#engineer mark fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theknightmarket · 9 months ago

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"We've made it this far."

In which the Engineer and the captain are released from the effects of the wormhole, as they've always wanted. TW: cursing, angst, slight reference to gore Pages: 26 - Words: 9,500

[Requests: OPEN]

“Please, just hold on.”

After dying so many times, it was weird to be on the edge of it. You’d tossed yourself off the cliff enough to memorize the feeling of falling, of becoming weightless and letting everything go – like a kind of acceptance, even if you were going not of your own volition. It had always been okay, though, because you’d come back seconds later, spat back up from a raging ocean with salt and spray into the arms of that cryo-pod.

“I can get you out of here, don’t worry, I can do it.”

But this time, you were looking down, your feet on the ground and the water seeming so far away. You had to make the choice now, of staying on that crumbling cliff, battled by the wind, and forced to stare straight at the fate you were faced with, or letting your feet shift and lose traction.

“Come on, please, I know you can do it.”

In theory, it was an easy decision, but you didn’t want to have to work for it anymore. You had done the hard part, the surviving at the peak, and now, you knew that this would be the last time. It wasn’t as though you could take a step back; you would always be watching the tips of the waves snap at you. You didn’t want to watch anymore.

You croaked out a simple, “Mark…”

Your faithful engineer, kneeled at your side, likely for the last time. He wasn’t going to fall. He couldn’t.

“No, no, please, don’t do that, just a little longer,” his pleads reached your ears well, but you forced yourself to ignore them, “our medics will be here, just wait.”

“Mark, I can’t.”

“No, you can, you have to!” Guilt tapped at the edge of your mind, you didn’t let it in, and it stayed right where it was. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. You were. You really were.

“Come on, the- the colony haven’t said goodbye, the crew…” His thought went unfinished, but you understood him. You always did, even when he didn’t understand himself. You were half sure he didn’t know what he was saying, the panic and dread overwhelming him in a fight for majority.

You assured him, “They’ll be fine.”

“Not without you.”

“Mark, look,” a cough wracked your upper body like an earthquake, “look at it all, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

You were so damn proud of him, of the whole ship, of everything. You never told him directly, so you could only hope he knew. It would make this whole thing easier if he knew that you were proud of him, that you trusted him. He’d be easier on himself.

“Not far enough! We still have more to do, we- we can’t do it without you. You’re our captain.” A distant memory from just a few days before floated to the forefront of your mind. It was hazy, corrupted by the pain, but it was there. “You’re my captain.”

A deep breath in, as far as the pressure would allow you, before you whispered, “You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.”

And suddenly you wished that you hadn’t been able to take that breath – that you had stayed silent and let the moment envelop you. The spark of realisation that you cherished in Mark’s eyes dug a pit in your stomach.

“No,” was all you could say with what little energy you had left.

“But—”

“Uh-uh. Not this time.”

You couldn’t, he couldn’t, neither of you would be able to handle another round of what you went through together. That quality of stubbornness you both possessed would surely fail you, abandoning you to the madness of eternity, worse if you failed.

“Why not!? I know how to do it, and we know how to fix it.”

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

Shit. That little energy was becoming smaller and smaller, but neither did you have it in you to let Mark create another wormhole. You couldn’t live with yourself if he gave you a second chance.

“I’m not losing you,” you muttered, “and, yeah, I know how ironic that is.”

You wanted to laugh, but all that burning the candle at both ends was catching up to you. The numbness that had crept up on your legs hours ago was lurching onto your torso. It wouldn’t be long before it was biting through your arms and neck, and you wouldn’t be aware of it when it reached your temple.

“So, hey, just… just give me this. Please?”

The look in his eyes washed away. Leaving Mark like this was not your plan, but when had the universe ever listened to you? You could be thankful that you hadn’t gone insane in a place lightyears from your home, that Mark was not leaving you. You admitted that it was a selfish thought, but you didn’t think you could keep going if you lost him. You’d fought hard, but now you were done fighting. You knew he could do it for you.

And so did he. It was a cold admittance that he wouldn’t be the one to save you, this time. It felt all too much like giving up on the person who had sacrificed themself time and time again for him. Although it left a poor taste in his mouth – bitter, unwelcome, downright painful – you had proven to be steadfast in your decisions. There was going to be no convincing you.

“I love you.” If Mark was given a do-over, no strings attached, that would not be the first time he was saying it to you, aloud, just the two of you, and it wouldn’t be the last.

And maybe he would have gotten to hear it from you just once.

Your final breath cascaded against his knees, a waterfall that seemed eons from growing dry but dripped slowly into the grave it dug for itself. There was no sound, no last rites read, except for the heartbroken sob that broke free from Mark’s chest, echoing around the cavern walls.

Seeing the sun after so long in space was strange. Of course, you could look out of one of the many windows that Mark had installed and see a sun, but to stand in the rays of light from the sun of this galaxy? It made you want to brush off your duties, it made you want to throw your jacket off and run into the forest, it…

It made you miss Earth.

After exploring space for so long, you were always surprised that, wherever you landed, you felt homesick in the bottom of your stomach. The feeling slept when you were in transit and reared its head when you started to set up a colony, but it never truly disappeared after that. Hell, not even the visits back to your birth planet fixed the issue. The best thing you came up with was bringing little pieces along for the ride.

But you didn’t have the time to reminisce. Just as you’d mentioned earlier, you had a colony to establish, and it was well on its way already. A dozen sectors sketched out, concrete paths linking each one to the other. There were still a majority of people left in their cryo-chambers, those that weren’t necessary for building or planning, who were being looked after by Celci. Gunther was on observation for threats – a duty he often groaned about – and Bert was waxing poetic while the rudimentary power generators were being built. So far, everything was looking good. As in, nothing was going to blow up immediately and force you back on that ship.

No, instead, there you were. Standing in front of your growing colony, the sun glinting off the metal of the parked ship, your feet on the ground of a healthy, new planet. How could you not let a prideful smile work its way onto your face underneath the helmet you had yet to take off? You had made it, and, if you squinted, you could practically see the bustling city this place would become. Stores on one end of the street, restaurants on the other, further down would be a sector of houses with a public park and a fountain. Young families would walk to their parents’ house, the group of teenagers would have no problem just talking to each other during dark nights, old lovers would duck from the rain into shaded alleyways to share one last kiss before heading home for a warm bath.

You caught the eye of your head engineer leaning against the head of the ship.

And not that you knew it, you had also caught his eye, only that was a gross underestimation. Mark had been with you every step of the way on the ship, he’d seen what you could do, what you had done to save the crew and colonists. You’d long ago seized his admiration, and, soon after that, his affection, leading to where he stood in that moment; watching you as you ordered everything that needed to be done to be done, waiting for his own set of instructions that he would carry out perfectly.

Until you made eye contact with him, smiled, and then began to walk away. Mark’s feet were moving before he could process what was happening, and if he started to jog after a few steps, that was between him and the ship wall that he pushed off from. He slid to a stop when he was close enough to you, an unsure half-grin on his face.

“Hey, Captain,” he said as he fell into step beside you.

“Is everything alright, Mark?” was the only reply he got, though that was likely because of his expression more than any doubt you held.

To ease your concern, he tried not to make it too obvious that he was nervous.

“Yeah!” The barely hidden voice crack did not help, but he continued anyway, “Yeah, it is, I mean- is there anything you want me to do?”

Requesting work was difficult for him. Not because he naturally took things easy, but because he had been on his feet for the last he-didn’t-know-how-long. Hours, days, he hoped not weeks. It didn’t feel right to not do anything.

“Why don’t you take the day off?”

Panic struck him like a physical force. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, you could have still been angry about the whole incident, but he thought everything had been cleared up on the ship’s bridge. Had you already given him a job and he hadn’t been paying attention? Well, could you blame him if he wasn’t?

It was in this train of thought that he realized you were waiting for a response. So, you weren’t mad. That was good.

“Is now the best time?” he asked, “It’s your decision, of course, I just think—”

You stopped short of the next sector, some grid for farming, “Look, you’ve been to hell and back—” and hell and back and hell and back and hell and back, as you were both well aware, “—I think you deserve some time to yourself.”

‘Time to yourself’. He didn’t want time to himself, he wanted… well, he wanted a lot of things and, to put it bluntly, he wanted some time with you, but you weren’t about to take a rest anytime soon, so neither was he.

“And while I appreciate the offer, Captain, there’s a lot to be done that I think is more important than having a break.”

You watched his face for a second, looked up and down as he started to sweat underneath the layers of his uniform. “Repeat that for me.”

“And while I appreciate the offer, Cap...”

His trailing off made clear the realization he came to. You sent him a knowing look, as he groaned like a kid told he couldn’t have another cookie. Of course, it made you smile, too. His dramatics were the highlight of your day when it wasn’t his stubbornness and jokes.

Today, he was vastly leaning into the former. “Only five minutes!” he demanded, scrolling through his arm-piece to set a timer.

“Ten.”

He scrolled slightly further. “Seven.”

“Fifteen.”

And slightly further. “Twelve.”

Your bout of laughter echoed through the trees around you. “You aren’t getting this, are you?” Mark’s arm was tugged away from him as you swiped through the timer yourself. He might have argued about it more if he weren’t so preoccupied with being close enough to kiss you right now if he had the gall to lean that slight bit towards you.

And, you were his captain, obviously, who was he to challenge your authority?

“Take the day off, Mark, and that’s an order from your captain.” You left him with a pat to his shoulder, luckily not noticing the vibrant blush spreading on his face that was too strong to blame the sun for.

He muttered to himself when you were a few steps away, “Pulling rank isn’t fair.” And he was certain that it wasn’t. It was a trump card, some ex-machina that you had no right to use on him.

But he had his own little trick up his sleeve, or, rather, on his belt. You insisted on using some of the old-world commodities, even by Earth standards. The communicator on his hip with the antennae and grating would be his ace in the whole for your dumb day off punishment—

“And no using your walkie!”

“Damn it.”

You were tired. Really tired. You’d slept a day and a half after the whole wormhole incident, and yet here you were, looking at every slightly level surface with literal bedroom eyes. You constantly had to remind yourself to pay attention, but that just made you think about paying attention and not listen to the person you were talking to – who, in this case, was Celci. As such, you were half sure it was important to the whole colony, relying on her reputation, mostly, because again, you weren’t paying attention, and you were actually imagining lying down on that rock you’d seen half an hour ago with the moss and grooves.

You weren’t listening, again.

“Or I could send you the report for you to look over later?”

When you snapped back to reality, you were none the wiser as to what that report was about, but it gave you time to figure it out. “Oh, yeah, that’d be great, Celci, thanks.”

She gave you one look and then asked, “Captain, is everything alright?”

The half grin took most of your energy, so you promptly dropped it when you remembered that she couldn’t see your face. “Am I that obvious?”

“If you need a break, I can go and check the excavation site and one of the techs can do the propane levels. I’m sure I could get Mark—”

You immediately rushed to cut her off, “No, no, I’m fine. I appreciate the thought but I-I’m fine, really.” Jostling your body and comically widening your eyes, you made yourself as presentable as you could with a quarter of your fuel in the tank. You dusted off your suit and cleared the screen of your helmet, extremely thankful for the metal that made it a one-way mirror. “See?”

Celci hummed at you. Not a good sign. She was arguably the most responsible on the ship, and if she thought you were putting yourself through the ringer, she would do everything in her power to get you to relax. The only problem she faced was ranking, and it was the only thing protecting you from being forced into a nap. You had to get away before she could figure out how to circumvent your title.

“C’mon, Celci, don’t you think I know my limits?”

Disapproving silence. Even starting to walk away from her, you knew how little she believed you.

“We only have to get through another three hours of work, and then everyone’ll be able to finish up; myself included.”

“Well, Captain…” And there was the crack you needed. Hesitation.

“Besides, if we get the thermos running, we’ll be able to house some of the colonists and you can focus your efforts on the desert habitation.” That was her little pet project. When you’d scanned the surface, you found two nearby biomes that would barely receive any rain but stayed in the negative fifties for your entire surveillance period. It was backhanded to bait her with the idea, you knew that, but if it got you out of a glorified grounding, you were willing to do it.

Especially since it seemed to work, if Celci’s sigh and hands on her hips were anything to go by.

“Alright, Captain, as long as you finish as soon as the day ends.”

You exchanged a nod with varying degrees of satisfaction with that encounter, before going your separate ways. In fact, you did get a little jolt of energy out of it, as you waltzed along the concrete path. Any thoughts of taking a break were washed out of your mind by the torrent of work you still had left to do; all the sites to check out, all the staff to organize, all the paperwork to send back to the headquarters. The latter was always the worst part, but it was the price you paid for independence on the planet. Free reign was only yours if you played by your boss’ rules.

“Captain!”

Speaking of boss’ rules, as if on cue, Mark jogged to your side from wherever he was before, falling into step quickly next to you. You wouldn’t deny that seeing him gave you another boost of energy, which you immediately used to pat him on the back.

“How’s your break going?”

“I’d rather be doing actual work, but it’s fine. I appreciate it.”

“Good.”

And it was. You were glad he was taking it slow today. He was important to you, and the colony, and you didn’t need your head engineer passing out in the middle of an important task. Or passing out in general. Or doing anything else bad for his health that you could readily prevent.

He appeared alright, for now, although that wasn’t going to get him back on a job just yet. “Actually, I was wondering if—” he started to say, but a crew member cut him off with the crunch of their boots as they rushed towards you from out the surrounding woods.

Their report was normal enough, a few more pieces of information about the excavation site. They’d found another source of aluminum in the caves, which you noted down in case your supplies ran low. Mark waited at your side while you spoke to the person, half-way between listening and grumbling to himself. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly as you dismissed the crew member.

“Sorry, go on,” you said. The pair of you continued to walk, heading nowhere in particular aside from in the vague direction of the housing project.

He did as you prompted, getting out, “Well, I wanted to know—” before someone else called for your attention. Given you were nearing the first constructions of houses, it made sense that a builder caught up to you – despite that, you noticed Mark’s pout as he averted his eyes from the conversation you’d been drawn into. Just a material substitution you needed to sign off on, it was nothing to get worried about, but it was obvious that wasn’t what he was annoyed by.

You gestured with a grin for Mark to continue. Mouth only somewhat open, he paused and looked around, then rounded to your other side to cut you off from the majority of the workers. It was a futile effort, given that you were fast approaching the mass of houses, but it amused you either way. A combination of that drama and humor you were so fond of.

“I think, considering what we went through—” There was barely a crack of a twig in your ten-foot radius when Mark grabbed you by the hand and ran off the path. He didn’t know where he was going, and you definitely didn’t, but you were going regardless. His boots carved a line from the housing district all the way back to the ship. Hardly anyone was there anymore, only a few cryo-techs were loitering around to survey the colonists, so it was his best bet to get you alone, however creepy that made him sound.

