#heist mark

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

thievin', stealin', taking what's not yours😖❤️

[mnt-arts]

what if we were thieves and we were in love

drew heist and y/n again bc i can,,

reblogs appreciated !!

[ghiertor-the-gigapeen]

When law is too mainstream

[infinite-infinite-stars]

Engineer!Mark has golden retriever energy but Heist!Mark has orange cat energy, okay, it’s two superficially-similar but very much distinct Vibes.

[rebar2042]

doodles

[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

[braisedhoney]

first batch of pieces from the no-context event (if you know, you know >:] shhh)

[iolite-moodboards]

Perhaps a heist moodboard for the heistiversary? 👉👈

a heist with markiplier board for @seraph-draws-stuff

This was supposed to be done by the 30 but it wasn't 🥲 my creative juices aren't juicing

[fgfluidity]

looking entirely too adorable in a burglar’s outfit, indeed

heist mark and my oc, ada

[buc-eebarnes]

I saw you were taking prompts! If it's alright, "a kiss that quickly descends into passion, ignoring what’s going on around them" with Heist Mark and Heist Y/N?

hello lovely anon! thank you for the rec. i took a bit of a shortcut by making the pairing heist mark and the captain (but the captain is heist y/n!!!), so please forgive me if this isn't quite what you requested. this is set after the events of "where in the world is markiplier?" in iswm 2.

from this prompt list. send me a request and i'll write it!

live wire

pairing: heist mark x the captain (as heist y/n)

tags: angry kissing, angst (!!!), unresolved romantic tension (???), unresolved sexual tension (and it will stay unresolved !!!)

rated T || 2813 words || read on ao3!

“Bonjour. This is the intel for where he’s gonna hit next,” the field agent said, throwing the file onto your desk. It was thick, dauntingly so. You raised an eyebrow up at him.

“Crank. Why is this file so goddamn big?”

He cleared his throat. “Because it also details where else he can hit next.”

“So it’s not a definite location? These are the ones he could possibly hit next?”

Crank shifted in place. “Yes, sir. I mean, ma’am. I mean, Captain.”

You flinched at the title. “‘Special Agent’ is fine.”

“Yes, Special Agent Captain.”

Sighing, you pulled the file over and cracked it open. Ever since the whole fiasco with the agency being infiltrated by public enemy number one, you and your agents had been pulling double shifts over time. You didn’t remember the last time you went home, or the last time you slept on your own bed. The Director had been watching you like a hawk, trying to figure out if you’d get a damn breakthrough at some point.

There was only so much you could do. You were only one person, after all. The portable temporal displacement device hadn’t acted up yet, so you still had some time before you had to leave for a different universe.

“Get me a coffee, Agent Crank. Make it a strong one.”

“Yes, Special Agent Captain. Bonjour.” He hobbled away on crutches, and you shook your head in resignation.

“Now,” you sighed heavily, “where the hell are you, Mark?”

--

As it turned out, he planned on going back to the museum on your last ever heist.

The clues were there. They were always there. There were numbers and letters that had been left at the museums Mark had hit after breaking out of prison. You had recognized the complete sequence as one of your old codes—M2702Y1019 was the designation for the Austin museum you’d infiltrated years ago.

The bullpen had a whiteboard with scribbles of your notes. It was always easier for you to put down your thoughts like that. Mark had often chided you about it—"Why do you have to always write down every step of our plan?" he'd asked, and you'd know he wasn't really mad because you'd hear the fondness in his voice, and you'd replied, "It helps me make sure we get out safely."

After you had written the last number, you placed your hands on your hips and feigned a laugh. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Huh,” a gruff voice muttered. “That’s some damn good work.”

You glanced behind you. The Director was studying your notes pensively, a martini glass in hand. It seemed like he thought the harder he stared at it, the more likely Mark was gonna materialize and hand himself over to the organization. You narrowed your eyes. It looked like he was itching to throw another agent around.

“Thanks Chief,” you gathered up the scattered documents. “Do you even know what it means?”

“Not a goddamn clue,” he said cheerily.

You rolled your eyes. “If we can get all units to the location ASAP, we might be able to catch him before he breaks in.”

He chuckled. “Good thing they pulled you out of retirement, Captain.”

“‘Special Agent’ is fine, Chief.”

“I’ll send the agents over, but you should go first to show them up,” he chortled, as if sharing an inside joke.

You gave him an odd look instead, adjusting your holster and shrugging on your jacket. “I don’t see what the merit is in that, but alright. I’ll head out now.”

“Just don’t make it personal!”

“When have I ever?”

The Director leveled you with a look, oddly serious. You stopped in your movements, watching him nervously. “What?”

“I’m well aware of your…history…with this man, Captain,” he said, finishing the last of his martini. “You two used to be partners.” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Do I need to worry about anything?”

