#dark!markiplier x reader
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Whisper Of An Angel
♰ Part Five ♰
Pairing: Darkiplier x Female Reader
Summary: Every single night for as long as you can remember, you’ve slept undisturbed. You’ve dreamt dreams that were anything but out of the ordinary, until one night, a strange shadowed figure starts to visit you in your dreams. You doubt that he’s real, but as time progressed, it becomes hard to deny that this obsessive man is anything but a figure in your dreams.
Warning: Manipulation, fear.
Note:
I slowly rose my head from the ground, shivers running through my arms and I quickly recognized that voice. I didn’t think I would hear it again. After I had gotten my explanation, I thought I would stop having these extreme lucid dreams about this man, but it seemed not, for he was standing right in front of me.
I placed my palms against the ground and let my eyes trail up his aberration covered form, his attire different from the last time we had met. This time he wore a grey suit with a white shirt underneath, which had been slightly unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the top of his chest. I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks become warm.
His head was tilted to the side as he stared down at me whilst I stared back up at him. I could feel the look I was giving him, it was one that was of surprise and intrigue. I moved my eyes away from him to scan the area, seeing that we were in the same area from before. The void. The endless darkness leading into infinite nothingness.
He began to walk slowly around me, his footsteps echoing in the silence. “You’ve been telling people about me. Dr. Steel, was it?”
I looked over at him, stunned for a moment as I wondered how he knew that, but then I remembered that he was a creation of my conscience. “Yes.”
He hummed, “She seems to think i’m a creation of your conscience and the pieces of all your desires placed into one person, so that you may find yourself this person you truly desire. She doesn’t seem to think that i’m real.” He spoke, amusement in his voice.
I furrowed my brows. “Because you’re not.”
He raised a brow at me, “And, what makes you think that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe because this is a dream. Everything she said makes sense.” I hesitated for a moment, feeling embarrassed for the words that were about to come out of my mouth. “You have all the features that I find attractive. The way you act, the way you look, it’s all there. My brain needed someone to make up for the lack of affection in my life, and so it created you.”
He raised a brow. “You created me to fill the void in your heart? That sounds like quite the eclectic choice.”
I shrugged, letting my feet place themselves against the ground so that I could stand up and face the grey apparition, letting myself be level to him for the first time. Though we were physically equal, internally it did not feel as though we were. I could not shake the presence he held over me. The way his being loomed over my mind. It was like a kitten trying to prove itself to a wolf. A mortifying mislaying.
He hummed, “So, you find yourself so overcome with loneliness, that you decided to create someone like me? I find myself quite flattered. I did not think I would be the very object of someone’s desires, let alone yours.”
I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, as if copying my previous motion of uncertainty, “I could not explain this inclination I have for you. It seems that I cannot help but yearn for darkness to arrive, and for your sanctified presence to enter this endless cavern. I find that this void is but an empty and quiet aviary where I sit and lie in wait for the little bird to arrive.”
My cheeks warmed, “You’re quite the affectionate poet for someone I created. I didn’t think I could come up with these kind of things. Maybe I should go into poetry, but i’m sure the words I write sound better coming out of your mouth than mine. You have the voice for reading to people.”
He shook his head amused, “You still think I am but a figment of your imagination?”
I nodded, “Of course you are. How could you be anything but?”
He stopped pacing, his body turned to the side as he stared into the distance in thought, his eyebrows pulled together in thought, his hands placed behind his back. He turned his head towards me, his shadowed eyes meeting mine. “Creature, I am far more real than you could ever think to believe.”
My eyes widened and I flinched as I saw him glitch where he stood, a form of him screaming out from his figure, as if he was trying to escape the body he was in. I could not help but feel a quiver of fear at the unusual sight. Glitches of him flashed around him, as if mirroring his mood.
e͞͞E͞͞E͞͞E͞͞A͞͞R͞͞G͞͞H͞͞H͞͞H͞͞H͞͞
A͞͞A͞͞H͞͞H͞͞H͞͞H͞͞G͞͞H͞͞H͞͞H͞͞H͞͞
He stepped towards me in a quick move, “I can make all of your dreams and desires come into fruition with the snap of my fingers. L͞͞e͞͞t͞͞ m͞͞e͞͞ i͞͞n͞͞ a͞͞n͞͞d͞͞ I͞͞'l͞͞l͞͞ s͞͞h͞͞o͞͞w͞͞ y͞͞o͞͞u͞͞ j͞͞u͞͞s͞͞t͞͞ h͞͞o͞͞w͞͞ r͞͞e͞͞a͞͞l͞͞ I͞͞ a͞͞m͞͞.”
I took quick steps back as he stepped towards me, to which I ended up losing my footing and I found myself falling to the floor, my palms against the ground beside me as I stared up at this unusual man, pushing my body backwards as his footsteps came to a slow at my reaction. He came to stare down at me, a look of dismay on his face at my fear.
I could see on his face that he knew that I had seen the strange glitching around his form. He let out a deep sigh and clenched his fists at his sides. He closed his eyes and shook his head, “I could not conceal my true self from you for eternity, but you must not be a͞͞f͞͞r͞͞a͞͞i͞͞d͞͞.”
I looked over his form in alarm, trying to decipher what had just happened. My chest heaved and my heart hammered in my chest, almost loud enough to fill the silence as I stared at him. It was unlike anything i’d ever seen and I found it difficult to not be afraid of it. My eyes stung as I began to wonder if I had made a mistake finding intrigue in this mysterious man. I still didn’t even know his name.
He slowly stepped towards me as if trying to be wary. He carefully slipped down so that he was perched on one knee in front of me, his eyebrows furrowed in regret. He gently leaned forward and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm, and a stark contrast to the chill my body felt due to the nature of the void. He kept his fingers at the side of my face, his eyes darting between mine. “Do not be afraid.”
He began to trace the back of his fingers against my cheek, tracing all the way down the side of my face to the beginning of my jawline, his eyes following every moment. He turned his hand over to place his fingers under my jaw, tracing his thumb over the bottom of my face. He held my jaw in between his finger tips. I could feel my rapid breathing and thundering heart come to a slow as I came to a calm, letting the comfort of his presence soak into my skin.
I just stared in trepidation, awaiting to see him glitch away from his body again, and when it did, that image of him pulling away from his physical form, I didn’t recoil, I didn’t move away from his hold, but I couldn’t help but let my eyes widen, my heart beat picking up a little bit again. His thumb gently traced over my chin, as if trying to let me know that there was nothing to be afraid of.
He slid his hand under my jaw to cup the side of my face, not a word being spoken. I found myself leaning into his hand, relishing in the warmth that it radiated. I could feel the heat entering my body and spreading all around, as if I was being covered in a blanket of pure solace. My breathing was slow and steady as I let my eyes close. I hadn’t felt this calm in a very long time.
“That’s it..” He whispered in praise. “That’s it.”
I could feel my body becoming weaker, the ability to keep myself sitting up became less and less as I found myself overcome with this strange calmness he was blanketing me with. I felt myself slowly fall forward and into his embrace, my cheek pressed against his shoulder, and my arms pressed to my chest, against his.
A large part of me knew I should have been afraid. This was beyond anything. I had no idea how he managed to bring me to such a deep calm, but I found myself relishing deeply in it, accepting it, holding onto it. I could hear the sound of his breaths and I could feel the fall and rise of his chest. Everything about him seemed alive, though his demeanor said anything but.
He rose a hand to stroke it over my head, holding me closer to him. This was probably my brains way of forcing me to be comfortable with him, so that I could get that dose of affection my mental health really needed. I should be grateful, my mind is probably working really hard right now to make this feel as real as it is. The best thing I can do is accept it. After all, it’s not really happening.
“You have nothing to be afraid of.” He spoke, brushing his fingers over the crown of my head, a comforting gesture. “Nothing at all..”
I nodded, taking in a slow breath. “Are you sure you’re not an angel?..”
He stayed silent for a moment in thought.
“You’ll wish I was.”
I furrowed my brows for a moment as I pondered what he meant, but I came to the conclusion that he meant that being an angel would make him more real than being a figment of my imagination. I was not sure though, but it was the one that made sense. I found myself trusting him, he couldn’t harm me if he wasn’t real.
“Then what are you?..” I asked.
“What do you think I am?” He asked.
I thought for a moment before answering. I knew that my answer would be quite demeaning in a real life situation, but it was the truth. He knew it too. He’d heard everything from inside the therapists office. “A coping mechanism.”
There was a moment of silence. “Perhaps.”
I frowned. “You probably hate me for that.”
There was a moment of silence again, “Ever thinking that I could possibly hate you is the most foolish thing you could ever think to imagine.”
I furrowed my brows as I looked up at him, studying his face for a moment. I didn’t understand how he seemed to be so okay with me declaring things that would usually offend the average person, but then again, he wasn’t average. Everything about him was out of the ordinary. The way his body would shift into blue and red, glitching out of place as if his soul was trying to escape.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Dark.” He answered.
I smiled, “Seriously?”
He tilted his head. “Yes, why?”
I shrugged. “I pictured different names for you in my head, none of them being an adjective.”
“And what names did you think of?” He asked.
I thought for a moment. “Carl.. Steven.. Alec.. Dave.. Daniel.. Mark-“
I felt him stiffen under me at the mention of the last name and it caused me to stop talking, looking towards him in intrigue. He seemed to be uncomfortable by the mention of the name as if had triggered something inside of him. I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat, wondering if I had said something wrong. There was a look on his face that almost looked offended.
“What’s wrong?..” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, he just turned his head away from me, looking out into the distance of the endless void. He placed a hand on the back of my head and pulled me against his chest again, keeping me against the warmth. I let him hold me against him, his one hand on the back of my head whilst the other was on the small of my back. It was at this moment that I realized that he in fact had no heartbeat and instead there was a quietness from within his chest.
Mark? Why does that name make him uncomfortable? I wondered for a moment what sort of history he must have had with this named person. I wondered if it was a relative, if Dark even had a family. Perhaps he was a friend who wrong him, or maybe even a past lover. There was so much I didn’t know about him, but I wanted to know everything. I didn’t know where to start or what to ask, and now didn’t seem like the right time.