You weren’t given time to question him when you eventually skidded to a stop in a quiet area behind the ship itself. Mark was talking even before you caught your breath.

“I think that you should take some time off too because you went through the same things that I did, and, yes, I know you’re the captain, but having some time to recover from it all would be just as good as me taking some time, even better, because you made all the decisions back there, so you should just relax and I have some suggestions for how you can do that.”

By the end of his little speech, neither of you were breathing at a steady rate. You both sucked in as much air as you could handle and then let it go again, minds catching up with the situation. For you, it was processing his words and what he wanted from you – for Mark, it was realizing just what he’d spouted and how utterly unconvincing he was.

It was another challenge to understand that you accepted. “I’m listening,” you said, simply, as if you couldn’t say anything else.

Mark spluttered, not thinking he’d get so far but being so far that he had to continue.

“I say we should take some food packs from storage, find an empty room, and have a proper lunch. We won’t talk about work or duties to be done, or anything else, and we’ll lock the door so nobody will interrupt us.” That last bit came from the depths of his soul, Mark grimacing as he spoke. “The colony will be there when we get back. And, if you think about it, getting some rest will help you make better decisions in the long run.”

“Okay.”

Okay. You’d said okay. You’d okayed it. You were going with his plan. Pride overwhelmed him against his mind’s efforts to keep up with his heart and stomach’s backflips. His body froze in response, giving you the concerning impression that you’d broken him with a single word. Lucky for you, he rebooted himself in a few seconds, though he was still unable to curb his enthusiasm.

“Yes. Yes! Alright, let’s go.”

Mark went to reach for your hand but quickly noticed that he was still holding it from when he’d dragged you with him. Instead, sheepishly, he smiled at you and started to walk towards the ship’s entrance, you chuckling to yourself in tow.

If you were going to take a break, you might as well be taking it with your favorite person. What did you have to lose?

“I’m hoping for cool fish.”

“Nope.”

Within half an hour, the both of you were settled on beanbags, eating soup out of Styrofoam bowls, and drinking the champagne you had left over from the salute at the start of the trip. To you, it was the height of luxury, especially now that you were out of your stuffy uniforms and into more casual clothes. The only ones you owned were your workout gear and nightwear, but you opted for the less sweaty version of a tank top and shorts. You didn’t think it was so bad, but Mark had spent the first ten minutes of the lunch break looking anywhere but you. It didn’t help when you went to get your helmet and jacket because he immediately jumped to push you back down into your seat. Not that you – or, though you were unaware, Mark – was complaining.

Still, you kept the outer layers of your uniform close by in case of an emergency, the chances of you being notified as minimal as they were with both your walkie-talkies having been switched off. It was you who pushed for them to be present, but the compromise made them pretty much useless.

Yet not even the potential of a natural disaster pulled you out of the relaxed state you had entered. Slipped down halfway into the beanbag, spread out as far as you could get, you felt calmer than you’d ever been before. Mark would say the same, had he not been seeing your face for the first time.

By the sun, moon, and stars, you were… downright gorgeous. He never liked relying on rumors, so he had taken the stories of you being handsome and/or beautiful to be one weird game of telephone. Now, though? He was regretting not asking to see your face sooner, but you were still in front of him, and he was going to relish the view for as long as he could, emergency be damned.

“First chance I get, I’m throwing you in an ocean,” you promised, taking a sip from your champagne flute.

“I’m taking you with me.”

“I want to see it. Maybe we’ll find a fifty-foot-long eel with three sets of teeth and mandibles on its face.”

“You’ll find some cool rocks and suffocate before you could even see the thing.”

Dammit. Just like that, with one sentence, Mark smothered the banter you had going. His jaw clenched, your shoulders heightened, the mood was thrown out the window – poor choice of words, again. He had meant it to be playful, but certain recent events tainted the very concept of losing oxygen, of holding your breath for longer than a minute. Gallows humor had yet to set in, and, based on the glazed-over look in your eyes, he couldn’t help but think it never would.

But you were the one to break the silence. “So, what now?” you asked as you placed the flute gently on the floor, glass clinking even as it stood straight.

“Cap,” was the only mumbled answer you received, though it didn’t deter you.

“I know, it’s just…” you sighed, “we can’t not talk about it?”

“Why not?”

Your gaze shot to meet Mark’s eyes, ready and raring to argue, to question how he can deny it. The flame died the second you saw the look. The watery film that threatened tears dumped dirt over your fury. It made sense that he would want to leave it behind. You had the colony to think of now, instead of the death after death after death you’d both faced in the wormhole. You understood that want to ignore it all, but you couldn’t fall into the trap. You couldn’t face another night with it hanging over your head. The bags underneath those wet eyes of his told you he couldn’t either.

Shakily, you whispered, careful not to set him off, “Because it happened. And it was a serious moment in our lives that we can’t ignore. And- and what if it all goes wrong again and we need to prepare to deal with it?”

“Then we’ll do what we did last time.”

“Get stuck?”

“Get through it.” Distantly, you wondered why you were the one to make that first speech. You were the captain, sure, but Mark made you believe him with just one incomplete sentence. He made you trust him in three words, no matter how much your mind fought to tell you otherwise, your heart did indeed trust him. “I mean, we’ve come this far, how hard can it be?” A weak chuckle. “I’d wager getting Gunther to not shoot the first thing he saw when he got off the ship was a lot harder than what we did.”

You didn’t feel like laughing. Instead, talking about the crew, it made you feel… something else. An intangible well of guilt and shame. You could get through another wormhole, but everyone else? What if they got caught? What if they started to remember all the death and fire and pain? You wouldn’t be able to help them, not like last time. If they remembered, they’d be at the edge with you, staring over the side. How many of them could take it? The crew or the colonists themselves? You would have failed them all. You might not have killed them, but they’d be casualties, nonetheless.

“Hey.” Your head snapped up to see Mark at eye level with you, leaning over to bring a hand to your upper arm. “We’d get through it. I know we would.”

But you still looked forward, unblinking, and it only took a second for Mark to realise he was wrong. If he wanted to be scientific about it, he would have just called it trauma bonding – if he wanted to be emotional about it, which he didn’t but he was going to be, he would have thought that all your time together brought you closer, not only because of the danger you experienced, but the comradery. Seeing you in action, seeing you take care of everyone, seeing you be the captain you were meant to be; Mark was sure he understood you. That meant he could see that guilt and shame as clear as day in your eyes.

He let himself fall forward to flop down next to you in your beanbag. Even though he was slightly uncomfortable, pressed against the strangely stiff surface, he stayed right where he was. Nestled against your side. He couldn’t think of a better place to be.

“I don’t understand why you do this.”

“It’s one of my charming quirks.”

You still didn’t feel like laughing, not even at your own poor joke, so you dropped your gaze to Mark. “What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You pretend like you aren’t the captain.”

“Do I?” Plead the fifth or whatever it was people said, and you didn’t care about the irony of you being the one to deny now.

He narrowed his eyes, barely shifting closer but shifting closer regardless. You felt your breath catch in your throat. “Yeah, you do,” he pushed as the hand that was on your arm circled around to the other shoulder. You resisted the voice in your mind that told you to bury your head in his neck, whether that was to avoid hearing him or to relish in his closeness that you never had the chance for.

You didn’t though, head remaining held high, so you were forced to listen when he continued, “You tried to get a smaller crew, you go in on the explorations yourself, you ignore the medics who try to help you.”

Another voice in the back of your mind perked up to rebuke it all, but you silenced it. What would be the point of lying? Mark knew you, you knew he knew you, there was no reason to fight it.

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know.” Your voice was small, smaller than you or Mark had ever heard it, but the admittance felt like it was enough to send a shockwave through the cabin. The jacket that showcased your title to everyone on the planet seemed to blaze in your mind. “Am I really their captain yet?”

“’Yet’?” Mark parroted you, and that was the go-ahead you needed to spill your thoughts.

“I missed the construction of the ship and the selection of the crew. The hour that I got onto the thing, everything went to shit, so many things went wrong. I- I don’t know if I deserve this, being the captain, when I didn’t spend any time with the people running the ship. Hell, even without the whole wormhole thing, we were going to be in cryo-sleep for the entire journey. I wasn’t needed.” The flood of words tumbled out with reckless abandon and then stopped like crashing into a wall like a bike going eighty. You didn’t think you would go through with it otherwise. Inner voices or a sense of decorum threatened to overtake you.

And yet, even though you got to the end of your rant, red-faced and breathless, you were knocked more off-balance by Mark’s question. “How many times did you die?”

“What?”

His eyes were trained on you. “How many times did you die?”

“I don’t remember, maybe thirty?”

“So, you died thirty times for yourself?”

Indignation sparked within your heart. “No, I did it for the ship,” you stated bluntly, “the crew and the colonists.” You weren’t certain what his point was, but if you had to use your authority-voice on him, you were going to.

“Repeat that for me.”

“I did it for…”

That was his point, then. Your shoulders relaxed, though you didn’t notice that you’d raised them, and your eyebrows unfurrowed. In return, Mark’s smile brightened, like he’d caught the canary. Caught you, more like.

You stared deadpan down at him but brought a hand up to card through his hair. Without his beret, it was looser, more befitting of him as a person instead of the head engineer. The corners of his mouth perked up even more. “See, I don’t like it when you use my own tactics on me.”

His laugh reverberated through your own bones, especially when he dropped his head to your collarbone. It wasn’t awkward, in fact, you were soon chuckling along with him at his happiness more than your joke – it felt natural, but you were still aware that this was the closest you had ever been. Relaxed into the beanbag the two of you now shared, trying to avoid knocking over your flutes of champagne, practically cradling each other in your arms. If the wormhole had been like this, maybe you would have appreciated it more.

“Someone who doesn’t deserve to be captain would have left the ship to explode and taken an emergency pod back to the nearest planet.” His speech, like his trailing off giggles, shook your muscles as sparks of electricity. “They wouldn’t have died for them, and you did. You are their captain.”

Hesitation. You saw it as bright at the sun of your new home in the sky. You saw it rise in Mark’s eyes, you saw it crescendo, and you saw it dip into the horizon.

“You’re my captain.”

Whatever thought ran through his mind, it was gone by the time he pushed through the final inch between you, leaving barely a breath in the interim. You could feel the puffs of hot air bat against your jaw, nose and lips. The role he gave you meant more than the legislation, the rule, the empty title. Now, it was trust. Him in you, and you in him.

For a moment, you thought he might bridge the gap, but his mouth opened before anything could progress. That didn’t mean either of your minds had strayed from the idea. He whispered under his breath, as if it would escape the room had he spoken any louder, “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?”

“As in a date?”

“Yeah. A date.”

Mark could feel his heart beating faster. He could have denied it and represented it something like the scenario you were in now. There was a part of him that thought he should have; it shied away from the very possibility of rejection and cowered in the clasp of regulations and human resources. But he had already taken the leap, the words hovering in the air. It would be a proper date – with candles and music and something better to eat than soup in a Styrofoam bowl. You’d talk about whatever came to mind, plans for the future instead of the past, and you’d share a bottle of wine as you spoke. The flicker of flame would highlight you from below and he would see exactly what he was describing in your eyes. His future. If the night went well, you’d clear the table together, strangely domestic against the memories of the journey over, and then, with the candlelight still dancing on the table before the fire was snuffed out, he hoped to share a kiss together. He could almost feel it already.

While his imagination was a thing to behold, it could not take credit for that sensation, but while Mark was so lost in his prospects, he failed to notice that the future was coming to pass. Or some of it, anyway.

You weren’t sitting at a table, a glass of wine and wax dripping onto the table; you were closer than before, with your lips pressed against his and your eyes closed.

Mark was knocked breathless. The sensation was nothing he could have predicted; the pressure was soft, gentle, like a silk ribbon, but the texture exposed how you would bite the same places when you were worried. Worried? What reason did you have to be worried? You were the greatest captain he had ever heard of, let alone known. He wanted to tell you just that, but he was preoccupied, for obvious reasons, with pushing you down against the hill of the beanbag. Maybe he was bias – your groan reverberated through his skin – but he didn’t really have a choice – your fingertips skimmed across his hair – and he was sure that you were objectively the best anyway – your teeth grazed over his lips – so it didn’t really matter. He brought one of his own hands to hover over your jaw, barely making contact until a particular hum had him brushing his thumb across your cheek. You leaned into it, as if it were a military ration, and he supposed it must have felt like that. Roles like yours didn’t tend to come with company.

Inwardly, he pledged that he would never let you feel alone again.

Outwardly, in an ill-fated scuffle to reposition himself, a dull thunk and something spilling onto the floor caused the two of you to slowly, begrudgingly, part. A few puffs of air settled between you as you turned to see Mark’s semi-full glass that had fallen over.

With a laugh, you settled your head against Mark’s shoulder, both to stabilize yourself and spare him the embarrassment of a steadily reddening face.

“So, that date tomorrow?” Despite the last five minutes, Mark couldn’t help but be shaky in asking. Either that, or it was aftereffects of his heart going 210 instead of the normal 60 beats per minute.

“As long as,” you whispered before grabbing your own champagne for another sip, “we get to find a large body of water tomorrow.”

“That sounds a lot like an ocean, Cap.”

“Well, if you insist, we can find an ocean.”

With your final poke at his expense, enough to wave away the remaining fog of tension no matter the nature, you downed the last of your champagne and settled further into your beanbag. For once, you didn’t regret taking a break, and you were sure you would need another breather after the excavation the following day.

“It’s my project, it has my name signed on the documents.”

So far, the day had proven successful. Three more biomes were scouted out, one of them being a potentially perfect site for farming, and the first real town had been built. At the beginning, it had looked like one of those places built to test nuclear weapons – but then, just two hours ago, they had moved the first colonists into their houses. You had been there to greet them, shake their hands and pass them the keys, but you had to leave before they could get fully settled. Besides, that was Celci’s job. The whole transfer from cryo operation was under her jurisdiction.

However, now that the residents were all making beds and organizing cupboards, Mark had to deal with her. And by deal with her, he meant argue, because there wasn’t another way the situation could ever turn out.

Presently, the pair were standing outside a section of the colony, Mark’s section, with blueprints in hands and scowls on faces. A slap against the paper was followed by Celci’s gesture towards the energy source.

“That means you were the one who started to involve cryo-tech, and that means I need to have some input.”

