely there's no way he meant it like that.)

Your crime partner’s head perked up, eyes wide and looking directly into yours, as if searching for something.

‘Really?’

‘Umm, yeah?’ you say, incredulous. ‘What's got you so nervous? And… surprised? We go out together all the time.’

‘No, buddy, you don't get it…’ he said, sat looking a little like a kicked puppy. The look of disappointment that crossed his face broke your heart and instantly made you regret your words.

His hands returned to fidgeting and oh, you wanted to take those hands in yours and ease the nerves from his palms, thread his fingers through your own, press your lips to his knuckles.

Mark sighed. One of his hands came to rest on his knee while the other carded through his hair. You found yourself wanting to do the same.

‘Listen…’ he began again, eyes downcast while his hand came to rest in his lap. ‘We've been friends for what feels like ages now, working together for even longer. I know we butt heads at times, I can be an idiot and you can get on my nerves but-’ Finally his eyes met yours, and the affection in them made your breath catch in your throat.

The sun was setting by now, casting a gorgeous orange glow through the room and over his features. It made his eyes appear almost golden, and it suddenly occurred to you that no shiny trinket you could steal could ever possibly be worth more than the look those eyes were giving you in this moment. You internally cringed at the thought, but you couldn't deny it was true.

‘You're really important to me,’ he said earnestly. ‘I don't always agree with you but I always trust your judgement. I probably trust you more than anyone else, to be honest. You're my best friend, and maybe I'm wrong, but I think there could be something else here? And I wanna try being more? If that's okay with you.’

‘You mean-’

‘Yeah.’ He took your hand, said your name, foregoing any of his nicknames for you. ‘I love you — I always have, as a friend, but I think I have feelings for you. So, if you reciprocate even a little, let me take you out. On a real date. And if things don't work out,’ (you didn't miss the small flicker of something sad as he added that part) ‘well, we can still work together. And we'll still be friends, right?’ he asked hopefully.

You could feel your heart thrumming wildly, from his words, the intensity of his gaze and the warmth radiating from his hand to yours.

You took his other hand, the one still atop his knee, and replied softly: ‘I'd really love that, actually. To go on a date with you, I mean.’

The smile he gave you was genuine, unlike the typical cocky. It was wide and crinkled the skin beneath his eyes. You briefly wondered whether he could feel your racing pulse through your intertwined hands.

‘Then it's agreed. After the heist.’

‘After the heist,’ you promised.

Inevitably, you would run into problems and possibly danger in your next heist, as you usually did, but you trusted Mark, and you knew you could count on him when push came to shove. You knew that you would follow him anywhere, and the two of you had a better chance of conquering any obstacles you faced if you were together, as you always had.

The sun dipped beneath the clouds, the room was warm, and things felt comfortably the same and yet like this was a turning point for the pair of you.

You were sure this heist would be one to remember.

#(title is from Violet by Wild Party)#gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #I love them the sillies #this is straight up the softest of fluff #I got embarrassed and cringed writing this but I hope it's worth putting out there and someone else will enjoy it #there is NOT enough heist mark content #like what there is in terms of fics is SO GOOD don't get me wrong there's just not a lot #so I hope I can make some decent contributions for the heist stans out there lolol #it's always yancy this and illinois that and I love them too BUT HEIST MARK IS RIGHT THERE??#HE SPECIFICALLY BRINGS UP THAT YOU HAD PREVIOUSLY ESTABLISHED TO GO ON A DATE? WHY IS MY BOY SO OVERLOOKED #MAKE IT MAKE SENSE #I love this man... sorta underrated ego ngl #maybe bc he gets dumped in with actor which is valid and understandable tbh but like.. he's his own character too :(#sorry I'm very passionate #I'm just a sucker for friends to lovers basically #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #markiplier egos #markiplier cu #heist mark #heist!mark #heist mark x y/n #heist mark x reader #mark iplier #amee writes #partners in crime

15 notes · View notes

whitesuitdarkiplier · 2 years

Note

Darkiplier x reader who finally confronts him for stealing their body and leaving them behind? Sobbing and filled with sorrow and rage as they scream at him, and Dark has the crushing feeling of remorse, because he had become so broken and bitter over the years that he hadn’t truly thought about what he and Celine had done to the reader. He hadn’t stopped to think about it, because he knew if he ever did that he would never be able to keep up the bitter rage to complete his mission of revenge against actor mark.

IDK, I just like the idea of the actor maybe starting out of getting the reader from the mirror and putting them in his stories, but that the memory wipe isn’t as good as he thinks it is, because the reader, every time they start to remember, chooses to stay, because at least actor came back for them. Because while actor mark is Dark’s villain because he stole his body and left him to die, technically, Dark did the same thing to the reader. So, Dark would technically be reader’s actor mark. So how can they ever be what they were before? How can they? Every time the reader looks at Dark, all they see is their own walking corpse.

Anyways, I like pain and angst and think that would be cool to be explored.

Prompt: “He came back for me. You didn’t. And you know what? I don’t need you anymore.”

This was so emotional to write. Thank you for this prompt! Angst is good for the soul sometimes. I hope you really enjoy it!

You and Mark had been on many adventures together. Many crazy situations you didn’t know how to escape, many fun times you never wanted to end…and all the while, he thought it was because you couldn’t remember who you were, what had happened—what he had done. Whatever he did to purge you of your memories faded more and more with time. There were inklings of the truth always there, always an option to leave and never look back. To leave the demon to his demons and rest your own soul.

But even though by now you remembered everything, knew what was going on, you stayed. You stayed by his side. You said yes to him, you never split up, you held on. Because despite the sins of his past—he always did the same for you. He found you, lost and broken, alone where your once best friend had left you. He picked up those shattered pieces and made something new, gave you a starring role right by his side. He called you friend.

Perhaps it was all a lie. A way to keep someone else trapped with him in this never ending purgatory; misery does love company, after all. But even so…he never abandoned you.

You were back in the void again, a familiar ringing, a familiar face. Dark stood before you, and you’d met him a thousand times before. But now was different. Now, you wouldn’t remain silent.

“I know the feeling of being trapped in his games,” Dark said, almost pleading with you to wake up, “But we don’t have to be.”

“We?” You scoffed, something in you set ablaze, “There is no ‘we’. You left me. You promised we would fix things together and then you left me.”

You start to shake. You’re standing before your own broken and battered corpse. You try to see Damien and Celine beneath it all, but…you can’t. Not anymore. All those years of solitude and pain boil to the surface in rage and sorrow.

“Do you have any idea how long I waited, scrounging my mind for even the smallest bit of hope that you would return for me,” tears quickly form in your eyes and spill down your cheeks, “You were so caught up in your thirst for revenge that you discarded me like an old cloth and left me to rot! But you know who found me? You know who saw my broken soul and helped me? Mark.”

You took a step forward, your anger fueling you. “Mark gave me a second life. I’m not trapped in his games, Dark. I’ve chosen to stay because he actually gave enough of a fuck to come back for me!” You glare at him. “You talk about him and his sins, but you’re the same as him. You betrayed me. Your friend. I trusted you! And you tricked me and stole my body. You’re just like him.”

Dark scowls, staring at you, but he says nothing. He has no defense, no excuse. And for the first time in so, so long…the burning rage is dampened and in its place are the cold ashes of remorse. He’s never felt more pain than this moment, when his friend…former friend, pierced him with the ugly truth. He never stopped to think of you left in that mirror because of him. He convinced himself that somehow you were in the mirror because of Mark. But it was him. The two of you could have left that manor together and tried to pick up the pieces, leaving Mark alone with no story to tell. But he played into his hands.

“So he’s gotten what he wanted,” you say bitterly, “You are the villain. And he’s the hero.”

Dark’s she’ll cracks into a million versions of himself, screaming in agony and rage. Still, he says nothing.

You turn and start walking. Just as you could choose to leave Mark at any point…you can leave him in his void. Mid-step, you stop and turn around. Fire still burns in your eyes, and your next words are a knife to Dark’s heart.

“He came back for me. You didn’t. And you know what?” There’s venom in every syllable. “I don’t need you anymore.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re standing in the control room of the Invincible II, staring out the window into the cold vacuum of space. You’ve let go, you think. You’ve accepted your role, took back some semblance of power over your own life. But still…it’s a hollow victory.