We stayed in place for a few moments, me in his arms and him holding me against him. At one point I let my arms slither around him, pulling myself closer to him. He brought a comfort that I couldn’t replicate outside of my dreams. I knew i’d wake up soon, so I wanted to relish in this feeling for as long as I could have it. I wasn’t sure what would happen after this, I didn’t know if i’d see him again after I woke up.
His thumb stroked over the back of my head. I could feel him place his head over mine. I could tell that I wasn’t the only one relishing in this, but he was too.
“Let me in.” He whispered.
I frowned. “I can’t.”
He let out a small disappointment sigh. It pulled a string in my chest. I didn’t want to disappoint him. If he’s real, he wouldn’t want to talk to me again.
“I really thought you’d do better.”
“I’m sorry.”
There was a moment of silence.
“It’s alright.” He spoke.
I wasn’t sure of what to say and I couldn’t pull myself to move away from him. We just stay there, staying in each others arms, me pondering the legitimacy of this whole situation. I would probably need to see Dr. Steel again. How would she explain all of this? This is a product of the missing affection in my life. I thought once i’d figured it out, it would all go away, he would go away, but he didn’t.
I don’t want him to go. I find myself deeply afraid of him, but I can seem to want to wake up. I wanted to stay here, knowing that he isn’t real and that this is okay. Tomorrow he’ll be gone, he has to be. If he doesn’t go, I don’t know what i’ll do. I’ll be stuck yearning for a man inside my mind. It’s better than nothing, I suppose.
“Sleep well, little bird.” He whispered.
He pressed his lips to the top my head and I could see darkness clouding my vision, and no matter how hard I tried to fight it, I slipped away. My body went slack in his arms and I could feel the lasting moments as he placed me down on my floor, the back of his hand brushing over the side my face before he stood, his blurry figure stepping away from me, leaving me to return to the real world.
Note: THE “Thats it.. that’s it.” ??? I ALMOST BARKED THIS IS TOO MUCH. Also, spoiler-ish, first signs of red flags 😃 good thing i’m color blind. Also writing this chapter whilst listening to Matilda by Harry Styles 💔
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#markiplier#markiplier x reader#darkiplier#markiplier egos#darkiplier x reader#mark fischbach#markiplier imagines#markiplier series#dark!markiplier#dark!markiplier x reader
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Did You Miss Me?
Remembered ADWM when Dark says, “Did you miss me? I missed you- very much.” And now I wanna make a drabble on it.
Maybe a little variation on what happens in ADWM. Thinking of making a new HC where he can’t touch you unless you give him permission or initiate it first. Of course he can ask for it or give vague gestures in hopes you will accept him.
Darkiplier x Reader (gender neutral)
Set up: essentially the same intro as ADWM, but a little more intimate. Sfw only tho
~★~
You had become extremely disoriented from the rough switch in atmosphere. The ringing that echoed within your mind was not helping either. Your date was no where to be found and neither was the stage.
“Hello, darling.” A disembodied voice greeted. Then a monochrome figure appeared in front of you, though it was difficult to keep eyes on him when he was surrounded by blue and red doubles.
He straightened at your distress and the visual glitching subsided slightly.
He cleared his throat, “I missed you, dear. It’s been quite some time wouldn’t you say?” He took a step forward, extending a hand, only for you to take a step back in confusion. He clenched his hand and let it fall.
“My apologies, this must seem rather forward. Though I must admit,” his jaw clenched, “I’ve grown tired of this perpetual game we’ve been forced to play.”
He straightened his already perfect suit and sighed, “It doesn’t matter… surely you must be aware of this cycle by now?”
You had felt rather caught off by the consistent, repetitive actions you had been forced to perform. You slowly nodded.
“Then let me further enlighten you,” he waved his hand to summon different visions of your adventure so far, even things that have yet to occur. “You must understand this was all his plan (y/n). I have simply disrupted this game, if only momentarily.”
“How did you-“
“This isn’t our first encounter. We have met many times in the past.” His expression shifted, but returned so quickly that you thought you imagined it. “It was brought to my attention that he decided to drag you along once again. A shame he continuously removes your memories of his games… our little meetings. Manipulating the plot to suit his needs,” his sudden harsh tone and odd shattered reflection startled you. He took a breath so steady himself and moved closer, now towering over you. “I can take you from this wretched cycle… to show you what we had together,” once again, he offered his hand.
“Please, (y/n)…” His voice grew strained, “Let me in... Let me be everything you need,” his head tilted to whisper softly into your ear. Dangerously close yet still refraining from contact.
You looked to his hand and cautiously moved to take it, but hesitated.
“I promise you this, your every need will be met. Your heart’s desires fulfilled… Let me protect you now where I couldn’t before. Let me amend my mistakes…”
You felt a great sadness from his words. Letting your naive trust get the better of you, your hand lightly accepted his.
The moment your hands connected, he rushed to embrace you causing you to gasp. He buried his face into your neck, reciting apologies and promises of loyalty. The air grew lighter, and for the first time since you could ever remember, you felt lucid.
He removed himself and held your shoulders. His smile filled you with warmth.
“Let’s catch up, old friend.”
#ego#darkiplier#markiplier egos#dark#darkiplier x reader#reader insert#x reader#kie writes#kie’s post#gender neutral fanfic
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Under the Mistletoe
Word count: 1481
A/N: You know what, sure, I'll put this one here. Also, THIS WON'T BE SITTING FOR ANOTHER YEAR!! This was started about two years ago, and I only just finished it 😅 enjoy! Remember, reblogs > likes! Thank you!
Dark is…nervous.
It's been a long time since he's felt this way; the closest he can recall is when Wilford gets overly trigger-happy at the worst of times and jeopardizes his plans, or when the man has one of his memory spells. But this…
Dark glances at the mistletoe hanging from the doorframe of his office, visible only from the inside. It’s been… Well, in another lifetime, he had attempted this tradition before and succeeded a few times, although he was much more nervous then than he is currently. Besides, times have changed. He’s a different man, now. One that he thought wasn’t so capable of something like “nervousness.” Do you even like him enough that this will work—
Nonetheless, he requested some time ago that you come to his office at your earliest convenience. He knows you won’t ignore it, because he hardly ever invites you there. If he does, it must be important. As this is. As you are.
He cannot focus on his paperwork in the interim. Instead of a refuge, it feels like an overwhelming mountain, stretching up almost indefinitely. He's not even sure why he has so much of it, a creature of the void as he is, but somehow, Wilford’s very existence comes with paperwork. The other egos cause headaches, but typically not paperwork. Not often, anyway.
And you. Somehow, you’ve managed to fit in with the craziness that is this revolving door of oddballs. It took time, but you’ve carved out your own niche, and the more aggressive of the bunch eventually stopped antagonizing you. Wilford, as was his wont, took you “under his wing,” which largely meant you’d run around doing increasingly inane errands until Dark had to step in. You weren’t built for that, after all. It was the first time he saw anything that wasn’t (fear) concern in your eyes when looking at him.
Dark sighs and shuffles some papers around. The dark wood of his desk pokes through, matched by the dreary wallpaper, black bookshelves with equally desaturated books, and dark wood flooring. It's like it's bearing down on him, suffocating him in his anxiousness instead of being a comfort. After the day he stepped in, you slowly began to spend a bit more time with him around the manor, and he found himself missing your presence on some days when you weren’t around.
Your footsteps announce your arrival far in advance, his supernatural hearing better than a human’s, and he actually has to take a deep breath to calm himself. In all honesty, the nerves wouldn't be that bad, but for him? Anything more than a little is too much.
He had discovered by way of accidentally overhearing that, despite appearances, you enjoyed the little things, especially the little romantic things. It was strange, to consider such concepts after so long, to let the idea germinate in his mind until an idea bloomed. An idea that he is still second-guessing until this very moment. He pretends to keep working until you rap on the door frame. "Dark? You asked to see me?"
"Ah, you're here." He shuffles the papers again, this time into a neat stack, acting as if everything is normal and you didn’t somehow borderline startle him. “I almost believed you wouldn’t show.”
You both know he said this on purpose; just another jab he can’t help but say. A deflection, now, habitual and not fully meant. You huff half-heartedly. “As if I wouldn’t. Can I come in?”
“Not quite yet.” He knows the anxiousness isn't evident (you’ve never seemed to notice before), but his reply is still rather quick. “We can have a discussion with you over there.”
You roll your eyes. Dark doesn't notice, too caught up in not looking at you. “Sure, real personal discussion. What even did you want to talk with me about?”
“You have been living here for quite some time now, and it looks like you will be here for quite some time longer.” His desk is tidied much too soon for his liking. “I take it everything is still satisfactory?”
“Well, yeah, I suppose so,” you reply, obviously confused. “Wilford is still…Wilford.”
“That he is. And that he will continue to be.” He’s forced to finally look up, and seeing you underneath the mistletoe is like something out of a dream: unreal. Too good to be true. Dark makes himself stand up, palms pressed firmly against the desk as if to steady himself. “If you have more trouble with him, or with anyone else, you know where to find me.”
“Oh, okay, thanks…?”
“I do think Wilford isn’t fully utilizing your talents, but he doesn’t always listen to me.” Dark finds his feet taking him forward, towards you.
“Really? You think so?” There’s a tinge of surprise in your voice, but it’s a good surprise. You didn’t think he would notice, he suspects.
“Yes. And with the days you spend in my office, we could figure out some way to harness and hone them. Maybe then, he’ll listen.”
“I mean, is it really a good idea to get in his way?”
The corner of Dark’s mouth twitches as he stops in front of you. You’re so…short, compared to him. “Well, of all people, I would be the best candidate.”
Amusement flickers into your eyes, and it makes you look that much lovelier. “I suppose you’re right. But still…”
“My dear, I think you should…aim higher. Look higher.” When you just blink at him, not picking up on his odd hint, he points upwards, towards the lintel. Your brows twitch in confusion, but you follow where he points. Your eyes catch the sprig of mistletoe, and he watches your expression as the gears turn in your mind, everything clicking into place. You look back at him in disbelief, and whether you’re aware of it or not, your cheeks are tinged with the beginnings of a blush. It makes him want to do this even more. Still, the words are not easy to say, tongue heavy in his mouth. “May I?”