Mark scoffed, even though he knew full well that she was, technically, just barely, if you looked at it a certain way, correct. Just the word cold was her full job description, but he assumed he would get away with it if she were busy with other things. How wrong he was. Ever the eye for detail, Celci had searched through all the project applications, filtering for anything below 30 degrees, and then promptly set up meetings with all the leads. She wasn’t aware that it was Mark heading this one until she walked up the concrete path. Mark wasn’t aware that it was Celci he was meeting with until he heard her groan.

Go figure, they had made no progress.

“You know, I would love to prove you wrong on this,” Mark hissed, “but, unlike you, I can’t spend all day arguing about this.”

Was it backhanded to boast about your date and use it to get away from an argument, which he totally wasn’t losing, in one sentence? Probably. Was he doing it anyway? Yes.

However, Celci wasn’t one to give up that easily. Mark barely got two steps backwards before she took one toward him in return. “No, you know I’m right, so you’re running away.”

“Actually, I have a date tonight.” The pride and amazement took over the scowl on his face. For a moment, he forgot he was talking to someone and that he wasn’t just staring into his mirror, trying to convince himself it wasn’t a dream while he picked out an outfit.

“Who with? Your Roomba?”

In any other situation, he would have leaned into the mockery, tried harder to think of a better comeback, but the truth worked well enough. With a grin, Mark corrected, “The Captain.”

A flurry of emotions danced over Celci’s face that Mark was so glad he was able to see. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her confused before, much less shocked, though there were plenty of times she looked at him with endless doubt. They rolled over and over like a broken projector before she finally landed on a stranger expression – bemusement.

“Finally.”

It was his turn to look confused.

She tutted and looked him dead in the eye. “You can’t think that nobody’s seen the love-sick puppy look you give them when they’re nearby.”

The splutter was hard to contain, despite it being very obviously undignified, but it was harder to get back on his feet. So many questions swirled around his mind, most of them trying to preserve whatever image he thought he presented, but he came up blank. It was, annoyingly, likely that she was once again right. But it wasn’t his fault, not when you were, well, you. Of course, he wouldn’t call it love-sick, though that didn’t stop it from being accurate.

Mark’s lack of response was enough for Celci to know she’d caught him red-handed. Just typical. With the upper hand, she continued, “But I happen to know that your dinner isn’t until seven, so that gives us five hours for you to see reason.” He tried to protest, opening his mouth to ask how she actually found that information out, before she held up a hand. “Or, what, does it take that long to get your hair like that?”

Inwardly, Mark cursed her. He lost his way out of the conversation, and, in doing so, was welcomed by the colony’s rumor mill. What a prize. At least things weren’t spun out of proportion, but he would have preferred the date to be private at first. He could only hope that the crew had enough sense to leave them alone for the night.

Right now, however, he still had to prove to Celci that he didn’t need her supervision.

“I just don’t understand why you want to get involved with this!” he groaned.

“Because it’s a safety issue if I don’t.”

“It’s not gonna explode.”

“You’ll find a way.”

“I’m not doing anything outside of regulations, it—”

A crackle. Something like a fire burning. His heart rate piped up. Celci started to spin, but Mark was quick to grab at his belt. The walkie-talkie was stirring from its sleep in one of the pouches. He preferred the tech they’d designed for the mission, but he wouldn’t deny you your pieces of Earth. Plus, the stickers were always a bonus.

He drew Celci’s attention as he pressed the button down. Silently, he waved away her own smug grin – the one that told him he looked exactly like a love-sick puppy.

“Hey, Cap, everything alright?”

You never stuck with the whole over and out thing. It was the compromise given they had replaced it with a light to show when the other side’s button was pressed down. To Mark, it made more sense and improved efficiency. What was concerning, though, was that the light was on, red and blazing, but you weren’t talking.

He pressed it closer to his ear.

Just breathing.

“Cap? Captain, are you okay?”

He was struggling to keep his smile.

Especially when your voice whispered through the machine, gravelly and choked, as if there were hands wrapped around your neck.

“Hey, Mark.”

“Captain.”

“I’m, uh—” You were broken apart by a cough, “—prob’ly gonna be late to dinner—” Another cough, “—tonight.”

It sounded like your lungs were being ripped at the tubes and emptied. Mark’s heart felt like it was shattering.

“Where are you?”

Radio silence. The shards cracked further and refracted the light into searing flames through his veins. Just as sharp, he brought his gaze up to Celci.

“Where is the Captain right now?”

“Didn’t make a copy of their schedule?”

It was meant to be banter, a little poke at their relationship, something to get a deadpan look and an eye roll.

Mark looked more scared than she had ever seen him.

“Third excavation site. North.”

And, at the final word, he was gone, sprinting down the concrete path. The wind carried him in subtle support while some of the crew watched the storm rush past them. They had no clue what was happening, but neither did Mark. He only knew that he had to get to you, no matter what. He had to be there for you.

The walkie felt like it was burning in his grip. An omen and a promise at the same time. He pulled it to his mouth, as though just hearing his voice clearer would let him understand everything. “Cap, Cap, come on, what happened?”

Nothing. Silence outside of his body, which itself sounded like a zoo set loose. It was the eeriness of a broken submarine. He could hear the crunching of the water against the sides as it threatened to ball the metal up with the ease of a wad of paper, but there was still a dismal quiet in the meantime.

“Captain!”

And he couldn’t do a damn thing to help.

Some of the pressure released when he heard your whisper, “Cave in.” It was decorated with crackles and pops, but he heard it crystal clear, every single one of your words its own speech. “Do-don’t come, Mark, don’t.”

His footsteps picked up impossibly faster to match his heart rate.

“I swear, I will,” you choked for a second before you were saved with a cough, “I will pull rank on you.”

“You can do that later. When you’re not crushed under rocks. You can do it at dinner.”

“Mark, I’m not…”

“Yes, you are!”

He swept round a corner. The danger signs for the excavation site came into view. Just a little longer. He didn’t know if you had a little longer. Your breathing was already ragged when you called, and it was getting worse. He knew he should have been pouring all of his energy into getting to you – for once, he admitted it would be better for him to shut up and focus – but he couldn’t handle the silence.

“Okay, okay, pull rank on me,” he pleaded, “just keep talking. Please.” You yielded to his request with a smile that he couldn’t see. “You named the colony yet?” His job. Technically, it was supposed to be the captain who named the colony, but you had given that duty to him. You’d argued that he was the one to choose the planet, so he should have been the one to name it. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. It was too early for delegation, you didn’t need to do it yet, and there would be no reason to later because you would be alive and well. You’d do your job and he’d do his. There would be no exchange because a role couldn’t be filled.

But the declaration was fueled by doubt even in his own mind.

“No, I was waiting for you,” Mark answered.

“You should name it.”

“I’m waiting for you.”

Another cough, as if your own body was working to supply your point. “Can’t wait forever.”

“I won’t be.”

The lack of response stirred something horrible in his gut when he slid into the entrance to the rock site. He pushed past the gates and tape, snagged protective gear from its place hanging off the fence, and immediately rushed to the directors. They were shambling about with checklists in hand and smiles on faces. Mark wanted to laugh, cry, freeze still in his boots. Everything looked so optimistic. This was advancement for a colony of a size like this.

Days later, when the clock would strike midnight and Mark would lay in his bed with the sheets askew and pillows scattered, he wouldn’t remember what he said to the workers he spoke to. Whether he interacted with them, or they interacted with him, it didn’t matter. His words were lost to him in the haze of overwhelming urgency and underwhelming panic. Medics arrived and excavators were called over. He only knew that because a few of them went in with him to the mouth of the cave – if some kind of legal body was contacted, he wasn’t aware of it because they never showed in front of him, and they weren’t helping him find you.

One detail he did recognize though was the tug at the walkie from one of the directors that caused Mark to pull back like a feral cat. They seemingly decided not to risk it, and simply slipped another walkie in his belt. Of course, you’d given the rest of the crew those things, instead of the highly modernized tech that would have stopped this entire thing from happening in the first place – but he couldn’t be mad at you. It wouldn’t have been you otherwise.

They backed off quickly when they were done, and he held the original close to his chest until he was well within the tomb- not tomb, cave. A normal cave.

He had to find you.

The team he entered with was small. You always liked close-knit things, he supposed that was why you went in by yourself. Something about comradery. You were too old-fashioned for your own good.

He would tell you that at dinner, give you a light smack on the wrist and a kiss on the cheek.

“Mark, are you still there?” Your voice through the walkie reminded him of where he was. Where you were. You sounded terrible, considerably worse than last you spoke, but that was to be expected.

Focus.

“Of course. I’m not leaving.”

“Thank you."

His heart would have melted had he not been so hyped up on the rush of adrenaline and intangible fear.

“Can you describe what you can see?”

“Lotta rocks.” Your laugh turned into a gravelly groan. “I see a light.”

“Don’t go towards it.”

“I don’t have much choice.” Mark was blissfully unaware of your joke because he was also blissfully unaware that your legs had been mangled by rocks splitting apart your bones and muscles, pulverized like the aftermath of an old blender fed with sticks and banana. You were glad he was.

He was able to, instead, drop down off a ledge deeper into the cave, which was very quickly becoming more of a cavern. It had the distinct feeling of being trapped in an ant hill, with some spaces widening and then others trailing off into sharp points. Wherever you were, getting out would be a problem, too, but seeing a light meant that you were either incredibly deep or just by the surface. He was hoping for the latter.

The next drop down was not promising.

Neither was the walkie startling to life again with your voice. “You know,” you croaked, “when we were in the wormhole, I didn’t think it would end like this.”

“It’s not ending like this.”

You let the words sink into metal grating of the machine before you spoke again, “I thought I’d be shot in that noir place or stay frozen in a cryo-chamber for centuries, I didn’t think I’d just be, uh, crushed.”

The way you phrased it was so inelegant that Mark nearly snorted. However, the reality didn’t let it breach neo-daedism territory.

“Seems a bit boring, in comparison.” He couldn’t tell whether you were mumbling for comedic effect, or your lungs were giving up on you. Uncertainty impaled him like a spear through the chest.

Swallowing, he sighed. “But at least it’s not in the wormhole.”

“At least it’s not in the wormhole.”

It felt too much like a goodbye. A final salute to the ship that sailed off into the distance. Firing the arrow onto the raft. It shouldn’t have given him hope.

But it did; the cavern was bathed with the sunshine from a hole in the ceiling, and the light on the walkie was off.

It didn’t take long to spot you, upper half sticking out from the rubble of a dozen large boulders and even more smaller rocks dusting your back. Frantically, he rushed to your side, barely dodging standing on the discarded walkie a few feet in front of you. You held another to your cheek. Mark wished he had more time to tease you about keeping a whole communicator just for him, then you’d tease him about his own, and then you’d win the argument when he decided to just look at you all alive and active and not steadily dying in a cave. He did not have more time.

He hooked the walkie for the director out of his belt and called for assistance, giving a description of the route he took and then turning it off to pay attention to you.

Your grin was bright but shaky. “You come here often?”

“Captain…”

“Sorry, bad timing.”

“No, perfect timing.” The chuckle that dripped out from his mouth was tainted by tears brimming in his eyes. He took your hand and tried to ignore how cold it already was. If he had come sooner, would you have more of a chance? Would you have survived? Oh, but you were going to survive anyway, you had to. You were the captain. You were his captain.

“Mark, don’t- don’t get yourself worked up.”

“Or what?”

“Oh, you know.”

He wanted to beg for you to continue the joke. His grip tightened as he brought your hand to his lips. He held it there, waiting, not breathing a single puff of air. The fear of disturbing the scene and being the little bit of wind that a rock needed to jut further into your back was buried deep in his bones.

“Please, just hold on.”

“Mark…”

No.

“Mark, I can’t.”

No, no, no, no.

“I’m sorry.”

Was he saying words?

“They’ll be fine.”

Just a little longer.

“Mark, look… look around, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

His mouth was moving, he was sure of it, but the crackle of the walkie filled his ears in place of his own words.

“You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.”

The warp-core. He had done it once before. What’s to say he couldn’t do it again?

“No.”

All that pain, all those deaths, he would do it again.

“Uh-uh. Not this time.”

He would do it for you.

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

If you would just let him, he could get you back. He didn’t understand why you were resisting. It would be so easy. You would get to live and lead the colony and be the captain that you always wanted to be.

But he couldn’t deny that it was a lot of woulds. And he couldn’t go through with it without your support. The tears in your eyes were not from pain but from fear, and not even for yourself. You were scared for him. Your head engineer.

“I’m not losing you—” Mark snapped back to the present, “—And, yeah, I know how ironic that is.”

It was ironic, wasn’t it? Not only this situation, but that the two of you, as a pair, had gone through so much together, only to get separated when things had finally calmed down. It was as though you had grown so used to danger that you couldn’t survive without it. Domesticity was not for you, nor was it for Mark. In this lifetime, you would never get a break. And that was one of the two certainties he found.

“So, hey, just- just give me this. Please?”

The other certainty?

“I love you.”

Mark kneeled on the dusty ground of the cave with your hand in his. It was just as cold as the air around you, your breath visible as you sighed a single, “I-…” that trailed off before you could get anything out. The words died in your lungs as your eyes dropped shut.

Mark’s sobs echoed throughout your tomb.

[Did you know this started out as straight fluff? Also, I will forever be scared of the leviathan from Subnautica]

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lostcybertronian · 8 months ago

Note

prompts 5 and 34 for engineer mark please?

Love me some angst. Post-ISWM pt. 2

---

Prompt: “I can’t sleep. Can I sleep here?” / “It’s just you and me.”

You didn’t go down to the planet like the others, preferring to stay on the Invincible II where you could see it and protect it. It had been some days since you’d last seen a wormhole, but the creeping feeling that you’d be sucked into another dimension at any moment had yet to fade. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t sleep. But you could pace the bridge, staring into (literal) space, pretending you were okay.

“Captain?”

You turned. Mark stood at the door, refusing to meet your eye. He shifted his weight back and forth, shuffling his feet. “I can’t sleep,” he blurted out, when you didn’t say anything. He gestured to his cryopod, just to the right of the door. “Can I sleep in there? I’m . . . more comfortable there.”

You kept your expression carefully blank even as a maelstrom of thoughts crashed into your mind; Mark here, for decades, entire lifetimes, with nothing but himself and the ship, looking for a solution. Looking for you to be a solution.

“Captain?” Mark asked, and you cleared your throat; you’d been silent too long.

“Of course,” you said, hoping your voice was steady. “You can sleep wherever you want.”

For a moment Mark looked so intensely grateful that you had to avert your eyes. You heard his quiet footsteps as he plodded to his cryopod, and thought even those footsteps were exhausted.

“Do you ever-”

You turned. Mark had the cryopod door open and was half-in, leaning out to talk to you.

“Do you ever think about how it’s just you and me?” He asked. “Just you and me who know, I mean. What happened.”