“Thank you,” Mark says beside you, looking towards your new home planet. You look at him, his eyes so sincere it makes your heart ache. So much that you don’t stop to wonder if he’s just being a good actor.

“For not giving up on me,” he says with a soft grateful smile.

You reach out and grip his shoulder in a friendly gesture. Your friend. Your captor. Your hero.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#darkiplier #in space with markiplier #markiplier #who killed markiplier #a date with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #iswm part 2 #iswm #iswm darkiplier #darkiplier fanfiction #darkiplier x reader #ahwm darkiplier #engineer mark #actor mark #wkm darkiplier #wkm actor mark #actor mark x reader

348 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 2 years

Text

Just A Child

Darkiplier x teenage!gn!reader (PLATONIC)

Requested by 🖌 Anon:

“Bro (/gn), Would you be willing to write something about this idea? So, in the Markiplier universe- under the assumption that Actor has been Mark in each project- he kinda drags Viewer (Ima call them V) along with him, right? So, imagine if instead V was actually just a nervous teen. (Obviously the people in each universe would just be complimenting V, not flirting) So, they're sticking with Mark since they don't really have anyone else to rely on or anything. But what if they don't really like Mark, and see Dark as a more stable... well... everything. An you know how Dark seems kinda hooked on getting V "out of Mark's grasp" basically? So, what if V takes him up on that, and Dark DOES manage to get V away from Mark, and like, takes them back to the Ego mansion or smth and kinda just helps them adjust and interact with everyone and more-or-less becomes their caretaker/guardian? If not, that's fine! Either way, have a great day/night/etc. :)”

I highkey had a hard time writing this one and I'm not, like, 100% happy with it but idk maybe it's just bc I've been working on it for a while lol

Warnings: Actor is a creep in this (mostly implied), hurt/comfort-ish?

Word Count: 1563

Masterlist

You fidgeted as you walked through the theater again. The incessant “Bonjour”s were giving you a headache at this point. And the most you’d had to eat was a sandwich. Though, it was a while ago since that happened…

“The romance?... Or the horror?”

The last time you came through here, you’d “watched” the romance. It was… something.

You pointed at the horror door.

“Good idea! I’ve actually never seen this play before. I don’t even know who made it, so…” Mark shrugged, smiling that fake, plastered-on grin as always. “Could be a fun adventure.”

“Good luck!” One of the waiters… employees… One of the men that seemed to work everywhere you went stared dead at Mark. It was the first time you saw him so serious.

Mark also seemed unsettled. “Oh, okay. Alright.” He did a little salute as he said, “Bonjour!” to the employee.

As you followed Mark to your seats (him going on a one-sided dialogue about how he was a “patron of the arts” and so on), you couldn’t help but feel… unsettled. You looked around. Nothing was out of place since the last time you came through here. And yet, a chill still ran up your spine as you sat in the front row seat, directly in front of the lone table on stage.

“You want some popcorn?” It was futile to reach for a piece, but you tried anyway, before the carton of kernels was pulled away. “OH! It’s starting!”

Was it?

When you turned back to Mark to ask him just that, you found his chair empty. The cold feeling of dread covered your shoulders like a blanket. Your gaze found itself once again fixated on the table on the stage. Creaking sounded from every corner of the room. A high pitched whine rang out, coming from within you just as much as it was coming from around you. The room began to distort. Change. Shift.

And then it was dark.

“You’re… different.”

You would have screamed, but you couldn’t feel yourself anymore. It felt like your body had been swept away, like all that was left in this void was your conscience. Instead, you stared.

The man before you looked like Mark. But he felt… wrong. Looking at him gave you a headache. His skin was pale, lacking any color at all. In fact, the only color you could see anymore were glitches of red and blue that clung to his suit and formed distorted versions of the man standing behind himself.

The man tilted his head. His neck cracked sickeningly. “So,” he mused, though his voice lacked any mirth, “he’s dragging along helpless teenagers now… How pitiful.”

Who are you? echoed around in your mind. He didn’t answer your question, if he even heard it at all.

“I know this must seem confusing, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from… But believe me when I tell you that it is all his doing.”

In a blink of an eye, you found yourself sitting at the table from the restaurant. The only difference, aside from the nothingness that surrounded you, was the man in Mark’s place. He had his fingers interlaced, hands resting on the edge of the table.

“Endless choices, all leading you back here.”

A voice whispered from the darkness. Trapped. A moment later, the man was saying the same thing.

“You’re trapped in his little game.”

Your voice came as little more than a whisper. It faded into the darkness surrounding you.

“How do you get out?” He tilted his head at you. Curious, studying. As if he didn’t expect you to ask such an odd question. “I can help you.”

In another flash, you were back outside. You weren’t sure where, but it felt less suffocating than the endlessness from before.

“Enough of the choices. Enough of this endless cycle of meaningless.” He straightened up, brushing his hair back from his face before holding out his hand. “I can get you out of here. You just need to let me i-”

“Oops.” The world was dark again. You didn’t look up from your chocolate ice cream. “Looks like you made the wrong choice.”

“I-I shot someone.”

Even after all of this fake Mark’s reassurances that it would be okay, your hands were still shaking. The heavy weight of the gun still sat in your palms. But every time you looked, it wasn’t there.

The man, entity, whatever he was, watched as you picked up your spoon. It trembled and shook in your grasp. He worried for a brief moment that you would drop it before it even reached the bowl.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up. The blue and red that surrounded him seemed dimmer than earlier, softer. You couldn’t hear the ringing that pressed against your skull. He thought you looked like an infant - too young and small to be dragged into Mark’s mess.

“What I promised you still stands.” He reached his hand across once more. His hand was ice cold as it grabbed yours, stilling your tremors. “I can get you out of here.”

You should have been terrified. First Mark, with his uncomfortable flirting, as if this was all just some role that needed to be played. Then the endless loops. And now…

“Wh-What.” You cleared your throat, trying to steel the dread in your soul. “What’s your name?”

He tilted his head, brow furrowing. He seemed to ponder this for a moment.

“Do you have a name…?”

“I used to,” he admitted. A flash of… something in his eyes. “I suppose, for simplicity’s sake, you may call me Dark.”

You whispered his name with a mixture of awe and curiosity. “M-My name is-” The world fell away before your eyes.

You blinked up at the building before you. A… museum? Paintings hung on walls peeked out of the large glass windows. You could just barely see a sculpture inside. You looked down at your clothes and found you were wearing all black. A grapple gun rested on your hip.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Turning on a dime, you were face to face once again with Mark. His lips curled into a cheshire grin. There was too much knowing in his eyes.

“You’re not backing out now, are ya?”

Your phone buzzed. You pulled it from your pocket with trembling fingers.

Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

You didn’t recognize any of the portraits on the walls. All of them had their eyes crossed out. And it felt like they were… whispering to you. The only one that looked even remotely familiar sat at the end of the hallway. It looked like-

“Same snake, different skin.”

You wheeled around, heart racing in your chest. Dark stood there, hands behind his back, in a white suit this time. He looked just as malcontented with your presence in this “game” as he had the last time you saw him.

“Always spinning his yarns, his webs, his lies.” He sighed, tilting his head. He seemed almost like a disappointed parent, scolding you for staying out too late. “I always thought that you were trapped in his games. Perpetually plunging down the rabbit holes of his stories. Helpless. Lost.”

You looked over your shoulder at the last portrait. The paint had flaked away and fallen off, but you remember the smiling face that was there before. The disgusting, plastered-on smile that was always there. “Was that Mark?”

The entity hummed. In a flash of red and blue, he was standing in front of the painting, scowling at the gilded frame. “He is behind all of this. Pulling the strings like a puppeteer controlling a marionette.” His gaze flicked over his shoulder. You swallowed at the implication.

“Last time…” Your brow furrowed. How long ago had that been? How long ago was it that you sat at the ice cream parlor, being comforted after shooting Mark? You swallowed, and pushed back the thought. Dark’s face softened, as if he knew what had crossed your mind. “Last time you said you could get me out of here.”

He turned his body to face you. Haloed by the light above the picture, he nodded. “I can.”

Unbidden, tears welled in your eyes. “Please.” You bit your lip, fighting the shake in your voice. “Please get me out of here.”

He stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of you. His face was somber, gentle. He seemed to look you over for a minute. Perhaps he was seeing what you’d gone through - the prison, the forest, the pirate ship, the cave. Every now and again, an image of himself would turn to the side and scream.

You swallowed hard. Would he turn you away now? He so openly gave you his hand before, offered a way out. Would he abandon you in this loop now? A warm tear fell down your cheek.

“Please.”

Cold arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a broad chest. A hand carefully cupped the back of your head. “I will get you out.” He held you as you clung to him and cried into his suit. He could only hope they were tears of joy and relief, and not for the choices you’d been forced to make. You were just a child, after all. And he would make sure Mark knew, too, when his time came.

158 notes · View notes

theknightmarket · 1 year

Text

“Do you want to do this again sometime?”

In which Damien and the DA end up going to a party under false pretenses.

TW: sexual references (teasing)

Pages: 20 - Words: 8000

[Requests: OPEN]

“You have to help me.”

Hearing that as soon as your friend of, at this point, 20 years bursts panting and sweating profusely through the door was not the best way to start the day. Good thing that you’d had your fair share of French toast and coffee, so you were able to swirl around in your chair to gauge the situation soberly. Damien didn’t look scared, if a little nervous, but he wasn’t happy. You remembered him talking about some dinner party the day before, which he would attend a few hours after he left. Still in his formal attire, so he had spent the night unwilfully. He also lacked a bowtie.

“Did you hook up with someone?”

Much to your amusement, he went beet red the second the words escaped your mouth. It was painful to try not to laugh, but the single chuckle that breached the air had him rushing over to sit next to you, and he laid his cane on the table. A small attempt to hide his face was made with his free hand, though, you knew better. You had seen better, too, so you pat him on the back and left to pour another cup of coffee for the poor man.

From your position at the countertop, you heard him mutter, “You don’t have to say it like that.”

Oh.

Normally, it felt great to be right. It was your favorite hobby, actually, but this time… this time was something different. Your eyebrows crossed and a faint intake of breath made it difficult to focus on the mug in your hand. Grip steadily clenching and loosening, the thump of your heart stilled. This should have been more concerning, the idea that some medical defect would put an end to your life before it had even begun, but Damien having stayed the night was somehow worse to you.

Still, like any good friend, you brought the cup of coffee over to him and, making sure to avoid jostling him, set it down near his crossed arms. The steam faded into his eyes while he stared at the intricate design; he had always liked this mug, it was probably the best one out of your whole collection, in his opinion. A little golden retriever with a Christmas hat. Cute.

He took it gratefully and gulped it down within seconds, the warning that it was hot not fully registering in his mind until half of it was gone. Then, the pain started, and it started strong. Damien was never one to curse but, in this moment, that didn’t matter. All the words in the book came pouring out of his mouth, alongside any coffee left that could cause more pain. It wasn’t until the glistening burn started to dull itself into a sting did he cease the speaking and start the fanning, not that it would help.

You looked on with empathy and a small tinge of told-ya-so-ness. Either way, you quickly fetched a cold cup of water and bottle of honey, which, from experience, would work better than just waving at the burn. It didn’t take any coaxing to get him to open his mouth, so it was comparatively easy to help than when the roles had been reversed.

Luckily for you, Damien wasn’t physically able to point out this fact, so you mumbled, “You’re such an idiot,” as you handed him a slowly melting ice cube.

He rolled his eyes, momentarily distracted from the pain, but the curl of his lips downward and hiss were back the next moment.

After some minutes of pampering and healing, the mayor was able to speak again, even if it was only a few words per sentence – his coffee had gone cold by now, too, and you rose from your chair to throw it down the sink like a prisoner into jail. Yours was already gone, drank in an orderly and non-painful fashion, so you just placed your mug into the sink next to Damien’s empty one.

Despite the interlude, your mind still wandered back to his situation. Whoever he had been with, they must’ve been special to get with the mayor of sunny Los Angeles. You wondered what it was that drew him to them; maybe it was their looks alone, but Damien wasn’t that shallow, was he? Maybe they had a nice chat and it just escalated from there. You wondered how his sister would take it, since she was always so protective of him. You wondered if they would continue to see each other, if they knew each other already, if they had been together for a while now and you just didn’t know it, you wondered—

“I didn’t… hook up with anyone, you know.”

Oh, thank God.

It had never felt so good to be wrong! You would have paraded around the kitchen if you hadn’t company, but that company you did have was Damien and he had not been with someone last night. Shoulders relaxing and that easy-going smile returning to your face, you whirled around to look at him again.

“Then, why on God’s green earth, would you need my help?”

Damien sat up straight, pressed his hands across the table, and steadied his breathing. These were tell-tale signs that he was going to delve into a story, probably go off on a tangent, too, if you knew him well enough. With this knowledge, you cheerfully dashed back to your seat and dramatically leaned in close.

The sudden burst of crimson on his face didn’t go unnoticed, but the reason for it did. You were too excited for the story of why he came back your apartment disheveled and lacking a bowtie to care.

He started with a cough, “So, I went to that party last night.” You nodded. You were one to send him on his way with a good pep-talk and adjustment of his collar. “I’m aware.”

“I got there around six-fifteen, stayed in the car for another fifteen minutes and then went inside. I spoke to the Mr. Witz and his daughter Bethany.” You knew about Mr. Witz, he was an old guy in his late 50s and hell-bent on establishing his banking systems in L.A, hence why Damien was invited. “After being offered drinks, I took one and went to talk to, um, I think it was Mrs. Peterson, Mr. Daveed, and Mr. Ockley.”

With a light chuckle, you interrupted, “I’m starting to think you’ve killed someone and are trying to construct an alibi, Dame.”

“I’m not! I didn’t, I just—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you didn’t,” waving him off, you finished, “Please, continue.”

Another cough to clear his throat, and he was speaking again, “It was around half-nine when I spoke to Mrs. Harrows and then was I introduced to her daughter, Penelope, I believe her name was. We were talking nice and having a fun time, but it was obvious when we got into the subject of, uh, romancewhy Mrs. Harrows really brought her daughter to the party.”

You nodded, knowingly, because, after most nights out with the rich and infamous - Mrs. Harrows amongst them – Damien had a habit of bursting into your apartment and ranting about whatever had gone wrong or even right this time. You always welcomed him with a smile and a drink, something that should have become tiresome after the thirteenth time that month, but they key word there was should. It didn’t, surprisingly, but you thought you knew why, and to be completely honest, that idea scared you. This exact scenario was the reason behind that fear.

“Mrs. Harrows, I would never speak ill of her, but she was determined to get her daughter into my, well, good graces. Of course, I wasn’t initiating by any means, but then she left myself and Penelope alone to get some champagne, and I realized that this determination might’ve been genetic.”

You grimaced at the implication, feeling bad for both Damien and the girl, but less so for her because… obvious reasons. Nothing that you wanted to trouble yourself with, in the presence of Damien, you wanted to pay as much attention as you could.

“So, for the better half on an hour, she was trying to charm me, and I was trying to get away. I even resorted to asking Mr. Witz about his insurance schemes.” His speaking was speeding up, and his tone was growing gradually more nervous, to the point that you were wondering if he was going to have a stroke. Eventually, though, he completely stopped still at the end of a sentence. His eyes held a look of remembrance, faint fear, and a hint of something else. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it, and you didn’t have his monologue to distract you from thinking about it. It wasn’t confidence, it wasn’t excitement, it was almost sad in a way. Disappointed, but for what, you didn’t know.

“And then,” he began again shakily, “she asked if I would like to go for a stroll around the gardens.”

“Scandalous!” you mocked, even though you knew full well what that really meant. You had been invited to a good amount of those kinds of social gatherings, and, nearly every single time, someone would approach another and ask to go out around the gardens. At this point, it was basically a marriage proposal, but no one was insane enough to refuse such a request if not for a good reason, none of which Damien had. Penelope Harrows was a nice girl, beautiful and, by all means, well-off. Damien, meanwhile, was single, equally rich, and with no one at his side throughout the evening to drag him away. So, there was the question – if Damien hadn’t lied to you, why had he not gone home with her?

