#warfstache x reader

[mnt-arts]

happy april fools….. booping time

reblogs (and boops!) appreciated !!

#mnt arts #heist mark enjoyers i am going pspspsps #boop #april fools 2024 #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #heist mark #a heist with markiplier #ahwm #ahwm mark #y/n art #darkiplier x y/n #wilford warfstache x y/n #heist mark x y/n #darkiplier x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #heist mark x reader #markiplier fanart #digital art #fanart

[zee-stars]

Reader and egos as love tropes

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

Rivals:

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

Maybe also Dark but not so much in my brain.

God x worshiper:

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

Has a dark side × loves them anaway:

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

Dumbasses in love:

Wilford x reader%

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

Sunshine x sunshine protecter:

Yancy x reader and probably Dark x reader.

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

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

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

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

Friends to lovers:

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

Second chance:

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

Fake Dating:

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

Flirt x oblivious:

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

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

"I LITERALLY HAVE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR MONTHS"

"Friends do that"

"I SAID I LOVED YOU"

"Friends do that"

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

"Okay maybe friends dont do that..."

Overthinker x never thinks:

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

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

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

Talks x listens:

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

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

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

Long distance:

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

Temporarily one sided:

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

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

Fell first x fell harder:

This but with Damien.

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

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

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

Workaholic x clingy:

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

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

"Is it due tomorrow?"

"No."

"Then we can take a nap first."

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

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

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

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

#markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier ego #markiplier egos #a date with markiplier #markiplier x reader #a heist with markiplier #actor mark #actor mark x reader #engineer mark #head engin mark x reader #head engineer mark #in space with markiplier #space mark x reader #adwm darkiplier #wkm darkiplier #darkiplier x reader #damien x reader #mayor damien #wilford motherloving warfstache #wkm wilford #wilford x reader #i am a simp #i love damien #AHHHHHHHHHHH #i love them all so much

[theknightmarket]

Something something Actor being the King in Yellow and Wilford being Ln’eta and Dark being Nyanlathotep from that Sucker for Love game.

My mind is crumbling.

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #writing #markiplier #one shots #x reader #actor mark #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #sucker for love #that Cthulhu game

[adalwolfgang]

(Inspired by @archiviststar)

(Viewer): I'm having problems with a guy.

Wilford: Like his dead body won't fit in your car problems or "you like him" problems?

(Viewer): The “I like him" problems.

Wilford, shrugs : Too bad, I could have actually helped you with the other types.

(Viewer): …

(Viewer), trying not to crack a smile: You would bury yourself?

Wilford: Yeah I mean- wait-

Wilford:

#wilford warfstache #wilford x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #wilford #markiplier wilford #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #iplier egos x reader #markiplier ego x reader #incorrect quotes

[cheeryraccoon]

Wholesome Ego Headcannons

Hey look! I'm not dead! Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I'm back at school and have been pretty busy. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these headcannons! -------------------------------------------------------

Mark -

• I see this man being very cuddley. At home if he's not working, he'll just cuddle up to you on the couch. Or if you're busy at your desk he'll just slip his arms around you and hug you. When you're out in public he'll usually just be holding your hand.

• He asked for your opinion on what color he should dye his hair every time he did so.

• Loves to bring you snacks if/when you stream.

• His favorite picture of you is of you and Chica laying in the grass on a sunny day (it's his phone's wallpaper).

• When either of you go on long trips he FaceTimes you to talk about both of your days.

Dark -

• You and Wilford are besties and will often try to get Dark to do something fun with you (sometimes it starts to become Wilford third wheeling but he doesn't mind).

• He uses rose petal cologne... I do not take criticism.

• He teases you sometimes just so he can see you flustered.

• He loves when you hang out in his office when he's working to keep him company.

• He will never admit it but he likes watching cheesy romance movies with you.

Wilford -

• If you ever get mad at him he'll leave and come back with food and puppy eyes.

• He'll randomly take your hand and slow dance with you in the living room.

• He loves nuzzling your noses.

• He loves to buy you clothes and when he sees you wear them he gets excited.

• Sometimes when he is reminded of Damien, Celine, and Actor, he has panic attacks. He'll lock himself in his room and curl up in the corner on the floor, sobbing. When this happens you knock a small jingle (to let him know it's you and he can let you in when he's ready) on the door and sit outside to wait. When he lets you in you'll hug him, tell him that everything is okay and that it wasn't his fault, and give him kisses to make him feel better. He doesn't know what he would do if he didn't have you at those times.

Yancy -

• In prison there's not much you can do for dates... but since you're with the man who knows every nook and cranny of the place he figures things out. At night he'll sneak you outside to stargaze and he can scare all the other prisoners out of the cafeteria at meal time and get the chefs to make you a nice dinner, he'll make sure you can be as happy with him as possible.

• If you share a cell he'll cuddle you when you're cold... or just because.

• He brags about you to everyone else, that includes the guards and the warden.

• He loves pet names, his favorite ones for you being 'buttercup' and 'doll'

• If he's ever insecure about his accent, you reassure him that you love it and that it's amazing the way it is. He appreciates you a lot for that.

Illinois -

• After a long day of adventuring, he loves relaxing with you in his arms as he reads a good book.

• When you steal his hat, or he puts it on your head, he takes a second to stare and take it how much he really loves you.

• If he ever finds out you had a crush on Indiana Jones at some point he'll implode... aka he'll get really flustered and probably get you in a bear hug the next time he sees you.

• This man loves plushies and you can't prove me wrong. If you give him a plush he will have it sitting on his bed and sometimes cuddle it when he goes to sleep. (+10 points if you spray it with your perfume)

• He likes to call you 'peach'.

Engineer Mark -

• He's a puppy. If you give him head pats he will do anything and everything to get more. You called him a good boy once as a joke and he wouldn't stop talking about it for a month. (His newest nickname from you is 'puppy')

• He loves hugs and physical affection  and will constantly try to get hugs from you all the time.

• Celci doesn't understand why you want to date him but will admit that you look cute together.

• Whenever you need him to show you how to do something he'll place his hands on top of yours to show you. He doesn't really think about it but, once he sees you blushing a little, he'll blush and get all smiley.

• If you ever get hurt on the ship, even if its just a tiny paper cut, he'll panic and rush you to the medical room to make sure you're okay.

#markiplier #darkiplier #darkiplier x y/n #darkiplier x reader #wilford warfstache #wilford x y/n #wilford x reader #yancy x y/n #yancy x reader #yancy markiplier #illinois x reader #illinois x y/n #illinois markiplier #engineer mark x captain #engineer mark x reader #engineer mark #iswm mark #ahwm #markiplier x reader #markiplier egos

[mildly-intrusivethoughts]

Trying to Get You to Bed

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

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

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

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

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

[goosedoes-fics]

Quiet

Wilford Warfstache x nonverbal!Reader

Content warnings: Gender neutral reader, use of y/n, boss and employee relationship, what the fuck is a slow burn