Of course you did. It was all you thought about.

You paused a moment to compose your answer. Mark’s stare remained on you, unwavering.

“It is just you and me,” you said carefully. “But it is you and me. You’ll never be alone with what happened because I know, too.”

For the first time since you’d destroyed the universe, Mark smiled. “Thank you, Captain.” He said. “That makes me feel better.”

He climbed fully into the cryopod, its interior glowing faintly as it booted up. As the door shut and latched you turned back out to look at the massive planet below, glad Mark found your words comforting but wishing you felt the same.

#captain x mark #captain of the invincible II #engineer!mark #markiplier egos #writersofmark #fanfiction #ego shipping #lostandwandering #lost writing tag #writing prompts #angst #hurt/comfort #post iswm #iswm #in space with markiplier #asks #lovely anon #q

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coff33notforme · 2 years ago

Note

hihi my birthday is coming up soon! i was wondering if you could write how darkiplier, damien, or even engineer mark would react of them not knowing and finding out the day of that it’s my b-day! i hope it’s not too confusing…

A/n: HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY ANON!! I hope you have a great one! ^^, I hope you don't mind that I just did Engineer Mark, I was having trouble writing for the other two, but enjoy none the less!

Would feel incredibly bad if he found out it was your birthday and didn’t know

Especially since the whole crew knew and had been wishing you well and presenting you with gifts throughout the whole day, much to Marks confusion

He’s on his hands and knees for forgiveness right now

He’ll do absolutely everything to make it up to you no matter how much you reassure him he’ll insist, so there's no real point in arguing with him

There's not that much you can do in space, and even if there was there's certainly not enough time when your the Captain

But Mark is determined to make your birthday a great one, anything you want or need he’ll do it for you

Hungary, but don’t have enough time to make something? Marks got you, Necks cramped but you don’t have time to take a nap? No problem

He’ll try to whip something up for you the day of, but it probably doesn’t go as planned, it was a nice thought though

And even when the days done, Mark hasn’t finished everything he set out to do

Before you settle down getting ready for sleep Mark knocks on your door

Confused you open it, immediately skeptical as to what could have possibly brought Mark here at this time of night

He’ll simply hush your questions and concerns as he leads you to a distant room in the ship

But as soon as he reveals what he was planning to you, you gasp in delight

In the room Mark set up a small picnic blanket, covered with your favorite snacks and homemade desserts, you don’t know how he managed to acquire all of the sweets but frankly you didn’t really care

Marks eyes twinkled as he watched the excitement spread across your face, Mark let out a surprised yelp when you threw your arms around him, before he chuckled, hugging you back with the same intensity, smiling as you held each-other

“Happy Birthday Cap.”

SPACE BIRTHDAY WOWOWWO

#iswm x reader #iswm #iswm captain #iswm fanfiction #iplier egos x reader #engineer mark x captain #head engineer x captain #head engineer mark #engineer mark x reader #fluff #headcannons #markiplier egos x reader

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

Text

Markiplier Egos Masterlist

I have too many links on my main masterlist lol

Main Masterlist

AO3

Request Rules

Tag List Form

The Host

Please Stay - The Host x gn!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of blood, wound descriptions, implied self-h*rm, awkwardness, just sorta the beginning stages of a crush so it's really cute

Help - The Host x gn!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, depression, intrusive thoughts

Friendship - The Host x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Cuddles - The Host x gn!reader (platonic)

Warnings: swearing, anxiety, awkwardness

“Did you sleep well?” Headcanons - The Host x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Wilford Warfstache

Blanket Thief - Wilford x gn!reader

Warnings: none, just pure fluff

Scary Movie Night - Wilford x gn!reader

Warnings: broken glass, panic attack, swearing, hurt/comfort but mostly fluff

Wilf Welcoming You Back Home Headcanons - Wilford x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of food and drink

Yancy

Pet - Yancy x gn!reader

Warnings: swearing, reader is angy, bad accents

Parole - Yancy x gn!reader

Warnings: cat

My Handsome Guy - trans!Yancy x transmasc!reader

Warnings: dysphoria (not explicit), Yancy calls you “doll” in a gender neutral way, period stuff

Breakfast - Yancy x gn!reader

Warnings: swearing, slight paranoia (?), slight abandonment issues

Star-gazing - Yancy x gn!reader x Illinois

Warnings: none

Solitary - Yancy x gn!reader

Warnings: panic attack, claustrophobia, swearing, hurt/comfort

Hyperfixations - Yancy x autistic!gn!reader x Illinois

Warnings: slight swearing???, fluff

Darkiplier

Just a Little Dark Drabble - Dark x gn!reader

Warnings: none

A Thousand Awful Days - Dark x transmasc!reader

Warnings: dysphoria, swearing, fluff

Overwhelmed - Part 2 - Dark x (implied) autistic!gn!reader

Warnings: overstimulation/sensory overload, being nonverbal, zoning out, swearing, can be read as platonic

Damien and Dark ramble - Damien x gn!reader, Dark x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Grief - Dark x gn!reader

Warnings: grieving, depression, loss of a pet

Period Pains - Dark x AFAB!reader

Warnings: talk of period stuff that may cause dysphoria

Trauma (Songfic) - Dark x DA!reader, Damien x DA!reader

Warnings: angst

Birthday Wishes - Dark x DA!reader

Warnings: mentions of purgatory, fire/matches and a knife

Dark Drabble - Dark x DA!reader

Warnings: none

Just A Child - Dark & teenage!gn!reader (platonic)

Warnings: Actor is a creep (implied), hurt/comfort themes

Panic Attack Comfort Headcanons - Dark x gn!reader

Warnings: panic attack (obvi), mostly fluff

Pretty Boy - King!Dark x masc!reader

Warnings: things get a little spicy 😳

Gone, I’m Gone (Songfic) - Dark/Damien x DA!reader

Warnings: explicit descriptions of blood, broken bones, starvation and dehydration, swearing, manipulation, extreme angst

Papers (Songfic) - Dark/Damien x DA!reader

Warnings: Actor is an asshole, angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of some events from WKM

Illinois

Of Cowboys, Cave Ins, and Crushes - Illinois x gn!reader

Warnings: being trapped in a small area, death, minor injuries that are not explicitly described

Partner - Illinois x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Free of Charge - Illinois x gn!reader

Warnings: illness, swearing, hurt/comfort

Reckless - Illinois x gn!reader

Warnings: death, blood, injury, swearing, ANGST

Family Reunion - Illinois, no reader

Warnings: none

Stay Safe - Illinois x gn!reader

Warnings: swearing

Star-gazing - Illinois x gn!reader x Yancy

Warnings: none

Careful Not To Fall In Love - Illinois & Indiana Jones

Warnings: none

Hyperfixations - Illinois x autistic!gn!reader x Yancy

Warnings, slight swearing??, fluff

Damien

Midnight, The Stars and You (Songfic Kinda) - Damien x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Damien and Dark ramble - Damien x gn!reader, Dark x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Trauma (Songfic) - Dark x DA!reader, Damien x DA!reader

Warnings: angst

Gone, I’m Gone (Songfic) - Damien/Dark x DA!reader

Warnings: explicit descriptions of blood, broken bones, starvation and dehydration, swearing, manipulation, extreme angst

Sodomy - Damien x male!DA!reader

Warnings: internalized homophobia, religious trauma, hinted emotionally abusive parents, sodomy laws

Papers (Songfic) - Damien/Dark x DA!reader

Warnings: Actor is an asshole, angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of some events from WKM

Googleplier

Hug - Google x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Reader Who Can’t Spell Headcanons - Google x gn!reader

Warnings: none

First Kiss Headcanons - Google x gn!reader

Warnings: none

ISWM

You’re Not The Captain AU

One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Ficlet

You’re Another Engineer AU

One

Captain’s Log - Ficlet - Addition

Dogs in Space Headcanons - ISWM Crew + Captain!reader (Slight Captaineer)

Engineer Mark

Kiss It Better - Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Warnings: minor injury, but mostly just fluff

Captain, My Captain - Engineer Mark x AFAB!reader

Warnings: period fic, cramps, swearing

In My Solitude (Songfic) - Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Warnings: loneliness, depression, possible su*c*dal thought (written in red text just in case), death, heavy angst, maybe a little fluffy at the end but like a sad fluffy

I Missed You - Engineer Mark x transmasc!reader

Warnings: being (unintentionally) misgendered

#1 Captain - Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

Your Captain - Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, loss of identity, overworking

#fanfic #fanfiction #markiplier #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #mayor damien x reader #damien x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #wilford x reader #darkiplier x reader #host x reader #illinois x reader #yancy x reader #engineer mark x reader #googleplier x reader

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infinite-infinite-stars · 11 months ago

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“How- how long have you…?” Mark breathes, gesturing between the two of them.

Yona sighs. “You’re going to think I’m completely mad.”

Mark chuckles quietly. They’re still close enough that she can feel his breath on her face. “I think I’ve learned how to handle a little madness by now.”

Yona watches his thumb go back and forth across her hand for a moment. “Well,” she says, at length. “I suppose it sortof crept up on me…”

She glances back up at his face. “I mean, I’ve always been fond of you. That shouldn’t be surprising to hear~. But I think what really, you know. Did it, for me, was… the fact that you built the warp core.”

Mark blinks a few times, his brain taking a moment to reboot. She was right, he thinks she’s mad. Or maybe he’s just trying to decide if he heard her correctly. Either way, eventually he manages to squeak out: “...What…?”

Yona offers a slightly sheepish half-smile as if to say ‘see, I told you.’

He squeezes her hand. “The– the warp core, but that– Captain, we’re still talking about when you realized you loved me, right?”

“Yes, Mark,” she confirms. Her hands settle on his shoulders and she takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “Look, I get why you’re confused. I know you consider that to be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.”

“Well– yeah, it was,” says Mark, still looking lost. “It was the biggest mistake anyone’s ever made. In history. I’m not even exaggerating, it was literally–!”

Yona puts a finger up to his lips and fixes him with a solemn look. He gets the message: shut up and let the Captain speak. So he does.

“You don’t need to tell me how much damage the wormhole did, darling, I was there,” she points out, gently. “You already know I don’t blame you for any of it, don’t you?”

Mark nods, hesitantly. “You’ve made that pretty clear.”

“But you still blame yourself.” It’s not a question; it’s an observation. Mark doesn’t even need to nod again for Yona to know that it’s true. “You look at yourself and you see an idiot who wouldn’t listen to reason and almost destroyed reality. I’m telling you right now, that’s not what I see at all.”

“What… do you see, then, Captain?” Mark ventures, his voice whisper-quiet.

She reaches up and cups his cheek, wanting him to look her in the eyes again. “I see a man brilliant enough and resourceful enough to build a device that could bridge dimensions all on his own, with nothing to go on but his own memories of how it worked. A man who only ever wanted to do the right thing. To save as many people as possible, the only way he knew how. Even if it meant enduring an eternity in hell. Even if no one would ever know about the sacrifices he made.”

Mark’s eyes glisten with tears as she speaks. He sniffles once, but doesn’t interrupt.

Her other hand moves to his other cheek. Now she’s cupping his face tenderly in both her hands. “You want to know how I could love you, even knowing you built the warp core?” Her thumbs brush his cheeks and wipe the tears that have gathered in his eyes. “Darling, that’s entirely the wrong question. The question is, how could I not love you? How could I witness all of that and not realize what a rare and noble and extraordinary person my Head Engineer is~?”

#in space with markiplier #iswm #iswm fanfiction #captaineer #engineer mark x captain #engineer mark x female captain #engineer mark #captainsona #captain yona masters #Scenarios #Headcanons #loosely adapted from/inspired by a scene from an rp with my friend captainsaltypear <3

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simpofmanymen · 2 years ago

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Would you guys be interested in markiplier ego lore amv/lore edits? Like videos with music that also have the story/lore explained

Eg.

Just a random one might not be exactly what there like but a nice idea ya know

Ps. Does anyone got any tag tips? I’m not sure how to tag on tumbler I’m expecting it’s like TikTok and instagram

#ego hc #markiplier ego hc #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier x reader #wilford warfstache #wkm #markiplier #who killed markiplier #markiplier warfstache #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier ego x reader #markiplier fanart #markipler egos #in space with markipler spoilers #engineer mark x reader #markiplier edit #markiplier actor #markiplier art

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clemblog · 1 year ago

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wawawa captaineer short fic writing

You Can’t Catch Him Now

There’s blood on the side of the ship.

The Captain stood in shock, having watched Mark. Their best friend. Go flying out the window of the ship. There was no time for mourning. The ship was crumbling. They couldn’t save him. They needed to save everyone else.

There’s scratches all over the floor.

They brushed past the markings on the floor where he’d tried to hold on but had ultimately failed. Fixing lift support went off with a breeze.

Shadows of us are still dancing.

They ignored his name on their tablet as they paged the other crew leads. This needed everyone’s assistance.

In every room and every hall,

They promised they’d tell the group what had happened to Mark once the ship was safe. It was hard to focus when they saw him everywhere. Let alone recount what had happened too..

There’s tears falling over the ship,

They explained what had happened, tears rolling down their face under their helmet. Gunther looked like he was going to cry. So did Burt. And Celci. And Tyler. This was hell. This was a nightmare.

You thought that it would wash away.

The group had worked in a sad silence as they got the ship prepared to dock at the nearby habitable planet. Working didn’t make anyone feel better about what had happened.

The bitter taste of his fury,

The Captain laid awake in bed. Tomorrow the rest of the crew would be awakened and they’d have to explain what had transpired on the ship. And who they’d lost. They feared the level of grief that’d run through the ship and any anger that may be directed towards them. They hadn’t saved him…

And all of the messes he made,

They felt guilty for stepping into his quarters. It was an organised mess that was so Mark. They just needed something.. something of his that’d get them through this day.

Yeah, we think that he got away,

It was an emotional docking day onto the planet. The engineering team was a wreck. None of the other crews were much better. They’d only just managed to pull it together to get a camp together on the planet.

But he’s in the trees, he’s in the breeze

The Captain stared fondly at the night sky, the trees covering them mostly from the breeze that played with their hair. They liked this spot. The plantation was a dark red here. Mark’s favourite colour.

His footsteps on the ground,

They found their heart beating a little faster at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching them. Reminding them of Mark. But it was never him. Always just an animal. Or a passing crew member. But more often than not, it was Chica. Their newly adopted doggy daughter.

You’ll see his face in every place,

People with dark hair. Soft brown eyes. Overarching enthusiasm. It was so Mark. They missed him so much. And seeing said individuals made them hurt so much more. But you can’t charge a person for looking like the man you loved. Yeah… The man they loved..