You nod almost dumbly after a moment, and he brings his hand up to cup your face. It is of immense relief that you don’t recoil. If his heart still worked, it would be beating out of his chest. As it is, he can hear yours doing exactly that. It picks up as he closes the gap between you.
Dark brushes his lips against yours, the barest of touches, almost as if he's asking for permission again. When you don't pull away, he kisses you properly, surprisingly soft and chaste. (You didn't think he had it in him.) It’s over far too soon, and when he pulls back, your eyes flutter open to find him studying you. The moment is delicate, just the sound of your breathing as his eyes search yours and time seems to stretch into infinity.
All you do is lean forward a little, and you seem to fall into each other, his lips meeting yours again, this time with a bit of urgency. You, instead of retreating, accept it, pressing towards him and tentatively lifting your own hand to his cheek. The reassurance flooding Dark is immediate, prompting him to bring your body closer to him. You inhale sharply in surprise, but again don’t move away, relaxing in his embrace.
Despite the kissing lasting longer than expected, you removing your lips from his still happens much too quickly. Your face is fully flushed, now; he wonders if his cheeks convey the same.
Your voice is soft; one might call it breathless. “You had the discussion…just for that?”
“Well, I had to get you here somehow.” There’s a ghost of a toothy grin for a moment, before his face softens—actually softens, if but a little. “And I meant everything I said.”
Your eyes dart away, sheepish. “Oh…thanks…”
“How do you feel about dinner?”
Those were not words Dark expected out of his mouth, and nor did you, by the way your head whips back up toward him. “Dinner? We eat dinner at the manor all the time.”
“You know what I meant.” A genuine, small smile graces his face. “Just you and me.”
“Y-yeah.” You bite at your lip; he hears your heart rate jump up again. “That sounds…great. When?”
“Tonight, as long as everything goes according to plan.”
You give a small nod, then nod again, more definitively. “Yeah. Sounds good to me.”
“Splendid.” Dark kisses your forehead, then releases you. His arms already feel empty without you there. “I will come get you when everything is ready. I’ll see you later, darling.”
Darling. Something else that just slipped out. But it feels…right, to borrow that from the past. And, with the way you look at him after it, eyes shining with something he cannot yet fully place, perhaps he will keep calling you “darling.” And, maybe soon, his darling.
#darkiplier x reader#markiplier#x reader#gender neutral reader#Darkiplier#reader insert#mbg writes#dark x reader#happy holidays#christmas fic#pretty much all my notes come from the tags not necessarily followers rn so it doesnt matter where it goes :|#writeblr
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A R K for Dark, please?
A - Affection:
He's very passive in the way he shows his adoration. He enjoys doing things for you, or simply being in the room with him is enough. But when it comes to physical, it's the small touches. The kiss to your palm or knuckles, brushing your hair out of your face, a gentle hand on the small of your back when you stand together.
R - Remember:
Those moments up at his cabin, that one week of the year in which he'd be able to take a reprieve from his mayoral duties. Snuggling by the fire, making coffee or tea on the wood stove, and watching movies on the old projector.
K - Kisses:
When he's being a gentleman, your hands are his favorite place. Your palms when you hold his face, or your knuckles when you take his hand in yours. When he holds you, he kisses your temples and cheeks. He's always slow, gentle, and savoring.
#150 Follower Event#darkiplier#dark#markiplier egos#wkm darkiplier#wkm dark#darkiplier x reader#dark x reader#wkm darkiplier x reader#wkm dark x reader#a heist with markiplier#ahwm#who killed markiplier#wkm#midnight mint#chaosanswers
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Thinking thoughts of a 'red room' yandere on the dark web... they have every torture device imaginable but when it comes to you in that dirty metal chair, with that bloodied sack over your head, they cant help but want to tease you, watch as you sob in fear without realizing that theyd never truly carry out a punishment as harsh as they do for most of their victims. Dragging the flat and cold metal of a knife over your stomach is enough to get them and their viewers going. Theyve had thoughts of dragging you to gorey ruin just like most of those who find themselves in that room, but they cant bring themselves to do it, for one twisted reason or another.
#i have had an unhealthy fascination with the dark web since markipliers 'welcome to the game' gameplay#kn1ves rants#knives rants#writing#x reader#reader insert#yandere#self insert#yandere x reader#dark web#red room#red room yandere#dark web yandere#tw yandere#tw dark web#tw red room#sadistic yandere#fiction#yandere fiction
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"Who wouldn't be angry?"
In which Wilford's return has less fanfare than what he hoped for.
TW: cursing, slight sexual references
Pages: 13 - Words: 5,000
[Requests: OPEN]
Closing up the bar was the best part of the night. After everyone had gone home, either willingly or under attack from your broom, and the only sound left was the quiet tap, tap, tap of a faucet someone forgot to turn off – that was when you felt perfectly at peace. The adrenaline of work was fun, of course, but reaping the rewards of a 20-dollar tip and pair of earphones made the 2 o’clock chime all the more satisfying.
You unwrapped the apron from your waist and tossed it over your bag. A wayward sex on the beach meant it would need washing before you could wear it again, not that you minded it too much. It was, after all, where that tip came from, and the man who spilt it was almost too apologetic. You’d had worse.
Dimly, as you wiped down the tables for the last time, you lamented the loss of your winter-holiday themed apron.
You preferred the Halloween one anyway, so it wasn’t a weight on your conscience that drew you to breaking into your bar late at night. The work kept you busy enough that you didn’t, and couldn’t, despair over small things. The taxes, the patrons, the staff – they were all great, but sometimes you did wish you had time for yourself. A Sunday off, once a month, that would be enough. But, as you said, no time to despair. There was still work to do.
That night, the work entailed taking the cash out of the register and tip jar, counting it, and stuffing it into the safe, locking all the interior doors and windows, and, finally, flicking the light switch. The neon pink sign blinked once, twice, and died out at its third breath, while you brought out your keys to officially lock the front door. The little hole-in-the-wall that the bar was, it didn’t run the risk of getting broken into too strongly, but there was no reason not to take precautions. You’d heard your neighbors tell you that it was so much a safe town that you needn’t bother locking everything. You told them that you quite liked having money, thank you very much, and there was no way in hell that you were going to pay any more for insurance.
The night’s air nipped at your face, reminding you that you were still standing outside. Your brain, meanwhile, reminded you that you weren’t on your couch, wrapped in a blanket, and watching random nature documentaries. It might have also said something about paying your rent, but you decided to ignore that part.
So, your frigid breath fading away in front of you, you waltzed down the four blocks between you and your apartment, watching the few other folk out and about make their own ways home. A group of teens scuttled across the road, technically jay walking but you weren’t going to say anything, while a ruffled office worker took off in a hurry in the other direction. Probably wanting to get into a safe place with the baggy of drugs stuffed into his suit pocket.
The town you lived in wasn’t a well-off one. It was two steps up from rock bottom, and only because the local deli hadn’t been closed down due to health hazards yet. You liked to think your bar made it better, but there were going to be people who didn’t agree. Those teens, for instance, who always threw crude remarks when you denied them a beer. You didn’t hold it against them. How could you, when you had done the same thing once or twice when you were a kid. It didn’t bother you anymore, so why not wait until they reached 21, or found good enough fake IDs.
You fished your keys out of your bag when you were at the stairs inside your apartment building. The little, pink bear was the only thing that distinguished it from any others, and you ran your fingers over the dimples and nicks as your legs moved for you. Fourth floor, second door on the left. Whistling the few beats of a song you could still remember from the radio, you spun the plastic toy around in the air, caught it with your other hand, and pushed it into your door.
The entry was cold. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but you were always reminded of the difference between the welcoming warmth of your bar and your home’s casual wave of air. Bringing a jacket with you was a moot point since you only needed it when you were actually inside. No, you just had to put up with it until you could get out of your work clothes and surround yourself with the fluffiest blankets you could find. You had this down to a fine art at that point, there was no reason why you couldn’t do it from muscle memory alone.
Your keys clattered to the wooden floorboards.
No anticipated reason. None at all. You should have been moving into your bedroom by now. You should have been leaving the line of sight of your kitchen and heading to your dresser. You should have been doing anything except staring right at the man who had settled himself against your countertop with a bowl and spoon in his hands.
You weren’t certain if you’d have preferred a complete stranger, maybe someone with a mallet ready to bash in your head. Something told you it would have been better that the mallet he had poised to bash in your heart with.
Your mouth dropped open and you forgot about the keys on the ground. Eyes scanning his figure, you begged to find any reason that this wasn’t him, but, if there was, you were too shocked to see it. First, came the slow, creeping sensation of confusion, then a dismal sadness washed through your veins, followed within the second by a tidal wave of anger.
In a single movement, you’d scooped up your keys, singled the sharpest one out, and lunged for Wilford.
The fucker was lucky he had those teleporting, magic, screw-the-laws-of-physics powers that let him appear behind you before you cut through his arm. That didn’t stop you from whirling around and trying to get at his shoulder, though, but you missed again. And again. And again.
“Stop moving!” you yelled, skidding into the fridge. It was a poorly choreographed dance that involved the two of you going around in circles, neither graceful nor calculated. The most math Wilford was doing was making sure he didn’t end up on your stove-top, and you were barely thinking, regardless of how many times the counter drove itself into your stomach.
His response of a stern, “No!” went ignored while you flung yourself towards him for a sixth time. You were considering just chucking the keychain at him and hoping you struck gold, but luck always seemed to be on his side – if not for his evading of your attacks, then for the fact that his bowl hadn’t spiled whatever was inside it. Although, just as you cursed him for it and a bunch of other irrelevant things, he placed it near the sink and watched you fumble with the keys. Your hands were sweaty against the frigidness of the apartment, the exercise was wearing you out quickly, but you didn’t let up. He’d always liked that about you, but he was getting tired, more of the repetitiveness of the situation than the exertion.
So, what else could he do but twist your arm behind your back, hold your other hand down onto the countertop, and ignore the suggestive position it put you both in to disarm you? You didn’t stop struggling, to which he tutted and wrenched your shoulder back further. Nothing to hurt you, too much, he just needed you to calm down. If there was one thing he’d learned in your past encounters, it was that you didn’t react well to simply being verbally ordered around.
“Now, why are you so angry?” Wilford asked.