Notes: this is another re-upload. errrmmmm wilford the silly

~~~~

"[Y/n]!"

A loud voice jolted you out of your imagination. It was a very slow day, the kind that you'd spend curled up in a blanket by the fireplace, but of course you had to spend it at work. Typical.

You turned expectantly to your jovial sounding co-worker. What you had assumed was correct, as usual. The boss himself, Mr. Warfstache.

To call Wilford a "friend" would be an odd choice of words. You preferred to think of your relationship as strictly professional, but Mr. Warfstache seemed to consider you as a close pal.

Wilford plopped himself unceremoniously next to your seat at the sound booth. A wide grin was present on his face, as usual.

"So! The day's almost over, yeah? You ready to head home?"

You shrugged slightly, hoping he would leave you alone. It's not that you disliked him exactly, but more that he didn't really understand your aversion to conversating. As usual, he paid no mind to your wordless response.

"Me and a few a' the guys are headed over to a fancy li'l resteraunt in the area. And y'know of course I had t' see if you wanted to come along!" The eccentric man grinned wider, maintaining eery eye contact with you.

Naturally, you didn't respond verbally. Honestly, you didn't respond at all. You gave Wilford a strange look, turning your head towards the soundboard and flicking off the power switch for the night.

Wilford leaned forward, trying to catch your eye again. "But, hey, if you don't want a crowd, we can just go by ourselves! The two of us!" he piped up hopefully, his odd voice taking on an even odder tone.

That... actually didn't sound too bad to you. You turned to face him once more, hesitating for a moment before giving him a small nod. His face immediately lit up.

Wilford jumped out of his chair, running a hand through his hair to adjust it. "Well! Let's go now, then!"

With a small sigh, you lifted yourself from the chair, stretching a bit before gathering your belongings and heading for the studio door. Wilford trailed close behind you, locking the door as you exited the building.

The walk was about how you expected it. Wilford chattered away, nearly talking your ear off, but thankfully stayed away from anything that required you to speak. The sun was starting to go down now, painting the sky with a lovely gradient from blue to pink. You took a moment to admire the beauty of the scenery.

It was a little while before you began to realize the two of you had been walking for quite some time. Wilford had piped down a bit, and was glancing around in confusion as he scanned the streets.

"...coulda sworn the damn thing was this way," he muttered, seemingly embarrassed. "Yeah there was... that big ol' sign? And further down was the restaurant, right?"

The odd man seemed quite nervous now. Bits of sunlight filtered through the buildings on the horizon, but the streets were dimly lit as the lamps littering the sidewalks had yet to turn on.

After a moment, Wilford sighed heavily, turning swiftly on his heels. "I don't want us to get lost. Let's just head back." He hung his head sadly. Something told you he had been looking forward to this for a while.

You reassuringly pat his shoulder, making Wilford jump slightly, as if he had forgotten you were there. He looked back at you, giving you a small smile. "Don't you worry, I know where the studio is from here."

The walk back was much quieter than before. Your boss was so uncharacteristically quiet that it startled you half to death when he protectively wrapped an arm around your waist. You didn't protest. The closeness was quite comforting.

Eventually, the two of you managed to return to the studio. It was dark out now, and Wilford dejectedly retracted his arm as he turned to look at you.

"I'm sorry this turned out so boring, [Y/n]," he commented sadly.

You patted his arm again, this time letting the touch linger a bit more than you realized. You swiftly brought your arm back to your side, gazing at the sidewalk with embarrassment.

When you looked back up, Wilford was a bit closer. You felt your face heat up immediately as he drew you into a strong hug. After a moment of shock, you put your arms around him and hugged back.

Wilford pulled away with a deep breath. "Ta be honest, I was really looking forward to spendin' time with you. I didn't mean to get all lost like that."

You blinked in confusion. Wilford was talkative, sure, but he never tried to "spend time" with you outside of work.

"Actually, I'm really sorry for a lot a' things. I know I talk a lot an', I mean, you don't." His words began speeding up as he started to ramble. "You always seem so... uncomfy when I talk to ya. Did it feel like I was pushin' the whole outin' on ya? Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't think about that, of course it must've felt like that. I'm your boss and you're always so quiet. I wish you had told me, not that this is your fault, but I mean-"

You put a finger over Wilford's lips to stop his rambling, and he cut off quickly. He stared at you for a moment, and as you realized what you had done, you quickly pulled away. You gazed at him and shook your head to indicate his worries were incorrect.

You both stared at each other for a moment. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment once again.

Wilford gently placed a hand on your waist. "Is it okay if I kiss you?" he asked cautiously.

Your face was now evidently reddened. After a moment of processing his words, you nodded slowly.

Wilford brought his face closer to yours, eyes narrowing slightly as he slowly planted his lips on yours. For how rough his hands were, his lips were comfortably soft. The way he kissed you made it seem as if he'd been waiting to for quite some time.

Slowly, he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours in a caring gesture.

The warmth of the embrace lasted some time before you stepped back, earning a sad whine from Wilford. You smiled slightly.

"It's dark out now. Can I walk you home?" he asked hopefully.

You nodded, grasping his hand firmly as you began leading the way.

The quiet of the night gave you some time to reflect. You realized how easy it was to communicate with Wilford, as you didn't have to say a single word. That was very comforting to you.

Maybe one day you'd even be confident enough to speak in front of him. You smiled at the thought.

Maybe the talkative man wasn't so bad after all.

#wilford warfstache #wilford #wilford markiplier #wilford warfstache markiplier #wilford x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #markiplier ego #markiplier egos #markiplier ego x reader #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier

[creat0r-cat]

Iplier Egos Head Cannon - What Song in "Encanto" Did They Get Emotional During?

Darkiplier

Surface Pressure

Deep down he really does care about his “brothers”

He thinks he needs to keep up the tough guy act to make them think he isn’t afraid

He is

He REALLY is

He’s worried about the space/time continuum, keeping order, and making sure the ipliers’ existence stays a secret

He tries not to let the others see the tears that involuntarily start to fall as Louisa sings about her struggles as the strongest sister

Wilford

He probably heard all of the songs before watching the movie

He wouldn’t really cry for any of them in particular (feeling that he doesn’t necessarily relate to any of them)

However

He would look at certain egos to watch their reactions during different songs

He would notice the small things that happen and slowly learn more about his “brothers” based on the musical numbers and their lyrics

After the movie, he’d probably go and visit the egos that had the worst reactions (who got the most emotional or those who would straight up leave the room)

He did get a little bothered listening to “Dos Oruguitas” though

He didn’t get emotional per say

But watching Pedro die with the love song in the background kinda reminded him of when he lost Celine

Fortunately, he opted not to dwell on it too much

Actor

Waiting On A Miracle

This boy is INSECURE because of his breakup with Celine

Is he good enough?

Has he done enough?

Is he really worthy of anything?

He wants to be better

He wants his life to be better

But everything seems to slip through his fingers, coming back to resent him later on

He just wants someone to open their eyes and see that he’s worth their time, even if that person is Dark

Mirabel dancing on screen, singing about how she wished to be noticed as part of the family, made Actor tear up, wiping them away before someone could see them

Eventually, it got to be too much (especially seeing how Mirabel was pushed away by her family after trying to help them) and he left the room, using the excuse of getting more snacks

As soon as he entered the kitchen, he had a silent breakdown

Googleplier

Surface Pressure

I can’t really hear Louisa sing “I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service” without thinking about Google and his first objective

Yes, his secondary objective is relatively important, but the first one is.. Well it’s his PRIMARY objective

If he can’t do anything other than hurt people, then what is the point of him being there?

His optics widen and his mechanical heart speeds up

“How do you feel?” survey pops up and he clicks on one

“I’m in this picture and I don’t like it”

Bingiplier

What Else Can I Do?

He’s imperfect

That’s all I really need to say, but I’ll continue

He’s always compared to Google and he knows deep down that he’s worth more than his search bar abilities

He doesn’t want to be perfect like Google

He just wants to be himself, which is hard when everyone is always doting on him for every mistake he makes

Isabella creating spiky plants and beautiful flowers in front of him makes his optics widen and he slowly smiles, feeling an odd mixture of happiness and sadness as he watches her accept her imperfections in spite of her family’s expectations

Dr. Iplier

He doesn’t really get emotional during the songs

However

When it’s revealed that Bruno has been shunned by his family because of his gift, he smiled sadly

“How unfortunate,” he thought, “for someone to be abandoned because of something uncontrollable and never be spoken of again for fear of taboo”

He’s seen patients in the hospital who never have anyone visit them

He always feels sad when he finds out that someone has been abandoned

He secretly makes trips to animal shelters for that reason, to visit the abandoned animals and give them some love

He gets happy again when Bruno is reunited with his loved ones who welcome him back with open arms

Yandereplier 

Dos Oruguitas

He wouldn’t relate to any of the English songs enough to have a real reaction

He gets emotional during certain parts of the movie because he recognizes a lot of what’s going on in the Madrigal family (Toxic family roles and stuff like that)

He feels bad for the characters (especially Mirabel and Bruno)

But when “Dos Oruguitas” starts playing and we find out the heartbreaking truth behind Abuelo Pedro’s death

WHOOOO BOY the tears start FLOWING

He hates to imagine the pain Abuela went through, losing the love of her life

Yandere, being a very romantic man, can’t stand the thought of his own senpai leaving him

Like, she’s everything to him!

He’d become very protective of her after watching this movie, afraid of anyone taking her away from him

He’s fine with the movie though, loves the music for the most part

Yancy

Friggin ALL OF THE SONGS

He loves music and finds each of them so amazing

He also kinda relates to each of the English sung songs in their own way (except “We Don’t Talk About Bruno”)

WOAM: The want to be extraordinary and help others

SP: The need to be the tough one and look out for his fellow prisoners and weaker “brothers”

WECAD: The want to live life how he wants without being the picture perfect civilian that the world wants him to be

He thinks very highly of this movie and loves it to bits

He does eventually become frustrated with how often “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” gets sung by people both online and in real life

Like, he gets that it’s a catchy song, but still, give it a break

Illinois

Waiting On A Miracle

Yes, Illinois is a special adventurous and flirtatious boy 

But not everything is really as it seems with him

His whole “Everyone falls in love with me” act is a facade

He’s trying to convince himself that he’s loved / cared about by someone

He took up adventuring to be different

To be a conversation starter

To be interesting so that somebody

ANYBODY

Would look his way and want to be around him 

After all..

He wasn’t special or cool enough growing up to have many / any friends

He sees way too much of himself in Mirabel and ends up leaving the group for a few minutes to cry in the bathroom

Engineer Mark

Waiting On A Miracle

What else needs to be said?

If given pictures of Engineer and Mirabel everyone would say they were the same image

Insecure

Feels unwanted

Wants to be impressive and help those around him with his talents and ideas

Hides behind a false persona of happiness

THEY

ARE

THE

SAME

PERSON

He’s close to leaving the room but stays put, activating his space helmet which is also soundproof so no one can see / hear him start to cry

Poor man can’t hear “Waiting On A Miracle” without having a breakdown

#iplier egos #markiplier egos #headcannons #encanto #head engineer mark x reader #googleplier #dr iplier #yanderiplier #darkiplier #wilford motherloving warfstache #markiplier wilford #illinois jones #movie night #yancy #ahwm yancy #bingiplier #Actor Mark #encanto headcanons #encanto disney

[effloradox]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I missed you at breakfast."

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

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

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

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

"Wil?"

"I'm sorry dear."

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

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

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

[softladyhours]

how egos respond to u going “pspspspsps” at them

dark: i mean it gets his attention but he will be grumpy about it afterwards

damien: the boy is so clueless as soon as he hears it he is looking around all concerned then he sees u and just “darling!!🥰💕”