But you can’t catch him now,

They sighed fondly at Chica charging around a field. The Captain held a bag on their hip full of her dog toys. Ever since Mark had… passed… She’d much rather chase the breeze out in the fields and bark at the wind. She never seemed able to catch what she was wanting however. She’d pad back over to them a little downtrodden but with a new determination each time they went back out to play.

Through wading grass, the months will pass,

Chica would slowly start to play with her toys with the Captain, the two wading through the long bladed fields together. When the Captain grew tired however, she’d go back to chasing the wind.

You’ll feel it all around.

Looking after Chica and their crew was slowly healing the Captain’s wounds. Accepting help and giving help was always rewarded with slow walks in the fields and kisses against their skin from a gentle breeze, wiping away their sweat from a busy day.

He’s here, he’s there, he’s everywhere.

It was a never soft day snuggled up with Chica under the night sky for the Captain. Staring up at the sky that had taken Mark away from them. It was so cruel. Yet so beautiful. It was so… Mark.

But you can’t catch him now.

They hoped wherever the universe had laid him to rest, that he was happy there. Maybe laid in a bed of flowers. Coated in a blanket of leaves to act as the coffin he’d never get.

No, you can’t catch him now.

He was something the Captain didn’t think they’d ever get over until the day they died. Their heart ached for him everyday. But it’d finally stopped hurting at least.

Bet you thought he’d never do it.

The pain had quelled so much that they opened Engineer Park with a fond smile on their face. A statue of their beloved, stood smiling in the centre announcing him as the beloved creator of the Invincible II. The man who’d achieved the impossible. And brought them all home.

Thought it’d go over my head.

They also headed and sorted through his belongings. A lot of it they’d keep. Some would be given to friends. The rest was gifted to colonists who needed it.

I bet you figured he’d pass with the winter.

With the statue in its prized position, every colonist and crew would remember Mark and his story. Children were given first and middle names matching the great head engineers, in hopes of inspiring the same charm and intelligence in them. The Captain was glad he was held so highly in their new home. It was what he deserved after everything.

Be something easy to forget.

The Captain would chuckle fondly, looking at the list of first generation children they’d mentor with M related names. The children’s eyes were filled with wonder that they were ready to nurture and enlighten. To help them find themselves in this new exciting world.

Oh, you think he’s gone cause he left,

There would still be hard days but the Captain would just walk out to the field with Chica, their old girl. And they’d always feel better.

But he’s in the trees, he’s in the breeze,

Time would have its ups and downs. Especially when Chica finally grew too old to play in the field, the two opting to just relax out there instead. It’s where she’d eventually be laid to rest. The Captain would find the wind up there a lot stronger after such, like there were now two breezes passing through instead of the usual one.

Our footsteps on the ground.

The Captain would follow their beloved dog and dear head engineer not long after, being buried alongside their furry friend, looking up at the sky where the love of their life rested. The three united together at last.

You’ll see their faces in every place.

If you sat out in that lonesome field, you’d feel anything but alone as three separate breezes passed by your face and amongst the flowers.

But you can’t catch them now.

#mark #iswm #in space with markiplier #markiplier #in space with markipler spoilers #in space with Markiplier Captain #iswm crew #iswm engineer mark #iswm mark #iswm captain #captaineer #iswm Captaineer #iswm song fic #song fic #iswm fanfiction #in space with Markiplier fanfiction #I almost cried writing this #my friends cried #I love this song sm

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ciara-clycone · 1 year ago

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'Paradoxial' Virus: Ch.2 -Weariness.

Ao3: link

Summary:

Strange things are going on in the Invicinble 2. Electronics are acting up. Eerie sightings are happening on the ship. No one knows why this is going on. They try to act like it's nothing serious.

But it's having a strange toll on the captain...

Pairings: Captaineer

Warnings for this chapter: None.

Length: 861 words.

As Mark was walking down the hall, he heard Tyler and the other crew member talking. He was planning on ignoring them and continuing on his way when he heard them mention the captain. Immediately, his interest was piqued.

He walked over to them. “What’s this about the captain acting weird?” He asked.

“The captain nearly took of my head with their Alexa,” said the guy, holding out the offending machine, “They just threw it right at me. I nearly got clocked.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like the Captain.Are you ok? They're pretty strong."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Captain came and checked up on me afterwards. They were sorry about it too. But still, the fact they threw it at me shook me up.”

I gotta find out what what’s going on with them, thought Mark.

“Can I have that?” Mark asks, motioning to the Alexa. The guy hands it to Mark, and he leaves them for the Captain’s quarters. Coming upon the captain’s door, he knocked. “Captain?”

“Just a second….” Came the captain’s response. They sounded tired. A few seconds passed.

What are they doing? Mark wondered as he struggled to hear what is going on in the other room. He only heard shuffling and footsteps.

“Alright, come in.” Called the captain.

Mark walked in and saw the Captain at their desk. Papers were strewn across their table.

“Mark,” the captains said, nodding at him. “What brings you here?”

“A little birdie told me you were having trouble with Alexa?” Mark grinned as he held the Alexa out. “I think you might be missing this?”

“Bird’s the word…” the captain mumbled. They shake their head and blink as if they were trying to wake up.

Mark arched an eyebrow at them. “Captain? Are you feeling ok?”

Blinking again, the captain looked up at Mark and then the Alexa, and growled at the bot. “I thought I tossed that thing out.” They murmured.

“You did. One of the crew had it. Said you hit them with it?”

“An accident!” The captain exclaimed. They looked stricken that it had hit someone. “He said he was ok though? I went and apologized to him and checked on him.”

“Yeah, he’s ok. Just still surprised by it.”

“I didn’t know anyone was coming in when I tossed it,” the captain said. “I just wanted to get rid of the dang thing.”

“Why though? This thing is handy.”

The captain shook their head. “It’s cursed, is what it is.”

Mark chuckled. “Why do you say that?”

“Blasted thing keeps telling me where the nearest graveyard is. Like it wants me to go there or something.” The captain glared at it.

“What?” Mark asked,giving the Alexa a perplexed look, “That’s not normal. Not at all… I can check into it for you, if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks…”

The tiredness in the captain’s voice caught Mark’s attention. “Hey, Captain? You seem more tired than usual.Is anything wrong? I mean beside this weird Alexa stuff.”

The captain let out a sigh and slowly shook their head. “Just feeling tired…. Didn’t sleep well last night.” They shrug it off.

“Why not?” Mark asked.

“Just didn’t.” The captain didn’t really want to tell Mark they were having nightmares.

And that the nightmares weren’t just last night. But every night. That’d make them sound whiny. And gah they were the captain! They were supposed to be the fount of strength and stability on the ship. That would all crumble to nothing if people found out how shaky they got from nightmares. And there was no reason for them to react that way too, or so they figured.. It’s not like nightmares and unpleasant dreams were unusual or anything.

“Hmm… ok…” Mark said, skeptically. He picked up the Alexa. “Well, I’ll take this little rascal out to the lab and see what’s going on with it.”

“Sounds good. Thanks….” The captain said, nodding. They returned to their work, or at least acted like they were working. In truth, they were still out of it but wanted to look like they were ok. At least while Mark was there.

Goodness! The last thing they wanted to do was fall apart in front of him. It was why when he knocked on the door, they scrambled off from the floor and made it look like they were hard at work on projects or something.

Marl hesitated a moment, watching the captain. He felt something was seriously off with them but he couldn’t place it. And it seemed like something more than just tiredness.

The captain paused in what they were doing and looked up. They raised an eyebrow. “Is there something else?” The question wasn’t sharp sounding, more just stated quietly.

Mark paused a moment. Should he come out and say that he suspected something was going on with them? He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt it in his bones that there was something wrong.

“Well….”

“Engineering paging Mark. There’s something up with one of the engines. We need you to come down and check it out.”

“Oh uh nevermind…” Mark sighed. Guess asking the captain will have to wait.

#iswm fanfiction #iswm fanfic #captaineer #iswm fic #engineer mark #iswm captain #iswm au #Paradoxial virus

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fdq666roadie-blog · 2 months ago

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Day 17: Femdom Ship: Engineer Mark x AFAB Reader Wordcount: 2072 Tags: Cunnilingus, Femdom, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Mild Cock And Ball Torture, Mild Degradation, Multiple Orgasms, Pet Play

#markiplier fanfiction #smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #markiplier fan fiction #markiplier fan fic #markiplier fanfic #engineer mark x reader #head engineer x reader #head engineer mark x reader #reader x engineer mark #reader x head engineer #reader x head engineer mark

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thebowieconstricker · 14 days ago

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Here’s a snippet of an angsty Darkiplier one shot I’m writing from the perspective of a Captain that found peace with Engineer Mark in a safe universe! I know you didn’t ask but here it is anyways!

The Captain enjoyed a warm mug of hot chocolate, lounging on their leather couch in front of the fireplace. Mark was putting the finishing touches on some sort of festive treat. He’d been talking it up all day, claiming to be an “expert” at baking and swearing that his latest concoction would knock the Captain’s socks off. The Captain simply laughed at his enthusiasm and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Mark would blush, shut up for a moment, and then pivot to another topic. After listening to his rants all day, the Captain enjoyed the peaceful ambiance of the crackling fire in front of them. They smiled at the warm mug they held in front of them. Mark had lovingly added several tiny marshmallows that were melting in the chocolate-y goodness. “Just because I love you so much,” he had said.

As the Captain took a sip, they heard a knock on the door. They didn’t have the faintest clue who it could be, as they weren’t expecting company this evening. Had Mark invited Gunter over?

“Who’s that, Cap’n?” Mark called from the kitchen.

The Captain mentally crossed out their initial idea.

“I’ll see, don’t worry.” They stood up from the couch, putting down their mug. Now standing, they took a deep breath. They adjusted their attire, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles and brush away the crumbs from snacks they had eaten earlier. Yes, it had been years since the Invincible II had landed on their new home planet, but the Captain knew that their community still looked up to them. They had to present an up-kept appearance at all times.

The Captain walked over to their front door, placing a hand on the doorknob and giving it a twist. They pulled the door open.

Their eyes widened.

They registered the figure in front of them.

Mark’s height, Mark’s hair, Mark’s eyes. But not him, no.

The Captain would recognize him anywhere.

“Y/N.” Darkiplier spoke, staring the Captain down with pitch black eyes.

#darkiplier x the da #darkiplier x y/n #darkiplier fanfiction #Darkiplier #engineer mark #engineer mark x captain #angst #markiplier ego #damien markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #in space with markiplier

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ardenwritesegos · 8 months ago

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The Entity Comes Out to Play

Intro

Every once in a while, the entity gets antsy. It has, after all, been confined to a single manor for centuries. A spell ensured the epicenter of it could never fully escape. It didn't, however, prevent the thing from spreading its madness to the outside world. That much was proven over 100 years ago. But we don’t need to get into the details now. What’s the fun in giving everything away? No, the readers want to see the good stuff; to see the pain, whether it be physical or emotional. And it so happens that the entity can do just that. Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get started. And who better to start with than a certain guilty engineer.

Chapter 1

It was just another night of work for engineer mark. The googles needed yet another addition to their devices, forcing him–at least, in his eyes–to pull another all-nighter. Chase tried his very best to get him away from his desk, but nothing would do it. Sometimes, not even the threat of carrying him to bed would sway Gin’s stubbornness. The desk was strewn with blueprint paper and coffee mugs. Still, even all that caffeine couldn’t stop his eyes from desperately trying to close. He shook his head in an attempt to keep himself awake. Regardless, his lids were feeling heavy, heavier than they ever were during an all-nighter. Well, there’s a first for everything. Another cup of coffee would surely do the trick. The instant Gin stood up, everything seemed to spin for a moment, before weighing down on him. The weight pushed him back into his chair. He tried again to get out of his chair. The slightest movement up triggered yet another bout of dizziness. What the fuck was happening? Whatever it was, there was no way he was getting out of his chair. If anything, he could probably call for Chase–

No voice.

No noise.

The engineer tried to open his mouth, but found it was bound shut by…something. Certainly nothing he could feel. He was stuck in his chair, slightly lower than one would usually sit. And now, he couldn’t even call for help. This had to be a dream. It had to be. Otherwise, he was going insane. Gin knew nobody with powers in the house would mess with him like this. There was no other explanation than him not being awake.

So quick to think it’s a dream.

So quick to think it’s not real.

You’re wide awake.

Do you know what’s real?

The whispering voices were quick to overwhelm him.

You are here.

We are here.

We can help you.

Let us in.

He felt as if they were burrowing into his brain from his ears.

It’s weighing on you.

The Guilt.

You’ve hurt so many.

You want to forget.

He…he did want to forget. It always lingered in the back of his mind, all of the actions that lead him here. He can hear the crystal powering up.

You can forget.

You can be happy.

Let us help you.

Let us in.

This was insane, he was going nuts. What-? Why did he almost consider it? Why…why wouldn’t he? He wanted to be happy. He wanted to forget. He could open his mouth again.

Your voice is returned.

Say the words.

“I let you in.”

Repeat.

The engineer opened his mouth, speech still a struggle.

“I…I…”

“I let you in.”

Repeat.

The voices increased in volume, but only by a hair.

“I..” He breathed.

“I let..I let you–”

“How’s everything in here?” Chase came in through the open door, making Gin’s soul jump from his body for a moment. Within seconds, every sensation from seconds ago was gone. He turned around, giving Chase a look at him.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Chase could see the pure fear radiating off Gin’s face

“Uh..” Gin hesitated to say what happened, not sure himself what it was.

“I’m..I’m fine. Just a bad dream,” due to exhaustion, and overall fright, he wasn’t trying his best, in terms of lying. Luckily, Chase bought it right away.

“Must have been a really bad one,” Chase replied, quickly making his way to the engineer’s desk.

“You haven’t looked like this for a good bit,” he leaned on the chair.

“Do ya wanna go to bed?” Engineer looked at the analog clock across from him. It read 3:00 am from his bedside table.

“I don’t…I don’t know…” he looked down, resisting the urge to word vomit about whatever the fuck just happened to him. For all he knew, it could’ve just been a–

(So quick to think it’s a dream.)

He shook his head, trying to erase it like an etch-a-sketch.

“Maybe you just need some company right now,” Chase suggested.

“Like, I don’t know, some snacks and a game of ‘who wakes up next’?” he added, trying to lighten the mood. Well, it worked causing a small smile to form on the engineer’s face.

“It’s not that hard,” Gin began.

“It’s always doctor german or doctor ‘you’re dying.’”

“You never know, it could change up,” Chase replied.

#markiplier #engineer mark #jacksepticeye #chase brody #engineer mark/chase brody #engineer average #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #septic egos #codi don’t look

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theknightmarket · 5 months ago

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Act 1 | Scene 5 - Pick Your Poison

The last week had been weird.

