#wilford x reader x dark
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
otterlyinluv · 1 month ago
Text
Only Mortals Catch the Sniffles
Summary: You decided to go shopping while it was raining. But you forgot your umbrella. So of course you end up getting sick (you have a really poor immune system, don’t you?). What’s unexpected is who exactly decides to take care of you and what discoveries it leads to.
Pairing: Darkiplier x DA!Reader
Tags: sfw, the flu, argument and misunderstanding (gets resolved), proximity, tension
A/N: I have almost no time to write. (Who would’ve said I’d be reading lots in a linguistic course—) But hopefully you’ll enjoy this little thing I’ve been cooking up for quite a while now ^^
Word Count: 4.5k
——
You rummaged through the cupboard to find some of your favorite snacks but were met with empty space instead. You sighed and shook your head. Your secret stash of snacks has been disappearing at a suspiciously fast pace, so it was safe to assume someone was eating it. But eating all of it without notice? You’d have to have a stern word when you found the culprit. If at all.
This shortage has happened multiple times already. At first, you let it slide, but it was really beginning to get on your nerves. Scratch the beginning. You were mad. You were going to get your snack. Now.
Breathing slowly to clear your head a little, you decided to go for a late-night shopping run while you were at it. After all, there were some other things you wanted to buy, along with the snack. And then you’d catch whoever had been stealing them.
You walked down the corridor and noticed the time on the grandfather clock. You winced. If you wanted to go shopping you needed to get ready and fast.
You grabbed everything without thinking too much about the details. Your phone, purse, and a shopping bag and bolted for the door. You managed to faintly hear something Google was trying to say, but you had no time to listen. Off to the shop it was.
—
By the time you returned, it was pouring. And you hadn't brought an umbrella.
The door opened with a creak, and you stepped in, clothes dripping with water all over the carpet.
Out of the corner of your vision, Google raised an eyebrow before coughing silently: “I did attempt to tell you the forecast was saying it would rain.”
You pushed your wet hair out of your face. “Yeah. I don’t think that'll help now.”
“Well, if you had given me admin privileges, I would have been able to contact you even while you were away—“
You walked away irritated, not bothering to hear his ‘Giving me admin privileges is the solution to all your problems’ speech.
While sprinting to your room, you almost crashed into someone, but you were able to steady yourself and not make his suit wet. Suit. Only one man would wear a suit well into the evening.
Darkiplier eyed your very much drenched form from head to toe. Before you could say anything, he spoke, no visible emotion on his face. “Your clothes are wet.” It sounded as if he was merely making an observation.
A scoff escaped your lips. “Haven’t noticed.”
“Did Google not tell you about the weather?”
He who stayed mostly cooped up in his office most of the time had the audacity to lecture you for going out when it was raining?!
“Well, obviously I didn’t have the time to get an umbrella!” You threw your hands around, irritated, and stormed off into your room.
—
You woke up still tired. Your throat felt dry. You swallowed. Sharp stabbing pain. You groaned and turned around to check the time. You slept for 10 hours?!
The sun was already high in the sky, an unusual sight for an early bird like you. Weird, but you supposed it was better to get started for the day, you said to yourself, trying to sit up. Emphasis on trying.
You clutched the side of your head to dull the throbbing pain that emerged from your movement and flopped back onto your pillow. Well, this was a problem. Everyone would start wondering where you were sooner or later since you routinely woke up first.
The pain was almost enough for you to consider just staying in bed. And yet you couldn’t do that.
You’ve never allowed yourself to rest even while tired or under the weather. The work helped you focus on other things. Without it, your mind started to wander into territories it shouldn’t. Like those recurring dreams of a strange mansion or a poker game with people you didn't recognize
 and it was doing it again. Which is exactly why you needed to get back to work.
You weren’t able to attempt to get out of bed again when your door handle swung open violently, almost slamming into the wall. There was almost no time to register the urgent steps stop as Wilford put his hands on your shoulders and began shaking you.
“Oh, my word, we thought you died!”