actor: is GREATLY offended that u would do this to him. absolutely heartbroken. he still responds to it tho

yancy: he does it BACK AT YOU like a CHALLENGE

illinois: IMMEDIATELY responds and walks over to u, what a good boy

wilford: will put out his gun, probably

I’m LOSING my MIND over this oml

Dark would give you a death glare but I think if you pet him affectionately he would begrudgingly accept his new role of house cat

DAMIEN!!!! Y/N and Celine would have a running bet to see how many times Y/N can get his attention that way without him noticing anything wrong. Let’s just say Celine owes Y/N a LOT of money

Actor would be such a pissy bitch baby about it but I think as long as you gave him some good love and affection he’d forget about it quickly lol

YANCY???????? The mental image of Yancy and Y/N aggressively spspspspss ing at each other has me ROLLINGGG

I think illi would lowkey like it just bc he’d feel special being the only one you pspspspsp at sjhfjejsj

yea Wilford’s a simple man. You spspspsp and he pulls out his gun idek skdjjdjs

#I want to spspsps at dark SO BAD #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #darkiplier x reader #yancy x reader #illinois x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #actor x reader #thanks for the ask! #softie speaks #RAT<3

[simpofmanymen]

MARKIPLIER EGO HC

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

IDK the artists so if you do plz tell <3

thank you @that-very-tired-writer0

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

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

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

[theknightmarket]

“Oh, please, save me.”

In which Dark finds his partner. Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - AO3 TW: cursing, possibly abusive relationship, violence, destruction of property Pages: 23 – Words: 9,500

[Requests: OPEN]

Sometimes, when you sat in the corner of a coffee shop, with the smell of brewed hot drinks and sweet pastries, watching average people going about their extraordinary lives, you felt like it was exactly where you were meant to be. The sun was shining through the windows, forcing a grin onto your face that wouldn’t be out of place on Christmas morning. It really was amazing, and you always wondered how it was that you got here. You hadn’t completed some amazing feat of bravery or kindness – at least, not that you were aware – nor did you go through an overly traumatic experience. Nothing that had happened before you entered the café warranted a life like this. And yet, there you sat, cradling a porcelain mug that the baristas reserved just for you, not a care in the world. 

You caressed the pattern on the surface lightly. A yellow canary. The outline was strong, but the features had faded with age. You took a sip.

Technically, you were supposed to be running an errand for a friend, but he could stand to be without his awkwardly complicated mocha drink order for a little while longer. He was going to be a drama queen about it, though it wasn’t as though he had ever taken a break from it. 

You laughed to yourself into your mug. Knowing him, he’d gasp in offence and go on some rant about how he was allowed to be dramatic. He was an actor, after all, and actors had special privileges. You were only getting his coffee because he had his three actual assistants touching up his costume and makeup and charging him for the gas was out of the question. The privilege in question was that he had an extra hand without having to pay you – but the drawback was that you had taken your sweet time. You took one last sip of the coffee, cast one last look over the café, and left one last dollar in the tip jar. It was his fault for giving you fifty in cash without asking for change. 

The baristas all waved as you pushed open the door, the jingle of the bell coaxing you out gently. It was just as warm outside as inside, so you were happy to take a stroll down the street at a leisurely pace. The studio was a block or two away, and it was such a nice day. It’d be a shame to waste it all in a stuffy room with blocky cameras and fluorescent lights, how your friend was sure to try and spend it. He took his work too seriously, sometimes, so it was your self-appointed duty to get him out and about. 

When you pushed through the doors of the studio, after bypassing the security guard who only needed to give you a solemn nod to let you pass, it was easy to find his dressing room. The projected voice overwhelming the others could only be prescribed to him, and you knew this place like the back of your hand, even though you’d only been here for two weeks at most. The only thing that made it more obvious where he was situated was the shiny, red and gold star on the door, which you pushed open with the brightest smile you could muster. 

The scene that greeted you was exactly as you expected; a wary assistant holding his costume’s jacket and shirt, another standing off to the side with a comb and hairspray, a third glancing in your direction as if they wanted to make a run for it, and, at the epicenter of it all, your best friend. 

“Lay off them, Mark, they’re just trying to do their jobs.”

Two of the assistants looked at you like you were an angel descended from heaven, but the former was too afraid to take their eyes off Mark. You might’ve taken offence to that, but, given that he was staring straight back at them, it was granted. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “and they’re failing miserably at them.” 

A deep breath in and then a deep breath out, before he physically shifted so that his body was pointed towards you, able to inspect you and the gift you came bearing. A second passed by, but he deemed it acceptable, apparently, because he waved off the assistants with the simple flourish of his wrist. They scurried past you one by one until it was just you and Mark in his dressing room, the door having been shoved closed behind the final person out. 

You were always grateful that you weren’t on the receiving end of his wrath. Instead, you were an exception to the outside forces that ticked him off. His snarl perked up into a smirk, his shoulders relaxed, and he tossed his head back for relief. “Took you long enough,” he spoke, a jovial tone clear in his words.

You rolled your eyes back and pulled out the stool from the vanity. “Don’t be rude, I could have taken longer if I wanted to.” You handed him the coffee as you sat yourself down. It wasn’t as nice an environment as the café had been, but it had Mark, and that was good enough for you. 

His retort of, “I wouldn’t have let you back in,” was swiftly met with a doubtful look of your own. A week or two ago, you had, in fact, taken longer, by an hour, and he’d let you into his dressing room with nothing but a scoff. 

“So, how’d the scene go?” Your eyes scanned the surface for a script, but you only found the title page in a scrunched-up ball. 

“Ugh, terrible.” You could have figured that one out yourself. “You would think that after a month on set, people would know their lines, but apparently, I’m the only one here who gives a damn.”

The urge to shoot a glance back at the closed door was too difficult to ignore, even though the voices rising from the main studio hall told you nobody was around to hear. “I thought you liked Joan,” you said, bringing your eyes back to Mark. 

“You have no clue who I like.” 

“You like me.”

“Not by choice.”

His expression of distaste was a poor disguise for the amusement underneath. If he wanted to, he could have hidden it, but you were glad he didn’t. You enjoyed his small grins, no matter how much he pushed them back. You sent him your own smug smile in return. Settling into this dynamic had been difficult, what with Mark’s tendency to act in his personal life as well as his working hours and your lacking in social experience, but you got past that obstacle. It was a damn good thing you did, too, because, otherwise, you would have nowhere to go. Not a roof over your head, or food in your stomach, or anything – it was embarrassing to admit how much you relied on your friend, but he had always assured you that it was fine. You made a promise to yourself that you would get on your own two feet by the end of the summer, and you still planned to stick to it. Moments like these only made you appreciate what you had right now more. All of it because of him.

Mark took a sip of his coffee and then set it down on the surface closest to him. Your pupils dashed to his hand and followed it as he brought it back to his lap. He rested leisurely in his chair – the kind that you always saw in movies, with the black fabric and embroidered names – like a roman emperor. He had the looks for it, and the braggadocio to boot. 

He hummed as his eyes flitted over your face. It took a second before he spoke, “I wanted to talk to you about something. A little proposition I have for you.”

Your eyebrows raised on instinct and your shoulders tensed. Without knowing where he was going with it, or why you were reacting in that way, you figured you’d take the safest option of joking, “Oh, Mark, I’m flattered, but…”

The star-like spark in his irises glinted. “Funny—” 

“Oh, uh, sir?”

Both of you immediately looked to the door, which had been pushed open ever-so carefully that it made no sound at all. The assistant had been the one to break the moment, headset strapped and ready and hands curled around the edge of the wall. 

“What?” Mark snapped.

They cleared their throat. “You’re, um, on in two.”

With a roll of his eyes, he barely nodded in their direction, letting them scamper back down the corridor to the main set. You didn’t mind the intrusion, it was their job, but your friend’s demeanor had dropped severely from an entertained air to a begrudging one. His head lolled back, he didn’t notice you were getting up from your chair. 

“As I was saying,” he tried to say, but you stopped him. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready or something?” His eyes met yours. Annoyed. Stubborn. Bordering on threatening. “As I was saying, I need you to accompany me somewhere tonight.”

A habit of his you hated. He tended to not address your points when he wanted to make one of his own, especially if you were trying to counter it, but you had learned to live with it; you had learned to bite back. 

“You know I don’t like those connection-things you tell me about.” 

There was a second of stillness, in which nobody spoke or moved. Mark stayed laid back in his chair, your arms were crossed, neither of you wanted to back down. Over something so small a matter, you wondered why he wouldn’t at least acknowledge he should be preparing. 

But this was Mark you were talking to, so, instead, his expression that looked to be carved from marble shifted into a grin, as if he knew something you didn’t. Another habit you weren’t fond of, though you would take it over the unsettling snarl he had nearly slipped into. 

“No, no, you never did,” he said, a hand coming up to card through his hair. “But it’s not one of those.”

That put you somewhat at ease. You dropped your arms, replaced one on your hips and the other reaching for Mark’s empty coffee cup. The attempt was blocked by Mark getting up from his seat and brushing himself off. In fact, your whole presence was blocked when he crossed the room to the door. Manicured nails tapped along the handle as he twisted on one heel. 

“I think this will be much more fun.”

The expression he wore could only be described as devilish. A smirk thrown over his shoulder with reckless abandon, one that had your heart speed up with… something that you never remembered experiencing before. Adrenaline filled your veins, it told you to stop him, take those few strides across the floor to him. 

“Mark, you actually have to tell me what we’re doing if you want me to agree.” Your last-ditch effort to keep him in the dressing room failed. He’d opened the door and disappeared to the set before you could get a step closer. “Or, not,” you muttered to no one. 

A deep sigh was your only comfort. Yeah, he was a prick. But he was your prick, so you could say that without repercussions. You supposed he deserved to be able to be a little bit selfish, given your history. He was tentative about the accident during your first interactions, but now? Now, he was ready to use it as fodder, and you were ready to throw some right back at him given the chance. He would say that he was the one to comfort you in the hospital bed, and you would say that you were the only one who’d put up with him for more than a month. It was never all that serious, neither of you got offended and neither of you ever left. You, unfortunately, shared commitment to the ‘bit’, and you didn’t think that would ever change. Not so long as you were with Mark and that wasn’t about to change anytime soon. 

The library didn’t last long. Dark wasn’t proud of it, but this was not something he’d experienced before. This scenario was new, and it was bad, and it was terrifying. Expelling any and all negative emotion into the surroundings was a far better alternative to imploding like a submarine at too deep a depth, even if he had to sacrifice some of the rooms in the process. The waves of energy disregarded sentimentality or significance, leaving him in the rubble of the books and shelves that had practically disintegrated in just a touch. 

The rest of the manor hadn’t faired any better. The only thing that he had made sure to steer clear of was his office, but that led to the bedrooms, bathrooms, and, of course, the library falling to him. He’d edged around the kitchen for Benjamin’s sake, though that didn’t stop the marble counter tops cracking under the pressure, and Wilford had long ago abandoned attachments to the building. Everything else he might have wanted to keep safe was kept stashed in one of his desk drawers, ready for when he had calmed down enough to get close to them. 

It had been three months already. 

Luckily – or unluckily, Dark hadn’t made up his mind yet – Wilford had taken to peeking in on him whenever he stormed through a new room. He called it gauging his state, Dark called it poking his nose in other people’s business, but he didn’t have a way to stop him. 

A knock on the door. 

Go figure.