The mayor rolled his eyes, smiling all the while, but he continued the story, “Of course, I said no – but she was insistent,” that blush rose from the dead, coating over the bridge of his nose to both ears, “and, when I refused again, she asked why.”

Damien was already getting choked up with words, them bundling together in the middle of his throat and halting breathing altogether. He knew what he wanted to say but getting it out was a much harder task than putting the sentence together. After a few seconds of floundering, his resolved crumbled – just as his knees felt despite being sat down – and he opened his mouth with a sigh.

“I told her I was engaged.”

Oh.

“To you.”

Oh.

You don’t know what you had expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. Hell, you would’ve been less surprised to hear he had just insulted her and gotten fired. However, that was not what had happened. And you had mixed feelings on the idea.

For one, this was going to be difficult to fix. With so many influential people around Damien at the time, word was going to spread faster than a wildfire, and possibly damage a lot more, too. There were going to be death threats in your mailbox, which was par for the course, and fear for both your reputations as unbiased and objective swelled in your heart. Though, beside that little feeling was something else. A light feeling, as if the calm glow of the moon had leaked out of your stomach and into your heart. It was ludicrous and dishonest to be called Damien’s fiancé, but that didn’t stop you from grinning behind your hand. Your heart thudded in your chest when your eyes met.

“We’ve been extended an invitation to attend another social gathering tonight at Mrs. Harrows’ estate. Seven o’clock sharp, dancing and socializing included, expect to depart around eleven.” He recited the information like a script, as if he’d rehearsed it time and time before – knowing Damien, he probably had, even in his mind to get the wording just right.

You nodded. “Okay.” With that, you started towards your bedroom, specifically the closet which held most of your formal outfits. Shuffling through them, you picked at the ones you thought most suitable: the off-white one with cut edges, a completely black one that might have been too funeral-ly, and a more modern mix of the two. You heard the familiar footfalls of Damien’s dress shoes and his cane thumping against the wood as he approached, your head delved into the cabinet to scout out some appropriate shoes at the same time.

“You- you’re not mad?”

Ducking out for a second, you asked, “Should I be?”

“No, but… I mean, I didn’t ask permission to call you my fiancé.”

“Probably half of L.A knows about us now, so why bother pretending we called it off overnight?” Besides, you wouldn’t mind it being the truth eventually.

Your eyes blew wide and the hanger you had grasped in your hand clattered to the floor. That thought, had it actually come from you? You hadn’t focused much on romance since you landed a job as the D.A – though the odd thought about asking Damien out to dinner or a walk down the beaches would occasionally pop into your head – but now your imagination was running wild. You had a few suits in your closet in view, and each time your eyes glossed over them, you saw that damned mayor in it, standing at the end of an aisle. Were you the marrying type? This was unknown territory, way out of your comfort zone but you couldn’t deny the shaky excitement rising in you. Even the memory of your parents nagging you about getting into a relationship gave you pause.

But was Damien considering anything? You knew he took his mayoral duties seriously, probably too seriously to be considered healthy, so would he be open to setting some time aside for anyone, let alone you? Breathing picking up and heart pounding in your chest, you realized that you were being overzealous. You could start by asking him out if you could even get past that hurdle.

Meanwhile, Damien hummed in agreement, sitting on the bed behind you. His cane flipped between hands, a habit he had adopted when nervous ever since he had first gotten the thing. He barely needed it to walk anymore but he claimed it was just to be safe - you thought it was something to fiddle with to take his mind of off whatever bothered him.

“So, what’s the problem, Dame?” Finally sticking your body out of the closet and toting two different outfits, you catch Damien off guard. He sputters and avoids eye contact for a few seconds, before settling on laughing quietly to himself.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

You lay the clothes down on your desk’s chair and come to sit down next to him again.

“Well, there’s obviously something.”

Silence. You tilted your head to look him in the eye, he looked away again. You moved closer, he shuffled back.

“Damien—” his gaze immediately met yours, deep chestnut mudded with uncertainty, “—tell me what’s wrong.”

“What if it goes wrong?”

The stark fear that consumed his voice, laced it with poisonous pessimism, had you squeezing his hand before you could think to move. His fingers clamped around your own and captured the assurance you gave him, warm and solid.

Now having all his attention, you asked plainly, “What is the worst you think will happen?”

His scenario was quick to flood out of his mouth, shaking every word, “You and I will show up and they immediately know that I lied, and they’ll get us alone and pick apart our stories like doomed vultures – our reputations will be ruined, you’ll lose your job, I’ll lose mine, and then I’ll be forced to marry Penelope Harrows, even though I don’t want to, and you’ll marry someone else and move away and—” Tears were brimming in the corners of his eyes, overwhelming him to the point that his sentence cut off by the silent splash of water against your connected hands.

“Okay,” you started, rubbing tire tracks into the back of his hand, “and what’s the best thing that could happen?”

This one took longer for him to come up with – and, all the while, you sat by him, pushing away the tears that fell and smiling to calm the ones just starting to flow – until he mustered up the words. “We go to the party and… and everything is fine.”

There looked like there was something else he wanted to say, something else that tapped at the border of his lips, but you let it be. This was, after all, a big improvement from the bad scenario.

Finally, you asked, “And what’s most likely to happen?”

Damien stopped completely still as the dead. The cogs in his mind whirred at a pace faster than you were able to keep up with. Then, he spoke slowly, “We go to the party, and we talk to the other guests. They ask us questions, but we give sensible answers, and maybe they something’s it’s a bit odd, but it’s common courtesy to not poke holes in public, so they won’t prod. We go home around eleven and sleep until the morning.”

You smiled tenderly; Damien was a rational person with rational thought processes, it just took some coaxing to get them out of him, and coax you did. This happened often, especially for public parties, and you couldn’t count on two hands how many times you calmed him down before a speech. It gave you a sense of pride that you had this down to a T, but seeing the aftermath was all the more rewarding.

You snapped to attention when your hand was squeezed once more, this time by Damien, as he whispered, “Thank you.”

“Happy to help.”

And there you two sat, watching each other like the most interesting show in all of Los Angeles. For you, the sparkles in Damien’s eyes danced along, bursting and cracking with the intensity of supernovas – bright oranges and blues and purples were born and died in those masses of brown. They never ceased to amaze you. The swirling, the twinkling, the parts that played against each other to create this amazing spirally galaxy.

But, as Damien looked in yours, he found his lungs completely empty, breathe stolen away when he stared straight at you. Confined within the color of your irises was adventure untold and affairs whispered in the darkest of nights, to the one you trusted the most. There was danger sparking bombs, bombs that exploded chambers, chambers that held reward unimaginable. He hoped – promised himself as twilight overcame the sky – that he would, one day, be the only one to lie next to you and bear witness to those stories so intricate he believed he was there himself.

What a world that would be, huh?

He knew it was only a dream, distant and so, so tantalizing that it pained him whenever he glanced in your direction. At the same time, he couldn’t hold back. The love and loss bound to happen if he let himself slip wasn’t something he wanted to risk, but his body forced himself to. It forced him to step one inch closer, forced him to say one more ‘goodbye’ and ‘hello’ when he saw you. It forced him to recognize that, maybe, the lie of being your fiancé was more than to protect himself.

Damien felt the bed puff up at your sudden vacancy. A confused look sent your way, which showed you looking equally so.

“What time is it?” you muttered, wandering off back to the kitchen. When you arrived, the clock showed it was barely half-past ten, seemingly giving you all the time in the world, but that was a trick. You knew it would take around an hour to get to Damien’s place, then you’d have to actually get ready for the party – shower, dry, dress –, you’d end up having dinner at his, too, because God forbid someone expect to be fed at a party. Then, there was the matter of preparing yourselves with excuses and stories and—

You leaned back into the bedroom doorway and asked, “Do we need rings?”

Damien’s face reddened and the grip on his cane tightened so much that you thought it might snap in half. Chuckling, you smiled and moved forward to sit beside him.

“It’ll be fine,” you whispered, swinging an arm around his shoulder, “if we’re together, we can get through it.”

You heard him audibly sigh, the breath shaky and unstable, but he trusted you. That was all you needed.

After a few seconds, you patted him on the arm and picked up the two outfits you had selected, as well as a pair of shoes you could feasibly dance in without breaking your toes. Or Damien’s if that was to happen.