For a second, you stilled. He couldn’t be serious, but, then again, when was he ever? This was the norm for him. Both the prudent ignorance and the method of disarmament. After jostling for moment more, you let out a breath that gave you more wiggle room against the countertop.
“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years.”
Wilford apparently deemed you pacified enough to let you go, and you fell forward slightly. God, your arms hurt. You turned to face him as you rolled the shoulder that he had pulled behind you. Military man. You hated when he actually used what he was taught.
“I didn’t fake my death,” he scoffed.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you ate all my cereal and abandoned me for three years. That better?”
“I didn’t abandon you.”
You finally met his eyes. Six feet between you, far out of arm’s reach, you hated that they didn’t betray any lies. More often than not, his emotions were masked by a haze of insanity, but the genuineness was crystal clear, like the spark of lighting across a night sky. It was the kind of purity that meant he fully believed he hadn’t abandoned you, but that just made it worse.
You forced yourself to look away.
“You still ate all my cereal.”
“For that, I am sorry.”
You believed him there, and you hated that you did. But that was the same Wilford who left all those nights ago, wasn’t it? No reason to anything, not leaving, not coming back, not a single thing.
Huffing, you gave up. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and you now had one more chore to do before you could settle down for the night. “What do you want?” you asked as you dumped the remainder of the cereal from Wil’s bowl.
“Can’t a man check in on an old friend out of the kindness of his heart?”
You levelled him with a blank stare. His grin cracked for just a second, but it was enough for you to spot, not that you changed your expression any.
“I- well, I thought we could catch up. What have you been up to for the last… what did you say, three years?”
You took a moment to try and figure him out again. Even if it would get you nowhere in the long run, you weren’t going to entertain him if he was there out of boredom. The little voice in the back of your mind reminded you that you didn’t have to play along with him, it reminded you that you had a job and a home and a life outside of whatever Wilford was swept up in. You didn’t have to jingle around the room like a court jester playing it up for laughs.
But you still sighed, ran a hand down your face, and vaguely gestured to the kitchen counter. “Go on, then.”
Wilford waltzed over to one of the stools as though that was just what he expected you to say, and, ashamed as you were, it likely was; it was some kind of routine you used to have, albeit without the giant gap in between. When you got home from working the bar, he would be there at the stove, cooking whatever it was caught his fancy in the books lately. You’d talk about your day and ask him about his, pouring both of you a drink. You couldn’t drink on the job, but your shift ended the minute you stepped through the apartment door.
Then, of course, after solid months of strange domesticity, Wilford up and vanished in the blink of an eye. Magic.
And, what, he appeared in just the same manner, and you fell into the habit, just like that? God, you really were weak.
“So, how’s the family?” was Wilford’s first question. You didn’t answer until you got the bottles out of the fridge and laid them on the countertop in front of him.
“Fine. Youngest brother graduated; parents adopted another dog.”
You turned away from grabbing the glasses only to see your guest wedging the top off the bottle of gin with his teeth. The cork pressed to the side of his mouth a clear danger, you swiped it from him, tossed it to your other hand and grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer in one swift motion.
“You’ll crack a tooth,” you muttered, knowing damn-well he wouldn’t heed your warning as you watched him shrug and remove the cap of the vermouth as well.
You didn’t bother to be surprised when the martini glass you’d seen on a shelf disappeared and reappeared in Wilford’s hand. That little voice, whispering again, reminded you that the magic trick was old hat to you now. You didn’t have to be shocked at the casual manipulation of time and space.
“I didn’t think Danny-boy was still in schooling. What’s he going to be, eh?”
Ignoring the sudden pressure in your chest, you replied, “A pilot.”
“Oh, a ladies’ man, then!” His laugh was more suited to a world war general than the pink-moustached maniac sipping straight from the vermouth in front of you. “I wish him the best of luck.” To which he raised the bottle, and, with a final wink, chugged the thing until half of it remained.
You almost didn’t want to risk finishing the martini you were making for him. You were well aware of how high Wilford’s alcohol tolerance was, but that didn’t make it any healthier. Still, when you had taken back the vermouth and poured it into the glass, you slid it over to him, warily eyeing the rest of the bottles to see if they’d been opened in the meantime. The sight of them all the same as before didn’t bring you much comfort regardless.
“And how’s the bar doing?”
You nodded slightly, your brow still furrowed and avoiding looking directly at him. “It’s doing well. We got a new bartender, she’s… she’s good.”
“Maybe you’ll finally take some time off, then,” he thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers, “there’s a new roller rink opening up on Alto Street. We could go there on your next day off!”
That pressure tightened into a vice grip. “We?”
“Yes, we. I wouldn’t recommend it if I didn’t think it’s good.”
“But you want to go together.”
“Is that a problem?”
Avoiding looking at him didn’t help, but making eye contact wasn’t any good, either. You only got an expression of confusion. Nothing betrayed an ulterior motive. You squinted but found only that. Surprise, maybe. You tilted your head one way and then the other, as though an angle would let you see something you couldn’t before. It was all the same.
“What are you doing, Wilford?”
Only more surprise. He laid down the martini glass, a mere sliver of alcohol left in the bottom, before placing his head in his hand. “What do you mean?”
“What is this? What- what do you want?”
A tut broke the tension for a second until it rose again tenfold.
“You’ve already asked that one.”
“Yeah, and we’ve caught up. You can leave now.”
“Well, you haven’t asked me what I’ve been up to.”
“Oh, yeah? What have you been up to, then?”
Wilford opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again with a hum. Go figure, he couldn’t tell you. Whether it was because he was bound by some contract, or couldn’t remember, or just plain hadn’t done a thing, you didn’t know, and you never had.
“Look, it was nice catching up with you, but I have to work in the morning—”
“Hold on, hold on!” Your moving away from the counter was blocked by Wilford rushing to stand and securing his hands on your shoulders. He held you in place, a new emotion appearing on his face. Desperation. The smallest amount, but it was there, and it had you changing your mind about shoving him away.
“How do I make it up to you?”
“I don’t think you can.”
You weren’t about to beat around the bush with this, even if it made you the bad guy – the kicked puppy look certainly made you think you were, but you stayed your course; you couldn’t give in so easily.
“I just… how do I know you aren’t going to disappear again?”
“I won’t!”
“How do I know, though? You don’t have the best track record.”
When he moved his hands from your shoulders, you thought he was going to leave, walk straight out the door into the night. It took only a second longer for you to realise he was grabbing your own hands. “This time I promise I’m telling the truth.”
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn him and damn yourself and damn it all. You were weak, of course, but you were weak for the man in front of you with the stars in his eyes and sugar on his lips. And if that man was asking for a second chance – for a third time – who were you to deny him?
“Fine. Okay. Sure,” you spoke slowly, coming to grips with everything that had happened in the last half an hour.
You felt Wilford’s grip tighten at your hands and then release, and that was all that you expected, but you were talking about the time-travelling maniac in front of you. His arms were wrapped around you before you knew it, warmth and his moustache tapping at your skin. You supposed this was some kind of thanks, which you still appreciated. Gently, you lifted your hands to pat his back, causing him to squeeze slightly more, until he pulled away a few seconds later.
“Alright,” you mumbled, barely getting the word out in time for a yawn to overtake you, “I’m heading to bed.”
“Goodnight! Sleep well.”
You returned the pleasantry with obvious tiredness in both your tone and your body. Dragging your feet, you made your way to your room while Wilford cleared up, the clinking of glasses and bottles only making you slightly worried about how much you’d have left come morning. It wasn’t enough to stop you from conking out the very instance that you touched your comforter, ready and poised to forget the last half hour’s shenanigans.
You woke up in the morning. Not surprising. It happened a lot. What didn’t happen a lot, though, was the smell of pancakes stirring you from your sleep instead of the blinding sun through your windows. You cracked your eyes open, only to see complete darkness. Immediately, you jumped from your bed and scrambled to stand up straight. Nothing. You couldn’t see anything. A creeping sense of dread curled in your stomach, wrapped around you heart, and pulled. Where was Wilford? Did he do something, was he okay, why did it still smell like pancakes—
You hand made contact with something covering your eyes. Oh. Pulling it off, you were slowly greeted with the light of the day, as you expected, and an unfamiliar piece of fabric in your palm. It was silky when you ran your thumb over it, something you didn’t think you’d ever touched, let alone owned.
You left the sleeping mask on your chaotic mess of sheets. Overwhelmed by the haze of adrenaline and sleep, you stumbled to get ready – which, given that you still had to figure out that smell, consisted of swapping out the uniform that you’d passed out in for a tank top and shorts. You weren’t fully awake when you got to the door, but you had nothing else to do but get to the kitchen and hope it was nothing you’d have to call emergency services about.
All three of your panic-questions were answered when you stopped at the archway between the mini hallway and the kitchen. The scene of Wilford at the stove, his back to you but clearly flipping something in a pan, quickly greeted you. Sizzling filled the air and disguised your footfalls on the wooden floorboards. They were nearly silent anyway, and yet you were caught as you got close to the countertop’s stools.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” Wilford sang, turning to wink at you so that you could see the ‘kiss-the-cook’ apron he now sported. Something panged in your chest, like a string cut loose; you’d bought that for him years ago, back when he was cooking dinner for the two of you. The face of the cashier stuck in your mind, somewhere between amused and sickened, but you didn’t care. The only time he hadn’t worn it when cooking was after you’d wrestled it away from him to wash. And then, obviously, after he disappeared, it was stashed in the back of the drawer, piled onto by old cloths and semi-broken utensils. You wondered how he found it again.
“Did you put a sleeping mask on me?” You collapsed onto a seat and rested your arms on the laminate surface.
“I did, yes.” He went back to peeling the sides of a pancake off the edge and said nothing else on the matter.
“…why?”
Wilford flipped the pancake once, twice, a third time, then pressed it down in a ritual you had seen many times before. The crack of batter shocked the air around it. “Given how tired you were last night – too tired to change out of your clothes, at least – I didn’t want the sun to wake you up too early.”
“And the curtains weren’t enough?”
“Oh, no, of course not,” he tutted, “I’ve seen how much gets through those flimsy things. It’s a wonder how the stars themselves don’t keep you awake.”