It opened lazily, ignorant or uncaring of the splinters hanging off the top corners, to reveal just the man taking a confident step into the library. His boot met the remains of a book, to which he looked down in curiosity. It was nothing important, but he picked it up, dusted off the last remnants of a leather binding, and placed it on the closest surface. He disregarded the fact that the surface was a collapsed bookcase. 

“Hello, friend.” His jovial tone never ceased to amaze Dark. “Just checking in—” 

But now was no time to be amazed. “Get out.” 

Wil’s mustache twitched with the edge of his mouth. He didn’t enjoy seeing the man he’d known for over a century in such a situation. Against his extravagance and eccentricities, he had a heart, and it broke with the sight of Dark amongst the wreckage of a place some of him had once treasured. He wondered if he still felt the same way. 

“Now, now,” he tried a tentative approach, “no need to be so brash.”

“Get out or I will stuff and mount your head like one of your trophies.”

It hadn’t worked before, and it didn’t work this time. His stockpile of tactics was running thin, the months having drawn on and on in some kind of Sisyphean nightmare worse than the time before. It wasn’t exactly difficult to figure out what had changed, what had been lost, and especially to whom. Maybe if you had left on your own, Dark would have been more approachable, but it just had to be the devil he hated that took you. When Wil had found out, he was surprised that the front doors hadn’t been blown off the manor and his friend right through them. It was better to get out his aggravation now than in the modern world, he must’ve admitted, but he wasn’t keen on all the wreckage he was beginning to trip over. 

Alas, his methods were ignored, so Wilford took that single step back out the door. “You don’t have to be so crude, either.” 

Dark didn’t say anything else as Wil left. The only reaction he had was the adjustment of his tie, pulling it up to his collar and then some. Spasms of red and blue light flexed out from him like an octopus’ tendrils. They lashed out at the carnage and blew over the last things that tried to stand without a care. He glanced down at the scraps of paper that laid torn in a pile, none legible anymore. The waves reminded him too much of earthquakes. 

One pulse, then a pause, and then another pulse, then a longer pause. Rinse and repeat. 

Not earthquakes. There was a pattern, but it wasn’t on a binary step, and calling them earthquakes was too kind because they could be expected, they were inevitable and just showed the passing of time as continents far greater than him pushed against one another. 

Instead, Dark brought a cold hand up to his left breast pocket. 

Pulse, short pause, pulse, long pause. 

Ten minutes passed with the man standing in the centre of destruction. He remained as still as a soldier called to attention, his hand exactly where he had placed it, but he struggled to remain in the present. Half of him wanted to draw him into a pit of tar-like despair, the other half willed him to look around. Dark wasn’t certain who was on which side of the conflict, but one of them was torn like him. Neither part won him over until he picked up on a small detail. 

The breaks between the cycles of waves were growing thicker. They took up just a second but fell into three, which became five and, later, nine. By the time five more minutes had gone by, he didn’t know whether they were still going on. 

Good. It was about time that he sobered up. He couldn’t do anything in that kind of state, and the months he’d already spent in that way were counter intuitive. He was of no help to himself or you, and, with that thought in mind, Dark pulled at the lapels of his jacket and marched himself out the door. 

The corridors had sustained much the same abuse as the separate rooms. One of the support beams was two inches away from turning to a stalagmite, and a section of the banister had been cleanly tone off. The rubble sat at the bottom of the stairwell, kicked off to the corner in the foyer, where Dark had only crossed through once. He only managed to tear his eyes away from it when a wall came between him. 

Dark’s office hadn’t changed one bit since he had left it. The curtains were still drawn, the haphazardly strewn papers were still haphazardly strewn, the surfaces were still completely clear because nobody had been in there for dust to settle. It was, at once, comforting and unnerving. But none of that mattered right now, there were more pressing matters at hand with the ability to walk into the room without sending everything crashing into the ground. 

Namely, the book that was kept in his desk.

It was one of a few that sat in the top left-hand drawer, protected and safe, which he coaxed gently open after stopping in front it. Nestled beside the deed to the manor and a decorated hand mirror was the very thing he was looking for. His pale hand wrapped around the edge, but he couldn’t help the frigid shock that coursed through him, forcing him to hesitate for just a second. 

If he moved it, he would see your book. He had to move it, he had to, it would only take the smallest movement, he could close the drawer immediately after, slam it shut if he had to, if he would use his goddamn hand. His teeth grated together – a steel trap that would have to be wedged open with a crowbar. 

As soon as the leather shifted off of the book below, Dark ripped it from the container and shoved the drawer shut with the palm of his other hand. The ice left his veins, and he laid his prize out on the wood, surprised that the sight of this had less of an effect than the potential of the other. Maybe it was the fact that it meant he could finally get the ball rolling that urged the adrenaline to overtake the cold. His hand flipped through the pages – he was sure that was the reason. 

The most unfortunate aspect of his plans was that the easier ones required him being able to leave the manor. Invisible prison bars that blocked his escape were the only things stopping him from enacting any revenge as soon as the thought struck him. Smart choice on Mark’s part, but he would rather lose everything that commend him, so he ignored the thought and skimmed the text. 

It was old, as to be expected from something procured more than a hundred years ago and published even further past that, but the most important words were still readable. Between splatters of time and stain, the instructions for the breakdown of a barrier were set in the paper. They practically shimmered in Dark’s eyes as though the ink were still wet. Some simple incantation, a few symbols, and a handful of materials were the only things needed for this to go off without a hitch. 

But then he read the last item on the list, his teeth gritting together uncomfortably. Three times it had come down to him, and three times he had screwed it up for Dark. The entity had played his part, but the actor, because of course it was Mark, had ignored the call every time. He pranced off into whatever other role caught his fancy; the first time was Damien’s body and a literal interpretation when he stole it, the second when he stole you from the mirror, and the third being now, stealing the retribution Dark so desperately wanted by withholding his blood. It would have been easier had he been occupying the shell that remained in the void when he put up the barrier, or even if he waltzed into the manor and offered himself up. Being generous wasn’t in his DNA, but for once, could he fulfil that benevolence he pretended to have? 

Dark was seconds away from returning the book to the drawer – or, with a sidelong glance at the window, return it to the rest of the trees – all of his hopes dashed, when the sound of the front door echoed up through the manor. He stopped everything, shutting his body off like the flick of a machine’s switch, and just listened. The clogging wonder of if you would be proud of him was brushed off to make space for a checklist. 

No shaky knock: not a salesman. No unnecessary keys: not an estate agent. No frivolous yelling: not Wilford, not that he entered through the door anyway. Without Benjamin ever leaving the place and a stray group of teens having been scared away a couple of months ago, it could only mean that this was someone new. Two someones in fact, if the mismatched footsteps walking in the foyer were anything to go by. Nobody dangerous, they weren’t bothering to be sly, and they didn’t have a goal in mind. The pair moved around generally, sticking to the foyer where Dark knew there was nothing of importance anymore. One was more hesitant than the other, pauses between the clicks of their heels never the same. The other took five steps forward, stopped, and stayed there as Dark thought about what to do with them.

Would you be proud? He had restrained himself, sure, but he could have more patience. Would you want him to even deal with them in the first place, or would you rather him let them do as they please as long as they didn’t affect him? It was difficult to know exactly your reaction, and, although it didn’t matter because you weren’t there to judge him, there was a part of him that believed it did. He knew what part that was and the worst part about it was that he didn’t ignore it. He couldn’t, not anymore, not since Dark’s own feelings as a complete being started aligning more with that side of him. The devastatingly emotional part, a bleeding heart that had him setting himself up in his desk chair instead of scaring the hell out of those intruders. 

And it wasn’t as though he were stuck with no choice. The rest of the arcane book was available, there must have been something else in it that could help him. He just had to look for it. Surely, you would prefer the kinder option based on your living career choice. Besides, what damage could a few children looking for some amusement do? 

“Are you sure about this, Mark?” 

The soft clatter of the old door behind you forewarned the danger of the place, and just one glance around the room told you how close it was to falling apart. The support beams were fractured, cracks lined the walls as though a mad demolitionist had tossed a mallet around, and the rubble of wood you caught sight of at the other end of the foyer didn’t do it any favors. Despite this, you were more concerned about the mental state of your friend than his future physical state. 

But, as always, your concern didn’t make him falter. Mark’s strut into the centre of the room sent the clicks of his heels throughout the building, scaring away rats and birds that had made their homes in the foundation. His arms spread wide and a grin of his face, he looked like he was planning to embrace an old friend. 

“Of course, I am,” he responded, confident. He had hand-picked this place after all, and he wouldn’t bring you somewhere he wasn’t sure would deal you no harm. You trusted him enough to follow him into a collapsing cave if he promised it wouldn’t fall – and this place was no different. 

A speck of dust floated through the air in front of you. 

No different at all. 

With his feet planted where he stood, Mark spun 360 degrees to get a good view of the place. “Now,” he said, stopping at staring into the kitchen, “I think we should do one of those camp overnight things.”

You grazed a hand along the wallpaper. A strip peeled off under your nails. “Any particular reason?”

“The studio’s thinking of branching out into shows, and my agent thought it’d be better to stay with them than go lone wolf.”

“I thought you didn’t like shows.”

Mark shrugged, his non-answer somewhat annoying but still common. It didn’t bother you as much as it did before, exposure therapy was a hell of a thing, until it got to the point that it could be considered… endearing? Not that you did, of course, but some people had tastes like that. 

You didn’t think much of it, not only because of its frequency, but because you were more interested in the thing that your hand met as you dragged it further. The tips of your fingers first caught on the edge, which you tried to skim over, but then you recognised the wood and then the glass, and then you were crying. 

Crying?

You were crying. Plain and simple, and utterly confusing. Your eyebrows furrowed as unbidden as the tears that streamed over your cheeks. And this wasn’t just a few, but a whole stream that took you three wipes of your sleeves to calm it all down. You just couldn’t understand why you were crying, you only knew that you were. The cold of the mirror’s surface that sent chills up through your bones wasn’t enough to give you frost-bite, and the sound of your nails against it didn’t pierce your eardrums. You barely registered it as you withdrew your arm into yourself, ignoring how it was a similar sensation to forcing two magnets apart.

You didn’t think that Mark would have noticed had you not laughed anxiously to yourself. Were you panicking? Was this a defense mechanism for some unknown danger that your mind refused to reveal to you? You didn’t know, and you didn’t like not knowing. 

“Are you okay?” 

Pricks of a warmth much kinder than the mirror – and yet somehow had you tensing up – sparked at the crook of your elbow. In your peripheral, your friend appeared, a concerned expression overtaking the nonchalance he had sported earlier.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. It was a poor attempt at gaining some control, the tears were still coming full force, but you hoped the display would appear funnier than the worrying scene you presented. “I mean, I don’t know why…” All you could do was let out another little laugh. 

Whatever social cue you had put out, Mark responded by guiding you by the elbow towards the kitchen. He didn’t stray from his course, didn’t let you go, until he’d sat you down in a barstool at the island and looked around.

The stool nearly toppled over as you shifted your weight, and it forced you to stabilize yourself with both your hands against the countertop. Blinking was the only way to get the water out of the corners of your eyes, so you spent the seconds rapidly switching between sight and blindness. Mark’s figure fluttered about like a stop-motion video – one moment he stood next to you, the next he was by the towel rack, he returned to your side at the third blink with a square of cloth held out precariously. 