There was a bitter smile on your face. “You don’t need to worry about anything, Director. As soon as we catch this asshole, I’m out.”

With a turn of your heel, you left.

--

Getting to Austin in record time was something you’d never thought you’d achieve, but yet here you were, staring up at the building you spent so many lifetimes coming back to. Each iteration of this universe that you were deposited into felt like a whole new fever dream. You’d met so many new people who wanted to either kill you or kiss you—and you’d been told plenty of times that they had a hard time choosing between the two. But what happened to all of them? Professor Beauregard, Captain Magnum, the Hermit, Illinois, Yancy and the rest of the prison gang…

You sighed heavily once again. It felt like a habit now, lamenting the lives of everyone you’ve ever encountered. Was Lady right? Was it all your fault, even though you had no clue what you even did wrong?

Shaking your head, you unholstered your gun and entered through the side door.

The alarms, unsurprisingly, weren’t armed. He was already in the building.

The safety on the gun clicked off.

You fell back on past instincts, slinking around as quietly as possible, taking note of which areas gave off more sound than others. The museum was as quiet as the last time you were here. A couple of night guards were down on the way to the large vault. It didn't pass your mind if they were the same ones from before. You peeked around the corner, footsteps light.

The vault door was wide open, and there he was.

He was wearing the standard outfit you guys had always worn on heists. His beanie was snug on his head, the tactical vest hugging his body. All-black, very nondescript. He used a glass cutter to get through the protective casing over whatever it was he was trying to steal and—holy shit. Just inside the doors, you faltered in your steps.

It was the goddamn box.

It sat on the exact same pedestal, too. Why the hell was it here?

“Error. Paradox detected.”

Your eyes snapped down to the device on your wrist, horrified. What paradox?

A curse rang out in the silent halls, and you whipped your head up to see that Mark had fucked up cutting the glass, triggering the alarms for the the box. The doors swung shut behind you, latticed bars reinforcing them. You were trapped, but so was he.

“Thanks, bud,” Mark said sardonically, giving you an annoyed look. “A lot of planning went into this, and all it took was you breaking my focus.” He ended up smashing the rest of the glass instead. The box glowed a mysterious blue, one that was all-too familiar for you. It was then that you noticed the blue gem inlaid over the ornate gold details.

“Paradox detected. Please resolve.”

Fuck. It was the same one embedded in your palm.

You raised your gun. “Drop it.”

“I don’t think I will.” He wagged the box tauntingly, daring you to grab it.

“You know what that thing does,” you stepped forward. “Do you even remember all of the shit we went through?”

“What I remember,” he sneered, “is you fucking up our plans for the last heist we did. Why would you pick a helicopter as a means of escape when you don’t even know how to fly one?!”

“I feel like you’re putting too much emphasis on my choices.”

He feigned a laugh. “There you go again, always making excuses, never taking responsibility for your actions—”

“Like you were perfect? Don’t go holier-than-thou on me, Mark. Your ego is what put us in this position in the first place.”

Derision lined his features. “Whatever. What-fucking-ever. After this, you won’t remember me or think about me. You’ll probably go home and visit your greaser boyfriend.”

You felt your brain do a record scratch. What?

“What?” you blinked at him in disbelief. The gun dropped a fraction.

“That greaser dude,” Mark said with disdain, packing the stolen artifact deftly. He wasn’t looking at you at all—his brows were furrowed, his shoulders were hunched, and you realized that he was jealous.

“Oh my god. You were jealous of Yancy?”

“Yancy,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No. I was more upset about the fact that you were so buddy-buddy with him. I got sucker-punched through the goddamn wall and you didn’t care once his pretty ass showed up.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed, “you were jealous. Still fucking jealous.”

Suddenly, he shot up, the bag forgotten on the floor. He crossed the room in big, long strides, aggression coming off him in waves. You didn't even realize your back hit the wall until Mark's glowering face was inches from yours, fists clenched so tightly that they were shaking. Your gun hung uselessly at your side.

“You left me,” he gritted out. “You left me to fend for myself.”

“And I’m sorry I did,” you spat back, “but the alternative was getting stabbed by the convicted murderer. I was trying to find you the whole time. I was trying to find us a viable way out, but you didn’t wanna listen to me.”

In the distance, you heard agents and the SWAT teams yelling at each other over the blaring alarms. They finally made it. You didn’t have much time to apprehend Mark.

He didn’t let up on you, though. “You were the reason we got arrested in the first place!”

“So what?! We had the box! Whatever was in there would have helped us!”

Mark slammed a hand beside your head. He leaned in close, growling. “It wasn’t about the box, pal.”

You met him, nose for nose, and snarled back. “Then what the fuck was it about?”

The kiss nearly took you by surprise.

