#in space with markiplier x reader

[theknightmarket]

"You're alive!"

In which Engineer engineers something more political than a ship. Part 1 - Part 2 TW: swearing, description of wounds (not graphic), mentioned violence Pages: 24 - Words: 9000

[Requests: OPEN]

When you had been the captain, you had seen Mack in the hallways of the ship. He was always repairing something, fiddling with the screws of a vent or tapping away at a diagnostic pad. When he was on his break, which only lasted ten minutes at his own request, he talked non-stop about ways to improve. Although Mark had built the Invincible II, you had no doubt Mack tended to much of the general upkeep. 

In simple terms, you liked Mack. But you placed great emphasis on the past tense. 

That was before he completely took over the colony – your colony – and designed it in his own image. That was before he overrode any semblance of your control and made you his ‘personal assistant’. That was before you spent the nights awkwardly stretched over a dog bed, plucking at the stitched letters that spelled out ‘Lil Cappy’ and hoping you would, for once, wake up without a crick in your neck. That was before Mark disappeared.

You didn’t know where he went. Even though it was an alternate universe, you were certain that he had been around. At least, initially. You had seen traces of him scattered across the ship, ones you were certain could have only come from him, and some of the colony’s technology had his trademark techniques. It was mainly the explosives, but you were glad you had been allowed access to them long enough to figure it out.

Mack had stripped you of any and all of your personal freedoms. A dictator through and through, but he had apparently fostered a grudge against you in this timeline, and, given the evidence, it was an old one. It had time to fester, and it was just your luck to be caught in the crossfire when he eventually gained enough power to unleash it.

How he became the Head Engineer in the first place was beyond you. Maybe the actual captain of this universe deserved it for their poor thinking, or maybe you were just feeling petty. You had a lot of time to think things over, and your moments of boredom normally resulted in one of three thought processes. One, you hated Mack. Two, you hated the captain. Three, you missed Mark.

But you would inevitably be dragged away from your meaningless deliberations, sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally. This time, thankfully, it was the former; you’d had quite enough of the handcuffs recently – something about missing a quota that you hadn’t been aware of. That was a common occurrence, though, and you were half sure your wrists evolved to be thicker every time.

No, they didn’t. You had permanent crimson rings mirrored on both arms that burned every time the metal clanked roughly against them, the skin peeled and rubbed into flaky epidermis.

The guards didn’t give you time to dwell on it as they yanked you up by the shoulders. You stumbled when you were dropped onto your feet, only getting a few steps forward before your elbows were pulled from your sides. Paralleled, you were forced to walk.

You were never told what you were doing each day, but a pattern of degrading servitude had long since been established. Bleach made your wrists worse, though the smell of the sewers wasn’t kind either. They weren’t rats, per se, being the size of dogs and possessing the biting force of a hydraulic press, but they had to be removed from down below regardless. That had been your job the last time you tried to leave the building without permission.

However, instead of turning left in the direction of the Department of Hygiene, the guards shoved you down the right-hand hallway. That was okay. There were plenty of offices on this side of the complex. Most likely was the Department of Agriculture, from where you had been ordered to assemble the tractor-like machinery developed for the unfamiliar crops. You had actually quite enjoyed that, which was probably why you only ever did it once.

The more turns you took, the more branches you checked off your list. Each room passed by like sand falling in an hourglass. You could see each grain absorbing into the mass in your mind’s eye, the steadily emptying top that marked your inevitable demise.

No, not demise. There were other places left. His office was right next to the Department of Engineering. You had never stepped foot in there, but you still had a chance. Maybe they wanted you to meticulously redraw the blueprints as the copier next to you worked five times as fast, maybe they wanted you to spend hours upon hours shredding old documents without getting up from the floor, maybe, maybe, maybe—

The guards came to a stop in front of a towering pair of doors.

Maybe not.

The sensor would tell Mack when there was someone to see him. Receptionists weren’t his style, and he much preferred the momentary terror slapped onto a person’s face as the red beam drifted over them at a leisurely pace. If you weren’t who he wanted, vaporization was in the cards, though that was only a rumor you had overheard from other staff.

With a debatable amount of luck, the doors swung open in tandem to reveal the hall that Mack had taken for his office. It stretched 45 feet, a distance you were soon crossing on a crimson runner rug, with a desk at the very end against the backdrop of the skyline. Even from the exit, you could see those silver pillars and the sunlight that reflected off of them. You remembered the plans for the main city just as vividly as the sight in front of you.

Envy and disgust made your stomach churn when your eyes landed on the man standing now just a few steps away from you. His back, more precisely, as he took in the view like you had been.

“Marvelous, isn’t it?”

Mark had always been the more academic out of your pair, but you tried to calculate how much force you could run at him with and the tensile strength of the glass. Adding in your likelihood of survival made it a morose thought, though a little heroic sacrifice was not a scenario you were hesitant to consider.

Mack turned around and flashed you that smug grin.

Roughly 1000 newtons, which seemed achievable.

“This empire I’ve built.”

The sentence for treason, blasphemy, being honest, or whatever else it was branded as was about ten years in the prison system. Manual labor, usually, to build things that simply wouldn’t work, like canals too shallow for the boats to pass through or factories too unstable to support the weight of its produce. You had never been subjected to it, but who knew? Mack could have gotten bored of you and deemed you a threat despite your hands hanging on by a thread.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

Listening was a good idea. It wasn’t as though Mack needed someone’s attention to talk, just the presence of an audience, but it always turned out better for you when you did. It was just so hard these days. Your focus would drift at the exact moment he would ask a question and if it was supposed to be rhetorical or you answered incorrectly, the corner of his mouth would perk up and he would tilt his head like he’d caught a misbehaving child elbow-deep in the cookie jar.

Except you weren’t a misbehaving child, you were the ex-captain of the first colony in space. And you weren’t elbow-deep in the cookie jar, you were enwebbed by a dictatorship run by a man you used to trust. And you weren’t going to be sent to your room with no dinner, you were going to be…

You missed Mark, so much. Everything would be better if you knew where he was.

“But you know what?” Mack dropped gracefully into his chair, one leg over the other. “It could be better.”

You stared at him, unblinking. Better? What could be better than having an entire planet at your beck and call?

“I want to ask you a few questions.”

Your surprise kept rising. He had never asked your genuine opinion before. Any questions were always in the company of others, whom he could either entertain or threaten at your response. But there, in his chapel, you were alone, save the guards that were nothing more than glorified robots.

Mack didn’t wait for you to respond, only rearranging himself in the chair so that he could plant an elbow on the desk to hold his head in his hand. You weren’t sure whether the interest was real, whether this was an actual conversation or just something to catch you out with. A trap that you didn’t have a choice in stepping into.

“Do you have the original blueprints for the ship?” he asked, all too casually for the dynamic between you.

Hesitantly, you shook your head. The Invincible hadn’t been your domain; your job was to take care of those onboard the ship and, upon landing, lead the development of the colony. You had failed at both. You were billions of years, light and Earth, away from your people, and even when you’d been granted another try, you’d gone and thrown it away. Some captain you had been.

As if he could see you were starting to drift, Mack spoke again. “I expected as much. It’s not a problem, of course. In fact,it gives us an opportunity to improve from stage one.” He hummed as he drew out a tablet from a drawer. “How expansive was the AI system?”

You paused, longer than at the first hurdle. The built-in AI was, as the title suggested, built in. It was part of the ship, not an external feature, akin to cryogenics and the reactor. From what you remembered, the computer chips and mechanics to house that system were detailed on the blueprints he had just asked you about. Did he think you were holding out on him? Did he think that getting more specific would incentivize you to give in?

Or, as it slowly dawned on you like dripping honey, did he not know at all?

“I’m on a strict schedule, here, so compliance would be appreciated.” Mack painted his voice with that faux nonchalance, but there was that ever-present reminder of his power in this situation. Realizing he was in slightly less control than you had once thought didn’t take away the cattle prods that he had at his disposal.

You shrugged. It was the truth. You didn’t know how expansive it was because you didn’t build the ship – and Mack didn’t know because he didn’t build it either. Not the one you knew, and not the one that belonged to this universe.

Desperately, you fought back a laugh. The Head Engineer of the first galaxy-fearing spaceship, and he didn’t know the first thing about it. 

“Alright. Not a problem,” he said, his teeth audibly grinding together, “we’ll work around it. Protocols run smoother when they aren’t given dumb names, after all.”

That was the first time you felt like talking – or, more accurately, felt like launching a string of expletives at Mack for the smallest suggestion of removing the naming convention you held so dear. They were dumb, but that was good. When you were surrounded by fire and debris, the distant voice listing off the most inconvenient procedures made everything seem that much more optimistic.