He wasn’t wrong. It happened often that you would wake up in the middle of the night, drowsy and blinking, only to realise that it was ten hours earlier than when you needed to be out of bed by. It happened now, and it happened three years ago. You just never put in the effort to fix it.
So, you just sighed, giving up the debate as fast as you’d started it, and dragged your hands down your face. According to the clock on the wall opposite you, there was still six more hours until the bar opened – you didn’t like encouraging day-drinking and four o’clock was the lowest you would go – and, frankly, you didn’t know how to spend them. A routine of stupid conspiracy theories and paperwork was offset with Wilford’s presence, leaving you with the shambles of a normal morning.
You blinked back to life when he set out two plates of pancakes on the countertop, one of them in front of you and the other just to your right at the next stool over. As he rounded the jutted-out edge, he brushed the small of your back with his hand, still warm from being near the stove. You couldn’t help but tense up, entirely focused on that point of contact like you’d been called to attention by a drill sergeant.
Wilford dropped into the seat and handed you a pair of cutlery. You didn’t notice the toppings spread along the edge until you blinked some more times to rid the blur of your vision. Half of them had been pushed to the very back of the cupboard while the other half you weren’t certain you had ever bought in the first place.
Something stopped you from reaching for any of them. Something stopped you from doing anything.
It was a shared feeling between the pit of your stomach and your throat. Like you wanted to scream and cry and laugh at the same time. Manic, you guessed was the best word for it, but even that felt wrong. Your heart thundered in your chest and raged against your ribcage, as though it were the only thing stopping it from telling you just what was wrong with you. Maybe this was just what happened what Wilford was around you, or maybe this was just what happened when he left. You didn’t think you were sure of anything anymore.
“Is this it?”
“What do you mean?”
The words struggled against the rush of blood in your veins. You weren’t angry. You understood that you should have been, but you weren’t, and you weren’t bitter, and you weren’t resentful. It was another feeling on the tip of your tongue. But you held onto that feeling because it was undeniably there. You would have bashed your head against the counter if you weren’t paralyzed with…
You were scared. That was it. You were downright terrified.
“Are you,” you swallowed thickly, “are you here now?”
“Honey, whatever are you talking about?” Wilford asked, facing you with that sugar-coated grin you’d always gotten so hung up over. “I’ve been here since last night.”
Just those words made you break into an internal panic. The only way that it shone through was in the frantic movements of your pupils, darting back and forth, searching desperately for the truth in his own. Meeker than he had ever heard you before, you asked, “Are you staying?”
And, just like that, he realized what you were asking, what you were going through. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all, and, as he secured his hands on your shoulders, he saw your soul shattered into pieces. He had left, and the memory of stepping out of that front door was seared into his mind. He couldn’t forget, not even under the cover of discos and murder-mysteries, the way that the click of the lock echoed down the hallway and the stairwell, chasing after him when he was out of the building and seeping into the cracks of the pavement. It was karmic justice that the thought of you prevented him from entering any bar from that day onward. He didn’t want to risk it, and, well, he’d already forgotten so much. The few sane memories that remained were ones he didn’t want to taint with similar experiences and get them muddled up in his mind.
Now that he was back, Wilford couldn’t imagine leaving again, not when you were staring at him, panicked and desperate for a response.
Slowly, gently, he brought you closer until your chest was pressed against his. The embrace was tight but comfortable. Supportive. A promise he couldn’t yet put into words. He shushed you as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, your own arms tugging him even closer than that, as if you expected him to disappear at any moment – not that it was unjustified. His grip on your shoulder blades tensed alongside yours.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. On your part, you were too preoccupied with holding back the floods of tears that threatened to spill over at any second. A few had already escaped and dampened his dress shirt. On Wilford’s, he understood already.
The pair of you sat there for five minutes more. It felt like longer, but the clock was barely passing half ten. The most concrete thought that dragged through your head was that the hug was nice. You hadn’t been held like that since the last time Wilford was there. Sure, you’d been close to other people, but the complete relaxation of your body was a sensation you could see yourself chasing like an addict’s high.
It was practically painful to pull away, though you kept your hands secured around his waist.
“Shit,” you laughed quietly, voice clogged with tears, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”
“Pish posh! I think we both needed that, and I’m more than welcome for another in the future. For now,” he rose from his seat and gathered your plates, “I’m going to make some more pancakes.”
As Wilford passed behind you, he leaned around and pecked your cheek with his lips. It must have been an unconscious decision because his eyebrows raised, and he sounded apologetic as he spoke.
“Was that too much?”
Truth be told, you weren’t expecting it, but that didn’t make it any less appreciated. You had gone from trying to stab his with your keys to crying in his embrace in less than a day, you imagined you could handle a little kiss. And, as it happened, a larger one, too.
Wilford watched as you got up from your own stool and took a step closer to him. He was almost worried you would shove him out of the door, but you did something different. Very different.
In one swift motion, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward. For a second, he was focused on keeping the plates steady in his hands, before he felt the oh-so-familiar warmth of your lips on his, and, had he forgotten, this was a pleasant reminder. He sighed into your mouth as his shoulders fell from their tensed position and he tilted his head for a better angle. A lopsided grin spread over his lips, only somewhat messing up the kiss, but you continued.
You lifted a hand up to cup his jawline, smoothing a thumb over the texture of his skin; the other you used to card through his tousled hair. Your reward? A light groan so quiet that you nearly missed it. Luckily, you didn’t, even as he tried to twist it into a hum. He’d missed this, and so had you. And besides, who were you to ignore the order on his apron?
Eventually, you had to separate. Time-travelers and bartenders both had to breath, after all.
“Oh, honey,” Wilford muttered, slowly but not subtly moving closer again.
You accepted another kiss, and then another when you parted, and then another after that. Each of them was slow and sweet, only half like him in that regard.
“Still making those pancakes, are you?” you managed to get out in the interim.
His chuckle was just as carefree as his other sounds, but he did step back to put the plates by the sink. You moved to start cleaning them as he prepared the next pancakes. The splash of water against the sizzle of batter warmed your chest, and the glimpse of Wilford standing next to you had you grinning ear to ear.
This was good. Making breakfast in a tiny apartment, not yet dressed for the day but content to stay like this for the rest of it – you were happy with this life.
You were certain of it.
[It's weird that this blog has been open for over a year and yet this is the first Wilford one-shot I've done. Side note: this was inspired by @valentivy-makes so you should go and check out their amazing art of Wilford, because, um, you should. Thanks for reading <3]
#theknightmarket#fanfiction#writing#markiplier egos#markiplier#markiplier egos x reader#one shots#x reader#wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache#markiplier wilford#wkm wilford#wilford warfstache#Wilford x reader#bartender reader#angst/comfort#somewhat similar to the Dark one I did
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Ingrained
Word Count- 1201
Request?- Yes!
(sorry this took me so long! I hope the tarot parts aren't too basic and it's what you envisioned! And of you'd still like the anon handle you can absolutely take that one!)
Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite
Warnings- None
Dark didn't need to eat or drink. Food didn't nourish the carcass he hauled around and drink did nothing to quench his thirst. When he found himself presented with these things anyways, Dark always took a small amount of pleasure in others discomfort when they noticed he never touched anything.
Still, in the privacy of his own office, away from annoyances and prying eyes, he let himself imbibe. A steaming hot cup of sencha sat on his desk. The fine china cup, delicate and thin, gleamed atop its saucer. Heedless, of the temperature, Dark took a sip.
It tasted like ash.
One of his human components, he wasn't quite sure which, had liked to take tea in this setting once upon a time. Steaming hot tea in a window seat with a good book. As much as Dark was annoyed at the bleed over, the habit helped.
As did the readings. Dark knew which one this habit stemmed from. The cards seemed to flow in his hands. Shuffling and dealing and reading. The deck was worn. Creased and faded at the edges, the cards showed their age. Part of him wondered if this was her set when she was alive. Probably not.
As he was going to set the spread of cards, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Dark's hands paused. Then he gathered the cards back into one stack.
"Back again, are we?"
The air grew noticeably colder, the steam rising from his tea that much more pronounced. They were here alright.
With a sigh, he started shuffling again. "Are you going to skulk about or try and wreck my office again?"
His answer was a lamp tumbling to the floor, glass skittering across the hardwood.
"Right." Dark ignored the blatant hostility and cut the deck. The DA, reduced to the presence they were now, would eventually tire of the destruction. They always did. It was only Dark's own aura that kept them from doing physical harm to his body.
The destruction was a nuisance but only that. While he didn't enjoy replacing and repairing his furnishings every other week, he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of seeing any reaction. Eventually, after he heard them gouge long tracks into the floor, they stopped.
He hummed and placed the deck on the desk.
"If you're finished?" Dark gestures to the cards and waited.
The room was still and silent once more. He knew they could move and choose the cards. Whether or not they were shocked or just refusing, he could only guess.
"If you won't," he took up the deck himself, giving it one more shuffle. "I'll ask a question for you, I'm sure both of us have been thinking it. Why do you keep coming back?"
The sound of broken glass crunching under foot. They were seemingly grinding the shards into the floor. That got to them.
"Let's keep it basic, shall we?" He kept going, tone too casual for the situation. "Basic three card pull. Past, present, future, hmm?"
They slipped through his hands as easily as water. Three cards, situated in a line right in front of him. Dark pictured them in his head, brooding as they sat opposite. It almost made him smile.
Delicately, he flipped the first over. A woman wrestling with a beast that might have, once, been a lion. The wearing of time and distortion made it seem otherworldly somehow.
"Strength," he laughed. "Makes sense, I suppose. You always were confident in your skills, even when we were young. Clear choices, clear purpose. I imagine you and everyone else thought you were aiming for bigger and better things, hmm?"
The walls themselves seemed to creak ominously around him. If he didn't know better he might suspect they could bring the ceiling down on top of him.
"Yknow," he said, resting his fingers atop the next card, "this is less the cards talking and more supposed to be the people themselves talking. To put things to words, I suppose. Though you can't quite manage that can you?"
The tea cup beside him abruptly cracked in half. Hot tea leaked out in a small flood, nearly taking the cards with it and soaking into his sleeve. Dark paid it no mind.
"The present now then, shall we?"