It was a long time coming, you thought as you kissed him back, gun slipping from your grip. It was messy, with teeth and tongue clacking against one another. It was the way he seized your waist and wrapped strong arms all the way around, the way your hands clenched at the straps of his tactical vest, the way he pressed you against the wall with a thigh between your legs, and the way you would have let him do anything to you in that moment.

“You're—such—an—asshole,” you gasped, Mark latching onto you every time you part.

He sucked your lower lip between his teeth, and you let out a high pitched whine. “You love it anyway.”

You were unable to retort when the guards, just outside the room, bellowed at the top of their lungs.

“Bonjour! You’re under arrest!”

“Bonjour! Hands out where we can see them!”

“Bonjour! Special Agent Captain, are you okay?!”

When you turned your head a fraction, Mark made his way down your jaw, your neck. He traced the skin to find your pulse point, biting down and leaving a trail of hickies in its wake. The resounding moan you let out was embarrassingly loud. With the alarms blaring overhead, you hoped whatever warp core god was listening out there that none of your coworkers heard that.

You had to clear your throat. “I’m—fuck,” you hissed, Mark shoving his hands under your dress shirt and running them up the length of your torso. His grappling gloves left a titillating sensation, and your fingers made their way into his hair, the beanie sliding off with your grip.

“Bonjour, Special Agent?!” Agent Smiles yelled.

“I have it under control!” Mark shifted to kiss your lips again, but this time, it was sweeter. Mouths moving in sync, the fire raging low in your belly had reduced to embers, but the burning coals flared with each kiss. It was tender. Underneath all of the tension wired tight in your muscles, it was tender.

In the space between your mouths, he breathed, “Come with me.”

You sucked on his tongue, then on his lower lip. “I really want to.”

He pulled away—actually pulled away—and held your face in his hands, cradling it gently. “Then let’s go. Right now. This last heist is meant to set us for life.”

“Wait,” you furrowed your brow, “did you plan this so that I would leave with you?”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Knew that pretty head of yours wasn’t just for decoration. It worked out, didn’t it?”

You matched his beam, incredulous. You stepped forward, intending to walk away from the whole scene and into the night where your new lives could start, when abruptly, the warp crystal on your wrist started whining.

“Huh?” He lifted your gloved hand to eye level. “What the hell is this?” He squinted at it. “Hey, that looks like the thing on the box.”

It was as if the world came crashing down on you. Your heart sank. You'd forgotten. You couldn't believe you'd forgotten, in the span of two minutes, that there was something at stake here. The crystal started glowing—you should’ve known that leaving with Mark like this was too good to be true.

Still close, he tilted his head in confusion. You blinked up at him apologetically, wondering how to break the news to him.

“What is it?”

You swallowed, waving the hand still in his grip uselessly. “I don’t think I can go with you.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. He used your name—your actual name, something you hadn’t heard in a long time—as a curse. “We’re so close. We are so. Close. To freedom.”

“I know,” you began to blink back tears. This shit always sucked, no matter what universe. “I know.”

“Why can’t you go with me?” he pleaded. “Is it someone else? Is it that Yancy guy?”

It wasn’t quite that. In the grand scheme of things, this Mark is still the same as your Mark. This wanted heist thief is a fraction of your head engineer, living in this universe instead of your original one. You still needed to find him, still needed to stop him from going back in time.

You wished there was a way for you to know if a fragment of you in this universe would remain—if this Mark’s version of you would still be here when the wormhole whisked you away to the next universe. It pained you to leave him—or any variant of him—like this.

Your right palm rested on his face, your thumb swiping over the apple of his cheek. The rasp of his stubble grounded you from the continuous shouts and ringing of the alarms. The wormhole was coming soon.

“Is it?” he pressed.

You shook your head. “No. No, Yancy’s—it’s not that. But I won’t be able to follow you. There’s something I can’t really explain right now, but I—”

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

Boom!

The door was blasted off of its hinges. It was due to your quick reflexes as Captain that you were able to throw yourself down onto Mark, shielding him from the brunt of the blast. A white-hot pain seared through your back.

“Mark—” you picked your head up. He was in a daze, but his eyes looked up at you with such clarity. In a final surge of strength, you leaned down and kissed him like you meant it. He followed languidly, and you hated yourself for everything that happened after. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, “but I have to go.”

You had no choice. The device was whining too much for your liking. A wormhole opened up next to you, and it whipped Mark’s hair every which way. He looked gorgeous. In every universe you’ve seen him, he has always looked gorgeous.

A sad smile reached your lips. He was confused, you knew that much, with the way his brows furrowed, hand coming up to cradle your cheek. “I’m sorry.” Your vision was getting blurry, and something wet and hot trailed down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

A thumb stroked the tears away. “Come back to me,” he rasped.

You didn’t even know if you could. “I’ll try.”