But you held yourself back. Barely. You set your jaw, dropped your shoulders, and stared coldly at Mack as he tapped at his tablet.

When he was finished, he met your eyes. They were the windows to the soul, as the saying went, so you hoped he saw the bubbling urge to strangle him that overshadowed all your other emotions. You hoped he didn’t see your longing to see Mark again.

He didn’t react to either sight. No smile or frown. Just another question.

“How did you get here?”

Your heart stilled, your lungs shriveled, your eyes blew wide, your throat swelled. You froze.

No.

No, he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Had this really been a test? Were you supposed to know about the ship, had the old captain known, had they built the Invincible, how absolutely, catastrophically cued were you?

You couldn’t tell him. Physically or morally. Your mouth welded itself shut as tight as the pieces of the Invincible, and your mind bore visions of the horrors Mack would unleash upon the multiverse. You couldn’t tell him.

However, you didn’t have to.

Not a moment later, Mack was speaking again, tone betraying no lie. “The warp core is proving a pain to replicate. My engineers have devoted quite some time to figuring out the logistics, but their work so far has been… disappointing.”

His shadow propelled itself up the desk as he stood. The dark edge parallelled the tips of your boots where it stopped. You supposed it was meant to be intimidating, but the adrenaline was flushing out of your body, and there was no rush to replace it. Instead, you felt the sobering effects of a more positive outcome.

Making sure he didn’t find out was another problem. As long as you kept your mouth shut, Mack would stay safe in his assumption that the warp core only traveled in time and space, and your little universe-hopping discovery would disappear when you did.

“You wouldn’t be able to offer any guidance on that, would you? A little information to help us, help the colony, just like you’ve always wanted?”

You weren’t stupid, even if Mack thought you were. It wasn’t going to help the colony, only him and you didn’t give a damn what he wanted. There was no ideological internal debate, no what-ifs, no way in hell that he was telling the truth. Your mouth remained closed as you stared him down blankly. 

“No?” he asked. 

No.

“Fine—” He waved a hand for the guards to seize you, and they grabbed your arms like wasps swarming an attacker. “Take them to solitary.”

Your skin burned underneath the gloves, pulled taught and twisted in your struggle. Pulled back, you were forced to bend and lose your balance, stumble over your feet, scramble for purchase against the runner. Solitary was worse than a death sentence. Its Earthen namesake was a light slap on the wrist in comparison. You couldn’t go there, anywhere but there. Give you the rat-dogs, give you the bleach, give you anything but solitary.

By the time you were wrenched out of Mack’s office, you had gotten nowhere in your escape attempts. The guards simply grasped you tighter and held you further down, practically dragging you down the hallway and to the back of the complex.��Solitary was no ordinary cell in a prison – it was a single room buried as close to the planet’s core as possible. The gates to hell. The belly of the beast. You felt like you were going to throw up.

Some part of you wanted to talk to the guards, beg and plead for them to let you go. But they were Mack’s lackeys, and you had all seen what happened to traitors. There was no point in playing on morals or humanity, so all you were left with was kicking and screaming.

When you heard banging from above, you assumed that backup had been called. Mack had long ago instilled in his followers the idea that you were dangerous, despite your apparent weakness. Siege mentality worked a charm in drawing attention to you at all times, because surely you were just pretending to be beaten within an inch of your life, and you would spring out to attack if anyone gave you the chance. Your current similarities to a rabid dog warranted more people with more weapons.

Wild as you were, you disregarded the inconsistency unbecoming of Mack’s troops. The volume of the sound was both too far away to be in the same corridor and too quiet to be on the floor above, but you ignored that, too. As the guards exchanged confused glances before stopping in their tracks, you preoccupied yourself with straining against their holds.

You thought you had broken free just seconds later with your resistance to solitary, and you prepared yourself to sprint as far as you could get before fatigue made you collapse, but a glance behind made you stop short.

The two guards, now merged into one small pile of uniform and indoctrination on the floor, were shadowed by another pair. You might have wondered how this happened in such a short amount of time had, one, it not been obvious from the sooty boot prints on the guards’ backs, and, two, you not been overwhelmed with relief.

Celci was the first to speak, stating, “No time to talk, we need to get out of here.” Her air of stern objectivity followed her as she began to march down the hallway, but you didn’t miss the look she sent back.

That left you to be straightened up with a slap on the back from Gunther. He shot you a lopsided grin, somehow managing to stay audible even with the cigar between his teeth as he laughed, “What she means is it’s good to see you again.”

Had you any energy left from your failed escape attempt, you would have tried to convince yourself that the water welling in the corners of your eyes was from the smoke. It billowed from the broken ceiling and provided a great cover story, but you didn’t have it in you to pretend. You relied on the vague shape of Celci and Gunther’s hand around your shoulders to guide you through the complex while you gave in to the silent tears.

You weren’t aware of where you were headed, but you trusted your companions. Wherever they were taking you, you were going – it took a few minutes for you to get your bearings, but you only registered the change in environment when sunlight warmed your skin.

A window was propped open with a spanner, letting in the mid-‘May’ breeze, which would be completely normal anywhere else. The fact that made your brow furrow was that the complex’s windows were nothing but see-through walls; they weren’t supposed to open.

Celci pushed the glass upwards, tilting the pane so that she could slip underneath and out. Your nerves exploded, and you launched yourself forward as her hand left the frame, but she didn’t fall. Leaning over the edge, you saw a cleaner’s scaffolding swaying side to side next to the wall, and you sighed.

Gunther nodded at you, so you took the cue to duck out, too. Immediately, you were overwhelmed by the sun on your skin and the coolness of the metal frame. Just being out there for a second without a guard breathing down your back was a euphoric feeling like no other. You hadn’t gone outside alone since…

Ever. It dawned on you that you had never stepped foot on this planet without an escort.

And, technically, you still had yet to. Gunther popped up beside you and aimed an ‘okay’ sign to the ground as Celci let the window fall shut again, making sure it was nice and quiet. The scaffolding was just the same, descending with little more than a momentary squeak. Given the height you were at, you had a tense minute. Though your heartbeat bashed your ribcage like a caged zoo animal, you were forced to wait in silence; any talking ran the risk of raising the alarm, and you would sooner have thrown yourself from the 450 feet you were currently at than go back to Mack’s office.

The only thing you had to bide the time was your thoughts, the company of which you had dealt with for far too long. No matter how hard you resisted it, however, the voice at the back of your mind reminded you that the Celci and Gunther beside you were not yours. They weren’t from your universe, they weren’t your crew, and you weren’t their captain.

The voice that you much preferred pushed back against the first – they still saved you. Even though you didn’t know their history with the captain, it didn’t mean they weren’t there. You had to be thankful for that more than disappointed.

When you were close enough to the ground, you saw where the rope of the scaffolding trailed off to. Barely distinct grey lines led within the bushes – the kinds put near hospitals or business parks for a faux-welcoming atmosphere. It wasn’t the perfectly pruned leaves that had you grabbing the side, nor was it the evenly spaced roots that led you to vault over the side. No, what had you stumbling across the white concrete was the figure obscured by only one wayward branch.

You all but slammed into Burt like a torpedo. 

Vaguely, you heard him groan, “Yup.”

Your arms wrapped around him without giving him a second to process, and, when Celci and Gunther got close enough, you grabbed them too. It was a veritable knot of limbs, and you were half sure you had caught the scaffolding’s rope in your little trap, but you weren’t about to let go to find out. For now, you just wanted a moment to relish the company of your crew leads.

That voice returned and was promptly banished to the recesses again.

This was good. Maybe it was selfish, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment yet, even if it meant being wilfully ignorant. Standing in the clump, awkwardly stretched around them, your eyes grew misty again. You’d missed human contact. Totalitarian regimes didn’t accommodate the human need for touch, and Mack went out of his way to avoid it altogether. Any physical interaction was through layers of leather gloves, and, for you, it had only ever been the vice grips of the guards.

The mental image of those two unconscious guards sobered you. You were still on Mack’s territory, after all, and time was of the essence.

Everyone peeled back from you, Celci catching your serious expression in her retreat.

“We have a headquarters set up in one of the disused factories. We’ll head there, patch you up, and plan what to do next.”

You stored any questions in the back of your mind for later, though one in particular fought back to the top multiple times throughout your journey. Every time you turned a corner, you expected to see another familiar face, and every time you were disappointed. Having seen Celci and Gunther literally drop out of the sky, it was hard to temper your hopes, and you had to force yourself to focus on anything else – the hard lines of shadows, the faint discussion of civilians, the rhythmic click of boots.