You grabbed his hand with the free one of your own and guided him to the front door. He was quick to adjust his jacket before creaking the wood open for you. A mock bow, and you were out into the fresh air, Damien closing and locking it behind you.

“By the way,” you asked casually as your shoes clicked against the stone path, “why were you so… disheveled?”

“I slept in my car.”

“Of course, you did.”

The manor was a sight to behold and, standing at the base of cobble stairs, was nothing less than intimidating. Cold air rose goosebumps on your arms despite the jacket wrapped around you, fog accumulating in front of you every time you exhaled. Multiple unsteady breaths, and you still didn’t feel better off, until your hand was grasped by Damien, who stood beside you. Sounds of wheels rolling over gravel and metal doors opening behind you fell to deaf ears when a reassuring pressure calmed your heartbeat – though, there was a constant thrum not caused by the daunting role ahead of you.

But that was all this was, right? The role of dutiful fiancé to the mayor of Los Angeles, ready to put in a good word or story with the man. You were also the District Attorney, but, somehow, you knew that wouldn’t be the focus of tonight.

Hand in hand, you and Damien strolled in.

Beautiful golden chandeliers dangled overheard in the foyer, spreading a unique glow to every square inch of the floor. Two staircases intertwining at the middle lead to a second floor, while a rug that pooled where you now stood trailed up the centre towards the dining room. Everything was polished to perfection, looking as though nobody had lived here for quite some time, but that was impossible to imagine with how many people flooded the rooms. Doctors, generals, even some lawyers you remembered seeing in court decorated the edges – each one was its own piece of silver-plated furniture.

You swallowed and held Damien’s hand a little tighter.

“Oh, my good mayor!” a voice unknown to you called from the top of the staircase.

Now, you had never met Mrs. Harrows but, by what Damien told you, this was either her or a very good copycat. Salt and pepper hair always tied up with a satin ribbon, some long dress she was sure to trip in, and mountains upon mountains of jewelry draped across her skin – her voice was even the same as he had described, high pitched but not squawking. More like a mouse that went through puberty.

The lady rocketed down the stairs, fast despite her age, and landed perfectly in front of Damien. A small smile cracked over his mouth, and he let out an awkward chuckle.

“Mrs. Harrows, always a pleasure to see you,” he spoke cautiously, every word running through millions of checks and balances to get it right.

You suddenly dreaded what you would have to deal with for the next four hours.

Brining her hand towards Damien to occupy him, she turned her sight, instead, to you. “Hmm, and this is your lovely fiancé, is it?” she asked, looking you up and down. It was, strangely, threatening for a 5’1” old woman.

Your cheeks were already hurting from smiling so much, but you continued to do so to placate her. The grin threatened to fall when you were reduced to only Damien’s partner, though you held strong as you replied, “You are correct, Mrs. Harrows, and thank you for inviting us.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, dear. I’ve always told our mayor that he needs a strong partner to help him in his life.”

Awkwardly, Damien chuckled at his side. If his bowtie wasn’t strung so tight, you could’ve sworn you’d see smoke billowing out like a busted machine. “Yes, well…”

Mrs. Harrows smiled at him kindly, and then turned to you, asking “Now, when did you meet?”

“We’ve known each other since we were children,” you responded. These kinds of questions were the easy part, the part that was already real and didn’t need any sudden improvisations.

“Young love!” the lady gasped, “When did you get engaged then?”

In your mind, you were noting down everything that could come up again, the loose info that might land you in hot water if you didn’t keep it all straight. It was a tactic you used in court, but you supposed it wouldn’t hurt to exercise it here, as well. You started, “Actually, just a month ago. We went out to the town we grew up in, saw the places we made our best memories at, and then Damien proposed to me at the restaurant we used to sneak out to.”

A mischievous gleam appeared in Mrs. Harrows’ eyes, and Damien’s nervous gulp was nearly audible. “Sneak out, eh?” she whispered, in the way old grandmother’s do when anybody paying a sliver of attention could still hear them.

You elaborated, “Every Friday afternoon, we’d get out of our houses and go to this family-owned place a couple of blocks away. They knew us and Damien tutored their youngest kid, so we got free ice-creams or milkshakes. Chocolate and mint, huh, Dame?”

The man looked completely lost in the conversation. The focus in his expression only returned when he responded, “Uh, yeah.” And then, he went back to staring into the distance. He was surprised, and worried, about your uncanny ability to make things up out of thin air. It was something good for a lawyer, sure, but it had him blinking away the shock many times in your conversation. Shoving the end of his cane into the tile, he tried to take his mind off it.

“But we never told our parents, so we’d always have to climb in through trees or awful sounding back doors when we went back,” you finished your story with an eyeroll.

Mrs. Harrows giggled, “I won’t tell a soul- oh, but I must ask, when did you know it was right?”

That question. It appeared to stump you, and Damien took hold of your hand to assure you that it was okay. If you wanted, he would take the reins and give his own skills a try. However, you knew that was a fool’s game, so you sucked in a breath and answered, “Hmm, it was just after a dinner party, I think, when Damien practically took my door off its hinges to get into my apartment. He was all flustered and tired, and I had just finished making some coffee, so I was finished and sitting on the couch for the night. He didn’t really say anything when he came in, but he came in and laid down, looking out of it. We didn’t talk, we didn’t do anything, we just sat together until it got to around midnight and we talked. I think… that was when I realized he was it for me.”

Damien’s grip on your hand tightened, his back straightening and his eyes widening as he remembered just that very occasion. It could have just been you drawing inspiration, but the memory was too similar – down to, regrettably, the door and midnight you mentioned – to one that happened exactly two months ago.

“That’s precious, dear,” Mrs. Harrows cooed, and she shot a glance over her shoulder to where her daughter was chatting with a group of her friends. “I hope my Penelope finds someone like that.”

You smiled. “I’m sure she will, Mrs. Harrows.”

“But tell me, what do you do during the day? I’ve heard all about the mayor’s duties, what do you do?”

Finally, you were able to talk about something familiar to you! Your job, something you treasured, was vastly easier to talk about. “Ah, well, I’m the District Attorney for Los Angeles, but I’ve been in touch with the other states for work, too.”

Her once squinted eyes and pursed lips immediately disappeared with recognition. “Oh, I’ve read about you in the paper!” Without another word, your arm was wrapped by her own and you were gone from Damien’s side before you could think to protest.

The man watched as you disappeared into the sea of strangers, a hesitant wave ducking between two gentlemen the last that he saw of you. Not even a full half-hour in and he had lost you. His first thought was to chase after you, and his foot lifted from the tile just a centimeter until he realized that the both of you would be fine on your own, that you would be fine on your own. So, he relaxed his shoulders and focused on finding someone to talk to. It didn’t take much searching for him to locate a group of friends – or, rather, people he had shared a conversation with before.

In fact, Mr. Ockley was holding court over four men surrounding him, telling some story about the political crisis in Germany. Damien jumped in with his own opinion of the Weimar Republic, grimaced when half of those gentlemen turned out to be against the democracy and tried to play it off with a light laugh and subject change.

The next hour continued much like that, with the mayor jumping from group to group and attempting to play nice. His battery was wearing thin though, only made worse when the most that he saw of you was the shade of your jacket in the midst of reds and blues, or the occasional smile you sent him when you noticed each other at the same time. He coped by assuring himself that he just had to wait it out until the bell rang, which reminded him too much of your days in college for his liking, and then he’d see you at the dance. Being supposedly engaged, you’d go through the motions together. You were a team. He didn’t have to worry.

So, despite his constant affirmations and whispers of comfort to himself, why was he? Why did he continue to worry so much? It was like a curse set wild upon him by a damned witch from his past – it shook him to his core and infested his bones. And, the worst thing, he knew exactly why but couldn’t voice it. Just once he wanted to come right out and say something. Tell you his feelings and let whatever came of it be, he didn’t want to think about it. But something always stopped him. Whether it wasn’t the right time, or someone interrupted, or the words simply got caught in his throat before he could tell you.

That he loved you.

“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes!”

Even in his imagination, another person had to come and ruin the moment – but he couldn’t say he didn’t expect it, after all, considering who that person was.

Damien swiveled on his heel, cane grounding him like a third leg as he came face to face with Mark, one of his oldest friends, and, behind him, his twin sister. Celine didn’t look thrilled to be there, but he couldn’t blame her; he didn’t feel lie being there anymore either, now that disappointment and sorrow filled his heart.