With the last of your strength, you removed his hand from your cheek and hurled yourself into the wormhole. 

When you glanced back, Crank and Smiles had their guns pointed at him, and Mark, still on the floor, smirked, opening the box with gusto.

Another wormhole appeared.

“Warning. Paradox detected.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered. Mark disappeared with a flash, and the last thing you heard was the confused babble of the agents.

Maybe, in another universe, you can meet up with that version of Mark. Maybe, in another universe, you’d be able to have an easygoing life filled with heists and incredibly unexpected adventures.

Maybe, in another universe.

But for now, you turned your head away and let yourself get swept by the tides.

buy me a coffee!

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

doodlin

[mnt-arts]

happy april fools….. booping time

reblogs (and boops!) appreciated !!

[cate-geo]

I can't stop thinking about split up/let go and don't split up/hold on

I can't stop thinking about how splitting up always leads to death, and how not splitting up leads to good endings

How Mark keeps begging yn to split, and finds not splitting up boring

How Engineer Mark doesn't want the Captain to let go at first but then begs them too

How yn holds Mark up from falling to his death

How the Captain keeps the Head Engineer from being sucked into something they don't quite understand

And how Actor Mark fell off a banister to land in front of the DA

How the Actor was horribly possessed by his house

How Celine left him for Will

How Damien and the DA were too busy with their jobs and protecting their city to notice Mark's deteriorating state

How if the DA had just held the Actor's hand and hadn't let go, maybe none of this would have happened

[celastapasta]

Poor Maintenance and Its Consequences

Whumptober 2023, Day 1

Prompts: "But now this room is spinning while I'm just trying to fill in all the gaps.", "How many fingers am I holding up?" | Words: 557

Summary: Mark was dimly aware of a couple things: the bits of gravel trying to dig into his skin through his clothes, the artificial lights somewhere overhead burning through his eyelids and making the pounding in his head worse, and the muffled, unintelligible shouting barely audible over the ringing in his ears. The intense, all-consuming ache in his torso made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else.

Check it out on ao3 or read on below!

Mark was dimly aware of a couple things: the bits of gravel trying to dig into his skin through his clothes, the artificial lights somewhere overhead burning through his eyelids and making the pounding in his head worse, and the muffled, unintelligible shouting barely audible over the ringing in his ears. The intense, all-consuming ache in his torso made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter when the sound of boots on concrete - their steps hurried and frantic - echoed in his skull almost making him physically ill. Someone skidded to a halt beside him, his name a panicked mewl on their lips. It seemed to take all of his willpower to open his eyes, and when he did Mark saw his partner in crime, the very facsimile of worry. He winced at the brightness of what he now knew to be street lights and tried to turn away, but the motion made him queasy.

“What…happened?” Mark managed. His tongue felt strange in his mouth.

“You fell! God, I- you-” They fumbled through their words as if trying to start four sentences at the same time. Their hands hovered helplessly over his body, afraid to touch him anywhere at the risk of hurting him. “Where does it hurt?”

Everywhere was all his brain would give him at first. Everywhere from the pads of his fingers to his chest was a cloudy red bubble of pain. Mark tried to take his first full breath since…whatever just happened and he was gifted his answer.

“Ribs,” he squeezed out, sharp, bright firecrackers of agony lighting up along his rib cage at the attempt. Tears ebbed out of the corners of his eyes and he tried to take calm, but shallow breaths. His gaze was focused on the night sky and the wavering line of what he could only assume to be the edge of a wall high above his head. It was easier than the harsh white of the imposing street lamps behind his partner.

They ran a hand down their face. “Shit. Mark I told you that you needed to replace that fucking grappling hook. We were at the 3rd floor!”

Grappling hook?... Mark’s eyes trailed back up the large glass edifice and the jumbled memory of the usual zipping of wires followed by a sudden snap and plummet. The snapping of fingers regained his attention.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” His partner asked, their tone serious. He squinted at their hand, the digits seeming to quiver and duplicate. He huffed in frustration, but the look on their face said they were intent on receiving an answer.

“Four?” he tried.

They slumped. “Great. You’ve got a concussion too - try to stay awake for me, okay buddy?”

Despite the situation, Mark couldn’t help but give a small smile at the nickname.

“I’m going to call Bubba alright? He’ll be able to take us to a hospital,” they reassured as they pulled out their phone with one hand and grabbed Mark’s own with the other. “You’re going to be okay.”

Mark figured the last remark was more for themself than for him, and as they relayed the situation to Bubba he tried to focus on the contact of his partner’s hand over the awful ache beating in time with his heart.

[sybersepticeye]

I was rewatching ahwm again and I just realised heist mark points the gun at accidentally

And then he goes ‘sorry’i love him so much 😭😭

[tippytanpies]