Gradually, the environment shifted. The painted buildings developed cracks and silence filled in between quiet directions. Two by two, you walked out of the edge of town and into an old industrial compound. You assumed it was old, at least, with architecture and wildlife left to rot. News never made it as far as you in the colony’s main complex, so you had to guess what happened here – from the craters in the middle of roads and scattered, smaller holes in the walls, it wasn’t difficult.

Eventually, after a good hour, Celci veered off from the main path, and the rest of you followed, you slightly more confused than the others. Most factories were linked up to the road, with the only exceptions being the very first ones. You assumed that this was one of Mack’s failed experiments to maximize productivity, now hidden behind abandoned streets and brutalist structures.

Everything was so rundown that you couldn’t begin to guess which one was the factory until you were standing right in front of it. That was good for a revolutionary base, but worry stirred in your stomach for its integrity. Your companions didn’t harbor the same fears, it seemed, as they guided you through the front door and into the main area. 

The inside was just as bad as the outside, decorated with bits of rubble and rusty machines. The sight of it made you wonder if tetanus existed on this planet, though it wasn’t as concerning as the fact that it was empty. Was the resistance movement so small that you’d met all the members already? Celci, Gunther, Burt…

You shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. For a force in the hundreds, or for just one more man. Getting away from Mack was good enough, you supposed, you assumed, you tried to convince yourself, poorly. It seemed so much more of an impossibility when there were just the four of you. 

Distantly, metal slid against metal.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

Light tapping grew louder and louder.

You had the distinct feeling of déjà vu. 

Somebody yelled indistinctly from further into the factory.

Your hopes soared through the ceiling as quickly as you sprinted towards Mark. He was already at full speed after skidding around the corner, so it was barely a second before you were throwing yourself at him, locking your arms around his shoulders with his around your waist, crashing to the ground in a tight ball.

Heart pounding in your chest, you registered little more than the sensation of touch. The pressure of Mark’s hold was the only thing keeping you together; not even the surprised stares cast your way prompted your composure. 

Years ago, you might have grimaced at the thought of being so undignified in front of your crew, but now? Now, you didn’t bother to hide the soft hiccups of tears, too focused on the presence of Mark, your one and only Head Engineer. The grin that fractured across your mouth like a fault line was more becoming of you, and, although the nature of the emotion didn’t matter with formality, you kept both the smile and the tears.

Celci’s voice broke you out of your single-mindedness as she said, “Uh, Captain?”

Right. Despite doing away with regulation for the moment, you did still have an audience looking for direction. A proper reunion – preferably without the dull thump from landing on the floor – would have to wait.

A final squeeze of assurance was shared between the two of you before you staggered to your feet, taking Mark by the hand with you. It was only then, when you were both secure, that you cast a look over the group assembled. It was bigger than before, now comprised of your crew leads and whoever had followed Mark to the front room. Confidence was rising in you at every instance of eye contact you made, internally counting five, six, eight, twelve, twenty, all of your crew from your original universe were gathered on the factory floor.

The Invincible II was back.

For the next four hours, you were taking stock of everything and everyone that the group, this resistance, had. The majority of it was weapons, which also meant the majority of it was useful for an all-out offensive but not for subtle tactics. You were pretty sure you knew why explosives were so plentiful if Mark’s sheepish look as he checked off another shipping container of mines was anything to go by. You couldn’t bring yourself to do more than teasingly tut at him.

It was during those hours that you learned what you had been missing in your time as Mack’s PA. From Celci, you found out that the Earth-based Headquarters was completely disconnected from the colony after the warp to the current planet, which explained the incautious disregard for ethics and human rights. From Gunther, you discovered the routes they had established to steal from work sites, armories, and warehouses for all their supplies. From Burt, you were told just what had happened to your crew that drew them here.

Mark was gone even before everyone boarded the ship for the first time. Nobody knew why, and he hadn’t told them in all the time they had worked together – Burt presented this in his usual poetic fashion, making it out to be a tragedy of emotional guardedness, but you knew it was because Mark wasn’t the one present for his own removal. Another Head Engineer took the brunt of that punch, and you knew intimately how not knowing your own story would put someone on guard.

He went on to tell you what he did know, though, and that, surprisingly, started with Celci. Questioning Mack’s decisions had come at the cost of her position. Not respecting his authority given by the Captain, as he had described it to the other leads, or backtalking, as Burt then called it. She was soon shipped back off to Earth, but it hadn’t been quick enough to stop word of mouth. Rumors spread on the ship, crew members started ‘failing’ tasks that they had completed hundreds of times before, the shuttle back to the planet took more and more each day until near everyone was replaced.

Burt and Gunther had been among the few originals still standing on the ship, but it wasn’t for long; poetry was Burt’s downfall because Mack, ever the STEM addict, took no more a liking to his metaphors than he did you. He was gone the second the last syllable left his mouth, sent back to Earth to join his oh-so-traitorous compatriots in, apparently, gearing up for another flight.

Burt told you what he had been filled in on, and, before you could be lost in the he-said-she-said of it all, you learned of Earth’s backup shuttle that they sent to check up on Mack. The sudden transfer of power was jarring and definitely not state-approved, leaving HQ little choice but to send a team back after them. Who better than the people who were just there?

The last member to join the crew, with a smug grin despite having been fired, had been Gunther. 

You had always wondered where Mack’s bullet-sized scar came from.

The story was wrapped up with simple luck. It was chance that the old crew arrived back at the Invincible II just as the wormhole opened, able to tag along through to the next planet. If they had been a few minutes late, they would have never found the ship. They would have never found Mack. They would have never found you.

Even recalling the tale made you grimace. You tried to shrug off the shiver that sprang through your body as you cataloged the medical supplies, but, although it had been hours since your conversation with Burt, it was difficult. In this world, double the number of people got involved, and now you were carrying the weight of disappointing 600,000 more people. The captain had failed to keep everything together, and that meant so too had you. Everything that Mack had done up to this point was punishment.

Though, that thought was tempered when Mark emerged in the doorway, poking his head around the corner in the cautious way he always did and checking the room for anyone else. When the search came up empty, he crept in and closed the door behind himself.

You supposed now was as good a time as any for that ‘proper’ reunion – and yet neither of you spoke. The air between you was filled with distant clinking and hammering, chatter from every other member of the crew except for the two of you.

He looked good, for a rebel. He missed the grizzled war-veteran style of a true futuristic revolutionary, the kind you’d seen in movies with the eyepatch and prosthetic arm, but he did well enough with the specks of gunpowder and stubble. The sheepish grin that barely held back his excitement didn’t exactly help the image, but you preferred it to the stern stare he had been aiming at the crew while you counted equipment.

Mark took one step forward, waited, and then took another. He tentatively made his way in front of you, as if going too quickly would spook you into hiding.

When he was firmly placed less than an arm’s length away from you, he whispered a simple, “Captain.”

Your voice was rough from years of disuse; you’d actively avoided talking to anyone in the colony, but you had no reservations now. 

“Mark.”

And then down came the wall.

You were back in one another’s arms in the blink of an eye, like you had never been separated in the first place. Being on your feet gave you the ability to spin around, a childish display but you refused to care, sending you off-kilter and forcing Mark to stabilize your pair by grabbing the edge of a container. When he pushed off, though, you were dancing across the room with reckless abandon, twirling, jumping, laughing so hard that you thought your lungs would explode.

“You’re alive!” he gasped. 

Your shoes squeaked against the floor as you slowed to a wobbly stop. 

“So are you!”

Another round of desperate laughter ensued, muffled only when you brought Mark closer and buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“You’re alive,” you mumbled.

“So are you,” was his equally quiet reply.

To save yourself another repetition, you breathed the moment in. You’d missed this – you’d missed him – and suddenly, in this brief respite, nothing else mattered. You were back together again, and you weren’t going to be leaving any time soon. With the way that Mark secured his arms around you like a seatbelt, you imagined he felt the same.

“Where did you end up?” you asked. Had you been able to see his face, you might have noticed the red rising in his cheeks from the feeling of your lips batting against his skin.

You did notice the shaky breath he let out. You attributed it to the memory of his arrival, which was not all the way incorrect.

“I was in the storage hold. I would have come out, but I overheard some of the crew talking. About me. How- how I was apparently gone, and nobody was supposed to ask questions about it. CC was already gone by then.”

“She questioned Mack,” you filled in.

“Sounds about right. When I met up with her again planet-side, she refused to talk about it. Still hasn’t told me exactly what happened; she’s been preoccupied with all this revolution stuff.”

“All it took for you two to get along was a dictator and near-zero chance of survival.”

Mark chuckled, but it was weaker than before, and he didn’t say anything until you moved apart from one another. Enough distance was created for you to see the frown pulling at his lips.