“I could’ve sworn I saw our dear little District Attorney somewhere in here, so I told Celine that you’d be here, too,” Mark stated when he was within steps of the mayor.

That seemed to pique the lady’s interest because she was quick to squint her eyes at Damien and ask, “You’re not on a date, are you?”

“Ah, well, you see—”

“I knew they’d get together eventually; I should’ve made a bet,” Mark interrupted, as he was want to do.

Damien tried to explain, “What happened was—”

This time, Celine was the one to cut him off, saying, “No, I definitely would’ve said he’d bite the bullet around now.”

“No, you misunderstand—”

“We don’t know how long they’ve been together for, maybe it was a long time ago.”

“But that ring, Mark, it’s clean.”

“Damien is a careful man – he wouldn’t let something so special get dirty.”

“So, it could go either way—”

“Excuse me!”

The two, as well as some of the people close enough to eaves-drop, stopped short of another argument. Damien felt like a child in the midst of their parents’ divorce, and, somehow, the topic of his supposed relationship had devolved into their failing marriage. Not that he would say it out loud, or in public, at the very least. He paled to think what they would be like when you two really got married. If. If he really got married.

Damien coughed to clear the air for a second before explaining in a low tone, “I accidentally told someone that we were engaged to stop them pursuing me, that is all. We are not… we’re not really engaged.”

There was a moment of silence for the three, the rest of the party continuing to chat amongst themselves, but, for them, it was quiet while they processed the information. Mark was the first to speak, as always, but Celine did look somewhat disappointed before she looked away.

“Well, that’s certainly more boring.” And that was that for him. The actor wandered away into the crowd, leaving Celine behind with Damien.

Sighing, she whispered, “You really should tell them.”

Damien’s heart plummeted for fear that his emotions were that obvious. “Tell them what?” He feigned ignorance.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Damien, don’t play dumb with me.”

“I’m not playing dumb, I…” His eyes lowered when he realized he wasn’t going to get past the woman he shared a womb with for nine months. Whatever went on in their lives was no secret to the other, like Celine’s marriage or whatever Damien had going on with one of their oldest friends. Slowly, he conceded, “I only wonder when is the right time.”

“How so?”

“Well, we barely spend any free time together, and any we do have is often after a large social event that we both would need to unwind from. I don’t want to add to their already-heavy workload, and I fear that my feeling may be unreciprocated.”

Celine was still, thinking through a plan, it seemed, which gave Damien more fear than running for office had. He fumbled with his cane, wringing his hands around it to find some kind of comfort without you there to help. It wasn’t until she spotted something in the distance that she grabbed her brother’s arm and tugged him out of the room. Rushing through waves of strangers and acquaintances, he could barely see where they were going. Eventually, however, after side-stepping a considerable number of shoes and elbows, they came to a stop right where the night had begun.

People gossiping against the walls – shiny decorations spread to show the Harrows’ wealth – golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling – and, at the head of it all, the pair of staircases that led to, now, two people. Mrs. Harrows and you.

And, by the will of God, you looked like an angel.

The glow of gold that praised you, the sparkle in your eyes even from this distance, the impeccable confidence you held in the cross of your hands and bend of your back over the wooden banister. You looked out over this ocean, parted it with your vision like the red sea for Israel, and saw him. Because, of course, you saw him first. You always had. He didn’t know whether he wanted to run from this manor or run towards you, dip you backwards into a gentle kiss that could speak a thousand more words than he ever could hope to in your presence.

Celine paused just below the landing, from where you waved with a grin before indulging Mrs. Harrows in more idle chatter. Damien’s shoes felt rooted to the floor when your eyes met, and he was only able to breathe again as you shifted them away.

“Tell me, right here, right now – that you think they’d consider a relationship with you ‘work’.”

Try as he might, Damien couldn’t, but the weight on his heart was none the lighter. There was still the glaring question of whether you thought of him like that, after all.

“And don’t think for a second they don’t think of you like that.”

God damn it.

“I don’t know if you’re deaf or blind or both, but you should have noticed by now how they act towards you.”

Damien glanced, genuinely confused, towards his sister, to which she sent back a blunt look.

“First of all,” Celine began, “there hasn’t been a day gone by that they haven’t spoken about you like you’re the end-all-be-all of the entire world. Really, it’s getting on my nerves, and you don’t even notice it! Every time I’ll go to their office, they’ll ask how you’ve been, if you need any help, and then there’s those looks they’ll send you when you’re obviously not looking. They put you on a damn pedestal.”

Damien was sure that she was still talking, but he wasn’t listening. He was too caught up in the idea that Celine might actually be telling the truth – that you really did feel the same way and there was a chance this could all go well. In fact, it could be the best thing that could’ve happened that night, because Damien hadn’t told you everything that he thought would be the best. He had kept hidden the part where you admit your feelings to each other and go for a walk around the gardens. You both knew what that meant.

But, although it was the best outcome, he was terrified to initiate it, so he pledged to himself that when the bell chimed to begin the dance, he would take your hand and slip outside for some time in the fresh air. Lord knows he can’t dance with his leg.

That was the plan that would be put into action mere seconds later, when a handbell was rung from the main hall. Damien immediately regretted thinking this but was swept away with the crowd before he could leave for good. You were slightly better off, and, although you lost sight of your friend, it was obvious where he was headed towards. Accompanying Mrs. Harrows, you moved toward the dance hall.

It was a great place, stained glass windows that detailed wars and marriages lining each wall to the outside. Rows of tables sat flushed against those walls, which held bowls of fruit and pastries too beautiful to be eaten. It felt disgraceful, sinful, even, to be in there with such glorious views, but nobody had much choice in the matter. People would match up soon enough, Mrs. Harrows looking over her guests and making sure their needs were met. The two of your parted when she left to ask after a bachelor for her daughter – this wasn’t an assumption, she told you this as she left your side. After wishing her good luck, you went to find your own man, whose tailcoat you saw between a group of people.

It was tough to make your way through, but you managed it, if only to see the way Damien’s eyes lit up when he caught sight of you. He fought against the tide to fall in step beside you, and he took your arm in a classic gentlemanly fashion. You ended your little journey by one of the walls, both happy to be together again after the whole night spent apart. Still, it was quiet between you two, flanked by the sound of dress-shoes tapping against the floor and the swishing of dress fabrics.

“So, you spoke to Mrs. Harrows,” Damien started plainly. Inwardly, he berated himself for going back on his plan, but you were none the wiser as you leaned against the brick.

You nodded and replied, “Yeah, she talked by ear off about her late-husband and kids. I’m surprised I haven’t gone deaf yet.”

Damien laughed, the sound reverberating in his chest and flowing like a river into the air. Such a pleasant sound had you chuckling alongside him. “That sounds like Mrs. Harrows, though I’ve never heard her mention a husband.”

“I think she murdered him.”

“Like I said.”

The laughter trailed off into the crowds, which left you watching the dancing couples with faint interest and Damien starting to sweat. Was now a good time to ask to leave? Or would you think he was getting bored and wanted to leave the manor entirely? Good Lord, he hated this, why couldn’t he just invite you out for a normal date, like a normal guy with a normal love. No, he had to be dramatic and start out a possible relationship with lying to the masses about already being engaged, because he was dramatic, and a liar, and, worst of all, a coward—

“Do you want to take a walk?”

But you weren’t. Your words infested his brain and took control of his like some parasite. It made him malleable and suggestable while you waited for an answer. When you hadn’t received one in five whole seconds – which, really, wasn’t as long as it felt with bated breath and a rushing heartbeat – you shrugged it off and offered, “Or, we can stay here and watch people dance. Your choice.”

“I’d like to leave.” That was not how he wanted it to come out, but the words had left before Damien became aware of what he was doing.

You were startled by his abruptness, leaving you to mutter barely loud enough, “Oh, uh, okay. It’s not eleven yet, but I’m sure we could get a car.” You were disappointed, but you were here for him, so you stood up straight and began the way out of the hall.

Damien was quick to grab your hand, holding it like his life depended on it. You retraced your steps and sent him a confused look, to which he cleared his throat and spoke, “I meant, yes. Yes, I would like to take a walk.”