He drew closer, that towel nearly half an inch from your face, and you braced for impact. That had been a ‘thing’ for you. An obstacle if you wanted to call it that. You didn’t have a positive relationship with touch, while Mark practically draped himself over you at every chance. A shoulder tap here, a hand caress there, but you set boundaries when it got too much for you. Most of the other problems you get over, this was where you stood your ground, and you hadn’t the faintest clue why. You’d just hated it. 

That impact came seconds later. Luckily for you, probably due to having gone unused for years, the towel was fluffy and light and felt comfortable against your eyelids. The streaks of moisture were cleared up nicely, to the point that you held back from taking the fabric and stowing it away in a pocket. 

“Don’t want to ruin your charming face,” came Mark’s muttering. He tilted his head to the side when he deemed himself done, and a curl of his hair fell over his forehead, one that you, in return, swiped away. 

“Okay?” you chuckled.

You didn’t know whether to classify the moment as awkward or tender, but the smile Mark flashed and the continued laughter you sent back was enough for you to label it the latter. 

Had you listened slightly closer, focused less on the texture of the cloth, laughed quieter, you might have heard the vague tapping of a dress shoe on the tiled floor. Benjamin was angry enough that he could only keep his physical form invisible to the sudden guests, but the sounds and the temperature were slipping through his fingers. As he passed behind your back, he saw you shiver, though he paid no mind to it, gunning for the sink imbedded in a nearby countertop. 

Benjamin didn’t mind the people who came in and out of the manor. The agents and random groups of teenagers weren’t things he concerned himself with – as long as they didn’t touch the kitchen. The chef wasn’t there to keep people out, so he took it upon himself to maintain that specific room. Not to mention that, recently, it was the only room that he could maintain. He had yet to thank Dark for only splitting some of the countertop. All the destruction everywhere else, he couldn’t help with so much in an incorporeal form, but a sink faucet? He could expend some energy to nudge it a bit. 

Had you stayed away from the kitchen, he wouldn’t be risking the quality of the tiling. It wasn’t anything personal; and had either you or Mark arrived some years earlier, he might have been more lenient, but the affection towards his old master had faded, and you still had terrible fashion sense. 

The butler was trotting out of the room by the time that you stopped your conversation. People were boisterous these days, but it was a miracle that you hadn’t noticed the steady rush of water just steps away from you. And Mark had been staring right at it! Or, the in that direction at least, Benjamin didn’t know if his staring accounted for anything outside of your face. Either way, it really wasn’t his fault that the sink was now overflowing, nor that you realized it when you put your feet onto the ground, expecting a stable surface, and were met with the squelch of your soles. 

You let out a curse when your senses reconciled with your logic, quickly lunging from your seat to the faucet. This wasn’t your house, you couldn’t mess it up now. Hands met metal, you pushed it shut, you refrained from breathing in case it set something off. Mark’s eyebrows furrowed, unseen by you, until his hand was laid over your wrist, still placed on the sink.

You shrugged. “Faulty plumbing?”

He seemed to ignore what you said as he tugged you from the kitchen and towards the living room. His expression didn’t change, and you didn’t know what to say to make it better, so you let yourself fall into step just behind him. If he wanted to shoot in this place, it made sense for him to be disconcerted by the issue, but he didn’t look it. Not all the way, as if there were something about it that would make sense, if only he had the last piece of the puzzle. Speeding up enough to be next to him, you offered a smile. Although he lagged for a second, he returned it with a signature smirk. 

“Oh, I do love this room.”

After crossing into the carpeted space, Mark practically melted into a relaxed state that almost made you jealous. As though his body had become fluid, he collapsed onto a chaise longue like a true Hollywood star. You went down next to him but managed to stay upright against the leather arm. 

“Yeah?” A quick glance around gave you an opinion very fast. “The taxidermy isn’t putting you off any?” That wasn’t to say you were against the practice, but twelve mounted heads all staring into your soul with their glass eyes and judgmental lack of a body wasn’t your favorite décor. The ones that were face down into the carpet were a gift, but whatever had put them in such a position was also likely to have been the one to smash in a window and topple the coffee table. A graveyard of books bulldozed off the shelves decorated the place, each one accompanied by a figurine or statue, even a painting or two swiped off the wallpaper. 

Mark huffed. He casually propped his legs on your lap as he said, “I think everything else makes up for it.” That didn’t stop him from shooting the biggest one, a bison head in the centre of the opposite wall, a mean-spirited glare. On his part, the rest of the room wasn’t that bad; everything was surprisingly clear of dust, from the looming bookcase in one of the corners to the fireplace lingering with a few logs of wood still inside. “Cozy, wouldn’t you say?”

You couldn’t help yourself from looking at your dearest, closest, cherished friend with the most suspicious gawk you could muster. Cozy? The room had a stuffed lynx on a shelf, and he called it cozy. You would love to see what he thought was creepy, but, knowing Mark, it would be somewhere that just had one floor. But this should have been too much for him, right?

“For you, sure.”

Your uneasy tone must have given him the oh-so-difficult-to-gather impression that you didn’t believe him, and he said as such. “You don’t agree.”

“Well, it’s not cottage living, is it?” 

The pressure of Mark’s legs lifted from your lap, and you watched as he waltzed to the fireplace, struck a match, and set the mouth ablaze. The heat instantly invaded the room, coaxing you unknowingly closer. You shifted so that you leaned more onto the arm of the couch while he settled again next to you. 

Briefly, you turned your head to him. “Are you allowed to do that?”

“Of course, dear, there isn’t much I’m not allowed to do here.”

With the seating more comfortable than the stool in the kitchen, it was far easier to fall into conversation. It was mostly concerning the show Mark had been talking about, how everything would fit together and how they would shoot it, but it dipped into different topics as well. Threading between those were your own thoughts about it all, and by it all, you meant the atmosphere. You couldn’t deny that it was off-putting, but you also couldn’t pin exactly why. This was your first time here, the only pre-conceived notions you had were that old manors might break some safety regulations – none of which had appeared so far, so what was it? The plumbing was just annoying, the décor wasn’t overly terrible, what was the problem? You wanted to understand it, and you wanted it gone, and it was killing you that neither of those had happened yet. 

You were nearly crushed by the chandelier. 

In the span of five seconds, you shoved Mark to the side and pushed yourself off the couch with your legs. The crunch of the furniture’s wooden legs breaking sent your heart into a wild stammer, but, god, the sound before that. It couldn’t have been the chain – you nearly died – your heart skipped a beat and merged three into one – you couldn’t breathe – you nearly died – the carpet molded around you – friction burn on your arm – left arm – where was Mark – the chain broke – you nearly died. 

You couldn’t tell whether you were alive or not, your mind flickered between the two states, and Mark watched you all the while. Lucky for him, you had pushed him to the side of the couch that didn’t have an arm, letting him fall off it before it was decimated by the chandelier. Without any damage done to him, he was free to look around the room. 

You were splayed out in front of the remains of the couch, staring straight up at the ceiling. The chain within your field of vision didn’t look as though it had been smashed in with a blunt object at the end of the metal strands, but it wasn’t damaged past that. Something small had hit it, and, when he brought his eyes down to the chandelier, he saw exactly what it was. 

The glint of the bullet was difficult to make out amongst the actual chandelier, but Mark fished it out and brought it closer to inspect. 

Bastard. 

Wherever that adulterer was now, he had been in the room, he had tried to kill the both of you. He didn’t think he had such a bad opinion of you, but collateral damage was always a possibility, and he wouldn’t put it past the maniac to harm you in the process of getting to him. The destruction of the original room, he could look past that, but going this far really showed the depths the man had fallen to.

Mark pocketed the bullet as he rose to his feet, dusting himself off with the other hand; he wouldn’t want you to worry, not any more than you were at the prospect of dying. You would need some comfort, and he could give it to you. He knew just the place to do it. 

The image of your friend’s face – alive, he hadn’t been crushed – drifted into view. A meek chuckle forced itself out of your throat, cut off by a cough. This place was horrible. You wanted to leave. Your legs wouldn’t let you, no matter how much you willed them to. Your body was nearly pulverized and yet it refused to leave the place that you had almost died in, again!

Again?

The overflowing sink hadn’t been that dangerous. Again?

“Come on—” Mark gripped your hand, “—I know somewhere nice—” he lugged you to your feet, “—and quiet for you to recover in.” 

You stumbled forward, unsure on your feet as you were in your mind. Sprinting to the car would have been the smartest move, but you found yourself trailing after Mark, one hand in his and the other rubbing against your eyes. You’d been in that manor for barely an hour, you didn’t know if you could handle another five minutes, let alone enough time to relax again. But your conscious pushed against slowing down. If you stopped moving, you might spiral again, so you followed through with your paces. One foot in front of the other. Back to the foyer, up the stairs, onto the landing. 

That was where your feet decided to plant themselves. Of course, when you’d accepted that you were going where Mark was, your body decided to change its mind, and, yes, you weren’t too dizzy to miss the irony in that. Despite that, it was your body, and you were going to go along with whatever it wanted to do.

“I, uh, I’ll be right back,” you said, not moving. 

“Where are you going?” Mark’s grip on your hand seemed to tighten as he stepped back closer to you. 

You took your own step back. “Bathroom, I think? I just need…” you trailed off, the small amount of focus left to spare in your brain being used to look down the hallway. 

Although he followed your gaze, swallowed, let his smile drop, he nodded and gestured with the hand that he let go from yours. “Third door on your left, darling.”

In any other situation, somewhere on his own turf, Mark would have made sure you were okay before anything else important happened. He would have offered you a glass of water and sat you down so you wouldn’t keel over. He would have sat next to you and talked to you to make sure you stayed conscious. You were obviously shaken, and he felt concern for you – but this was more than important. The ensuing moments were the very culmination of the last three months, the last century! If he let something get in the way now, all that time would be wasted, and he would be starting from square one. And Mark refused to build himself up from the bottom again. 

Dazed, you stumbled down the corridor and to the bathroom. 

Going in alone just gave him more time to prepare. 

Of course, Dark had chosen that old office for his base of operations. Everywhere else was destroyed, as though it had been rented out for one of those rage room activities, so it made sense for him to make a haven out of business. And what business was that? Why, chasing Mark down, of course! He felt a flame of pride jolt inside him. All that damage, just for him. It made him feel so special. 

And the look on three men’s faces was enough to make him laugh in vanity. 

“What a lovely family reunion.” 

If only he had a camera, Mark would have cherished the picture for as long as he lived; Dark was in the centre of the room, a chair pulled up to the window, which he sat lordly in, tilted barely towards his desk. One leg was crossed over the other, he wore a perfect suit. From the name to the fashion, he was a pale – oh, he made himself laugh – imitation of the actor. The sight of Mark had yet to register in his mind, but the two on either side of him certainly showed their thoughts. Benjamin seemed surprised. Not angry, not sad, just surprised. He had always liked his employee. Benjamin had been barely 25 years old when he was hired as a butler, but he was good at it. He didn’t hold the sink incident against him. However, the pink-mustached, candy-coated cuck, there was a special place in hell reserved just for him. Whether he was alive or dead didn’t matter, his mind was clearly in purgatory, and Mark relished in that. He was getting what he deserved. 

He stepped closer, putting the three immediately on guard. He grinned a shark-like grin.

“Benjamin, William, Damien, Celine… if only the chef and groundskeeper were still around.” The door drifted closed. “We’d have a full set.”

The air flexed around him, the feeling of oil on water, and the look of it too. Red and blue rings waved away into the walls when Dark stood, slowly, carefully. Mark had intentionally left you out, and he was smart enough to realise that. He was also smart enough to realise that killing him now wouldn’t do him any good, or maybe that was just Damien restraining Celine while the entity watched on. 

He was still moving too fast. “Now, slow down there, cowboy. I think you and I need to have a little chat.” Wilford’s eyes were feral. “Privately.”

Benjamin disappeared in the blink of an eye, not that anyone risked being blinded for even a millisecond, leaving Wilford and Dark behind. The latter kept his cool. The former didn’t want to take the chance. 

“Like hell I’d leave you—” 