“What’s wrong?”

It was somewhat of a dumb question given that you were standing in a disused factory amongst the beginnings of a revolt, but you both knew that wasn’t what you were talking about.

Eyebrows furrowed, he inspected your face.

“Your helmet.”

While the corners of his mouth dropped even further, you shot him a look of confusion.

“I don’t have a helmet.”

“I know.”

Ah. Yes. You knew you had forgotten something. Divulging the details of your time as Mack’s ‘personal assistant’ wasn’t something you wanted to do in that moment, but Mark had given you some background, so it was only fair to return the favor.

“A little after the colony was fully constructed, Mack fully stripped me of my title. He’d let me be a figurehead until then, but I guess he was tired of not getting credit for all his work.” You wanted to laugh. The stinging of your wrists stopped you. “He took my title and my helmet. I wasn’t in touch with the public anymore, but he pushed me into the spotlight just so everyone could see me… dethroned, as he put it.”

A sudden thought did get you smiling a little, though. “He had it put in a museum with the rest of my uniform.”

“I thought that was a replica.”

You switched back to confusion, which Mark noticed and responded to bluntly, “Reconnaissance.”

Even as you pondered the possibility of having seen him, he stayed staring at you. If this hadn’t been the first time he had seen your face, you might’ve been nervous.

Oh, who were you kidding? You were nervous. Beyond nervous. Was he mad at you? Disappointed? Did he regret placing his trust in someone who couldn’t maintain their position, let alone protect the colony they were hired to keep safe? Now he had to do it, shoulder your responsibility for you because you couldn’t—

“Hey, hey.” Sensation spurred against your cheek. “You’re okay. You’re back now. You’re safe.”

Mark repeated those phrases like prayers, one after the other, order switched around to the point that the words swam through your head and overshadowed every other negative thought. He gradually drew you to a nearby workbench and deposited you on the metal surface. Standing in front of you, he kept his hands firmly secured on your upper arms.

You were okay. You were back. You were safe.

You weren’t going anywhere.

“Captain, you need to go back.”

You flinched at the new voice, attention jumping to the door that had opened without you noticing. Mark had been so focused on assuring you that he too jumped, but he righted himself in a split-second and threw an arm in front of you.

When Celci marched into the room, your shoulders dropped, and your heart rate slowly but surely followed suit. The conditioning you received from Mack made your body register any surprise as a threat, but you weren’t sure what had happened to Mark for him to still be on guard as she got closer.

Gently, you pressed down on his arm, only managing to get it down a few degrees before your focus was redirected to Celci.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked as you pushed off from the table.

Mark repeated your words with a far more suspicious tone, bordering on a growl, “Yeah, what did you say?”

“You need to get back to the capital.”

“No.”

Your mouth was still open to respond when Mark’s single word registered, and it stayed open for the tennis match that proceeded between them. At each swing, they took a step closer.

Celci was the first up, saying, “We haven’t been able to get someone on the inside yet.”

Mark’s boot thunked against the floor. “Yes, we have. We have engineers and soldiers and doctors.”

“Nobody gets as close to Mack as they do.” Ten feet and closing between them.

“That only puts them in more danger.” Eight feet.

“He can’t afford to kill them outright. They’ll survive.” Five feet.

“Survival isn’t good enough. They were surviving before we got them out. They aren’t going back.” Two feet. 

“We can’t throw away this opportunity to target Mack directly—”

“We’re not sending them back there, Celci!”

Your crew leads stood face to face like bulls trying to get the other to back down. Apparently, you had been wrong earlier; for them to get along, they needed more than a dictator and the constant threat of death.

They needed you to be gone.

And, from what it appeared, the rebellion was stronger when they did work together.

Placing a hand on Mark’s shoulder, you said, “I’ll go.”

You were surprised Mark didn’t break his neck with how fast he whipped around to look at you. You had to glance away before guilt could settle in your stomach.

“No,” he ordered, “no, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can. I can help more from inside than out.”

He huffed, spluttered, gestured vaguely with his hands. “Captain, if you go back, he will kill you.”

“Celci is right, he can’t do that without a good reason.”

“And he had a good reason for all the other people he killed?!” The yell echoed down the hallway, which had become noticeably quieter since Celci had arrived, but it faded out as Mark forced his voice lower. “Alright, okay, okay. Let’s say he doesn’t kill you. He has to do something to you. You won’t just get off scot-free.”

“That’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Mark, this is not your decision to make.”

“Yes, it is!”

A tense silence flooded the room. A beat passed. His chest heaved while you tried to keep yourself in check.

Swallowing thickly and gritting his teeth, Mark said, “I know you’re the captain, but, while you have been away, I have taken charge. I can’t send you back into that death trap of a colony in good conscience.”

He sounded almost composed. Formal. Leaps and bounds different from the man who designed the ‘wakey-wakey’ protocol for the Invincible II. You might have liked to take credit for influencing him, but, if what he had said was true, he had been leading this group since he landed in this universe. You had no authority to challenge his.

But that didn’t mean you were going down without a proper fight.

“Mark,” you spoke softly, “I know you want to keep everyone safe, but you can’t do it all at once. Sacrifices have to be made.”

You held up a hand as soon as he opened his mouth, and, luckily, he closed it.

“Think of it as a long-term investment. If I go back and get you information, you can take down Mack quicker, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“How are you going to get back? We broke you out, we can’t just break you back in.”

Ordinarily, you might have laughed at Mark’s puppy-dog eyes, but there was a certain desperation that went beyond the usual want. How you wished you could stay with him, how you wished you could just let it all go and stay safe – but you couldn’t. You had to prove yourself useful to this cause, or else what good was all this? What good were you?

You took a deep breath, just about coming to terms with what you had to do, and you secured both of your hands on his shoulders. It was more for your sake than his in order to ground you. If you stored up the lightning that was thrumming in your veins, you would surely burn from the inside out.

“Before Celci and Gunther knocked the guards out,” you started, “they were taking me to solitary. Mack no doubt knows I disappeared, but if they find me where I was meant to end up, it won’t be so bad.”

He squinted at you. “What’s solitary?”

“A cell beneath the main complex.”

His squint deepened. “And why is it called solitary?”

“There’s only one, and you don’t have any communication with anyone.”

That last bit wasn’t a problem for you – after all, this was the longest, and possibly only, conversation you’d had since you were dropped into this universe – but it was one of the few things about solitary that you were willing to share. If you were to divulge all the intricacies of the punishment, there was no way he would let you leave, and saying them aloud would force you to confront your future.

Still, his squint dipped even further, to the point that you weren’t sure his eyes were open, but then he switched his attention to Celci as if to confirm what you’d said. She only nodded, so either she was just as unaware as Mark, or she really wanted this to work. Knowing her, it was a 50/50, but you would prefer the former because it meant no crew member had been sent there yet.

When Mark looked back to you, he took a second to study your face. Expert liar as you were, he had the uncanny ability to tell when you weren’t being wholly truthful. You couldn’t have that, which meant you were quick to draw him in for a hug. It both hid your expression of dawning fear and let you get your last dose of human contact for however long you’d be in solitary.

But you could withstand it. Weather the storm, and all the other metaphors for staying stable in the face of life-threatening odds. For him. If you gave up, you’d end up separated again, and you didn’t know where each of you would end up – but if he stayed in this universe while you were thrown into another? You would never forgive yourself.

“Okay,” Mark whispered against your ear, clutching you tighter. 

You returned the gesture in kind, assuring, “It will all end up alright.”

When you pulled apart, you kept one hand on Mark. Going too far risked slingshotting you back into the hug and getting out a second time would definitely prove harder than the first.

From the side, Celci said, “Thank you, Captain.”

You nodded your acknowledgment, choosing not to point out that you hadn’t done anything yet. Instead, you asked, “Do you have plans for communication while I’m in the colony?”

“Yes, but they’re tough.”

If she hadn’t said that, you might have figured it out from Mark’s huff. Clearly, whatever plan had been agreed on wasn’t satisfactory to everyone, but a democracy, as you’d experienced, was better than a dictatorship.

“We have some people working for us within the colony, but we haven’t been able to touch the main complex,” Celci explained, “which is why we need you. Whatever you find out, no matter how small it is, we need you to report it to some of our members.”

She went on to list the spies and their locations, ranging from some regular civilians to the most useful of postal workers and shipment coordinators. As she said, none were within the walls of the capital building, but she mentioned that the mailroom was soon to open as a drop location for information. That would be the link between you and the rebellion depending on who was assigned that route. 

The first problem would be getting there. It wasn’t as though you were in any position to request a job, but you figured showing enough disdain for addresses and glue would inspire Mack. Too petty for his own good, and a way to prolong the pain with papercuts would meet the status quo.