And again, you smiled! Completely disregarding his mistake and pretending like it had never happened in the first place. He was surprised your cheeks weren’t hurting with how much you were stretching them, but you continued to do so – shoot everybody who waved at you or called your name a grin – until the two of you were safely out of the back doors.

The air was crisp and fresh, you noticed as soon as your foot crossed the threshold. The garden was as beautiful as the dance hall, more so, even, because every inch was covered with greenery or natural effects. The gravel underneath your shoes was intertwined with stray leaves and chestnuts from the trees above, and the paths were lined with bushes of a variety of flowers. It almost looked artificial, with how perfectly placed the roses were in mossy shrubs. They winded towards a silver fountain in the centre, but that was awhile away with how sprawling the garden was.

You seemed to be the only couple out there, and you liked it better that way. Damien did too, because it meant that he could forget social norms and the fake engagement and worry only on what was right in front of him. You, and the cacophony of fluttering butterflies you let loose in his stomach.

You tugged your friend by the hand and started to wander along, listening to the faint cheer of the band and the crunch of gravel.

Content to stay quiet, you inspected the surroundings, not noticing Damien’s moving mouth. No words were coming out yet, his nerves strangling any attempt to make a sentence, until he eventually whispered, “I ran into Celine and Mark.”

You hummed. “How’re they holding up?”

“Well, Mark left when I told him we weren’t really engaged, but Celine… she stuck around.” He wasn’t about to tell you what happened with her, but it was a topic of conversation he had chosen, so he had to reap the reward. Hands twisting around his cane, he spoke, “I guess, we talked about love.”

“Did she tell you about Will?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You grimaced, hoping he wouldn’t prod further into what you knew about the affair, and he didn’t, luckily. Instead, he continued, “It made me think about what I really want, and how I’d like to go about, well, getting it.”

There, you stopped at the edge of the water fountain. The faint trickle of water soothed you when you looked back to Damien. In the dark, it was hard to see, but his cheeks were painted red, and his breathing was catching up to him.

“You’ve already got the whole of L.A at your fingertips, what could you ever want?” you asked, both teasing and genuinely interested.

He was struggling for the words, the confusion getting near painful now that he was seconds away from blurting it out. “You see, I know what I want, I just don’t know how to ask.”

You stood still for a moment and let the scenarios rush through your head. If you were right, and it was likely, then you knew exactly what he meant. You swallowed, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Of course.”

“Then, I think I can help you.”

He watched with eager eyes as you turned to him, your entire body matched with his. “You just have to look them straight in the eye and do it. Don’t think, don’t worry, just do it, or say it.”

“You say that as if it’s easy.”

“It’s not. I know, because, if it were, I would’ve done it months ago.”

There was a determination in his eyes that was revealed in the next few seconds, as if he had received blinding confirmation. A surefire confidence you had never seen before. You would’ve asked what that was, but you found yourself unable to speak for the moment; lips bound by Damien’s, you were sure those fireworks and flames were real. Every sense was enraptured – his woody cologne, your hands lightly brushing his lapels, bursting notes deafened by those brick walls, your mouths moving in unison. You couldn’t help the smile that broke the kiss momentarily, but your date was back again with a smile of his own. It was warm and sweet, contrasting the fresh air around you and it had you leaning in so far you were worried you would topple over

Still, when you formally separated, the glint in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

“Do you want to do this again sometime?”

You laughed that glorious, genuine laugh, and laid another, this time shorter but just as sweet, kiss on his parted lips.

“Sure.”

#theknightmarket #wkm #wkm Damien #who killed markiplier #markiplier #1920s #fanfiction #long #longreads #8000 words #fake dating #district attorney #wkm x reader #x reader #Damien x reader #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader

115 notes · View notes

redskull199987 · 2 years

Text

Mr. I can't shoot

The Colonel x male!reader

Word count:0.5k

Warnings:guns, cursing, shooting animals. I have no idea how rifles work, if u know, pls tell me

Summary: You and the Colonel try to shoot some birds, things don't go exactly as planned...

Masterlist

"It's bloody useless", I mumbled, lowering the rifle, that the Colonel had handed me,"I will never shoot somesthing, Colonel"

I sat back down and handed him his weapon. He took it gently and smiled at me:"You just need practice"

"No, it's useless", I insisted. We had been sitting in the Gardens of the manor for hours now, trying to shoot some birds, but it seemed hopeless. Every time we finally saw a bird, I missed it. Every.God.Damn.Time.

I was pulled out of my thoughts, as I felt how the Colonel patted my shoulder:"Come on, lad. We'll find some better place"

He started marching away, before I could say anything. Reluctantly, I followed him.

After a few minutes of just helplessly wandering around, The Colonel stopped. Being as clumsy, as I was, I promptly walked into him and stumbled to the ground. The Colonel turned around and looked at me for a second before throwing his head back and laughed heartily.

I felt a blush creeping up my neck, as he held out his hands to help me up. He patted me on the shoulder again and smiled, before handing me the rifle.

"So, now let's practice your aiming", he said. I nodded and raised the rifle. It felt heavy in my hands. The Colonel looked at me, Brows raised.

"My My, Y/N that is not how you hold a rifle. No wonder why you keep missing.", he chuckled.

I blushed at his words and lowered the rifle again:"It's like I said, I'm a hopeless case"

The Colonel laughed again:"You may be miserable, but not helpless. Here, let me show you"

He hesitantly stepped closer to me and adjusted my pose, until I was standing correctly. I saw him grin, as he softly grabbed my arms and pulled them up into the right position.

"And now...", he mumbled and stepped behind me. I felt how his arms came around me and grabbed my hands. Together ,we raised the rifle.

"Let's shoot some birds together", he mumbled. I could feel his breath on my cheek, felt his heartbeat on my back. He was completely calm, ready to shoot. We waited for a few seconds, until we heard the chirping and bickering of a few birds, that came into our view.

"Careful now", the Colonel whispered, as he guided my hands, while aiming. I sucked in a deep breath, scared to fuck it up, but then I felt the Colonel pull the trigger and then...

I heard the squeaking of the birds and saw how one of them crashed to the ground.

"We did it!!!", I yelled and turned aound a huge grin on my face.

"You did it", The Colonel smiled before engulfing me in an enormous hug. I giggled as we jumped around in happiness. I did it. I finally did it. I wasn't a hopeless case.

"Careful!", The Colonel laughed, but it was already to late. Not watching where we were going, the two of us tumbled over a few flowers and fell to the ground. I expected to harshly hit the ground, but the impact never came, but instead I felt how the Colonel's arms wrapped around me and he pulled me against his chest. I landed softly.

I looked up and saw the Colonel smiling at me:"You did good, really good"

I blushed again:"Thanks"

"Now, come on", he mumbled and got up,"Let's go find your trophy"

118 notes · View notes

mangled-nonsense · 2 years

Text

“Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?”

“Perhaps we’ve met a hundred times already and you simply don’t remember it.”

“So much trouble... all for something so small.”

Talk about unimpressive.

Here you were, standing back outside in front of the museum. Mark was probably still inside, if anything. Or not. He had disappeared in the sewers before the weird stuff had started- if that was even the same Mark. There were so many of them, now that you stepped back and looked over everything, really looked at it all.

The Mark that was the center of everything, of all of it, that was someone else. Someone else you could truly feel fond of, who you could... well, loosely rely on. Or who you relied on too much. It depended which of you had done what. It was a confusing blaze and sometimes you weren’t even sure who you were, or if you were you. Still, that wasn’t the same Mark that you’d infiltrated this museum with, at least you were... half sure. Who would have thought translating everything you knew and experienced from thousands of multiverses would be hell to figure out?

Mark, the Mark that had destroyed everything, even that was a bit hard to divide from the Mark that was the center of everything. Same skin but different snake, in some shades. The Engineer that had wanted the best, wanted to save lives; at the very least you knew for certain that he and the Mark that twisted and stole everything from those you knew and loved, could never share that kind of loyalty. The earnestness to right the wrongs that were made.

It had to be space of all places that he couldn’t reach you. Shockingly, it was space that Dark also had no reach. Less shockingly, Wilford excelled in matters that made no sense, more so when it came to interplanar travel. Or in this case, interplanar interruptions.