Wilford was a mess. Eyes shot wide, clothes untucked, hair unkempt, like he was running around and forgot to fix himself up.
“Wilford
” you said lethargically, Wilford’s shaking making your hoarse voice sound even quieter.
“Illinois said he hadn’t seen you at breakfast, so I thought you must have eaten already, but when I went to check, you weren't at your office and you’re always at your office, so we all thought you got kidnapped
” he continued ranting, almost like he was stuck in panic mode with no regards to the fact that you were actually safe and sound in your bed.
“Wilford, I’m fine!” you yelled as loudly as you could muster, which was not much but it seemed to break the loop he was in. He stopped shaking you. “I’m just not feeling well, that’s all
”
“Oh
” he said softly, slowly pulling his arms away.
His eyebrows scrunched up in almost a comical fashion. “You’re sick,” he stated, as if for some sort of confirmation.
“I’m not that sick—”
“But you never get sick.” He shook his head, looking positively baffled.
“Again, I’m not that sick. Just woke up a little later than usual, nothing to be worried about
”
“You are ill?” you heard his voice before you saw him appear. Darkiplier was standing in your doorway. Who knows for how long. His face looked neutral, except for the smallest furrow of his eyebrows.
You sighed, exasperated. This was too much to deal with in your current state. Which was not that bad, mind you. Besides, how and why was Darkiplier even in your room? Wilford, you could understand. You were acquaintances—friends even, but it was different with Darkiplier.
Sure, you had mutual respect, but your relationship had always been on the more formal side, seeing as you were one of the few people he could rely on to complete the tasks you agreed on. But he would have never struck you as a person to be worried about someone’s physical state.
“I am fine. It’s just a cold. Nothing I can’t handle—“
He interrupted you before you could finish your sentence.
“A cold? A cold that leaves you unable to get out of your room until noon? Is just a cold the reason you are left bedridden and shivering despite being underneath a duvet?” He walked until he was near your bed. There was a cold sort of fury hidden behind his eyes.
That irked you. Of course he never cared about your well-being. He only cared about how the search for Mark continued. And no matter who helped him along the way, as long as he got his revenge, nothing else mattered.
You weren’t able to yell, but your gruff voice was teeming with anger. “Well, I’m sorry I had the gall to fall ill. But not all of us have the ability to work for days on end. Some of us are human!”
You hadn’t meant to say that last sentence. Pain flashed in his eyes. You’ve always had a suspicion that he used to be human. At least at some point in time. You got your confirmation now. You would’ve regretted saying it any other time, but not now. Not now when you finally found out the thing he cared about most was your productivity.
“I think you should leave,” you said coldly.
You’ve honestly forgotten Wilford was also in the room as he hasn’t butted into your conversation like he usually did. Darkiplier’s face was stunned, maybe even regretful, but he did nothing, as Wilford took him by the shoulder and led him away from your room.
As they left, you turned to the wall and closed your eyes. Tired from the emotional exchange and your current sickness, slumber soon overtook you.
—
You woke up still tired, your mouth dry as if you hadn’t drank water in forever. Which, you hadn’t. Your stomach ached, but you highly doubted you could muster up enough strength to make yourself something. Another grumble of your stomach convinced you otherwise.
You looked around for a bathrobe to put on over your pajamas when your eyes got caught on your bedside table. There, lay a tray with a plate full of chicken noodle soup along with a spoon.
Did someone
. make you food? You have eaten along with some of them, such as breakfasts with Illinois or Yancy, and sometimes Wilford liked to join you for lunch. Then there were the late dinners in Darkiplier's office. But this? You weren't used to that. You leaned over and put the tray on your lap, careful not to spill anything.
You wondered who would do such a thoughtful thing for you. It looked homemade, so that ruled Yancy out. He approached you a few weeks ago if you could re-teach him some simple recipes since he's been in prison for so long that he's forgotten how to cook.
You were familiar with Illinois’ cooking skills, but you doubted he would find the time to make you soup. He’s always joked that he can’t give anyone special treatment or else they’d fall in love with him.