“Wilford, leave.”

Two missed opportunities in the span of ten minutes. Mark settled for ingraining the look of shock and betrayal into his brain. 

The cotton-candy nut case inched closer to Dark. “I know, I know, ‘practice what you preach’, but you can’t be serious.”

Without looking away from Mark, his only response was, “I can handle this.”

Wilford wasn’t Mark’s main target but having him forced to leave the room was undeniably satisfying. He even had to walk right past him to get to the door! He had half the mind to grab him and taunt him some more, but he could do that later. Right now, he was supposed to be mocking the scary dog still standing by the window. He didn’t know how much time he had before you got back from the bathroom, he had to make this count.

The moment that the wood stopped the funeral bells behind him, Dark spoke. Sharply, simply. 

“You have five seconds to talk, before I rip your throat out.”

“I have your precious bird.” 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Mark’s smug smirk swallowed the bottom half of his face.

Dark couldn’t let it show how much it affected him. Obviously, Mark had you. It had been signed, clear as day, over the title page of your book, the contract to your soul now owned by the devil before him. But the confirmation from between his own teeth? He wanted to break the promise he had made before, wreck the entire room, bury Mark twelve feet underground just to make sure he wouldn’t come back up when it rained. He wanted to cry, too. He didn’t know if his tear ducts still worked, but he was on the edge of finding out. He wanted to go find you and collapse into your arms, because you would be safe with him, he would protect you. 

He couldn’t do any of that.

“What do you want, Mark?”

Dark didn’t allow himself to startle as Mark started to move. Casually, he strolled towards the desk and leaned against it, crossing one ankle over the other. “Oh, I don’t want anything. Why would I? No, I’m, well, I’m flaunting.” That unsufferable chuckle echoed throughout the manor. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not here to gain anything, and you have nothing else worth taking. I just wanted to see the horrified look on your face as I do to you exactly what was done to me all those years ago.”

Mark was an actor – he could pretend to be some way when he was really the other, lie and cheat to get his way on and off stage. But he could also be painfully honest. This was one of those times, and Dark could feel the venom coursing through empty veins. He had so much to gain by tracking Mark down, and Mark had revealed himself on a whim, for petty gloating. 

The arcane book stashed in the desk asked for the monster’s blood for Dark to go free, but he would gladly take his entire body. Use the bones as toothpicks, feed the flesh to wild coyotes, take his tea from his skull like cheap chinaware. 

You wouldn’t be proud. 

He collected his thoughts, pulled his hands together in front of him. “It has been a century.” At least he had a logical motive, revenge for three deaths, that could keep him going for years. 

Mark hummed. “It has, hasn’t it? But does that really matter? It didn’t seem important to you when you left your prisoner in the mirror for 100 years. Consider it saving a neglected dog from an abusive owner.”

“Saving!?”

The mirror on one wall shook in its frame, bordering on cracking, just a touch would cause it to shatter so easily. The waves of energy shot out once, twice, three times in quick succession – the legs of the desk dropped splinters onto the floorboards and the curtains tore at the seams. The last feat of his reaction was to blow the bulb in the desk lamp, but Mark didn’t shift. Only his facial expression grew evermore smug as he tutted quietly. 

“What else would it be?”

“Kidnapping.

“You misunderstand. They came with me willingly.”

No. No, no, no. You wouldn’t. You didn’t. Mark was a liar, he had to remember that. Even if it made sense – which it didn’t – you wouldn’t just leave without saying anything. He thought you’d gotten better, that he’d gotten better. In the early days, sure, he wouldn’t put it past you, but… your relationship had changed. Dark cared about you, he didn’t readily show it, but he did. You knew that, didn’t you? You had to know that. 

Dark cast his eyes to the door. “As though I would believe you.”

“100 years, Dark,” Mark cooed. “Normally, I would suggest their opinions of me softened, but we both know that’s not true.” The click of his shoes warned of his coming closer. “They despised me even as they shook my hand and said ‘oh, please, save me’, because they didn’t have anyone else to help them.”

“You’re a liar, you always have been.” Dark couldn’t meet his eyes, but he was sure that, if he looked up the inch it took, he would see the horizontal pupils of a goat, or maybe a snake. Whatever struck his fancy; he’d be the devil either way. 

“Is that so?”

It was a challenge. Dark didn’t say anything in response, so Mark took it as the go ahead. 

Lightly, he called out, “Oh, pet?” 

What? Dark was stunned. You were nearby? Near enough to hear him?

“Yeah?” Your voice. 

And you weren’t angry, or scared, or even hesitant when you spoke to this man. You sounded completely normal. Just a person talking to a friend. 

Mark stared straight at the ghost in front of him. 

“Do you trust me?”

Your footsteps drew closer. They made actual sounds as you walked, not the silence that the mirror offered. You were alive. Corporeal. More than Dark himself. And Mark had asked you a question, one that he found himself pleading for a very specific answer to. 

A small laugh. In better circumstances, he would be throwing that door open and running to you, even if you were a foot from opening the door, as you sounded. This was not the time, though, and, instead, he was forced to listen to your response. 

“Of course, I do, Mark. Why would you ask that?”

Dark froze. His legs didn’t buckle, and his expression didn’t change. Everything just stopped. He couldn’t be angry with you. So why wasn’t he angry at Mark any more than he was before? It felt as though Damien and Celine had been pushed to the back, the ancient entity bringing him to a husk, his mind straying into the void – how it was before everything had happened. Before the dinner party, before Mark, before you. It all stood still.

Dark caught a glimpse of the monster’s grin, and a calculating, frigid violence overtook him. 

He slammed Mark into the opposite wall. The crack of something rang out like a twig splitting in two. His fist drawn back, he threw it into his jaw, blood pooled in the corner of his mouth. Another punch that tossed his head sideways. He was pressed up against the mirror, the lower parts were falling out of the casing from Mark’s impact. Good. Hopefully they cut him some on the way down. Dark couldn’t think as he pushed Mark towards the door. His mind clouded, his body moved on its own, a dangerous puppet poised to kick the other man through the wood – before it opened and the two spilled into the hallway. 

Focus. He had to ignore you. The clouds began to part but he forced them together again. If he got distracted, he would lose. Dark pushed his target against the wall, ready to shift him barely to the left over the railing. 

Meanwhile, you, too, had one thing on your mind. That you had to think fast. No time to consider why this was happening, or who this was, or why he looked somewhat like your friend beside you. The friend that was getting the shit beat out of him. 

Ignoring the frantic questions whirring in your brain, you did the one thing that Dark wished you wouldn’t do. 

You grabbed his lapels, slammed him back into the plaster, and forced him to look at you. 

And there was not an ounce of recognition in your eyes. The pleading look Dark sent you, asking you to just try and remember him because Mark must had done something to make you forget, was lost on you. Your mouth was pulled back in a snarl, vindictive, threatening. Whether you looked like an enraged bull or a bunny, it wouldn’t have mattered. It would have had the same effect. 

Dark lost all breath as he looked at you. That speck of flame was still present, how it was when you were in the mirror, the sheen of sweat from fear or the quick movements. He hadn’t seen you this angry since he first talked to you, those many months ago. Yet, the one thought that stopped him from doing anything else was that if he were to lean forward a centimeter, barely, his lips would meet yours, he would be able to embrace you like he’d wanted to do since he realized you were out of the glass prison. He would be able to feel your body on his in a way that didn’t stretch the fabric of his suit. 

“I don’t know who you are—” oh, but you did, “—or what the hell you think you’re doing—” trying to save you, “—but you touch my friend again—” he wasn’t your friend, “—and it won’t matter anymore. Do I make myself clear?”

“Do you not… please,” Dark knew it was fruitless to say anything, but he couldn’t help but beg, appeal to the smallest aspect of you that might have recognised him. 

“I said, do I make myself clear.”

Not even the waves of energy made themselves known. Any other danger, the lingering impression of Mark, they went on a rampage, but he couldn’t fight you. He just couldn’t. 

“You do.”

Your hands withdrew from his lapels. He didn’t bother adjusting them again but chose to watch you as you collected Mark from his witness stand against the other wall. Blood seeped into his collar from an upturned mouth. Dark wished he’d done more, wished he’d took the leap of faith and threw him over the railing. It would have been poetic, but it wouldn’t have been real. 

There was no point in lingering on what could have been. They didn’t matter anymore. What did matter, though, were the specks of blood from Mark’s busted lip and jaw that coated his knuckles. It was the least he could do for going through so much trouble. 

Numbly, Dark pushed the door to his office open again, making sure to use the unbloodied hand for everything. He used it to close it behind him, to pull the drawer’s handle, to retrieve Celine’s old book. Flipping to the appropriate page, he skimmed the rest of the method. 

You weren’t safe with Mark. That much was obvious. You never had been. With everything else set in motion, he was at least glad that you could defend yourself. The only thing he wanted now was to be there to see it. He hoped you would grant him the luxury. 

[You guys got what you wanted - and let me tell you, thank you so much for supporting this, it's a treat to write something like this (even if I have to take breaks from how much some characters piss me off). This is not the end, by the way! This was actually meant to be longer, since I'm only 7/18 pages into the script, and I'm also planning to do another, more fluffy part after I finish the next. I don't think I've written anything that couldn't be classified as angst so far, so, hopefully, that will be the comfort to this hurt/comfort fic. Again, thanks for enjoying, and I hope you look forward to the next parts!]

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #writing #markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #one shots #x reader #actor mark #darkiplier x da #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #I'm sory #angst #eventual happy ending just not in this part #again #sorry #wilford warfstache #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #sequel #fic #fanfic #violence #cursing #destruction of property #you can also read this on A03 as Mirror Mirror

[otterlyinluv]

A touch of darkness (pt.2)

Here's part 1

Summary: What happened after the office incident OR in which Yancy tries to eat breakfast and Wilford becomes a matchmaker

Pairing: Darkiplier x DA!Reader

Tags: sfw, fluffy, jealous Dark, proximity, thunderstorm, comfort, confessions and realisations

A/N: I apologize for the long wait, I actually finished it earlier but I decided to scrap the last third and rewrite it completely- Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.9k

"So you like Mr. Doom and gloom, so what?"

You almost choked on the chocolate milk Wilford made you.

"No, that doesn't make sense. Nothing even happened. He just fixed my computer, and then I felt weird."

Wilford raised an eyebrow at you.

"My dear, you might not see it, but you look like a lovesick fool."

Your face started to feel warm.

"No, I do not! I came for advice, Wilford, but now I know I chose the wrong person." You stood up from the armchair, leaving the chocolate milk on the desk, when Wilford started to wave his arms around.

"Okay, okay, fine, I'll stop." He grabbed you by the shoulders and plopped you back on the armchair.

"Now," he said, no longer in the spot he was a second ago. His little teleporting shenanigans didn't bother you as much as they did during the first months of your stay at the mansion. Whenever he suddenly disappeared and reappeared at a completely different place, you'd always get a mini heart attack, which lead to him doing it even more frequently to mess with you. What you hadn't realized then was he did it only to get you used to things that weren’t exactly normal. Wilford was a good guy at heart even if his methods were a bit... unconventional.

"Since you don't believe me, we'll go about it in a different way." You turned around to where he was. He made you stand up from the chair and gripped your hands.

"Which thoughts race through your head like fluttering butterflies frolicking in a field when he’s with you? How does he make you feel in general?"

The corner of your mouth turned up at the metaphor, and you looked off into the distance. After the encounter in your office, you started bumping into each other far more frequently than before. Or maybe you noticed him more. And when you did see each other, his gaze seemed to linger on you a suspiciously long time. Whenever you made eye contact during meetings, you felt a flutter in your chest. A flutter you didn't feel with anyone else.

You looked at Wilford with a sense of epiphany. His eyes seemed to light up.

"Am I interrupting something?" Dark said, standing in the doorway, his arms crossed.

You ripped your hands from Wilfords'.

"Oh, Darkie. Why we were just having a lovely chat, nothing for you to worry about." Wilford drawled, putting his arm over your shoulder.