The second problem was your supervision. Smuggling out information was going to be difficult with one of Mack’s lackeys breathing down your neck at all times, and any moment of your speaking would garner attention. This one relied on spontaneity because you would have to drop information the second the guard’s focus waned.

The third problem was the question of identifying who to talk to. Luckily, that was as simple as two code words, for the sake of avoiding a false alarm and blowing your cover completely. ‘Golden’ and ‘retrieve’ were those chosen, and your thoughts immediately drifted to the little space pup who had accompanied the Invincible II’s flight.

“Don’t worry,” Mark said, immediately noticing your far-away expression, “Chica’s fine. Mack doesn’t believe in emotions, so he pulled her from the ship. The next shuttle brought her back, though, and she’s been the best security guard since.”

Well, you were pretty sure Mack knew spite at the very least, but you were able to relax as Celci continued through the protocol. The only thing left after she was finished was to actually do it all, the first step of which was landing yourself in solitary. That was a hurdle you were going to deal with when you came to it, though you were sure you could convince a guard to chuck you in anyway with the infamy Mack had drawn up for you.

“Whenever you’re ready, find me at the factory entrance. We’ll drop you off at the edge of the city, but we can’t risk going any further,” Celci said, bowing her head slightly. She wasn’t one to apologize for things that weren’t her fault, but the disappointment was visible in her effort to avoid eye contact.

With a final nod in your direction that you returned, she marched off to prepare.

While you weren’t all too happy with this turn of events either, you were willing to postpone your freedom for the sake of the rebellion. The man who stood at your side, however, was less accommodating.

Mark’s voice was dull as he scoffed, “I can’t believe you’re just going back.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Stay.”

Your gaze flickered to him. In your conversation with Celci, he had started fiddling with the medical supplies. A med kit was splayed open on the workbench in front of him, showcasing painkillers, scissors, bandages, and everything else a resistance could wish for.

“You know I can’t. I have to help somehow.”

“You’re the captain—” He stretched out a roll of gauze, “—you should just be the captain.”

“And what would that entail? You’ve been doing a great job so far; I don’t know how to do I would be better than you.”

“I’m an engineer, not a leader. Everything that I’ve been doing, I’ve just been copying you.” As he spoke, barely above a whisper, he cut through the fabric at a sizeable distance and spun on his heels.

“It’s called learning, Mark. Hands-on experience, and all that, and—and what are you doing?”

He’d stepped closer and taken your hands, neither of which you minded, but then he pushed up your sleeves and started winding the gauze around one wrist.

“If you’re going back, you have to be in top-tip shape… top-tip?” He had started strong, but, as he went to tuck the tail of the length between two belts, he began to mumble his words. He went back and forth between ‘top-tip’ and ‘tip-top’, testing them on his tongue, and despite his struggle being endlessly entertaining, you knew what this was.

With the opposite hand, you gently guided the gauze into place and tied it off. Mark followed along willingly, but a frown pulled at his lips.

“Do you trust me, Mark?”

There was no hesitation before he said, “Of course.”

“Then you have to trust that I’ll be okay. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this, right?”

As if he had forgotten the reality of the situation, he sighed. Maybe he had gotten swept up in the revolutionary spirit, which wasn’t that hard given this was the longest you had gone without another wormhole taking you out. Briefly, you wondered what was so different about this universe that you hung around for so long. You hadn’t been given the opportunity to die, so that escape remained untested. With Mark still alive, though, you weren’t going to take that route any time soon.

“Just- just don’t do anything dumb.”

“What, like throw myself out of the airlock without a suit?”

He stared at you. You stared at him.

He did not laugh.

“I won’t. Buzzkill.”

“Speaking of buzzkills…” Mark trailed off, but he gestured towards the door. “She’ll get you back to the city, safe and sound. Your escape hasn’t been announced yet, so you should be able to get a little far in before someone finds you, if you’re stealthy about it.”

“You’re telling me to be stealthy?”

Pride swelled in your heart as he cracked a smile. It was small and dropped within the second, but it was there. You’d hold onto that for as long as it took to refresh the memory.

“Whatever. Just don’t be offended if they take off as soon as you’re at the edge.”

“You’re not coming?”

That prompted a grimace that he tried to cover up with a confident grin. You had to give it to him, he tried to keep it up even as you raised your eyebrow.

“Gotta keep the crew in line while the leads are gone. You know how it is, Captain.” He walked as he talked, guiding you out into the hallway with an arm around your shoulder. “Speeches of encouragement, separating fights, awarding medals of honor, all those captain-ly duties.”

You went along with his rant out of courtesy, and Mark was glad you did. He was already doing a poor job of hiding the real reason why he wasn’t seeing you off; if he did go with you, there was a chance he would lock the door and refuse to let you out or, failing that, follow you right into Mack’s office itself. Crying would occur in either situation, and the stirrings of a revolution were no time for that.

He'd have to save it for when you came back alive and well. Because you were coming back. Alive and well.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he shot you a sideways glance.

Alive and well. He was going to make sure of that.

Your escort stopped just before the entrance to the main factory floor. Now was supposed to be the cliché goodbye, the hugging, the whispering, the exchanges of ‘good luck’ and ‘be safe’. The phrases were baked into the look Mark gave you, which you returned in kind. Behind him, you saw familiar faces rushing around like worker bees, all contributing to the cause of taking down Mack. 

You would not abandon this crew to a fate you forced upon them. You had failed so many times, you would not fail again. There was so much potential for this universe – the colony had been developed, food and fuel problems solved. All you needed to do was get rid of Mack and put the planet under the leadership of who it was meant to be led by. And then, maybe, you and Mark would get back home, too.

But there was still work to do first.

[Wherever you are right now, stay safe and pull through. Support friends and family, and make sure that you're okay. As always, thanks for reading]

[stvr-spirit]

Big headcanon of mine is that Actor had/has a crush on the DA. I mean it's obviously canon that many people find MC/you attractive so why would Actor be any different? It's basically canon kinda? Lemme stretch the lore a bit and let be believe this (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠) DWM is revealed to all be a set for some movie or something, yes, BUT Actor is setting everything up himself because this is his world so what if he "revealed" the set to throw you off his scent of actually having wanted to go on a date with MC/you. ヾ⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠*⁠)⁠ﾉ

Also a big part of this fandom is using DA and Captain, but, aren't they all the same person just with memory issues because of Mark (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)?? Yes we take on different titles during each of the bigger series, but in ones like Date and Heist we don't really have a specific title? What would it be, datie and Criminal (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)? That's why I prefer just saying MC/you. To be fair I've been out of this fandom for a WHILE so I'm probably very rusty and need to relearn most of the lore though ┐⁠(⁠‘⁠～⁠`⁠;⁠)⁠┌

[g0dwat3rwritings]

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

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

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

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

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬/𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡

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

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

Your relationship with him was.. practically perfect.

Except for your parents.

You had a decent job, your dream job.

And yet, that wasn't acceptable to them

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your assumption was correct.

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

Then they started to yell at you, as expected.

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

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

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

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

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

And then you broke down.

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

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

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

And he comforted you.

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

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

the only You for Me

Captaineer drabble (Captain is reader) | Words: 381 | (fluff/sorta hurt-comfort?) | Read on AO3

From where he lies beside you, you feel a hand rest atop yours, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Mhm,’ you hum in assent, ‘ ‘course.’

‘Were there ever any of the other “me”s that you… liked more than, well, me…?’

‘What? No, Mark, of course not. Why would you–? No. You're my Mark. Hey,’ You take his face in both your hands, gently making him meet your eyes. ‘I didn't go halfway across the multiverse just to find any old Mark.’

He gives a small laugh and you press your lips to his forehead before returning your gaze to look directly into his.

‘I'm sure the other "me"s out there have their own "you"s that they cherish in their own ways, and some of them could be enemies, in a sense, or even strangers. But that's their business. I love you. This you. More than anything or anyone — and I mean anyone. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that for you to fully believe you deserve it, or truly understand how much I mean it, but I'll remind you forever if I have to.’

It's dark in the room and you can just about make out his eyes and other features, but you can feel the slight tingle of warmth on his cheeks, imagine the blush tinting his face.

‘Forever's a long time,’ he says, voice low and soft and undeniably adoring.

‘Yeah, well, I think we both know the meaning of “a long time” better than maybe anyone. And in all that time — all those lifetimes, all those universes, I would always choose you, no matter what.'

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, using your upper arm as a pillow. His arms wind around your torso, pulling you close. You wrap your free arm over his back, stroking his dark curls and winding them gently, comfortingly, between and around your fingers.