Since meeting Illinois, the bar had been strangely active. That wasn’t to say it had never been busy before – in fact, it was picking up the kind of reputation that you wanted. Some classy establishment that you could go to for a calm and pleasant drink, where the music was slow and the service was quick. Except now, you were thinking it was working a little too well.

There seemed to be the same crowd, day in and day out. You liked having regulars, but this was excessive. Unless you were going crazy. Maybe you were simply losing it. The pressure had gotten to you, and you were stuck hallucinating the same people over and over again, saying the same things and ordering the same drinks and arriving and leaving at the same time, and…

And taking a deep breath sounded like a good plan. So, gently, you inhaled, exhaled, and listened to the Vera Lynn record that played from the jukebox.

‘We’ll meet again’.

This job was stressful when everything rested solely on your shoulders, but you didn’t know how much it would help to get more hands on deck. Was it selfish that you wanted to keep the Astral to yourself? It was your prized, well, everything. The thought of someone else being behind the bar left a sour taste in your mouth.

However, the most likely reason as to your bout of delirium was the stress. You just had to remind yourself that everything was completely normal, and there was nothing at all to worry about. That mantra got you through the Friday night, when there should have been an influx of people, but that was fine. Unexpected, but fine. Obviously, it was just an off day. Tomorrow would be busy; you knew that for sure.

So why did the little voice in the back of your mind whisper that it wouldn’t be?

You used shutting up shop as a way to ignore your doubts. You wiped down the tables that no longer had people at them, restocked the straws and the small container of umbrellas, and you managed to clean a good majority of the glasses that were left in the sink – but none of this helped you when you were doing the exact same things that you had been doing for the last week. The same splatters of vodka melding with the varnish, the same amount of missing stock, the same chip in the third highball that you had to throw away. It clattered in the trash can, which you swore you had emptied the night before.

‘Don’t know where’.

You could feel your breath quickening once more.

‘Don’t know when’.

You didn’t know what to do. Ideas were rushing through your mind, too quick to catch, too slow to ignore. What were you supposed to do? Was this really happening? How could it be happening? What were you supposed to do? Nobody told you what to do when everything was repeating, and there wasn’t a guidebook or etiquette or emergency protocol. Vision blurring, you felt like you were going to keel over. Deep breaths. You tried to remind yourself of that mantra again, but it was no use. You were stuck. Panicking. Flailing. Drowning.

And then it all cleared when the door burst open.

Good, that was what you needed. A distraction. Doing your job seemed as good as any.

You snapped to your senses, like a soldier called to attention, from that eye-catching entrance of a new figure. The sight of your face appeared in the counter’s reflection, but it looked no different that it normally did. Although you knew on the inside that you had been on the brink of falling off a cliff, your exterior showed no such worries. Just a normal bartender in a normal bar.

‘But I know we’ll meet again’.

Before you could round the counter, however, a thought occurred to you; it was nearing 2 o’clock, the time you would usually kick everyone out. The sleepers, the drunks, and, once or twice, Wilford. Letting another patron in now would mean half an hour, probably more, before you could get them out again. You wouldn’t be paying anyone an overtime wage, but the weight of your mini freakout wasn’t getting any lighter on your shoulders. If the person had a group with them, you would have been more inclined to let them stay, but it wasn’t as though they were bound to order a lot of drinks, chug them, and then bounce. All of the evidence pointed to kicking them, and the two other people in a corner booth, out. Plain and simple.

But – and you thought this with the kindest sentiment you could muster – they looked an utter wreck, and you didn’t trust yourself not to immediately call them back inside if you did give them the boot.

That left the logical part of your brain glaring daggers into the emotional side as you went to take their order at their booth.

“Good morning, sir.”

‘Some sunny day’.

Although, it seemed your internal battle was unnecessary. He’d buried his head in his arms, leaned against the table and dead to the world around him, and he stayed that way while you spoke. Considering the manner in which he had arrived, specifically shoving your door open so violently that you wondered if there were splinters, the thought that he was genuinely dead did cross your mind.

You decided to shake his shoulder.

“What’s the problem!?”

You immediately retracted your hand and stepped back, breath catching in your throat. You weren’t expecting such a volatile reaction. His eyes were just as wide as yours, but you were stuck staring at him while his pupils shot across the whites like they were being chased by the red edges. He looked worse up close. Before, you had thought he was just some poor night shift worker who had been running off fumes for the last day. Now that you were eye to eye, though? You didn’t think he even had fumes, just a few weak puffs of smoke out of a dying furnace.

You put on a brave face to say, “You need to order something, or you’ll have to leave. We stop serving in ten minutes.”

It was then that he realized himself. There was a sudden sense of self sparking where there had been a manic derangement. He looked to the left, then to the right, and then settled back in his chair.

‘Keep smiling through’.

“I’m so- I’m sorry, I’ve been… ugh, it’s been a hard day.” Had you not been wary of getting your hand snapped off, you would have patted him on the back; the calm he developed was quickly exchanged for a disconcerting laugh. “Can you call it a day if it feels like it’s been a week? If- if it doesn’t just feel like it, it actually has been?”

This was a mistake. In your own insanity, you had accidentally welcomed another insane person into your bar. You should have just taken the easy out and went to sleep, but the one time you tried to be generous, it backfired on you.

He was still talking, but it had progressed into mutterings that were directed at no one in particular. “You know, it’s hard to keep track of stuff like that,” he addressed the varnish of the table, “because the clocks go back, too, so has it been a day, or has it been less or- or more?”

You were about to step away when his gaze shot back to yours, but that wasn’t the worst part – it was the grin stretched from ear to ear. It wavered as he spoke, a string pulled tight enough for the smallest strands to start separating, threatening to snap, pulling and pulling. “When do you think it’ll reset, huh?”

‘Just like you always do’.

“I’m not sure I follow,” you responded. The shake was out of your voice but the wariness was not.

“No, no, you wouldn’t.” He waved a hand through the air, mimicking a casual chat about the weather. “But if you had to guess.”

Okay, now was the time to think. This man, who seemed to be on the brink of madness or had already fallen off, was asking you when time would reset. That was easy to accept because he was sitting in front of you, his words fresh in your mind. The harder part came with accepting that you knew what to answer with. All the repeating patrons, drinks, that damn Vera Lynn music playing in the background. You could have told him that you didn’t know what he was talking about, but you would have been lying. At this point, was there a reason to not give him the truth?

“Well, sir,” you started after clearing your throat, “it’s been fairly the same in recent days. I’d only be aware of it if it happened after twelve hours or so.”

He didn’t react how you imagined he would. He didn’t startle or flourish or show a hint of interest. Instead, he chuckled. A scoff, as if he were entertaining a child’s imagination.

“Oh, yeah, what’s the same then?”

“The orders, the arguments—” You waved a hand in the air, “—this song has been playing non-stop today.”

‘’Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds’.

The collective voice of the soldiers cut through like an axe striking a board. It similarly cut through his expression of manic nonchalance and gave way to a very specific expression. Hesitance, amusement, hope. He wanted to believe you, but something was holding him back.

“You noticed that?” he asked, his tone of voice soft and his eyes holding a sense of the present that he lacked before.

“Should I not have?”

“No, no, I just—” He cut himself off with a crash as he slammed his fist into the table, “—wait, no! No, you shouldn’t have. Why do you remember?” That fist started to clench. “Who are you?” And he lost the awareness again. “Do you remember anything more dangerous, in the realm of life-threatening?”

This was getting ridiculous. You felt the hairs raise on your skin and a chill drip down your spin, but you tried your hardest to ignore them. You pushed the dread to the side in favor of saving face.

“Not particularly, no,” you answered. It didn’t seem to help him, though; he was glaring around the bar, as if he were looking for some kind of spy, but your assurance that there was none was sure to do him no good. A simpler offer, then.

“Do you want a glass of water?”

“No, I need to figure this out.”

You were unceremoniously yanked into the seat next to them, and your heartrate immediately sped up to unsafe levels. Your clothes under his hands scrunched together so much that the rest was completely flat up to where he had his grip fixed into a deadbolt. He seemed to pay no mind to the position he had put you in, but the other couple still in the corner of the bar spared you a curious look before returning to their conversation. Helpful.

“When you say that the orders and arguments have been the same, what exactly do you mean?”

‘Far away’.

Gently, you pulled his wrists back into his own lap. You were going to have no one grabbing you without asking – even if they were obviously going through the wringer – and that gently was the most leeway you were willing to give him.

He stayed completely silent as you removed his hands, but his eyebrows furrowed and a noise of confusion came from deep in his throat. He must not have noticed.

“They’re not perfectly the same,” you admitted, “but each of the patrons have been appearing here at the same time for the last three days. They get the same base drink with a small change. Lemon or lime, with or without ice, dirty or neat, whatever it is, it’s only slightly different. Then they drink, have the same topic of conversation and then leave at the same time.”

“While Vera Lynn plays in the background?”

“That’s only started this morning, except it’s one of the only jazz records I own.”

So far, you had seen a range of expressions from this stranger. In the last ten minutes, he had sported fatigue, amusement, desperation, and a constant wash of mild insanity. The only thing that had gotten you truly worried for your safety was being pulled close to him. Now? You were paralyzed by an emotion that glinted in his eyes.

Absolute enthusiasm.

‘So will you, please, say hello’.

His growing smile gave it away further, if his words didn’t. “And you remember all of this?”

“Would I be telling you if I didn’t?”

“This is great!” He punched into the air comically. “Well, not great for you, the whole looping thing, it could end horribly. But it’s great that you remember.”

While you were happy for his little revelation, you remembered something else. You still had those other two people to take care of, and it seemed from their glances towards the bar that they were getting ready to pay and leave.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve realized what’s going on, but I need to—”

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry, I just need you for a little longer.” To his credit, he kept his hands right where they were, despite him leaning forward like he was going to grab you again. As a thanks, you nodded for him to continue, though you kept one eye on the other patrons.

His smile lessened in extremity, but it was still genuine. “I mean, I don’t understand,” he continued, “why here, why you? It is looping so you’re not unaffected, but you remember.”

You yourself were stuck on that, too. You weren’t anything special, no matter how many people had tried to butter you up by saying that you were. Maybe it was just luck? A right-place, right-time deal, wherein you had nothing to do with the chance that you remembered. It was very much in the cards that it was a fluke.

But then you thought about the last few weeks as a whole. That was all random, just the same as this thing was. Meeting Illinois, Yancy, Dark, and… well, you supposed that, really, Wilford was the only one to actually be random. His choosing of your bar was a stroke of luck that led to the others finding you. And, to put it simply, Wilford was weird. Not shy, awkward kid in the back of the class weird – genuine weird. He talked about the laws of space and time like they were nothing but suggestions, he acted like he was straight out of the 1980s, and, half the time, he was sitting at the bar before you had heard the door open.

‘To the folks that I know?’.

You took in a deep breath and then tentatively asked, “This doesn’t have anything to do with Wilford, does it?”

Your suspicions were confirmed when he responded with a, “Wilford?” that showed both confusion and familiarity.

You held back a groan as he twisted his head like an owl to look around the bar. This time, he wasn’t trying to sparce the face of a secret detective from the wallpaper, he was actually looking.

“The Astral?” he asked when he turned back to you.

‘Tell them I won’t be long’.

At this point, you had half a mind to put out a neon sign in the middle of the room, add some arrows pointing at it and a little trail of petals so that people would actually realize where they were – and what did that say of their survival instincts? Apparently, it was a trait of those who all looked like the same guy to not know where they’re walking. You were certain that some of them had died since you had last seen them. Most likely Illinois.

Instead of indulging in that depressing thought, you sighed, “Do none of you read signs before you walk through a door?”

“In my defense, I was really out of it – but that does explain it.”

“How so?”

He pursed his lips and started tapping at the table. “Wilford’s always been—” He made an odd hand gesture, “—…odd. He isn’t affected by the loops. Dark isn’t either, you’ve met him, right?”

“Yancy and Illinois, too.”

‘They’re much better.” Nodding to himself, he sat back into the leather of the booth. Now that he had apparently solved the dilemma he was going through, he was much more relaxed. Not more energized – of course not, he looked like he’d been dragged through hell backwards – but he wasn’t on the edge of plummeting into complete madness, and you took that as a win.

After looking him over, you replied, “You’re not so bad yourself, even if you’re a bit stressed.”

‘They’ll be happy to know’.

And there came a more normal smile. More appealing, you thought, than the ones from before. Less unnerving, too. This suited your first assumption, the one of him being an overtired night-shift worker.

With a huff, he wiped his eyes and then extended one of his hands towards you. The minimal gap between you made it difficult, but leaning back let you shake it.

“I’m the Engineer,” he introduced himself, with a sense of formality you would have never expected, “people have been calling me Engie – you’re free to, as well, if you want.”

Weird name, but at this point, was it anything out of the ordinary?

‘That as you saw me go’.

You shook his hand once, twice, and then let go. It was practiced to the point of a formula, but you had no problem following the pattern. You’d done it so many times before, regardless of who initiated it. This was the first time it was done sitting down in a bar that you owned, though, so you gave it a little more weight.

When Engie let go, he chuckled quietly. “I might take you up on that water.”

You nodded in return and were finally able to slide out from the booth. You spent such little time sitting down normally that your legs felt stiff when you stood up. Stretching would have been unprofessional, especially as the other couple’s faces lit up at the sight of you. You answered their wave with another nod and quickly went to fetch their bill first.

A couple minutes passed, during which they paid, left a tip, and left.

And then there were two.

Technically, you should have closed half an hour ago, but a water still cost money and you didn’t particularly want to force Engie out on the street. You still believed him – well, two-thirds of you did. The other part thought he was insane, and you were insane and this whole situation was insane, but you returned to your patron with the glass of water.

‘I was singing this song’.

“Thank you,” he said, handing you a dollar note. You didn’t remember if he stepped on the plank, but you weren’t going to risk asking if he did. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s my job.”

You were about to twist on your heel and get back behind the bar to finish clearing up, but you were stopped by his voice, tone growing embarrassed. He looked just as red as he sounded.

“I wasn’t talking about the drink, I mean… most people would have kicked me out already. I- just, thank you.”

The flustered smile was charming, you’d give him that, but a thought occurred to you before you could comment on it.

“Do you want to do me a favor? Just so we’re even.”

His eyes widened but he jumped on the opportunity all the same. “Of course, what do you need?”

Out of your dress shirt’s pocket, you retrieved a smoothened five-dollar bill and placed it on the table. Engie was understandably confused, so you explained, “Wilford keeps walking out before I can give it to him. If he’s not going to step on the plank, he’s not going to pay extra.”