And Darkiplier
 you threw that thought away before you could even start thinking about it properly. As if he’d be all nice to you after treating you no less than an expendable employee.
Wilford, you couldn’t be sure about. You’ve seen him cook occasionally, not soup, but he seemed to have both skill and like you enough to be so considerate.
Satisfied with your thought process, you set to eating the surprisingly still warm soup that you deduced Wilford had made for you.
After about twenty minutes, you already having finished your soup and cuddled up facing the wall to sleep the cold off some more, a quiet click of the door handle filled the silence of your room. Soft tentative steps tapped on the floor, seemingly so as not to wake you up.
You turned around.
“Hey Wil, thanks for the soup
” You trailed off when you realized the one who entered your room was, in fact, not Wilford but a rather startled Darkiplier. You have never seen him with that much exposed emotion. He was frozen reaching for the empty plate, his eyes slightly wide, as if he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. It, however, didn’t last long. He promptly straightened his back, wiping imaginary dust from his jacket, his expression back to being deadpan as usual.
“Why are you taking that plate?” You eyed him warily. Was he here to chastise you for not working? Or perhaps—
“Because I made the soup. I figured you’d have finished it by now.” He moved to pick the tray up.
“You made the soup? You made me soup?” you blurted out before you could really think about what you were saying.
“You’ve seen me cook,” he said in the most matter-of-fact voice.
“Well, yes, but
” You sat up and tried to gather your thoughts. It all lead down to just one thing. “Why?”
“You are ill. You need rest and warm food. So I made you soup. Is that enough of a reason for you?” There was a hint of humor in his voice, his expression mostly unchanged, except for the faintest sparkle in his eyes.
You were absolutely baffled. He gets angry at you for getting sick and not working and then makes you soup?
He seemed to notice your irritation increasing and opened his mouth to speak. You crossed your arms and leaned on the pillow.
“Listen. I know a plate of soup isn’t enough to make up for what I had said. And I didn’t just make the soup to make amends. I want you to get better. I know what’s done is done but you need to know the truth.” He looked away momentarily as if he had to find strength to continue. “I wasn’t angry with you for not being able to work. I was angry
 with myself.”
“What?”
He sighed, looking away.
“What I had said and the way that I had said it was harsh. There is no excuse for it. I was just
” He took a deep breath and shook his head absentmindedly. “I was worried. When you didn't show up in the morning. I thought something had happened. That maybe you had left or perhaps needed some time off. You work too hard all the time. And I did not want to intrude even if I was worried. A part of me was glad you finally decided to take some time for yourself. But when I was passing by and heard Wil say you were ill
” He looked off to the side for a moment.
“I have never seen you ill. Ever. So I said things without thinking them over. And for what it's worth, I am sorry.”
Your eyebrows only scrunched up more. Many emotions of increasingly more confusing variations started bubbling up in your brain. You didn’t say a thing. Just kept looking at him as if that would help you comprehend what exactly he had just said.
He sighed.
“Do with that what you will. But believe me when I say, I am being completely sincere that I truly hope you do get better.” With that, he grabbed the tray with the plate and left your room.
A part of you wanted to say something. To tell him to come back. But you couldn’t will your tongue to move. And not because you were sick.
With a closing of the door, you were left alone once again. This time, with many more things to think about.
—
Evening rolled around faster than you expected it to. You spent most of the time sleeping. You even felt good enough to make some light dinner for yourself. It seemed none of the residents were up to their usual antics of annoying you today. Lovingly, of course, but you had thought when they came to know you weren’t dying, they’d come to visit you. But that didn’t seem to be the case as no-one has been in your room since your
 exchange with Darkiplier.
But as all sickness goes, it gets worse in the evening. And so you were lying in your bed, as lethargic as ever, unable to even sleep.
Your door creaked, the sound so quiet you wouldn’t have been able to hear it if you hadn’t been lying in dead silence.
Darkiplier opened the door and looked over into the room. Your eyes met. And even through your hazy state, it felt like you locked eyes just a second too long. Not like any other time.