‘I love you,’ he whispers against you. ‘You’re my whole universe, my everything. You're the only you I want, too.’

You want to wrap him up in your heart, deep within the warmth of your chest. But since you can't, you settle for holding him tighter, every night, and you never let go.

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Weighted

Someone take my sleepiness away and put in my fics, please and thank you.

Yancy x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 440

Sleep has sucked for you for the last little bit, tossing and turning in bed. Throwing off blankets and struggling to feel snug enough to not want to kick your legs in restlessness. Nothing feels safe and you are starting to become frustrated and upset with how inconsistent your sleep has been. This is all so unfair, you didn’t ask for this. 

Yancy, however, seems to notice this and approaches your bed as he walks past your room to crash on your couch. He’s been hanging around just until he gets his own space, and despite being a night owl tends to be pretty quiet in the evenings. 

“Oh, sorry… was I keeping youse up?”

You lift your head from your pillow, frowning at him.

“Huh-? Oh, no. I just, can’t sleep. It’s fine.”

“Youse’s face is telling me youse ain’t just fine. What can I’s do?”

He cautiously sits on the edge of your bed, looking at you like you’re terminally ill when you’re just having a bout of insomnia. 

“I don’t know, no matter how many blankets I put on, it never feels like enough. It feels like I’m not secure in my bed.”

Yancy ponders your predicament for a few seconds, before getting hit with a rare moment of brilliance. Well, brilliance for him.

“What if I just lay down on youse? I weigh plenties, and youse can sleep!”

“Yancy- that, you don’t need to do that. I know you’ll probably still be up for quite a bit and you’ll just get bored on top of me. Plus, isn’t that, a little weird…?”

“Youse made it to every conjugal visit for alls of my years in prison, it’s the least I can do for youse.”

Despite your earlier protestations, you decide to relent and let him try his idea. You toss the blankets off of you and let him in under the covers, and he quickly wraps his arms around your waist as he rests his head on your chest. Instead of feeling crushed, you feel cherished, protected. It’s like your body finally lets you put down your guard from whatever nonexistent threat there is in your home, and quickly starts pulling you down into deep sleep.

To not feel awkward, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close, resting your face on the top of his head, buried in his hair. He smells like your shampoo and conditioner, but he wears the scent better than you do. Your breathing turns shallow after a big sigh, and he’s sure you’re asleep. If it gets you to sleep, he will always do this for you. 

[districtattorney404]

the memories kept coming back to me...

oh Engy, how can I respond to your love now...?

[lostcybertronian]

Egotober - Day 5

Prompts by @tracobuttons

Prompt: Calm

---

It felt like forever before he was finally able to squeeze himself into the tiny booth, the guard– Manny, a nice enough guy, not too bright– relieving him of his handcuffs so he could sit comfortably, and answer the phone if you showed up.

Yancy fought to keep himself calm. Today was the day. He could feel it in his bones. It was the third Sunday, the day for outside visitors, and you would be in line to visit him, and he could finally, finally tell you the big news.

He fidgeted in his seat, leaning forward to press his face to the glass. The makeshift booth on the other side of the thick, bullet-proof barrier prevented him from catching a good glimpse of anybody waiting, so he gave an impatient huff and sat back. 

Time passed. The clock ticked. Visiting hours were drawing to a close. 

Behind him, Manny heaved a sigh. He wanted to go to chow. But Yancy turned and shot him a scathing glare and he straightened, avoiding direct eye contact. Newbie.

But he was getting hungry, too. He’d give it a couple more minutes before–

On the other side of the glass, a whirlpool of blue-black blossomed into existence, and you stumbled out, dressed to the nines in a fancy-looking space-suit, complete with blacked-out helmet. Yancy couldn’t see your face, but he’d recognize you anywhere.

He beamed.

[fandomnerd14]

Coastlines and Coffee Shops

Summary: After countless jumps through time and space, Captain Y/N takes a detour. Not to save a universe, but to visit someone who once saw them before the galaxy did. Yancy’s on parole now, living quietly in a coastal town that doesn’t ask too many questions. The cafe he recommends is nothing special. The company, though, is everything. And for a few hours, they remember what peace feels like.

The city wasn’t much. Somewhere tucked between coastlines and half-forgotten train tracks, but it was calm. Still. Human. You walked alone, your boots quiet against the gravel path leading toward the tucked-away café Yancy had mentioned on their last letter exchange. It was strange, stepping into this place with no mission, no crew, no cosmic emergency. Just you, the air, and time that just this once wasn’t slipping through your fingers.

You spotted him easily.

Yancy stood by the fence, hands in the pockets of a windbreaker too big for him, hair gelled back, eyes squinting against the low sun. He looked… free. The sight of him pulled a smile to your face before you even reached him.

“You came,” he said, beaming.

“Told you I would.” you grinned back. “How could I pass up the most exclusive parolee-approved coffee joint on the coast?”

He laughed, a little sheepish. “Hey, this place got good scones. And they let me work here part-time. So technically, I’m kinda like your bodyguard-slash-barista today.”

You tilted your head playfully. “Now that’s an unbeatable combo.”

The inside was just as warm—dim lights, scuffed wooden floors, the smell of cinnamon and roasted beans in the air. They claimed a corner booth, tucked near a window where dust swirled in sunbeams. Yancy sat across from you with two mugs and a plate of scones he insisted were “life-changing.”

They talked for a long while. About simple things—parole check-ins, awkward community service stories, favorite coffee flavors, weird dreams. But your eyes kept catching on the ease in Yancy’s movements. He looked lighter. As if he’d let go of a weight he never realized he was carrying.

“You’ve changed,” you said softly, wrapping your hands around the mug. “In a good way. I’m proud of you.”

His cheeks turned red, and he tried to cover it with a dramatic scoff. “Proud of me? Nah. I’m still the same ol’ Yancy. Just with... less crime.”

You chuckled. “Well, you wear civilian life pretty well.”

There was a brief pause. A flicker of mischief lit in your eyes.

“You know,” you said casually, “when we first met, I had a bit of a thing for you.”

Yancy nearly choked on his coffee. “Wait—what?”

You laughed. “Relax. It was brief. You had that whole bad boy thing going on. Prison tats. Charisma. A surprisingly good singing voice. It was a dangerous combo.”

“I—You’re serious?”

You shrugged, sipping your coffee with a grin. “What can I say? You made an impression.”

Yancy blinked at you, stunned into silence for a moment before he leaned back, smiling wide. “Well, damn.”

They both laughed with something unspoken—an acknowledgment of how far they’d come. From chaotic prison breaks and collapsing walls to shared pastries and overdue confessions.

Outside, the world kept spinning. But inside that booth, there was peace. No ticking crystal. No countdown. Just the memory of almosts, and the comfort of what still remained.

Just two old friends, catching up at the end of the universe.

“Okay,” Yancy said, still recovering from the revelation, a hand gesturing animatedly between them. “You mean to tell me you—you—had a thing for me and didn’t say anything?”

You leaned back, lips curled around a teasing smile. “Would it have mattered? You were a little preoccupied… you know, escaping prison. Threatening security. Nearly choking a guy with a tray.”

He pointed his fork at you. “Allegedly.”

You snorted. “Oh, right. Sorry. Allegedly.”

Yancy chuckled, then rested his chin in his hand, eyes studying you a little more seriously now. “Still. That’s wild to me. I mean, you’re—” he waved his hand vaguely, “—space captain, multiverse traveler, world saver. I’m just Yancy. Working part-time and learning how to use a toaster without breaking it.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” you gave him a warm look, a softness creeping into your voice. “You’ve always been more than you gave yourself credit for.”

The compliment made him fidget, suddenly very interested in his coffee. “Guess I’m tryin’ to see that, now. Hard some days. But bein’ out here… slow livin’, good people. It helps.”

You nodded slowly, glancing out the window at the street beyond. “I think I needed this too. A reminder that not everything has to be… galactic. Not every problem is life or death.”

You caught his eye again, more thoughtful this time. “Feels nice just… sitting. With someone who remembers who I am before everything.”

“That’s easy,” he said. “You’re still that same person. You just glow a little more now.”

You raised a brow. “Glow?”

Yancy shrugged with a grin. “Yeah. Like… starshine-y. You walk in and the room just kinda knows it should pay attention.”

“Are you flirting with me, parole boy?”

He held up his hands, mock-innocent. “Hey, I’m just speakin’ facts.”

You laughed again, and something gentle settled between them. Comfort. History. A mutual understanding forged from parallel lives.

Then, after a small silence, Yancy’s voice turned quieter. “You still jumpin’ ‘round universes?”

You nodded, eyes flickering down to the warp crystal tucked beneath your coat. “I can control where I end up. And… I have a say. Sort of. I visit people when I can.”