For once, this wasn’t another harebrained adventure that Mark dragged you into. For once, you had... choices. Terrifying choices, but it was different this time. This was yours.

It was almost foreign not to have it be Mark’s, Actor Mark’s, game.

So then what was this now? You knew what you had seen, and you knew what you had done. It was bizarre how things connected, how universes clashed, sometimes messily but here, now... Like puzzle pieces.

Out of everything that you had seen and done, you knew one fact that stood no matter what universe or timeline or whatever you were in. And that was that Dark was a hypocrite.

Tossing your bag to the floor, hearing the gravel crunch under your boots as you settled yourself down on the ground outside the museum, you sighed and closed your eyes.

“What the hell does a person like you need a shard of the warp core for?” You spoke aloud, voice impatient and none-too-thrilled to engage in conversation. But that wasn’t stopping you.

No reply. Not like you expected one at first.

Waving a hand nonchalantly in the air and keeping your eyes closed, you continued, “I thought whatever fucked up Entity you have mangled in that mess of a soul you have gave you... supernatural abilities or whatever the hell. So what’s stopping you from jumping dimensions like William? Unless you’ve got limits.” A pause, and you grinned ruefully, “Aw, look at that. Seems like there’s stuff even Darkiplier can’t do.”

“Charming. Are you going to sit on the ground all night? I won’t stop security if they jump on you.”

There he was. Poke his pride enough and the devil will speak up.

Opening your eyes, there stood the man himself, looking down at you with a cold expression, but even you could see the tight working of his jaw, and the stiff roll of his shoulders. He didn’t do that often anymore, only when he was angrily flustered. After all, he had years to accustom to your body, it’s not like it was an awkward fit anymore.

“Just waiting for you to show up and explain yourself.” You finally responded, grunting as you climbed back to your feet. Admittedly, you would have spitefully continued sitting if it weren’t for the uncomfortable gravel.

“Don’t you have a heist to mess up?” Dark responded in a detached manner, apparently determined to not answer your question, though you knew it wasn’t the heist he wanted you to lead him to.

“Eh, I already have in some universe or another.” Shrugging, you waved a hand as you removed the balaclava from your head, bending over to pick up the bag you’d tossed, “Isn’t this what you want anyway? Ruining whatever plot or adventure Mark has?”

Dark didn’t respond, his aura buzzing louder a few notches before he started to turn. Immediately, your hand lunged forward, snatching the hand he had folded behind his back for the duration of your short back-and-forth. The moment you touched him, he whirled around, eyes wide with an unfathomable rage.

But you knew he could never hurt you.

“Let me go.” He snarled, his voice dangerously low.

“Tell me what you want with the warp core shard.” You demanded, gritting your teeth at the loud static and buzz of his aura, “Don’t think I hadn’t noticed. The artifact, in those different timelines or- or universes or WHATEVER, the shard was on it. And you have it in your hand right now. Dark, trust me, nothing good will come from using that thing-”

Whatever you had said had been the trigger to really piss him off, as he snatched his wrist from your grip, his fists curling tighter. Suddenly there were tens, hundreds of him screaming in an agonizing rage and you stumbled back from the sheer terror it struck you with, any indignance you had trembling.

“You think I would use it as STUPIDLY as your idiotic Engineer did?” He spoke, voice cold and sharp, “You think I would use it as STUPIDLY as Mark would? Why do you think he wants it?”

“It’s... It’s some- some get-rich-quick scheme, I-I mean it’s still...” You were flustered now, trying to reason and calm Dark while at the same time wondering that very question. “It’s still an artifact, we could... sell it or trade it or-”

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re not an idiot. I could take this reasoning from anyone, Y/N, but not you.” For a moment, his anger flickered, and there was an earnest plea for you to see what he was seeing, “You know it’s more than that.”

You took a shuddering breath, curling and uncurling your fingers. Your fingernails dug into your palm, and if it weren’t for your black robber get-up, you could feel the chill of the night breeze on your neck. You didn’t know what Mark could use the shard for- not specifically. But if it were in his hands...then it was nothing good.

“But then... what about you?” Taking another breath and gathering your resolve, you lifted your chin. “What would you use it for?”

There was a beat of silence. Dark seemed to be glaring holes into you, but either he was still angry or he was just like that, you weren’t too sure. There seemed to be some sort of... internal struggle. For a moment, concern started to trickle like ice down your back as the silence stretched, and hesitantly you reached out but he answered at last. His voice was quiet, strained... empty of its previous anger.

“I could fix everything.”

Ah. In dismay, you dropped your hand, and sighed. So he was definitely a hypocrite.

“Dark...” You spoke quietly, stepping forward and you could see him stiffen the closer you got. Carefully, you took his closed fist in your hand, and he watched you cradle that fist gently. It was hard to really... translate what he was. Damien, Celine, the Entity... whatever he was, you never really know what was going on behind those eyes. Whether whatever promises he made was the mayor and friend you once knew, or the Entity that had swallowed the two in its tar-like consciousness.

Nonetheless, you knew that an idea like that... Damien was smarter than that. And whatever hibernation Celine was in... there was little chance that it was her suggestion. No, this idea was Damien’s and in the same vein it very much wasn’t. Because that was how the Entity worked. Or at least, that’s how you understood how it worked.

“...Dames.” Your voice went gentle, and you looked Dark in the eye. His lips twitched at the familiar, old name. A name to a dead man, he would have said, and yet you knew that was very much not exactly the case. You continued, “You know... You know that this... It’s not something that can be fixed. Not anymore.”

“I’m not like the ones you saw, helplessly retrying to fix their own mistakes.” Dark protested, his voice levelled and calm, as if he really believed in his own ambition. And of course he did.

“But you are.” You pressed, and slowly, your fingers began to pull at the clenched fist, silently doing your best to persuade him to hand over the shard, “You are like them. You’re trying to fix mistakes. Maybe not your own. But others. You’re trying to make things better, just like them. Trying to make all of this right again. Just like my engineer, you are trying to go back and change it all for the better. In fact, if I let you do this...”

His grip was loosening. His resolve was shaking, his assuredness in this idea was waning.

��Then you’ll be no better than him.”

Dark clenched his eyes shut, you could feel the frustration coming off him in waves. But in that moment of contemplation, of weakness, it was all you needed to curl your fingers around the cold shard that had ruined so many lives.

“I could have fixed everything.” Dark spoke through gritted teeth, as if trying to still reason his idea. But you shook your head, hefting your bag over your shoulder with a new heaviness to your body, one that wasn’t there before. With a sad smile, you shrugged helplessly.

“Some things are too broken to fix, Damien. Sometimes the wound is too scarred up to fade. What’s done is done. There is no going back. Not for us.”

Feeling your grip tighten around the shard, you took a shaky breath, before you managed to gesture behind you with your head.

“C’mon. Walk me home. Mark can find his own way back.”

#iswm #In Space With Markiplier #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #ahwm darkiplier #ahwm dark #dark #wkm darkiplier #Darkiplier #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x y/n #drabble #drabbles #I FEEL LIKE DARK IS SUPER OOC HERE SO I MAY REWRITE HIS DIALOGUE AT A LATER DATE BUT I HAD TO GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY BRAIN #WHILE I STILL HAD IT #i need to brush up on my dark portrayal thats my bad y'all

238 notes · View notes

zee-stars · 1 year

Text

Reader and egos as love tropes

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

Rivals:

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

Maybe also Dark but not so much in my brain.

God x worshiper:

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

Has a dark side × loves them anaway:

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

Dumbasses in love:

Wilford x reader%

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

Sunshine x sunshine protecter:

Yancy x reader and probably Dark x reader.

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

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

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

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

Friends to lovers:

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

Second chance:

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

Fake Dating:

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

Flirt x oblivious:

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

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

"I LITERALLY HAVE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR MONTHS"

"Friends do that"

"I SAID I LOVED YOU"

"Friends do that"

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

"Okay maybe friends dont do that..."

Overthinker x never thinks:

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

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

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

Talks x listens:

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

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

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

Long distance:

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

Temporarily one sided:

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

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

Fell first x fell harder:

This but with Damien.

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

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

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

Workaholic x clingy:

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

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

"Is it due tomorrow?"

"No."

"Then we can take a nap first."

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

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

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