“I... came to check up on you.” He looked away, cutting the silence.
“That's awfully nice of you.” You weren’t really thinking about what you were saying. It seemed to a side effect of your illness. Or maybe you weren’t so guarded with him anymore.
His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. It looked oddly adorable.
“Are you feeling alright?”
You didn't know if he meant healthwise or your current state of mind, and you didn’t care.
“Absolutely.”
He walked over closer, right up to your bed. You watched him curiously, a bit more attentive even despite your heavy mood.
“No fever or anything of the sorts?”
You scoffed lightly. “No, nothing of the sort. Really, I’m fine. Never been better. See?”
You moved to sit up when he gently grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back onto the pillow.
Breathing became a foreign concept. Even your sickness existed only in the back of your mind. Your body was faintly pressed against the plush of your pillow, yet everything paled in comparison to all but one sensation.
Him.
So close.
And yet not close enough.
His hands on your shoulders were secure and just a bit insistent. But not necessarily painful.
“Don’t get up, you need to rest,” he said firmly but softly just the same.
Your eyebrows raised. He leaned closer. And closer. You closed your eyes.
The touch of his lips on your forehead was feather light.
After seconds which seemed like hours, he pulled away just a little, deep in thought. “Your forehead isn’t warm so it seems like you really don't have a fever
”
It sounded like an inner monologue or a passing thought, but your brain froze from the moment he kissed your forehead. It was so soft you weren’t sure you weren’t actually having a fever dream. Your eyes moved on their own accord, studying his face. His eyes caught yours. You have never seen him from this close. Your mouth was slightly open as a shallow shaky breath escaped it. It was as if the Earth itself stopped spinning and all you could feel were his eyes. Staring. Pensive. As if he himself was also frozen.
“You
 you shouldn’t be so close to me,” you said quietly, almost indiscernibly. Your mouth was dry. A few seconds passed. Silence. Just him and you. And his eyes. Oh, those dark eyes. They went deeper than you thought. Like they were their own little galaxies. Did he even hear what you said? Did he—.
“Why?” His voice was quiet, similarly to yours, with a slight purr that you’d never heard from him. You could feel his chest rise and fall, dangerously close to your own. Your heart was beating so quickly that you wondered if he could feel it. A shiver ran up your spine. Your brain desperately searched for an excuse. But did you really want him to stop?
“I’ll get you sick,” you tried. Oddly enough, you weren’t feeling all that unwell at the moment. You were, however, feeling something else you couldn’t describe. And his closeness only heightened the tingling in your stomach.
“I’m not human. I can’t get sick,” he said without missing a beat, almost matter-of-factly.
Curses, he’s always been good at quick responses. But— Hang on. How would you know such a thing about him? You’ve spent some time together, yes but
 Not enough to know an obscure detail like that.
“But you were.” The words left your lips almost by themselves. And yet, something in you knows that it’s the truth. Somehow, someway you feel he used to be something else before this.
His face darkened, his expression shifting to the all too familiar one you knew from working together late into the night.
“I
 used to,” he admitted. You had to keep your mouth from falling open. This was the clearest confirmation of their past you’ve gotten out of any of the residents of this mansion. And to get it from Darkiplier first
 If anybody told you a few days ago that such a thing would happen, you would’ve laughed straight into their face. But now
 Him sharing something vulnerable with you felt strangely familiar. Like it happened before.
“I can see that brilliant mind of yours working. But whatever questions you want to ask, save them. There is time and place for such conversation and this is not it.” This was his way of saying no to talking about this topic. Rather tactfully from how you’ve seen him snap at Google when he is genuinely angry for a sensible reason. There was, however, something in the sentence that you could use to gauge him. You could consider yourself fairly well-versed in a few things in life but for Darkiplier to call you brilliant? And with such casualty. Like he has already said it before. But he hasn’t. There had to be something more behind it.
“’Brilliant mind’?” you repeated his words inquisitively.