With the hesitance of a man who did not know what the plank was, he took it and replied, “I’ll pass it along to him.”

“Thank you.” But now that the deal was done, you had something else to address. “Are you feeling better?”

He laughed to himself again and the blush didn’t recede. If anything, it got stronger the more he thought about his arrival. “Yeah, I guess I made a fool of myself there, huh?”

Both of you knew you were lying as you said, “Not at all.” Still, you added on, “You’re better than a lot of people I’ve had in here.” That part wasn’t as untrue as the former, if only because the faint outline of that bruise on your jaw still greeted you every morning in the mirror. Whatever ‘looping’ situation this had been hadn’t done it any good.

That reminded you of the time. Hopefully you would actually wake up the next day after the night you’d had.

“But it is getting late,” you prompted. Telling someone to bluntly get out wasn’t good for business, and Engie was nice.

Luckily, he got the hint. “Oh- oh, yeah, I get it. I’ll just…” He pushed away from the leather and stumbled out of the booth. “Thanks for the water, and I’ll see you later?”

It was awkward watching him try to recover from his fumbling, so you filled the silence with, “Don’t get hit by a car on your way out, or anything else in the realm of life-threatening.”

You were treated to a final, louder laugh as he walked towards the front door. You followed to lock the door when he was out, but he turned around to call, “See ya!” before he let it fall shut behind him.

‘We’ll meet again’.

You were left alone in the Astral, at 3:17 in the morning, having met another of that strange group who all had different aesthetics but looked completely the same.

‘Don’t know where, don’t know when’.

It was annoying not knowing what was going on.

‘But I know we’ll meet again’.

It wasn’t scary, wasn’t concerning, you were just plain aggravated because you were getting closer and closer to this, regardless of whether you wanted to. However, you knew one thing for certain; if you were going to get wrapped up in all of this, then you were going to get some answers.

‘Some sunny day’.

And you knew just where to get them from.

AO3 Link - List

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #writing #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier #x reader #bar au #bartender reader #engineer mark x reader #head engineer mark #engineer mark #iswn #also on ao3

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gumycandyyy · 2 years ago

Text

“You need help.”

___________________________________________

-An Engineer!Mark x reader oneshot-

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Gn!reader

Summary: Captain wakes up in the loop once again, and is sick of their choices being obsolete. They just need some comfort, and the only person nearby is Mark.

Content warnings: Slight? Mental breakdown, Some self-deprecating thoughts, Captain talks (but only a little,) Mark being a golden retriever, tell me if I missed any.

(2nd POV)

___________________________________________

“Current ship status: ABSOLUTELY CATASTROPHIC.”

You cursed in your head as you jolted awake, hearing the robotic voice of the computer. You slammed open the door of your cryo-pod with a grimace. You couldn’t even catch a break.

You thought it’d surely be over when you fell asleep, that it would be the end. You had grown old on a new planet, watched over everything, not realizing that your entire life there would be erased. Every choice you made to get there led right back here, on this God forsaken ship. As the reality of what seemed to be your entire future hit you, you sank slowly to the ground. This is your entire future. You’re never going to get out of this loop. ‘You’re the captain!’ you heard an imaginary voice yell, ‘You shouldn’t act like this! You have a crew to protect. You have to save them, not cry on the floor. What an idiotic choice. You’re no fit to be in power.’ You brought your gloved hand up to your eyes, trying (and failing) to dry your tears as you backed yourself into a corner.

You’re stuck in a time-loop, you surely have enough time for whatever this is. Stuck. With no way to exit the loop, no way to leave, no way to die, no way to stay dead.

“Captain?”

You jolted, realizing Mark was now there. He looked down at you with a look of confusion, followed by shock. His beloved Captain was crying? The strong and persevering Captain that he looked up to, was now down on the floor, in a metaphorical puddle of guilt and sadness. “Captain, what are you doing?” Said Mark, as he bent down on his knees to your level.

You just dug your face further into your knees, hugging yourself as you ignored the man in front of you. “Captain, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Said Mark, with a worried expression. “Captain, I- ... I want to help you, I-” He stopped, carefully thinking over his words. “I need to help you... You need help.”

Those words.

Those three damned words.

‘You need help.’

You choked back a sob, your barriers breaking. You reached for Mark, needing some form of comfort. He seemed a little surprised, but he hugged back nonetheless. You clung to him as if he were going to disappear at any moment, which was very likely, seeing how everything going on around you seemed to be working against you.

Mark snapped you out of your anguish by running his hands along your back. You dug your face into the crook of his neck to ground yourself, and to make sure you didn’t fall back into despair. “Mark..” you said against his skin, in barely a whisper. He hummed in response, as a signal that he was listening. “Thank you...”

“Captain, I- you don’t need to-”

“Please..” you whispered. He got the message and stopped talking. “Thank you for being here. if it wasn’t for you, I’d- I’d have no idea what to do, you’ve done so much for me, I- I don’t even think I’d-”

Mark shushed you this time. “Just.. Just breathe.” He softly said. “I’m here, and I’m not gonna let go.” He ran his fingers through your hair, softly, as if you were as fragile as paper. He held you closer, the friction between your bodies soothing you. by then you had calmed down considerably, your breathing returning to normal. The two of you were still in a heap on the floor, but honestly, you preferred to stay like that.

Mark loosened his grip slightly, shifting your bodies to face each other. When he succeeded, he gently pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m.. I’m here for you, ok?” Said Mark, with pure affection laced in the tone of his voice. You placed your hand against his cheek, noticing the reddish-pink tint on Mark’s face. You smiled lightly, placing a peck on the tip of Mark’s nose. He let out a small, almost unnoticeable noise that could only be described as pure, absolute, joy.

you rested your head on Mark’s shoulder, finally feeling at peace. If only you could feel this forever...

But you couldn’t.

You felt Mark’s body slowly disappear, and opened your eyes. seeing a small gold-ish light gradually come towards you. You knew what this meant, so you gradually stood up, and walked towards it. you looked behind you, seeing nothing but darkness. “I’m gonna count this as a happy ending...” You quietly breathed. Smiling slightly, you walked back into the light.

“Current ship status: ABSOLUTELY CATASTROPHIC.”

#screaming crying and passing out #iswm #iswm x reader #space mark #markipler #markipler egos #markipler egos x reader #fanfiction #why did i write this im sad now #head engineer mark #engineer!mark x reader #hurt/comfort #im dying why so many tags #gumy writes #gumycandy

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spookieypookie · 1 year ago

Text

"I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes." | Shock | "You in there?"

Word count: 991

Read it on ao3

"Hi Captain."

Before I could even take in what was happening I was knocked to the ground, the pain rendering me temporarily blind.

My vision was blurry and my hearing was unclear.

The extinguisher fell to the ground with a muffled clank as he walked towards me. His boots slowly came into view.

I reached out for support and he grabbed my hand.

"Sorry about that, couldn't afford to let you make another mistake."

Before I could pull myself up, he took pliers, forcefully removing the warp crystal from my palm.

The pain was once again blinding, the shock from it going all the way up my arm.

"Hmm, yeah. Funny thing to say after an eternity of nothing but second chances-"

He twirled his fingers around the crystal. With no other ideas, I reached for it.

He grabbed my hand. "Don't."

His tone was uncompromising. His eyes that were once warm and comforting were cold as they stared into mine. Where had my dear head engineer who was willing to do anything for me gone? He used to trust me with his life and now he wouldn't trust me to make a single decision. It was such a harsh juxtaposition to the conversation I'd just had with his older self. So different from the Mark I was used to.

"You don't have to keep trying anymore," Mark got up from where he was, walking towards the warp core. "There's no time anyway." He giggled at himself, "Another thing I thought I'd never say again. But I'm going to fix the damage you caused. I have a long time to spend rebuilding this machine you broke."

What does he mean? I never broke the warp core, did I?

"A long time, over too many lives… But I know now that this thing does more than just make wormholes." He placed the crystal into the machine. Light and sound emitted from it as it turned on, its power source restored.

"Distance and time are the same thing from different perspectives. That's all these universes are, just different points of view." He stood, walking towards the control panel. "And this machine didn't just bridge a tunnel through our universe. It was bridging all of them." The anger crept back into his voice. "And you destroyed it." He shook his head.

I wanted to tell him I never destroyed it. Wanted to explain. Wanted to change his mind. Stop his monologue. But I couldn't. He was too far gone. He'd made up his mind and nothing was going to change that.

"I can't undo what you've done. Not here anyway. Or at least not now," he pulled the lever.

Warp core engaged.

"If I could go back."

I needed to stop him. It's what old Mark warned me about. But how?

"If I could try again. If I could stop you before any of this even started, maybe I could save everyone."

I wanted to cry. This is what created the paradox in the first place wasn't it? But how could I stop him?

Warning. Paradox detected.

"What? What the hell does that mean?"

I seized the opportunity to throw sand in his face. I could thank old man Mark for that one.

Temporal lock unstable.

"What the hell was that? Is that sand? Who throws sand?!"

I got to the control panel, typing in everything I could. Frantically trying to shut it down before he could stop me.

Paradox detected.

I reached to pull the crystal out the core.

He grabbed my hand, stopping me again.

"Captain no! You'll destroy everything! Again!"

Target arrival date not guaranteed.

The unstable warp core created a wormhole breaking the ship.

We started to float in the air so I grabbed the railing and Mark as quickly as I could.

"Captain, Captain! Don't let go! Don't let go!" Mark screamed in terror as he started to get sucked in.

I was holding onto him, trying my best to save his life. Why has this happened so many times before? Saving him from the black hole from the broken window… we've lived too many lives and they've all been in one big circle.

"Wait. Let me go."

Why was Mark such an idiot? Did he want to get killed? Pulled apart by the gravitational force of this thing? He says that his deaths weren't so bad, that his body can handle it, but he can't! What was he hoping to achieve?

"Captain, please. I can fix this. Look, I don't know what you did."

Well that makes two of us.

"And maybe you didn't mean to, but I have to stop you."

Stopping me won't prevent any of this. Old man Mark 'stopping' me just led to more unstable paradoxes and problems. I wish I could tell him the mistake he's making.

"I have to! God, I wish I had thought of a fake hand or something."

The memories of old man Mark's confrontation were honestly giving me whiplash at this point.

"Please! This is it! This is the end of everything. Everyone that ever existed is going to get wiped out unless you let me go!"

I looked to the warp core. How could I stop it?

"Captain! Please!"

His begging was getting to me. I know he thought this was the right choice. But I knew it wasn't. So I kept holding on for our dear lives.

"I have to keep trying. I have to."

I had made my choice.

"Please! Let me go! I know I can fix everything. I know there's a perfect solution, I just have to find it! Please! Captain!"

I reached for the warp core as best I could without letting my grip on Mark loosen.

"Captain no! Captain, don't do it!"

I ripped the crystal from its machine and threw it into the open chasm of the wormhole.

"Captain!"

It imploded.

Alert. Paradox resolved. Para..dox re..solved. Para…dox …re…solved.

#shock #you in there?#I see the danger it's written there in your eyes #whumptober 2023 #no. 4 #my writing #fanfic #iswm #captaineer #captain #head engineer mark #engineer mark #in space with markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #don't #whumptober #whumptober2023

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leighsartworks216 · 2 years ago

Text

Your Captain

Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Requested by Anon:

"Sweet! Can i request a angst and fluff fic with engineer mark? Where captain overworks themselves, not taking care of themselves at all, marks sees it but doesn't want to bother them too much about it

And eventually they get really sick and collapse infront of mark

With angst prompts #12 and #17 thank youuuu"

12. "You could have died."

17. "No, no, no, you can't close your eyes right now!"

Tbh this fic started as a completely different concept but I think it fit really well with this request so yah

Warnings: loss of identity, mentions of the warp core events, mentions of death, overworking, exhaustion, hurt/comfort, angst

Word Count: 3906

Masterlist

Tag List Form

The realization is slow. Not in the way a predator creeps on an unsuspecting victim. Nor in the way an illness would, slowly taking over your body and mind until you can no longer ignore your decreasing abilities. No. It’s not even noticeable at first. Little hints here and there, indicative of something bigger.

And then it dawned on you. Suddenly. Like a spark igniting a rampant fire.

It happened when you looked up. The sky was different here. Strange. Nothing like Earth’s. There were no constellations - at least not yet. Two moons circled and twirled around the planet. Your new home.

You had neglected to look up since you landed. You couldn’t blame anyone. There was simply too much to do - buildings in need of building, resources to discover and study, maps to draw up of the surrounding area. Not only that, you joined your leads wherever you could.

You assisted Celci as she and her team revived colonists. You welcomed each new citizen with a smile and Welcome to our new planet! All 100,000 of them. Celci told you to take a break, get a nap, eat something. You would argue that everyone deserved to be welcomed, and it helped you get a grasp on just how many carpenters, engineers, scientists, medics, gun hands and others there actually were. She gave you a worried and disapproving side eye, but she couldn’t do anything to stop you.

Gunther worked to set up a perimeter where the first buildings could be set up. You helped to plan out which buildings went where, and exactly where your borders should be laid. And when he started setting up armed droids to keep an eye out for raging wildlife that could threaten your new beginnings? You were all too happy to put yourself to work, hauling the heavy automechanicals to each designated spot. If he made a comment about exerting yourself, you ignored it and kept on working.

Burt, with the lack of necessity for warp-core engineering (the thought made you flinch), helped out in home-building. He acted as foreman, making sure each sheet of metal had its place. As the framework finished, he and his team went in to affix lights and other electronic necessities. A few engineers even took plumbing jobs. (There was, unfortunately, a lack of those sent over from Earth.) Quiet as he was, the only time he pointed out your willingness to dive head first and help build foundations, framework and walls, was in a poetic waxing after a rather large building neared completion. You said it was a beautiful poem, but you didn’t quite understand its meaning. (You did.)

And Mark. Oh, god, Mark. With each new job you threw yourself into, he was always right there, running around like a headless chicken trying to help. If you were building a wall, he was right behind you (sometimes even right next to you, holding the metal in place as you bolted it in), keeping you up to date with the progress of the colony, messages from Earth, and other such things. He worried over you the most out of anyone else.

You couldn’t blame him, honestly. After the… adventure you both went on, you wouldn’t give yourself the time of day to even close your eyes. Once dark settled in, you threw yourself into paperwork and managerial nonsense. You couldn’t stop.

It had been one of these nights when you realized. You just finished talking to Celci, discussing the discoveries being made. The scientists just started working with the security crew to go out on excursions to study the flora and fauna. They just brought back a strange plant that they believed could be medicinal. It was exciting, truly.