This next card was so worn down he very nearly couldn't read the text. Though he'd know the upside down design without it well enough.
"Reverse wheel of fortune," he leaned back, shaking errant drops of scalding tea from his hand. "A run of bad luck. Much as you try you can't control the past, you can't control the present either. Oh my poor, poor friend. I can understand that, to a degree."
He scanned the room, looking for a shimmer, a shadow, anything to indicate where they were. If they actually occupied any sort of space in this reality. The empty, cold office didn't provide him with any insight on that.
"Neither of us were in control then," he said eventually, "as for now…"
Dark flexed his hand. What was once their hand. "I suppose I'll be taking that back for the both of us, hmm?"
No response. Nothing was destroyed in a fit of impotent rage but he knew they were still here. That crawling every present feeling of being watched was still there.
"Stop trying to change things," he murmurs, "I don't pretend to know where you're existing now but there's surely better things for you to be doing. Maybe even actually rest."
Again, nothing. Dark huffed and, without further preamble, flipped the last card. This one made him laugh. As much as he could laugh, anyways.
"Justice? Really?"
The card was fairly self explanatory, as far as other cards in the deck went. The woman depicted held a scale and sword, regal and just. At some point the face was nearly erased, a small tear going through where her eyes would have been. The now cooled tea had soaked into the paper, giving the card a sickly brown green tint.
"You're pinning your hopes on karma, is that it?" He tossed the card back onto the desk. "I don't think so. The world isn't that kind. If anything, I'll be bringing you justice. Bringing down the man that caused all of this is karma enough, I think."
The deck next to him abruptly flew apart, cards pinwheeling in the air and just adding to the mess. Heaving a sigh, Dark got to his feet.
"One of us can keep going with this cycle, old friend," he'd admit, the old moniker was a dig he couldn't help but slip in, "and I think you know who."
If they heard him they chose not to show it. The room was more than still, it was empty. That pressure, the presence in the air was gone. Which left Dark among the ruins of his office once again.
"Same time next week, I suppose," he mutters, plucking a card from the desk and giving it a flick. The sencha had truly soaked the thing. Even with the paper starting to warp and discolor, he could still make out the tower clear as day.
#dark x reader#darkiplier x reader#writersofmark#darkiplier#reader insert#youtuber ego#markiplier ego x reader#ego fanfic#my wriitng
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A touch of darkness (pt.1)
Link to part 2
Summary: Dark convinced himself he must stay as far away from you as possible for your sake. That all changes when you start experiencing feelings you hadn't before.
Pairing: Darkiplier x DA!Reader
Tags: sfw, pining, proximity, general confusion caused by feelings
A/N: This is the first time I posted my writing somewhere. Hope you like it! (there will be more romance in the next part)
Word count: 1.2k
--
Damien, who always made sure you knew he was with you by touching you. Holding the small of your back when guiding you places. Putting a hand on your shoulder when you were getting mad at someone. Leaning into your touch when you held him.
But when you showed up at the new ego manor as a reincarnation from the mirror, Dark felt conflicted. You looked like the person he used to hold so frequently it became second nature. Even your soul was the same. But you weren't who you used to be. You didn't remember. At first, he kept a distance from you. Not an obscenely big one just enough to respect your private space.
And after a suspiciously short amount of time, he felt as if he was missing something. He felt an itch of sorts.
He found his eyes wandering to your hands. He wondered what it would be like to hold them. How they would feel compared to his. After thoughts such as these, he would shake his head in hopes that it would keep any similar ones at bay. After all, you were not his anymore.
--
You were extremely confused. Any time you stood next to Dark to point out something on his computer, he always moved away even if it was just by an inch. Every time you tapped his shoulder to get his attention, he would stare at your hand for a split second. Even if you accidentally bumped into him, he would visibly freeze. It was official. Dark most probably hated you. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but he didn't want to be close to you, that's for sure.
You didn't even know why you minded it. You got plenty of hugs from Wilford and the occasional hand around your shoulder from Illinois, so it's not like you lacked physical contact.
While you were sure he at least tolerated you, he obviously didn't want to spend more time with you than necessary. But, seeing as you two worked together rather often, you were in a rather bad situation. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable. So, you tried not to invade his personal space as much as you could.
--
A knock on your already open door disturbed you from your task of tracking down where Mark could possibly be. Not looking up from the screen, you uttered a quiet "Come in". The familiar sound of dress shoes made you tear your eyes away from the computer. Dark stopped just in front of your desk.
"Oh. Hi, Dark."
He didn't usually come into your little corner office. If you could call it an office. You were the one to look for him when you needed something or to share any new discoveries.
"I received complaints about the computers... I worked out the issues with the others already."
"Oh, okay..." You let him join you on the other side of the desk. But before you could leave him your chair, he reached for the computer mouse and put his left hand on the other side. Which meant you were trapped between his arms. Great.
To ease the increasingly awkward atmosphere, you said: "I thought Google fixed problems with computers."
He replied after a couple of seconds. "It's more of an organizational issue. His program doesn't extend to the placement of the files."
You nodded your head. You could feel his shoulder on the back of your head. Whether it was his shoulder or not was only a guess. You've never been this close before. Given his distaste for such closeness, he must have been suffering.
Instead of focusing on your proximity, you opted to look at the monitor. Search by name. Copy. Paste to another folder. Search through already existing folders. Copy. Paste.
You couldn't understand why he insisted on being the one to rearrange the misplaced files when you were perfectly capable of doing so yourself. Granted, he was much faster and more efficient than you would ever be. The room was filled with clicks and your rapid heartbeat. He still hasn't moved from his original position. In fact, it seemed as if he was even closer than in the beginning.
He let out a deep sigh, which you felt on the top of your head. You assumed it was because he couldn't find the file he was looking for. Or you would, have you not been so terribly plagued by thoughts racing in your head.
"There are only a few files left." There was a deep rumble in his voice that you wouldn't have heard if he wasn't so close to you. You weren't used to this. At all. He always made it seem like he wanted to be as physically far away from you as possible, but with the way he stood right now...
You didn't mind it as much as you should have. The lack of distance felt suspiciously comforting even though it was something you weren't used to. It was quite peculiar.
"That should be all of them."
His hand started withdrawing from the mouse, so you turned around to thank him when you froze. His face was mere inches apart from your own. You didn't expect him to be so close. Because of the proximity, you noticed his eyes weren't a deep shade of brown like many of the other inhabitants' of the mansion. They were black like a starless night sky. The color was rather pleasing. For a split second, you could've sworn you saw his eyes flick to your lips. But before you could confirm whether it was actually true, his gaze was back in your eyes. He drew in a sharp breath.
"I... I should go." He shook his head, but you caught him by the hand before he could move any further.
"Wait. This seems familiar." His body went rigid at your words.
"Familiar in what way?"
"I don't know just you, me... us?"
His eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"Are you doing this? Have you discovered a new power of influencing minds and are testing it out on me?" Your lips spread in a cheeky smile.
"That is ridiculous." He said sharply. "Even if I had that sort of ability, I would never use it on you."
His tone of voice was harsh, but his eyes... Slightly wide, eyebrows furrowed as if he was offended by your accusation, but his eyes held feelings. Fear. Though you were unsure what exactly he was afraid of.
He pulled his hand from yours with surprising gentleness.
He opened his mouth as if to say something but shook his head. "I believe my work here is done."
Fixing his suit jacket lapels, he started making his way to the door.
You stood up abruptly.
"Wait!"
He stopped and turned towards you slowly.
You yourself were confused about your sudden urgency for him to stay. You half expected him to simply shake his head, chastise you for wasting his time, and go wherever he needed to go. But he didn't. He stood there. Waiting.
"I... I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."
You swore something akin to disappointment appeared in his eyes before his look became neutral once again. He nodded his head and left the room.
You sank back in your chair. Why did you just do that? There was a foreign pang in your heart after you heard the door close. With each of his steps turning quieter and quieter, you felt like you were... missing something. You could not figure out what.
But maybe someone else could help.
#x reader#reader insert#darkiplier x reader#dark x reader#darkiplier#damien x da#wkm damien#damien the mayor#markiplier egos#iplier egos#writing#fanfic#imagines
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Pranks
Characters: Dark, GN!Reader as the DA
Word Count: 547
Spicy Rating: Bittersweet feels ahead!
Dark was certain that someone was messing with him. They had to be.
It wasn't every day, and it wasn't too much, but he had been coming to his office each morning only to discover entire chunks of paperwork moved around. Perhaps, in his exhaustion, he had forgotten about it. Just simply set them aside and...forgot. Unlikely, but entirely possible.
Scraps of paper would be found in his desk drawers with silly faces and doodles all over them. He began his mental list of suspects, and quickly ruled them all out. The drawers were kept locked each night. There's no way any of the people he could think of were responsible without breaking everything else on the way to do that.
And then he discovered handwriting that looked heartbreakingly familiar, though he couldn't understand why it caused him to freeze in place like that. Something, deep in the hurt past of him, the parts of a man with a different name, a man who was letting his sister rest...the parts of him that he had shoved down and back and away for a reason, called out for the owner of that writing. That didn't matter, what did matter is that he had discovered that the writing was needed fixes to paperwork, sloppy mistakes he had done after too many days awake.
The next morning he discovered his chair not at all behind his desk like it usually was. Behind the door, so he hit it when opening it. Under the window that looked out over the grounds. Upside down on his desk. Each day, a different place, and he found himself getting annoyed at this, growling lowly under his breath as he slammed it back in place.
Two weeks after that, he opened the door to discover every single book in his office had been flipped upside down and backwards on the sprawling shelves. He sighed, took his time, and began righting each book, one by one.
He was so tired of these shenanigans, and truly the only way to be rid of them would be to catch them in the act.
That night, he stayed all night, pacing, waiting for something, for anything to happen. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing with exhaustion. Was this another fruitless chase? Perhaps he needed an extended vacation...who knew when he last actually took one? If anything--
Dark froze, feeling a pair of arms far too chilly wrap around him in that same, achingly familiar way. A hug. When was the last time anyone had ever given him a hug that wasn't Wilford's forceful--
The arms retreated, and he whirled in place, looking desperately for who it was that made the long dead heart ache this way. A sliver of movement out of the corner of his eye made his head whip towards the shattered mirror that sat behind his desk, the mirror he had made sure didn't sit and rot with the rest of that house.