Dark's eyes darted to your shoulder, and his gaze hardened. The colored aura that surrounded him seemed to gain a more blue hue. It only lasted a couple of seconds before he rolled his neck.

"Excuse me." He suddenly ran off out of the room, his fists clenched.

You saw Wilford grinning out of the corner of your vision as he put his arm away from you.

"Wilford, what did you do?" You said, glaring at him.

"I just gave him a little push, that's all." 

--

You really wanted some cereal.

The mansion was pleasantly quiet because you liked to wake up earlier than everyone else. While listening to Illinois boast about all his adventures or Google try to subtly persuade you to grant him admin privileges was entertaining once in a while, it wasn't something you wanted to do first thing in the morning.

You were able to find your favorite brand of cereal, a spoon, and some milk. The only thing that was missing was a bowl. You looked into the cupboard where the bowls usually were, but there were none. You wondered who kept misplacing the contents of the cupboards and kept searching.

Still nothing.

You grabbed a chair to stand on so you could reach the cupboards that were higher up. You carefully stood up on it and opened the one closest to you. Finally!

Unfortunately for you, the bowls were on the top shelf. You huffed and stood on your tiptoes. After stretching your arm as far as you could, you were finally able to grab a suitable bow.

But you leaned back so suddenly you lost your balance. You flailed your arms in a futile attempt to regain stability. You mentally prepared yourself to come into contact with the cold hard floor when you felt someone grab your waist to support you.

You let out a relieved breath only to look down at the grey hands, which were now firmly holding you in place. The area which the hands were in contact with was completely devoid of color. You turned around to see Dark without his signature jacket, his eyes wide. You were frozen, but your skin burned where his hands were.

"You should be more careful. You would have fallen if I hadn't gotten to you in time."

You couldn't move. The only thing you felt was the oddly gentle hold he had on you. The bowl, which you were now holding safely, was the last of your worries.

"Still as clumsy as ever," he chuckled under his breath. His thumbs twitched, and you blinked at each other in realization of your compromising position.

He cleared his throat as he stepped back as if burned, removing his hands in the process. You carefully got down from the chair.

It was so quiet you could almost hear his aura crackle in the air like static.

"I, uh... Thank you for... that."

"You are welcome," he said quietly.

You were looking at the ground, your face strangely warm. Your gaze traveled to his shirt, the first two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands bordered with blue and red the hands that held you were now hanging at his sides.

You stared too long. You could feel him looking at you. You glanced at him.

He was looking straight at you. So intensely that you felt like he could see directly into your soul. So expressively, his eyes seemed more brown than black.

He took a shuddering breath.

"Is youse making cereal? Leave some for me!" Your head jolted to Yancy standing in the doorway.

Dark snapped out of whatever trance he was in and promptly left the room with no parting words.

"Woah, what got him so worked up?" Yancy walked to you as you looked at the door, deep in thought.

"I'd like to know that too."

--

After having finished your perfect bowl of cereal, it was back to sitting in your tiny office. Normally, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Nothing special, just you sitting behind your desk working at your computer. Except you weren't. You couldn't.

Not when whenever you closed your eyes, you could remember Dark standing over you so clearly. Your little... encounter happened a few weeks ago, yet you still couldn't focus properly while you were here. It took you at least half an hour to distract yourself enough to at least start working. It was frustrating, but there wasn't much you could do. Talk to him about it when he has most likely forgotten about it already? Yeah, sure.

Now that you thought about it, there was something else that was making you unfocused today. Why did Dark look like he wanted to murder Wilford when he was just being touchy as usual?

And this morning... He just caught you out of politeness so you wouldn't fall flat on your face. Or maybe he just didn't want you to break the bowl. You didn't allow yourself to even consider the possibility that maybe he didn't want to see you hurt. And the way his hands stayed on your waist just a few seconds more... Boy, did you forget how to talk then.

Maybe you were looking into it too much. Sure, he was nicer than before, but he could simply be more comfortable with you. As a friend. Yeah, that must be it.

Satisfied with your thinking session, you were ready to get to work.

Your concentration was disturbed by the sound of your door opening, followed by a thud of something heavy being dumped in, and then the door immediately slammed shut again.

You looked up from your computer to a sight you never would have expected - Dark rapping at the door, violently shaking the door handle.

"Now Damie, remember what I told you. If you want something, go get it!" Wilford slurred, his voice muffled by the door.

"Wilford, open the door this instant, or I swear I will kill you. I am serious."

"Oh, promises, promises. Focus your energy on the important things!" Wilford's voice faded away as he supposedly walked away from the door.

"That insufferable..." he mumbled to himself, turning around.

His clothes were wrinkled as if someone tried to physically push him into the room but was met with resistance. You couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Uhm, welcome, I guess."

He sighed. "Hi."

"So, what happened for you to end up here of all places?" You leaned on your arm. It might have been an unexpected situation, but that didn't mean you weren't going to enjoy it. Dark, on the other side, seemed really determined to fulfill his promise to Wilford. "When Wil sets his mind to something, nothing can stop him. Not even me." He tried to open the door to emphasize his point, and as expected, it didn't budge.

"Can you not get out by... other means?" You never really knew how his powers worked. And you doubted he would tell you even if you did ask.

"No. I don't know how he did it, but he managed to completely lock me out -" He looked around. "-or in. Technically."

As his eyes surveyed the room, you realized how small it was. It was enough for you, but Dark seemed to fill a big part of the room just with the colored aura that surrounded him. Come to think of it, why was he standing so far away from where you were?

"Well, I'm guessing we're going to be here for some time, so why don't we sit down somewhere more comfortable?" You pointed to a light brown sofa leaning against a wall. His eyes followed your hand to the middle-sized sofa. You winced. You didn't want to make it awkward for him to sit down there alone, but maybe he would rather you didn't sit with him. Why didn't you just ask him what he wanted in the first place-

He simply nodded and sat on the sofa. Having no other choice, you plopped down next to him.

Small raindrops started hitting the window.

You turned to say something to fill the silence at the same time as he did, which resulted in you looking away from each other. He let out the quietest chuckle, and you couldn't help yourself but do the same.

"You can go first." Dark said.

"Ah, it wasn't anything specific, just that the rain is getting stronger." You expected him to simply nod and direct the topic somewhere else. Instead, he looked over to the window. The rain was now strong enough to be audible if you were both quiet, which is what was happening now. Dark looked as if he was observing the rain. As if simply the fact you told him about it gave it value.

"It indeed is."

After a couple of seconds, he took a breath. "I've never noticed how small this office is."

"You're right, but I like it. It makes it feel cozy. It also holds memories more easily. " In fact, your brain was recalling a rather specific memory involving him. But you doubted he would be thinking of that.

"Well, I'm glad. The area carries a certain air that only you have."

"Oh, and what might that be?" You smirked.

"Comfort. Something you want to return to and treasure every moment spent with."

You stared at him wide-eyed.

"Ah, I said too much, didn't I? Forgive me." He looked to the door.

You were touched by how highly he thought of you. Yet there was an unspoken implication in his statement.

Thunder rang out.

You flinched and crashed into Dark. His arms shot out, cradling you against him.

"Are you alright?"

You squeezed your eyes closed as you tried to focus on your breathing.

"I... I'm just scared of thunder. The sound..." You trailed off, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

His hold on you tightened as he gently moved your head to the crook of his neck. He rubbed his hand across your back in soothing motions with a soft "Shh" every couple of seconds. You let him hold you until you eventually stopped shaking like a leaf in the wind.

That's when you realized what a compromising position you were in and stared at him in shock.

"I apologize, I overstepped." He frowned, untangling his hands from you.

As soon as you felt the absence of him, you realized.

"I don't mind." You said, and his face visibly relaxed. "I actually don't mind a lot of things when it comes to you. Simply being with you is... nice."

He let out a quiet laugh. You wished you could put the sound in a bottle. "You're just saying that because we are stuck together."

You laughed and let out a rebuttal.

Minutes passed with other witty remarks, and before you could realize, the brief rainstorm had completely passed. You were confused that you hadn't heard another thunder since there had to have been at least one. But you had gotten too involved in Dark's quips to notice the sound. Dark cracking jokes... now that was something you would have never imagined.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Dark asked, leaning his head on his arm.

"What?"

"You were staring at me without saying anything for a while now, so I figured you had something interesting going on in that brain of yours."

Heat rushed into your cheeks. You didn't realize you had been looking right at him.

You cleared your throat and saw him smiling out of the corner of your eye. "I was just wondering," you smiled back, "do you often run away?"

Dark quickly turned his head away in shame.

"First, it was when I was talking with Wilford. You came in and then suddenly excused yourself. Then, this morning, too... What's going on? Did I do something?"

He sighed. "No, no, you didn't do anything. It's me." He added quietly.

"How so?"

He responded after a couple of seconds. "I am afraid that if I tell you, a lot of things might change... between us." The look in his dark eyes was earnest, almost nostalgic.

Oh.

Oh.

You pondered upon his statement for a few seconds. "Does change always have to be bad?"

As soon as you said the sentence, you were hit with a sense of deja vu. You felt like you've said it before, but how?

In tandem with your confusion, a slight shock spread on his features. As if in a trance, you put your hand on his cheek. Looking him up and down, you studied his features. There was nothing different from what you've come to know. Why were you expecting to see something else?

Your fingers moved on your own in a caress.

His eyes fluttered shut. You traced over his forehead, moving to his cheekbones when you ended up near his lips. Features oh so familiar like you knew them for years. Now that his eyes were closed, he seemed different. At peace. So close.

He opened his eyes, and there it was again. The two of you in your office. The proximity close enough to feel electrifying. None of you said anything as a decision hung in the air. But only up until his onyx-like eyes flicked from your own to your lips.

He smiled. "Would it be foolish of me to say I want to kiss you right now?"

And you answered by leaning in.

You let yourselves be entangled by the sheer amount of emotion as your lips brushed against each other. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer like he wanted to drown himself in you. You basked in the softness of your embrace, finally feeling as if everything has fallen into place.

He pulled away as you tried to catch your breath.

"So beautiful." He whispered, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Before you could respond, he went right back in. Not that you minded, of course.

No sooner than a minute had passed were you interrupted by your office door swinging open.

"Glad to see you've finally figured yourselves out! Now, if we could-" Wilford's voice was cut off as Dark slammed the door with a motion of his hand.

He brushed his hair away from his face and turned back to you.

"It did look like he needed something." You gazed at the door pensively.

"I am sure he did, but," he smoothed out your shirt, "I do believe you don't want anyone seeing you like this."

You tried to keep from laughing as you regarded his own disheveled appearance. "You're not too neat either, Sir 'Irons his shirts every morning'."

He rolled his eyes but smiled at you regardless. Getting up from the couch, he held out his hand, which you accepted, and headed to whatever wacky escapade Wilford was up to this time.

#x reader #reader insert #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #darkiplier #damien x da #wkm damien #damien the mayor #awhm yancy #wilford warfstache #markiplier egos #iplier egos #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #imagines

[cleake]

Giving flowers to the egos

Engineer:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yancy:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dark:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-He tells them things that he wishes to tell you

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

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

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

Actor:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-They are always in his room, locked from others

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

Illinois:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damien:

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

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

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

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

-He talks to them, sometimes reads his paper work

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

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

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

Wilford:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#in space with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #who killed markiplier #i didnt proofread this #markiplier cinematic universe #iswm x reader #reader insert #headcanon #iswm #iswm mark #markiplier egos x reader #space mark x reader #markiplier egos #space!mark #wilford warfstache #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #actor!mark #actor!mark x reader #wkm #illinois x reader #yancy x reader #damien x reader #darkiplier x reader #x reader #flowers #engineer!mark x reader #fluff #english is not my first language

[mildly-intrusivethoughts]

Sitting on Their Laps

Wilford, Actor!Mark & Dark:

A/N: No warnings, just cozy thoughts. Kept it pretty much gender neutral. Enjoy !

Wilford - He has you sitting on one of his knees. Will bounce you on it with a hand on your back for support and the other pulling important paperwork or drafts from his desk. Likes holding you like this so he can see your face while he shows you his projects. Despite the bouncing, his lap is still comfy. Kinda soothing and it has you leaning into his shoulder so you can comfortably keep listening to his rambling. He’ll occasionally ask if you’re still listening, to which you reply with a gentle ‘mhmm’.

Mark - Has you sitting fully on his lap as you hold his tablet with an audition piece he’s debating on sending in. His arms are wrapped around your waist and he has his head popping out to the side so he can get a better view of your reaction to his audition. His thumb is lightly caressing your stomach to ease his anxiety, hoping to hear nothing but approval by the time the video is done. When the video is finally finished and you look back to him, he’s looking up at you expectantly. How could you ever tell him something wasn’t good, he truly was a great actor. “I absolutely love it!” He gives you a big squeeze and smile, “Of course you do! Where’s my goddamn Oscar!”

Darkiplier - At first he would refuse to let you sit on his lap, he’s not typically one for touches. One particularly stressful day has him lightly pulling you towards him. Very unexpected but you followed his guiding hands onto him, gently straddling his thighs with your own, chest to chest and arms wrapped around his neck. With his head buried into your neck, you feel all the air escape from him and slowly fill back in as his chest expands. His hands are wrapped around your waist, hands caressing your lower back, not moving anywhere else. He seems to completely melt into his chair.

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

[intolerable-sushi]

Loving madness

Wilford x reader

Hello folks!!! I am currently sick with the flu, so I have had time to go through my drafts and work on things!!! This is an wilford x gn reader story that I may or may not continue depending on how I feel. Let me know if yall like it, enjoy!!!

Your friends had dragged you to a new club on your birthday to celebrate despite you begging for a small party. Instead of a couple of drinks with your friends inside your perfectly temperate house, you were now sweating like a pig in the corner of the club. Your friends were having a good time at least, with each finding a random guy to grind on. You could barely hold the panic that threatened to spill out of your throat as the club became more crowded. You hated this. You needed to get some air. You could barely make your way through the crowd as you searched for some sort of sanctuary. As your panic began to overflow and tears started to cloud your eyes, you bumped into a man as he turned around, spilling your drink all over him. You began to apologize profusely afraid that he would be angry with you, as he had every right to be. 

____________________________________________

Loving Wilford had been a mistake. A mistake that you could have easily avoided if you hadn’t been so short-sighted and naive. It had all been going so well when you had first met. 

“Now, now, it's alright darling. A little spill never hurt anyone. These things happen all the time! Now, are you alright?” The man was tall , wearing a yellow shirt and khakis. His smile was warm under his mustache and his eyes had this spark in them. You froze, he was beautiful. “Miss I understand that I am quite a catch if I do say so myself, but I do believe that you need to breathe.” You need to breathe? Oh shit you had stopped breathing. You took in a quick gasp before apologizing again. His eyes appeared to soften as he looked at you. 

“You look like you are having a rough night. Why don’t we get you outside for some air?” He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you towards the door. Once the two of you were outside he sat you down on a chair that you were sure wasn’t there when you had walked out. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s gotten someone as stunning as you all frazzled.” You explained that today was your birthday, and that your friends had dragged you to this new club despite you wanting a small get together. Everyone else was having fun, but the atmosphere was overwhelming to you. You didn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun so you just stayed quiet. The tears that had been collecting in your eyes began to fall. You just wanted to go home now.  

The man had listened silently to your explanation before letting out a huff. “ Those don’t sound like very good friends. Today is YOUR birthday not theirs. You should be doing what you want to do today!” You stated you would rather not cause any problems. The man huffed again, “Wanting to be celebrated in a way you enjoy is not causing problems.” The man appeared to be almost steaming as he began to pace in front of you muttering to himself. 

You stood up from your chair and said you would rather just head back to your apartment now. The man stopped his pacing and turned to you, “Alright, but may I walk you home to ensure your safety.” You thought about it for a second. This definitely was not the safest part of town, so walking by yourself was risky but at the same time, you didn’t know this man. You couldn’t help but eye him suspiciously. Was he really safe or did he have another motive?

The man seemed to realize what you were thinking and he cleared his throat. “ My apologies, where are my manners? My name is Willia- I mean, Wilford Warfstache at your service.” He said while taking a deep bow with his hand to his chest. You couldn’t help but to giggle at the name. Warfstache, what an interesting name. You decided that he seemed kind enough and told him he could walk you home. 

The two of you talked the entire way there. Wilford was kind, passionate, and funny. He had so many stories to tell and you felt like you could listen to him for hours. He made you smile and you couldn’t help the feelings of butterflies forming in your stomach. Before you parted ways that night you gifted Wilford with your number and a kiss on the check. 

The two of you began to see each other regularly and talked almost nonstop. Being with Wilford felt like a dream. He was a gentleman in all things, but he helped push you out of your comfort zone. The two of you had gone on skating dates, picnic dates, and you even went to a dance club at some point. Wilford had kept you close to make sure you were safe and comfortable. 

You were so happy and naive that you had ignored the problems and red flags. Wilford rarely talked about his past, with the only people he ever brought up being his childhood friends Mark and Damien. Sometimes he would mention a past love, but he didn’t seem to remember her name. Which brought up another concern; his memory. He struggled with simple things like the date, or even where he was. Which explained why he didn’t talk about his past. You suggested he go see a doctor multiple times, but he would refuse with a kind smile every time. 

 Other issues were harder to ignore, like when he started to just appear in places. In the apartment he could be in the bedroom one minute, and then in the kitchen the next. You explained it away with you just not paying attention, but that excuse didn’t work when he did it outside the house. Walking away to go to the bathroom only to appear in front of you when you turn back around. You should have started asking questions then. You should have payed attention as the light slowly left his eyes, when his face began to have random twitches, or when his mustache started to turn fucking pink. You ignored it all, explaining it all away in your head like a naive fool. Maybe you could have saved him. It’s too late to know now. 

Eventually his descent went from a trickle of odd occurrence to a waterfall of concerns. You would come home to him sitting at the table with a drink in hand staring at the wall muttering to himself. You could only catch the words “I did” from him. He would snap out of it when you would call him, and go back to being regular old Wilford, but over time even that stopped working. He would avoid the topic every time you brought it up, saying, “I’m fine love, I promise.” As this went on you could no longer ignore the fact that he started to randomly appear in your house when you knew he wasn’t there. You had screamed at him the first time he walked into the kitchen from your room. The two of you started to argue. He refused to talk to you about anything, and you were begging him to get help. You could see him slipping further and further from you, but he was just being so stubborn. 

Everything came to a head when you had been watching the news one night. There had been a massacre, two men and three women had been shot and killed. “The killer is still at large.” The news reporter stated, “ It is suggested that everyone stay in their homes until further notice. Talks of city wide curfew are currently in the works” 

Your front door suddenly slammed open! You turned to see Wilford staggering inside before slamming the door closed behind him.“Darling are you home?” He called, “You would not believe the night I’ve had!” You felt relief wash over you seeing your love, but that feeling stopped when something shun in his hand. A gun. Your blood froze for a second as you stared at the weapon. You were no longer listening to Wilford as questions flooded your head. Did he kill those people? Wilford would never hurt anyone!! He’s been so kind!! But why is he holding it right now? Why is it not holstered? Is that smoke?

“Darling?” Wilford had noticed you staring at his gun. He looked behind you to see the news broadcast. “Oh that? That was just a little accident, my love, no need to worry! It’ll work itself out!” An accident? It had been an accident? So why did he run? You looked into his eyes and your body couldn’t help but stiffen. There was no regret or sadness for the lives he had taken. The madness that you had been ignoring had taken over his eyes. Even the love he had for you was hard to find. You couldn’t help but be afraid for a moment. 

His smile began to falter as he stared at you. “My love? What’s wrong? You know I would never hurt you right? It was just an accident I swear.” He slowly began to approach you with his hands up, but the gun was still in hand. You scrambled off the couch to get away from him. His face fell at that moment. He backed towards the kitchen before slumping onto the table, “I’ve lost it haven’t I,” He whispered almost to himself, “ I thought I had more time, but it’s really slipped away, hasn’t it.” He finally looked back up at you, and for a moment you saw the Wilford you had met that night. 

You begged him to let you help him. The two of you could fix this! You can’t lose him! You were sobbing now. You began to  slowly make your way around the couch towards him.

“STAY”

You froze as he snapped at you. He looked back down at the floor. “I’m too far gone love. I’m gonna forget everything eventually. Even you…” He began to grip the edge of the table, “ You don’t deserve this. You are so sweet, and caring. I wish I could give you the world,” the table began to crack under his grip, “ I don’t deserve you. I can’t keep you safe. Not when I’m the thing putting you in danger.” 

Wilford rose up from the table and looked at you with a sad smile. “ I can’t be with you love. It was selfish of me to think otherwise. I can’t destroy your life like I destroyed theirs. I have to go, but if you ever need me just call for me, and I’ll come. Even if I don’t remember you, I promise I’ll protect you.” You didn’t understand, you begged him to explain. He only shook his head. “Goodbye my love,” With that he disappeared in front of your eyes. 

You haven’t seen Wilford since, and you’ve been a wreck. You loved that man. You shouldn’t but you did anyway.  You just couldn’t understand any of this. What was he? Why did he kill those people? You’ve been crying yourself to sleep trying to think of the answers, but none ever came.

One night things took another turn. 

You were crying in your room as you had done for many nights when suddenly, “Poor, sweet thing. All teary eyed over a lost love. Confused with no answers,” A voice called out to you from the darkness of your room. You reached to turn on the lamp on your night stand, but the light barely even reached the edge of your bed. What’s happening? “ Relax little one, I am here to help you. I have some information that could be of use to you. I don’t ask for much in return. Just a simple favor,” From the shadows stepped a man in a suit. He stood tall and proud, with gray skin like a thunder cloud. His form seemed to break and strain, with the man appearing to scream in pain for one second then be back to his standing posture the next. “Why don’t we talk about this over ice cream?”

#my writing #writing #story #my story #fanfic #my fanfic #markiplier egos #markipler egos fanfic #markiplier fanfiction #wilford warfstache x reader #wilford #wilford warfstache #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #wilford x reader #markiplier wilford #wkm wilford #wilford x y/n #wilford warfstache x y/n #x reader #x reader fanfic #wilford fanfic