But Celci had been short with the discussion. She had her arms crossed the whole time, shutting down branching topics with quick retorts. You need rest, she’d scolded. She shoved a protein bar in your hand and sent you to your tent, with orders not to do any work tomorrow. When you tried to protest, she enacted a rule that stated she - as lead officer for medical - could confine you to your quarters if you were not at your peak health, physical or otherwise. You couldn’t argue with her, and so trudged like a pouting child toward the temporary camp of tents everyone was staying in.

That’s when you looked up. You stopped, staring at the unfamiliar stars, the strange moons that lacked craters. The Invincible could just be seen, hovering in the atmosphere. You were waiting for orders from Earth to know what to do with her. You refused to dismantle the grand spaceship. Most likely, it would continue to remain high above the planet, run by a skeleton crew. Forever up there. Alone.

That is when the realization overcame you.

It was slow. And then it all came crashing down over top of you like a tsunami. A growing sense of guilt filled your chest. Was that it? Guilt. No, maybe it was… loss. Yes. A powerful sense of grief within you, bubbling to the surface.

Maybe it had always been there. You couldn’t rightly tell. But it was powerful. It grew, bubbling like a thick paste within you until it reached your tear ducts and buckled your knees. The ground was warm beneath you, and the sky full of strange new stars blurred into a swirl of watercolors. Maybe this was how Van Gogh saw the world. Through tears.

“Captain?”

Your lip trembled. You couldn’t look at him.

A warm body knelt next to you on the ground. His dark eyes burned into your skin, searching desperately for answers. Why were you crying? Why were you sitting out in the middle of the camp, staring at the sky? When he glanced up, following your gaze, he caught sight of the Invincible. He mentally damned the ship.

Was it because of the ship that you were crying? Far too often to be healthy, he, too, stared up at the ship. He remembered the warp core. The mistakes he made, and the ones he caused.

He had no idea what you saw up there. You never spoke about it. Now he wished he had. He wished he asked. He wished he knew what worlds, what alternate realities, what different timelines you’d witnessed. Maybe then he could understand what was wrong.

“Cap…?”

Your eyes were red now. Your face crinkled with grief and sorrow, fighting back the onslaught of tears. You gasped in a shaky breath. Out came a whisper. He thought, perhaps, you would tell him about the things you’d seen. You witnessed thousands of deaths; he had, too. But that was not what came out of your mouth.

“I don’t remember my name.”

Mark was stunned. Shock and confusion overtook his body. Your name? Well, of course, your name was… It’s…

Confused and frustrated, he remembered the IDs on file for every single crew member. He sifted through so many every day, trying to keep track of who was who. It took a few taps on his wrist pad to pull up your ID. He skimmed it for himself before holding out his arm to show you.

The image was fairly recent, only from a few months ago. But you looked… brighter. Hopeful. Determined. Your hair was a little shorter then, too. The bags under your eyes from rigorous study weren’t as prominent as they were now. You looked like a hollow shell of who you once were.

And, yes, that was your name. Or… was it? Was it really your name after everything that had happened?

No. That was their name.

You shook your head and furiously wiped at the tears on your cheeks. Every crass name, criminal title, and disparaging nickname flooded your mind. No. They didn’t have those titles. They didn’t deserve the hatred and vitriol that followed you through that wormhole. They were not the Captain. And you were not them.

“That’s not my name anymore,” you croaked. You shook your head again. You looked like a child having a breakdown in kindergarten over a broken toy. “That’s- That’s not me anymore.”

Mark couldn’t say he really understood why. The image of you, all crooked grins and academy-fresh confidence, was you. He remembered you gushing to him over flying your first airplane, and going through the rigorous training of outer-space flying. He remembered because it was you who gave him the idea for all those stupid windows. When you gushed over being so close to the night sky you felt you could reach out and pluck Polaris right out of the inky black.

But when he looked from the picture to you? He was reminded of the hardships. How you jumped from universe to universe, wracking up casualties, just to save him. And he started to get it. You went through too much to be even near the same plane of existence as your young, naive self.

“Who am I, Mark?”

When you fell to press your face unceremoniously into his shoulder, he wasted no time wrapping you up in his arms. The ID flickered away as the screen turned off. He tried to hold on tight enough to physically stop you from shaking with your sobs, but it was impossible.

“You’re our Captain.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. But they were the only words he could find.

Anybody who passed by pretended they didn’t see anything. He hoped, anyway. He couldn’t meet their eyes. All he could do was hold on, as you had done for him once. Your sobs turned into stifled cries, and then only whimpers. He wasn’t concerned at first. In fact, he was a little relieved you were beginning to calm down. Until you became completely limp in his hold.

Even then, he still paused a second, before pulling you back until he could see your face. Had your skin always been so dull?

He shook you slightly. Maybe you were just sleeping, right? Your eyelids didn’t even flutter. Panic shot through his heart.

He shook you again, harder this time. No response.

“Captain?” Another shake, perhaps a little more vigorously than he intended. Your body was a rag doll, flopped in his lap. “No, no, no, you can’t close your eyes right now!”

His mind, scared and jumping to all the worst conclusions, raced to figure out what to do. He laid you on the ground and pressed an ear against your chest.

…

……

Okay. There’s a heartbeat. A little weaker than he thought was normal, but it was there. And your chest was moving, albeit slowly, with each breath. He pulled away. His hands, calloused with years of fiddling with wires and heavy machinery, floundered in the air. He didn’t know what to do.

Desperate cries for help, for Cici, for anyone were ripped from his lungs. He was gasping for air by the time half the camp rushed out to see what the commotion was. He couldn’t catch his breath until you were safe again.

He just needed you to be safe.

Word spread about the Captain’s health quickly. Mark couldn’t say he was surprised. Actually, he was sort of embarrassed.

That night - almost a week ago now - Celci had rushed to his side. She was the rational and cool-headed one. She commanded medics to grab a stretcher, to ready an IV, prepare a bed and equipment. All the while he screeched like a banshee, whaling for his old friend.

Uncharacteristically, though, she didn’t say a word about it. Nobody did. (Or, at least, not when he was within earshot.) She grabbed him a chair, some water and snacks, even a blanket. And as he sat by the Captain’s side, a permanent frown etched within his features, she kept him up to date on your condition and on the colony.

He knew his fears were wholly rational. After jumping through wormholes and witnessing first hand what consequences it brought, it was only natural for him to fret over the permanence of life now.

How stupid he’d been. Really. How many times did he grab your hand and jump back into the wormhole? More than he could count on one hand. The way he would be torn apart by a black hole or exploded by a supernova, and still step out of that pod with a giddy little grin, asking, almost begging, the Captain to jump in again. And again. And again.

Vaguely he remembered an airlock.

Neither of you were immortal now. Honestly, he hated immortality. It seems to amazing in theory…

He drags a hand down his face with a sigh. His shoulders are hunched. He leans his elbows against the edge of your bed.

He’s tired. Not like before. This wasn’t an exhaustion fueled by some silly false heroics or nonstop building of a catalyst to all your issues. No. He was exhausted with worry, and fear, and- God, emotions he didn’t even have words for. It all sat heavy in his soul.

Guilt, he decided to call it. But different. Guilt if it was slightly to the left.

Celci told him you just passed out from exhaustion and overworking yourself. Maybe he felt guilty for not picking up on it sooner, or for stopping you before it got so bad. It’s not as if the bags under your eyes were invisible, or that the way you carelessly rushed in to help every single person in need was subtle. He should have noticed.

Maybe then you would remember your name. Or, he thought back to your ID, believe you’re still you.

He wished his mind could shut up, for once.

A distraction. That’s what he needed, yeah.

He dragged his eyes from your face to your monitor. He was never very good with medical stuff. The numbers were odd. Was that blood pressure normal? Too high? Too low? Hell if he knew. Was your heart beating fast enough?

He contemplated for a brief moment the components that went into a monitor like that. The wires, connectors, screws, bolts, etc. And then he remembered this machine was making sure you were still alive. The idea of dismantling it was no longer appealing.

He turned to the IV next. A slow, continuous drip of fluids, hooked up to your arm. Needles always gave him a bad feeling. He felt nauseous looking at it.

Strange flowers caught his attention next. There were no roses or tulips or irises out here. Just… Well, they didn’t have names yet. The exobiologists were working on formulating latin names, genuses, and everything else that came with cataloging different flora. They were still beautiful, he couldn’t deny it. Bright orange petals with neon blue stamens that glowed at night. Razor-leaved stems that started as purple by the bloom and morphed into an odd black hue. They looked poisonous, actually. He was sure they wouldn’t be allowed in here if that was the case.

Paper was becoming a luxury at this point. Not that it mattered much, with everything accessible at the press of a button on their wrists. Still, they thought it would be best to ration out the remaining scraps throughout the colony. And everyone, seemingly unanimously, decided to use the rare material to write get well soon cards.

The little folds of parchment filled every possible surface. With 100,003 people writing get well and thank you, at some point the excess of good will notes had to be tucked away in a bin to be read later. He caught a nurse, once, rotating out the cards.

His frown softened when he thought of the very human way in which they cared about you. How human to utilize a precious resource just to say Thank you, wake up soon. How human to see something beautiful in nature, and to display it tenderly next to you. We found something beautiful, it made us think of you. How very human for those who stopped by, who saw him ever at your side like a steadfast protector, rested a hand on his shoulder or patted him on the back. You are not alone in your pain.

He wished, desperately, that you could be awake to witness the love humanity so freely handed out. Maybe then you could rediscover who you were.

“You look like shit.”

Mark startled awake. When did he fall asleep? Ah, dammit, it was dark outside. He must have been out for hours. He scrubbed at the exhaustion crusting his eyelids shut.

Wait…

His body froze. He was too scared to breathe. His heart was racing.

He couldn’t have heard that. He couldn’t have.

Heart in his throat, he slowly removed his hand from his eye and dragged his eye along your frame, still tucked safely under the blanket. Sure enough, when he finally reached your face, there was a smug grin waiting for him.

And with a jolt, his body came back to life.

You watched, half-amused as Mark threw himself from his chair to press a Call Nurse button on the opposite side of your bed. His eyes were wide and frantic. His hair was a mess. Bags under his eyes carried the weight of the world, tears of relief slipping down his cheeks before he could even think to stop them.

“You’re- You’re awake!” he croaked. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your shoulders. They were trembling.

You tried to reach up to hold onto his shoulder, maybe even his face to feel his concerning amount of stubble, but it felt so heavy. You held onto his forearm instead. “How long-?”

Celci came storming in, looking about as frantic as Mark, but better put together. Once she saw you were conscious, her expression morphed to be somewhere between joy and fury. Uh oh.

“Captain!” The only freedom from her intense stare came when she checked your vitals. Mark backed away so she had plenty of room to do so, but he kept a hand on one of your shoulders. He couldn’t pull himself away just yet. “I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’, but I told you this was going to happen if you kept pushing yourself so hard!”

“What exactly happened?”

The cryonics lead faltered. Mark gave her a pleading look. She realized, for the first time since stepping in here, that he had been- no, was crying. She had never seen him cry before.

Celci sighed and tapped a few things into her wrist pad. “I’m assigning you to bedrest and low-effort work until you decide to put your needs before those of the colony.” She leveled you with a concerned stare. “The colony needs you, Captain. You can’t be everywhere at once, helping with every last fiber of your being, no matter how much you want to. Let the rest of us carry the responsibilities we were sent here to carry.”

Mark turned away to wipe away his tears before she could glare at him next and give him a lecture, too. She huffed, nodded to you with a Captain, and left.

The air was thick. Things unsaid hung around in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam - everywhere you look and hard to ignore.

Mark didn’t look at you as he tried to gather himself together. The motes would continue lingering until he was ready to answer your questions.

Deciding to give him some space (as much as you could while bedridden), you looked to the side. The hordes of cards was utterly overwhelming. Each one was different from the next. Some had Captain written on the front in neat cursive, heavy-handed scrawls, or chicken scratch. Some people did their ‘C’s differently, or slurred their writing together in their plain-text handwriting. Other cards simple said Get well soon! or Feel better! You could see small paragraphs of writing inside the folds.

A rush of warmth flooded your chest. All of the command leads, all of the colonists - everyone thought about you. Maybe the idea of being thought of was just so foreign, but you didn’t think in any earnest capacity that this many people would care. The Leads, sure, you spent so much time with them up on the ship (more than they realized), but the most contact the vast majority of the colonists had with you was the simple welcome you gave them as they were thawed. And yet. Despite it all. Everyone had left a card.

Everyone cared about you.

The warm feeling in your chest turned sour as you remembered your conversation with Mark last night. (Was it last night?) The way the stars glimmered back without a care for you. The way you squeezed that protein bar so tight it became mush in its package. The way Mark held you.

I don’t remember my name.

Who am I, Mark?

You squeezed his arm, as much as you could in your weakened state.

You’re our Captain.

Reddened eyes met yours. His eyes were so dark, but they held a thousand thoughts, emotions, and ideas behind them. You remembered looking into those eyes, as you held onto him, refused to let him go even as he called you hateful names and ripped the crystal from your palm.

“You’ve been asleep for a week.” He sniffed. His hand trembled as he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Cici said… You were overworking yourself, pushing yourself past your limit just to be there for everybody, and you weren’t taking care of yourself like you should have been and she said-” He swallowed thickly, fighting to speak through the lump in his throat. “You could have died.”

Oh. It had been that bad? You couldn’t recall feeling weak. Though, maybe it was from the endless running you did during the warp core fiasco. How long had you been awake during that endless nightmare? Your body had recovered once the cycle was broken, but your mind…

“I’m sorry.” It was all you could say. His shoulders fell. “I didn’t…” Your voice was quiet, almost too soft to be a whisper. As if you were afraid to say what was on your mind. “When we were in the wormhole, I was so tired. We both were. But it’s like, I don’t even know what it’s like to feel tired anymore, because nothing compares to what happened.”

You looked up at him, like a child seeking approval. In your eyes, he saw universes colliding, supernovas, and someone who never gave up hope. For the briefest hint of a second, he saw that same determined graduate from the ID.

“Does that make sense?”

He nodded without thinking. His hand left your shoulder, following the length of your arm to hold your hand. You didn’t have gloves on. It was… odd. He ignored the calloused scar that brushed against his palm. “I feel the same. I remember building the… it. I didn’t sleep at all, then. And now that I can, it feels… wrong. I’m not tired, but I am. I can’t explain it better than that.”

“I think we both need a nap.”

He huffed. It was nice to see him smile again. “On your orders, Captain.” His grin flickered, eyes darkened. “If you’d like, you can choose a different name. It wouldn’t be too hard to change your ID.”

“No,” you said. You smiled. “You were right, all along.”

“About what?”

“I’m your Captain.”

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@hyperfixat

@cryptidjester

@your-voice-is-mellifluous

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