The specter's smile froze his blood and warmed him just as quickly, as they pressed their hand against the glass, disappearing instantly.
He had solved the mystery, and if he could still emote past cold acceptance and blazing rage, Dark would cry tears of relief.
His little monster, ever the prankster.
You.
#tall dark and spooky#darkiplier x reader#dark x reader#darkiplier#dark attorney#my writing#markiplier egos#who killed markiplier#wkm the da
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Markiplier Egos As Contacts In My Phone
Annus- 🤍Anus🤍
Darkiplier- 🥀Dark🥀
Darkiplier(Alternative)- 😏Daddy😏
Wilford- 🥸The Stacheman🥸
Wilford(Alternative)- 🫨Bubblegum Bitch🫨
Yancy- 🔪Sinnamonroll🔪
Dr.Iplier- 🧑⚕Your Dying🧑⚕
Google- 💻Smartass💻
Bing- 🛹Radical Dude🛹
Illinois- 🤠Indiana Jones🤠
Yanderiplier- 🫶Unstable Child🫶
Captain Magnum- 🏴☠️Dadptain🏴☠️
Engineer!Mark- 🧑🚀M2702 Boi🧑🚀
Eric Derikson- 🤓Cinnamonroll🤓
Old-man Mark- 🧓Granddaddy🧓
Host- 🫥Narrator🫥
Murdock- 🦆Murduck🦆
Heist!Mark- 💣Smooth Criminal💣
Stan- 💦The Water Man💦
Actor- 🕺Dramatic Bitch🕺
Jim and Jim- 👬Jim(s)👬
Cave Man Mark- Doesn't have a phone
Heehoo- Also doesn't have a phone
#characters as contacts in my phone#i hc that jims heist!mark bing and dark all put in their own contact#also hc that heehoo and caveman mark cant have phones cause they break them#definitely would have to force dark to add a damn emoji#markiplier egos#markiplier egos x reader#markiplier#in space with markipler spoilers#a heist with markiplier#who killed markiplier
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Double Trouble
Uh-oh… been thinking about a double possessive x reader 👀
So been thinking about if you got both of the boys in the same room and they only barely tolerate each other because you’re there. I’ll try to make it gn
Tw: brief talk of Anti’s “neck incident” and swearing
Darkiplier x Reader (gender neutral) x Antisepticeye
Set up: you are just chilling with Anti (just imagine a living room) and Dark arrives because he wants to talk with you about something and Anti gets real defensive and clingy.
~★~
“They aren’t your prisoner, you know. They can talk with whomever they wish,” Dark was already irritated with Anti’s shenanigans.
“Yeah, well you’re in my home, my fucking territory. You don’t have a fucking say here!” Anti was getting angry a lot faster than the other alter- as per usual. Dark sighed, “Does this really need to be an issue every time I wish to see them? They already stay with you, why do you insist on being selfish?”
“Cause I know what’s safe for them, and they don’t need to be around you or any other insane ego in your little group.”
The iplier egos were never all that harmful towards you, though. Only Dark and Wilford ever seemed to have interest, to which Dark would always ward off Wilford’s more… extreme tendencies.
Dark sneered in response, “You know what’s safe? The one who brought a knife to their own neck for entertainment-?”
“THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THEM!”
Things were growing heated fast. You decided to quietly step away to let them work it out (in their own special way).
“Dollface, hey,” arms wrapped around your torso, making you stop, “where are ya going? I was just messing around…” Anti mumbled as his face brushed up beside yours.
“Just a minor spat is all,” Dark stepped in front of you and took your hand, “takes more than a couple harsh words to send me away.” He placed a soft kiss to your knuckles.
Anti growled and his hold possessively tightened, “would certainly make my life a lot easier… I think they prefer me anyways,” he chuckled a bit and started a trail of kisses along your neck.
Dark’s expression twitched only slightly at this, but remained overall neutral. He brought his free hand to your face and maneuvered yours to rest on his shoulder. “They just need to see what I can offer…” his chest pressed up against yours, now pinning you between the two extremely dangerous beings, “I can entirely rewrite reality at your command.”
His lips connected with yours in a rather soft display of affection, catching you off guard with how gentle he was being. He separated for a breath, “say the word my dear, and I will give you the world.” He captured your lips once again.
Anti huffed. “Darlin’ you already have the world with me,” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver only for Dark to deepen the kiss to bring your attention back to him. “What could he possibly have that I don’t, hm?” Anti placed a small kiss behind your ear.
Dark separated to glare down at him. “Humility and grace certainly comes to mind.”
With that, they were at it again. Attempting to one-up each other for your attention.
You, at their mercy, had one hand clutching at Anti’s arms and the other clawing into Dark’s suit jacket, there was hardly anything you could do to stop them. Your mind, being as flustered as it was, probably wouldn’t let you do much of anything if you could.
#antisepticeye#ego#anti#jacksepticeye egos#darkiplier#dark#markiplier egos#darkiplier x reader x antisepticeye#darkiplier x reader#antisepticeye x reader#reader insert#kie writes#kie’s post#text#drabble#possessive
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Falling asleep with your head on their shoulder, you babble about how much you love them and how cute they are...how do the egos react?
━MARKIPLIER ☆
You're too tired to open your eyes, but if you could you'd see Mark absolutely melting
Hes the human equivalent of a pile of simp soup at this point. With stary eyes, fuzzy feelings and all. Can't belive he managed to get you as a s/o
━DARKIPLIER ☆
He just shushed you, telling you to get some sleep. Don't get me wrong. Your declaration of undying love thawed away at his otherwise cold heart, but Dark would rather you get some rest <3
━ANTISEPTICEYE ☆
He almost pushed you off him when he sees you falling asleep. But once Anti hears his name come out of your mouth, he pauses.
"-an I jus' love you sooooo much Antiii."
"Damn right ye do. Nowh get offa meh-"
Yeah he loves you
━WILFORD ☆
He leaned his head on top of yours, curling up and chuckling occasionally at your words that were slurred with exhaustion. You eventually drifted off on Wilfords shoulder, not noticing the tickle of his mustache when he kissed you goodnight.
━YANCY ☆
Recuperates the compliments and loving comments with his own about you. If any inmates had passed your cell at that moment, all they would have seen was two sleepy lovebirds enjoying each other presence
━ENGINEER ☆
He mostly likey has to move you back to you room on the ship. Probably becuase you fell asleep with a soft "I love you" while he was working on a loud prodject
Tucks you in awwww :))
━ACTOR ☆
Unless you're stroking his ego with yout sleepy words, Actor will shake you awake harshly
"Don't you dare drool on this robe! It's made of the finest silk from china!"
You gather enough energy to blow him a tired raspberry
━ILLINOIS ☆
"I jus' love you so muchhh Illyyy. You're so sweeeet an, uh, prettyyy."
"That's mighty kind of you darlin. But try to sleep okay? We have a big adventure to continue tomorrow"
"Mk Illyyyy."
#mark x reader#markiplier x reader#markiplier#mark#dark#darkiplier x reader#darkiplier#dark x reader#anti x reader#anti#antisepticeye x reader#antisepticeye#wilford warfstache x reader#wilford warfstache#wilford#wilford x reader#wilford motherloving warfstache#wilford motherloving warfstache x reader#yancy x reader#yancy#actor mark x reader#actor x reader#actor mark#actor#illinois x reader#illinois#engineer mark x reader#engineer mark
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Pain Relief
Back at it again with the late night comfort fics as I can’t sleep. Just some good ol’ chronic pain, with sympathies from the man with the equally bad bones.
Darkiplier x GN!Reader, TW: painkillers
Words: 569
Tossing and turning this late at night is not good, and you know this. But the world has decided to give you a bad pain day, and it’s giving all it’s got. Pain relief only goes so far, and tears do nothing but scream at the universe for what it’s doing to you. But those screams are silent, as are your sobs as you try to not wake the world with your misery. You’re between tossing and turning, and laying still so as to not agitate it further. But everything feels like the wrong decision, and you continue to cry hot tears of frustration.
There’s a quiet knock at your door, startling you a little until you see a grey hand curl around the door, quietly pushing it open to reveal Dark, looking exhausted himself.
“Angel? Are you awake, my dear?”
“If it makes you feel better, I wish I wasn’t…”
He takes the sight of you in, wincing himself as he takes measured steps with his cane in hand, moving towards your bed. Dark settles on the edge, taking your hand in his and squeezing it gently. His thumb rubs across your knuckles in a soothing motion, before raising it slowly to his lips to offer a kiss to you. His eyes are saddened at the sight of you, glancing around to figure out some way to aid you.
“What can I do, darling?”
“Go back to bed, I’ll be fine-“
“Fine is not the word I would use to describe the state you are in, angel…”
You look back to him, face quietly pleading with you to let him help. You know that he’s let you help him on bad pain days as well, and you were oftentimes less gentle with how you “offered” your help. With a sigh, you surrender to his pleads, not having the energy within you to spite him how you wish. Dark rests his cane against a side table nearby, moving the pillows and blankets on your bed around you to help cradle you in comfort. A tendril is sent under the door towards the kitchen as he gets you to sit up, padding you again.
“Do you think you could drink something? For me? It will calm the tears, and hopefully help your body relax.”
“I will try anything, Dames. I trust you.”
Dark smiles at the nickname, not one you use in front of others, because he gives you a look of softness that has only been reserved for you. The tendril returns with some painkillers, tea, and ice water. He helps you take the meds, and holds the teacup in place as you drink. The warmth spreads inside you, slowly helping you relax into the nest that he had created for you. With a smile, he tucks you back in, grabbing his cane and moving to your door.
“Dames?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Please stay, just for tonight…”
You reach out to him, looking so tired and sad that it breaks his heart too much to say no to you.
“Of course. Let me adjust ourselves.”
He climbs into bed with you, resting your head against his chest as his fingers comb through your hair. Your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. He hums softly, lullabies and small chuckles at your efforts to stay awake a little longer until you finally succumb to sleep
“Good night, my angel.”.