“And how long you got here?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “Not long. A few hours at most. Then the crystal yanks me back.

Yancy exhaled slowly, leaning back in the booth, looking at her like he wanted to memorize this version of you. “That’s gotta be rough.”

“It was, at first.” You tilted your head, fingers tracing the rim of your mug. “Now… It feels like I’m getting better at living in the present. Appreciating the moment for what it is.”

Yancy nodded, quiet. Then he reached across the table, nudging your pinky with his.

“I’m real glad you came here today.”

You smiled at that. Not the heroic kind, not the commander kind. Just a real, tender curve of your lips.

“Me too.”

They sat like that for a while, their mugs empty, the crumbs of their scones long forgotten. A familiar silence wrapped around them. Not awkward, not heavy. Just warm.

“I used to wonder a lot about what would’ve happened,” Yancy murmured eventually, “if things had gone differently. If I wasn’t in a cell. If we’d met somewhere normal.”

Your eyes softened. “I think we still would’ve found each other. Just maybe not with all the drama.”

He grinned. “Eh, a little drama never hurt.”

A beat passed.

Then, softly, he asks: “You ever think about staying?”

You blinked at him, surprised.

Yancy didn’t press. Just shrugged, looking at you with a mix of hope and acceptance.

“Not forever. Just… long enough. For coffee. For scones. For people who missed me.” you said.

You reached for your coat, pulling it on slowly. The crystal pulsed once under the fabric, a quiet reminder.

A different crystal this time. Not the unstable one you relied on before. No, this one was new.

More stable.

A gift from Wilford.

“I think about it,” you said. “More often than I admit.”

You stood, and Yancy followed you to the door. Outside, the wind picked up, the sky shifting with the color of dusk.

He didn’t hug you—he never did. Never got the courage just yet. But he bumped your shoulder with his.

“If the universe ever lets you stop runnin’,” he said, “you know where to find me.”

You turned to him, smiled once more.

And then you were gone. A shimmer of light, a soft hum of energy. The space beside Yancy was empty again. He stood there a while longer, staring at nothing. Then, with a sigh, he turned and went back inside. There were pastries to make.

[theknightmarket]

It’s times like this when I regret not committing to animation, because…

a) ‘Get Lost’ from Moana 2 has been rattling around in my brain, with the DA (still trapped in the mirror) singing to the Captain

(Look, don’t you know how good you have it? - You’re all that’s stopping you - For me I’m stuck like static - Can you imagine a life this tragic in the gloom - You’ve got a chance so take it - I know you’re scared but life’s unfair - It’s full of choices big and small - But trust the fall and you can have it all!)

and b) so has the new Ithaca Saga from Epic the Musical, specifically 'Would You Fall in Love with Me Again', between Dark and the DA (very much in line with what I said about Twisted)

(I am not the man you fell in love with - I am not the man you once adored - I am not your kind and gentle husband - And I am not the love you knew before - Would you fall in love with me again - If you knew all I've done - The things I cannot change - Would you love me all the same - I know that you've been waiting, waiting, for love) ... (I will fall in love with over and over again - I don't care how, where, or when - No matter how long it's been, you're mine - Don't tell me you're not the same person - You're always my husband, and I've been waiting, waiting - waiting, waiting - waiting, waiting, waiting - all for you)

In fact, I have so many thoughts about them that I am going to need a lobotomy.

[pinkyplayz-blog]

ENGINEER MARK X READER "cuddles"

(I exceeded charecter limit so i have to post like this but enjoy)

[cozyenigma]

Maintenance

HULLO

Word Count- 1263

Request?- Yes!

Summary- Life goes on, even out here. Unfortunately that also meant all the more inconvenient aspects.

Warnings- None

"Hand me that socket wrench?"

You weren't entirely sure why he asked for your help on this. Mark was more than capable of the usual maintenance a ship this size demanded by himself. Aside from his… quirks his work was impeccable. Hell, you could probably find half a dozen other things that needed your attention more than handing him tools. You didn't mention it.

"This one?" You held one out to him, low enough that he could see it with the mass of machinery he was under.

"That'll work."

As he reaches out to grab it, his fingers skim along your palm. It's just for a second, hardly any contact at all. Still you startle, accidentally jerking the wrench back a bit.

"Sorry," you hurried to push it back into his hand, feeling ridiculous.

Your only response is a quick thanks, Mark quickly going back to his work. Mentally you slapped yourself. It was ridiculous to be this jumpy around one of your crew. You were their captain for crying out loud, this wasn't even appropriate. Why did you even say yes to this?

Apparently, Mark had been banned from using the power tools. For what reason you couldn't actually get out of him but the padlock on the storage cabinet they were kept in was enough of an answer. So, much to Mark's annoyance, he was forced to use exclusively manual tools. He'd grabbed you on your way to the bridge, pushing the old toolbox into your hands. The head engineer wouldn't hear any arguments. True, it wasn't technically your shift on the bridge but still.

Mark called your name, insistent. With a start you realized he had been for a while now.

"Sorry what?"

"I said this one's too big, can you hand me the half inch?" Then after a beat, "Are you okay? You seem… distracted."

"I'm fine," you focus on finding the tool he needs, ignoring how the man has his head at such an awkward angle to try and look your way. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"… everything," you said, keeping it vague. Unhelpful.

There were way too many ways that he could interpret that. The journey, the colony you were supposed to be leading, the loops. Plenty of actual, real world issues that could be occupying your mind. Certainly not your childish crush on the man. Really, it wasn't out of the blue that you found yourself getting closer to him. The adventure, the tears, the whole thing lead to an easy camaraderie you treasured. Or at least you'd thought it was just that. This, now? This didn't feel easy.

As you dig around in the tool box there's a dull thud, a muttered curse, and then the sound of fabric against metal as Mark worked his way out from under the machinery. You felt your face burn. While you were handy enough to fix some basic software issues you weren't familiar with the hardware. At all.

"Sorry," you apologize, scowling at the tool box like it was at fault, "can't find the right-"

"Tell me what's really wrong."

Your head shoots up and suddenly Mark was much closer than you realized. Were you that obvious? He was crouched down right next to you, brows furrowed and tapping his fingers against his knee.

"Nothing is-"

"Cut the shit, captain, I can read you like a book. Hell, you're a picture book." He ignores your insulted scoff. "You're distracted, you're fidgety as hell, and you're avoiding me like the plague."

"What?" You couldn't keep the surprise out of your voice and Mark's expression sours. "I haven't been avoiding you, I have a whole ship to run, Mark."

"Uh huh," the engineer seemed less than convinced. "And I'm sure you've got a good reason for assigning completely opposite shifts for us? I'm a night owl but this is a little ridiculous."

"The ship's been through it!" You said. Even you were able to pick up how defensive you sounded but it wasn't like that! "Just the small stuff will take a week or so not to mention trying to get the Invincible ready for planet fall-"

"Captain you haven't even been eating lunch with everyone," Mark cuts in, words quick and snappy, "and I remember coming in for breakfast and seeing you running right out. At the same time."

"Mark it isn't like that-"

"Well what is it like?" He throws his hands up. "Just tell me! This whole thing is just because you," he pokes you, none too gently at that, "haven't said anything and you clearly have a problem with me. So spill it."

On some level, you knew he was just frustrated. Probably due in part to the odd shifts you'd been putting him on and the resulting lack of sleep. But still something inside you wrankled at his words. It tugged at things that shouldn't be. Or maybe it was just the fact that the last time he blamed you for something…

"My only problem with you right now is that you're being an asshole, Mark. Just drop it!"

Blinded by the dizzying sting of what was going through your head, you don't pay attention as you stand up. Your foot lands on the wrench, that wrong sized one you hadn't put back into the box. It slipped with a rough clatter. Suddenly your feet weren't underneath you. You see Mark's eyes go wide, trying to catch you. From his half crouched position, he doesn't have the leverage to actually pull you up. So he goes down with you.

The two of you crash into the floor. Hard. You can feel the pattern in the middle digging into your back. Your elbows stung, you knew you were gonna bruise where your shin caught the machinery. The weight on top of you was solid and heavy for a moment, just a moment, before Mark was scrambling up and off of you. You're left on the floor, staring up at him. The view was one you'd experienced only one other time.

But this time he offered you a hand. It was a quick thing, almost like he'd forgotten in the midst of the embarrassment. Probably embarrassment right? His face did seem a little red.

"You okay?" He asks, louder than he intended apparently as he follows with a quieter, "Sorry. For- yeah…"

All you could muster was a shake of the head. Not only was that whole thing almost straight out of a rom-com, you were uncomfortably reminded of what happened in the warp core. Your brain hadn't decided how you felt about all that still.

"Right, well…" Mark said, slowly letting go of your hand. You hadn't realized he was still holding it. "Sure you have something better to do than acting as assistant."

You open your mouth to deny it on reflex but Mark was already turning back to his work. Whatever it was, it had passed. Another beat of hesitation. You could tell him. The warp core and afterwards, how you hadn't meant to avoid him, how you were just trying to figure things out.

But you didn't.

Swallowing those poisonous apologies, you bid him a quick and stilted goodbye before retreating. The what ifs were too many. It could go over well but on the other hand… You tried to ignore how loudly your footsteps echoed off the metal floor. They beat at your ears in condemnation as you decided to leave things where they were.

The next shift you actually worked on, you made sure the power tools were ready and available for him.

[thebowieconstricker]

Aight everyone my Markiplier brainrot is all-consuming and I have an idea for a Hee-Hoo x reader fic where he’s a cryptid:

- Camp Unus Annus was founded by a Mark Iplier and Ethan Crank

- Founded in 2020, it’s been going strong for four years until… the incident.

- During a hiking trip, Mark led some of the campers a bit too far out into the woods and everyone got lost.

- Mark told them to stay in place while he wandered around the woods calling for help.

- He was gone all day and, eventually, the campers were found by Ethan.

- After getting them back to safety, Ethan searched for Mark, but he was never found (or was he?)

- A year later, You (yes, you!) are a new counselor at Camp Unus Annus!

- There are strange rumors of Mark’s ghost haunting the camp, but even stranger rumors of a Bigfoot-like creature in the woods, nicknamed “Hee-Hoo” by the campers.

- Fed up by everyone’s fear, you organize a camp-out in the woods with some of your campers that are particularly scared, in an effort to show them that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

- That night, you hear footsteps walking around your tent… even though everyone is sleeping safely inside the tent.

- You investigate, grabbing your gear (including your tactical shovel) and heading out into the woods.

- It’s a quiet night, yet you hear twigs snapping in the distance. You follow the noise silently, attempting to sneak up on whatever it is is walking away from you.

- Suddenly, you trip on a branch and fall flat on your face. You hear a grunt as you fall, not from you, but from something else.

- As your heart thuds, you frantically try to stand yourself up, but the forest floor is cluttered and you’re only drawing more attention to yourself.

- Whatever it is is running at you now. You can hear it’s heavy breathing. You’re losing time.

- In a moment of clarity, you grab your flashlight, switching it on and pointing it in front of you.

- To your surprise, you see… a human face. It’s dirty, with an overgrown hair and beard, but it’s certainly human.

- At the light, the person freezes, as if it’s been stunned.

- You stare at each other in silence for a moment. Whoever this person was, they have a feral glint on their eyes, so why aren’t they attacking?

- Possibly, you think, it doesn’t see you as a threat, as you’re so low to the ground.

- Slowly, untangling yourself from the leaves and vines around you, you stay low, and the person watches.

- Eventually, you say something.

- “…Heeeeeeey there, guy.”

- That was ridiculously stupid.

- The person’s expression scrunches up, looking confused. Does it not know English?

- It’s still squinting in the beam of the flashlight, so you turn it off. A peace offering. You guess it accepts it, as it’s still not attacking you.

- You slowly stand, the arm holding your flashlight still out. The human lets out what sounds like a growl.

- “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

- You can’t tell in the light of the moon, but you could swear that it’s staring into your eyes.

- Your heart swells with compassion for whoever this was. You want to help him, to give him something. Then, it hits you.

- You reach into your bag and pull out a plastic bag of snacks. The only one you could grab before you left was Takis, but you figure it’s fine.

- You offer it to the human and its eyes widen in recognition.

- It snatches the bag from your hand and pops it, sloppily devouring the treats inside.

- Or… wait, is it just licking it?

- You know what, whatever, it’s distracted and you need to get back to your campers.

- As it eats, you sneak away, internally coming up with a plan to tell your boss, Ethan, that a feral man is roaming on his campground.

- And you have a thought.

- He kinda looks like that Mark guy…

[zee-stars]

The ego's giving you their sweaters

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

Actor Mark:

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

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

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

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

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

Darkiplier:

Tbh he probably doesn't have very many hoodies.

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

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

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

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

Yancy:

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

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

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

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

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

Illinois:

Man has one sweater and it is almost disgusting.

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

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

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

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

8/10 cause the stains.

Space Mark:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10/10 love it.

Damien:

This is before wkm obv

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

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

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

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

10/10 for my boy dames

Heist Mark:

Im like imagining the most detailed scene rn

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

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

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

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

Date Mark:

Another very detailed scene

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

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

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

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

Wilford:

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

Tbh he has the best hoodies 1000%

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wilford is simply the best

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

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Fireflies

He's such a fucking bastard, oh my gods.

Illinois James x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 433

Illinois takes your hand as you step out of his truck, guiding you down onto the grass so you don’t take a tumble. He tugs you into him, holding you against his chest with a mischievous chuckle. 

“Careful there, can’t have you twisting an ankle around here.”

“You saying you wouldn’t have caught me?”

There’s a moment where he looks offended, before bringing you up into his arms and refusing to let you down.

“If you think I would ever let you fall, I have not been irritating enough.”

“Wh- ILLINOIS JAMES PUT ME DOWN, YOU ASSHOLE-”

He dodges smacks and flicks with a smirk on his face, only stopping in his tracks when you steal his hat. You place it triumphantly on your crown, looking at him smugly with your arms crossed in front of your chest. He simply freezes, with a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. The way it slants on your head, a bit too big for you completely enamours him. 

“Sugar gonna steal my hat now, huh? If that’s how we’re gonna play-”

Illinois sets you down abruptly on the hood of his truck, far higher than what you feel comfortable sliding off. He gives you a snarky salute, grabbing things from the backseat to set up for your date. Leaving you stranded, forced to watch as he plays the role of a “proper gentleman”. You adjust his hat atop your head, keeping the sun as it sets out of your eyes to glare daggers at him. 

He sets out the blanket on the grass, bringing out the picnic basket and small cooler to set on top. There’s a few pillows that he tosses down, and another softer blanket on top. When it’s set up, he scoops you up by your waist and plops you onto the pillows, giving you a soft landing. He swipes his hat back, tipping it to you as he sits down beside you.

“They’ll come out, any second now.”

The sun goes down and within minutes, the world around you starts to fill with twinkling lights, floating about and sharing their beautiful brightness. You look to your side, and Illinois is laid back on the blanket, hat on his chest as he looks up at the sky. You decide to join him, tucking yourself against his side as he moves to wrap an arm around you.

“Was this worth the drive?”

“Absolutely.”

You place your hand on his chest, and he moves his hat to the top of your head, chuckling as you swipe it off.

“Oh you stop that!”

“Make me, sugar.”

[districtattorney404]

little sketch I guess?

[running-on-a-broken-record]

What if you wiped off the egos kisses as a joke (just to see their reaction)??

(also I fricken love you and your blog!! 🫶))

Thank you 🩷 I love you too anon

AAAAA THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK

The Detective: - He notices immediately - He isn’t upset about it, but he is confused - Kisses you again and watches to see you wipe it off again - “Did I— is something wrong?” - He gets so sad until you explain it’s just a joke :(

MadPat: - Uh oh - Kisses you again, but a little longer this time - Watches as you wipe it off again - Grabs your wrists (firmly but not to hurt you, of course) and gets close to you - “Don’t do that.” - After you explain it’s a joke he grumbles about it

Mack (dictator): - “What do you think you’re doing?” - He kisses you again and if you dare to wipe it off, he’ll grab your hand and make it so you can’t wipe it off even if you try - “You can’t wipe off my kisses. I’m banning it.” - He is not pleased. Clearly

The Hermit: - He wouldn’t even notice. - I mean, he might see you wipe it off, but he will assume it’s just because he accidentally got dirt on you - But if you’re really committed to the bit and proceed to do it for over 24 hours, he’ll eventually notice - He will bring you something you enjoy and then ask about it - He’s slightly sad, but he’s trying to hide it

WarfPat: - “Oh, no no no.” (Sassy) - Kisses you again, except all over your face so you can’t possibly wipe them all off - Makes you laugh so hard you forget about the joke

DarkPat: - “Love…?” - Actually so concerned. - “Is something wrong?” - Since he isn’t big on physical touch and doesn’t give kisses often, he’s a little bit concerned he did something to upset you - Even after you explain it was just a joke, you’ll wake up to some kind of gift (flowers, a piece of jewelry you’ve been eying, a box of chocolates, just something you’d enjoy) with a thoughtful note from him