#darkiplier#dark#markiplier egos#wkm darkiplier#wkm dark#darkiplier x reader#dark x reader#wkm darkiplier x reader#wkm dark x reader#a heist with markiplier#ahwm#who killed markiplier#wkm#midnight mint#chaoswrites
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Winter Nights | Darkiplier x Gender Neutral!Reader
Ship: Darkiplier x Gender Neutral!Reader
Requested by: @fluffyfranny
Warnings: horror (mild)
Summary: Reader walks home alone on a winter night and Dark decides to mess with them.
Notes: Posting this almost an entire year later, but I hope you still enjoy. I will write everything in my inbox eventually! x
Words: 591
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
Winter season had its pros and its cons. You had your snowy nights like these, which depending on how you looked at it, could be a good thing or a bad thing. You had hot chocolate and a cozy fireplace to look forward to when you’d get home, and you could sit in your blanket all snuggled up and reading a book (or more likely, scrolling through tumblr on your laptop.)
The cons, though... First of all you were incredibly cold, which had you cursing yourself for not bringing a better jacket for this weather. And second of all, the nights came way too early. The clock had barely hit quarter past five and it was already pitch black outside, not even a little bit of light from outer space to guide you, giving you a sense of fear as you walked through the empty streets by yourself.
Only a few more blocks to go. At least the snow had stopped falling down. You stopped for a second to brush the flakes out of your already wet hair and off of your jacket, when your eyes suddenly landed upon him.
The man in the suit stood under a flickering streetlight. Darkiplier, is what he had called himself. You’d only seen him a few times before, always during the nights after you watched horror movies, and while he had never hurt you, his presence was deeply unsettling to say the least. He had a red and blue glitchy effect around him, splitting him up in a sense, something you could only categorize as paranormal. But you knew in your heart that he was real, and not just a part of your wild imagination.
Because he had told you. He had showed you.
Tonight, however, something more was going on. Perhaps it was your already paranoid nature, but you needed to get away from him immediately. The two of you had already locked eyes, but maybe, it was not too late for you to turn around...
So you hurried off, adrenaline starting to surge through your veins now that you had turned your back on him. Into an alleyway you went, and you could hear footsteps behind you, closing you in.
“(Y/N)...”
His voice was so familiar and so nearby. You swallowed, tears now sparking into your eyes. Your fight-or-flight response started carrying you and you ran and ran, only to be faced with a dead-end at the end of the alleyway.
Oh no... God, please no—
“(Y/N), there’s no need to be so rude.”
You screamed as you turned around, covering your face with your arms and backing yourself into the brick wall as much as you could. Dark simply stood there, arms crossed over each other and a cold-blooded expression on his face.
He reached out. You prepared yourself for whatever was coming, hoping your death would be quick and painless. You closed your eyes tightly as the tears rolled down your face.
Dark put his arms around you and pulled you into him, your face buried in his neck now. While you were still scared, a part of you was met with surprise, and a sense of comfort that felt so misplaced. You felt his warm body against yours and his strong arm around your back, then making its way up to your head.
His other arm went to your chest and he rested his hand on your racing heart.
“You’re so easily scared, (Y/N),” Dark said with a chuckle as he brushed his fingers through your hair. “Don’t you know by now that I would never hurt you?”
#darkiplier x reader#dark x reader#darkiplier x gender neutral reader#darkiplier x GN!reader#darkiplier#darkiplier fanfiction#reader insert#reader-insert#darkiplier x y/n#markiplier#markiplier fanfiction#mark egos#y/n x darkiplier#masc reader x darkiplier#fem reader x darkiplier#darkiplier x fem!reader#darkiplier x male!reader#horror#horror fic#markiplier ego fanfiction#markiplier ego reader inserts#markiplier cinematic universe
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Freckles
Darkiplier x GN!Reader
Warnings: None that I can think of, just domestic fluff with a sprinkling of angst :)
Summary: Dark is feelin sappy and sentimental (with a sprinkling of heartache, for taste)
AN: I’m obsessed with the concept of freckles and moles being the places where past soulmates loved to kiss you the most, so I took that and ran with it -- I hope you enjoy!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It is a quiet Saturday evening. You have been able to keep Dark away from any extra work successfully, using your sweet kisses and loving promises. After spending the day in each other’s quiet company, away from the chaos of the other egos, you’ve found yourself laying across the couch with your legs across Dark’s lap. His gentle caresses along your calf and knee never fail to spark a few butterflies in your stomach. He had set up the record player to play a variety of moony love songs—as much as he tries to conceal his inner romantic, it makes you so giddy.
You have a book in hand, one that you’ve been trying to make time to read for ages, and Dark simply sits with closed eyes in quiet contemplation. You can’t recall the last time you had seen him quite this relaxed. His features are soft, angelic even, and occasionally he quietly hums along to whatever song is playing, his deep bass rattling your bones ever so slightly. It is in this meditative study of your lover that you notice a single freckle, right to the side of his chin. You can’t help but recall a video you had seen in passing on the internet.
“Hey, Dark?” you ask, careful to keep your volume low. There is honestly a good chance he has fallen asleep—he could be such an old man sometimes.
You hear a gentle Hm? His eyes open slightly to look at you, bleary but full of affection.
“Did you know that, apparently, some people think that prominent moles and freckles are the spots where your soulmate in a past life kissed you the most?”
He smiles gently, “That’s fascinating, darling. May I ask what prompted such an observation?”
You set your book to the side, readjusting so that you’re sitting next to Dark, halfway in his lap.
“I can see that your soulmate in a past life loved to kiss you right—” you place a gentle kiss, “—here.”
It takes everything in Dark to maintain his composure as he is overcome with visions of the past. He remembers the way that you would kiss him—no, not him but Damien—in that exact spot every time he passed an exam with flying colors. He remembers noticing the handful of freckles across his chest or the mole on his shoulder, but now realizes that those were never there on Damien’s body. They were, however, placed in almost the same exact spot you would litter kisses whenever Damien would let you be in control for the night. An almost foreign heat rises to his cheeks, but then he sees you. He notices the small spot under your jaw where he—Damien—would kiss you to tease and fluster you. He sees the place on your forehead where Damien would always place a gentle kiss to calm and comfort you. But Dark can see you now, your brow furrowed in concern. He forces himself back to the present, placing a kiss on your forehead and pulling you into his arms.
You’re caught a little off-guard, but you reciprocate immediately. You’ve seen that look in his eyes before, mostly here and there when you first met. It was a sort of deep sadness, as if he knew something you didn’t. You’d always wanted to voice your concerns, console him if needed, but you had been so shy then.
“Is everything okay, Dark?” you ask, timidly, not wanting to upset him further.
He squeezes you tighter, taking a shaky breath. “Everything’s fine, my heart.”
The pet name makes you blush.
“I suppose I’m just feeling sentimental tonight,” he continues, pulling away from you, but not too far. He still holds you close but can’t seem to look you quite in the eyes. “I am simply so grateful to have you in my life.”
You smile at him, gently turning his face to yours and kissing him tenderly. “I love you,” you murmur, pulling away to look at him. He looks back, his dark eyes soft and adoring.
“I love you too, my sweet.”
You both settle back into each other’s arms, appreciating the music and each other’s presence. Resting your head on his shoulder, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to doze. Dark breaks the silence one last time.
“Also, just for your information,” he whispers, “I’m sure that you are the reason I have that freckle on my chin.”
You smile and let out a small huff of amusement before replying, “Yeah, sounds about right.”
As Dark hears your breathing even out, it takes everything within him to not let his glassy eyes shed a tear. His brain is swarmed with painful nostalgia and the misery of having to keep your entire past from you. The secret bears heavily on what little soul he has left. He won’t succumb to the misery, though. You wouldn’t want that. He instead chooses to focus on the fact that you are here now and that, in and of itself, is more than he could ever deserve or ask for.
#sentimental dark makes me so soft ;-;#and no i most definitely did not look up pictures of mark to get the freckles down /hj#darkiplier x reader#darkiplier/reader#mayor damien x reader#mayor damien/reader#markiplier egos x reader#markiplier egos/reader#fluff#angst#reader insert#x reader#x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#markiplier
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Hello, my dear!
My name is Touya, Michikatsu, or any name you're comfortable calling me!
This is my writing blog
My main is: @g0dwat3r
My pronouns are She/They
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DNI:
If you support incest, such as shipping Aym x Baal, Any of the Demon Brothers x Another Demon Brother, etc
If you support r4p3
If you support M@Ps/P3d0philia
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fandoms I write For:
Key:
Italics - I'll write for it, no questions asked!
Bold and Italics - I love these fandoms, and I love to write for them! Please send asks about them!!!
Cult of the Lamb
Black Clover
Helluva Boss
Hazbin Hotel
The Originals/The Vampire Diaries (Not Legacies, sorry!)
Sanders Sides
Undertale
Deltarune
Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba
My Hero Academia
Harry Potter
Markiplier (& Egos)
Jacksepticeye (& Egos)
Five Nights at Freddy's (Games & Movie)
Slashers
ACOTAR (A Court of Thorns and Roses) series
Assassination Classroom
Billie Bust Up
Bendy and the Ink Machine
Twilight
The Amazing Digital Circus
Disney's Twisted Wonderland
Obey Me: One Master to Rule Them All (This also includes Nightbringer!)
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Do:
Character x Reader (Romantic or Platonic)
Character x Child!Reader (Platonic)
Angst/No Comfort
Angst/Comfort
Fluff
Slightly Suggestive
Don't:
P3d0philia
Incest
Smut
R4p3
Character x Character
Character x OC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Go ahead and send in asks! I'm always happy to write whatever you have in mind!
But please don't just say: _________ x reader angst/fluff
Please give me a little bit of an idea of what you want!
Thank you!
#cult of the lamb x reader#the originals x reader#the vampire diaries x reader#sanders sides x reader#undertale x reader#deltarune x reader#kny x reader#demon slayer x reader#my hero academia x reader#markiplier egos x reader#markiplier x reader#jacksepticeye egos x reader#jacksepticeye x reader#fnaf x reader#five nights at Freddy's x reader#slasher fanfiction#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#Assassination classroom x reader#bbu x reader#Billie Bust up x reader#batim x reader#Bendy and the ink machine x reader#Batdr x reader#Bendy and the dark revival x reader#acotar x reader#black clover x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#obey me x reader
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