His eyebrows furrowed apprehensively and you knew then you struck gold. He pulled back from leaning over you but you followed suit, sitting up on your bed.
“Forget it,” he said, his voice clipped.
“No.” You surprised yourself by how fast you replied. And it seemed to have the same effect on Darkiplier since he didn’t move from the spot. Encouraged by this, you continued: “
 No. Why did you say that?”
“I
” There it was—he hesitated. You waited with bated breath for him to reveal whatever it was he kept trying to hide. You knew it was something that weighed heavy on his soul.
“It is none of your concern,” he said after a few tense seconds of your waiting. Ever the diplomat. Was he a politician in his past life or what?
“Considering the fact that you said something about me, I think it very much concerns me.”
“Look, you are ill and there are things that are beyond your understanding—”
“Then tell me something I can know.” That was it. Your last ditch effort to get to know something more. More about this man who went from only a colleague to someone who has actually, and much to your surprise, proved to care for you. As much as a man with seemingly so little external emotion such as Darkiplier was. But only seemingly. You have seen him smile before this even if it was scarce. But now you could finally admit — it did suit him.
Darkiplier looked at you, brows furrowed, seeming almost perplexed. “You truly wish to know more about me?” he asked, to which you nodded quickly before he could change his mind and decide to leave right then and there.
He sighed.
Then begrudgingly sat back down on your bed.
Bingo.
You made yourself more comfortable, propping your back on the wall behind you. It felt like a child getting ready to hear a bedtime story. Darkiplier raised an eyebrow and let out a soft breath through his nose, the corner of his mouth raising almost imperceptibly.
He looked to the side thoughtfully for a few moments before turning back to you.
“I don’t have to breathe.”
Well, that was unexpected. You thought he would talk about his life experiences or the people that he met. Then again, you should have known better than to think he would actually tell you anything about his past or elaborate on the whole “brilliant mind” comment. Nonetheless, this new information was quite intriguing.
“What do you mean you don't have to breathe?”
”It’s
 more of a habit than anything physiologically needed.”
“But— your chest raises and falls so regularly...” you said, more musing out loud than actually meaning to share any information.
“Do you watch me?” he asked. If you didn’t know him well, you’d think he’s irritated, his tone slightly accusatory. But when you looked at him, there was that familiar tug of the corner of his lips. He was playing. He didn’t sport that look often but he pulled it off quite well.
Apparently, you had drifted off again because his lopsided smirk had only gotten wider and he was closer than before.
“Do I have the privilege of your presence now?”
He was close. Really close. Like when he kissed your forehead to check for a fever kind of close. Your heartbeat picked up, and you could only hope he couldn't hear it. Heartbeat... does he have one? You must have spoken out loud because a thoughtful look spread across his features.
“I’m not too sure myself. Want to check?”
Did he really mean to say that? You blinked. His expression hasn’t changed. So he did.
You placed your hand on his chest matter-of-factly. That’s all it was. A checkup. You weren’t doing anything weird. It’s not like you felt his dichromatic aura bristle slightly at your touch before returning to a faint buzz, albeit a bit louder than a few moments ago. With him wearing only a dress shirt, you could feel his skin and the lack of a heartbeat.
“You know I’m only letting you feel me up like this because you’re ill.”
“Stop being cheeky.” You clicked your tongue in irritation when he disrupted your concentration. There was a faint huff of laughter before you refocused on what lay beneath your palm.
“There’s nothing,” you said quietly.
“You won’t be able to feel it like this.” And with that, you found your hand pressed even closer to his ribcage, covered by his. You felt his chest rise and fall more deeply, almost like you’d feel a regular person breathe. That’s when you felt it. A faint heartbeat right under your fingertips.
Badump badump
Even with his palm on top of yours being extremely distracting, it was clearly discernible. Orderly. A sign of life where there really wasn’t one.
His hand lifted from yours but you kept it there, utterly entranced by aseathe sensation of his heartbeat. He didn’t comment on it and spoke up, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard him be.
“There has to be oxygen for it to beat strongly. And that happens when I breathe more. Not that I need to per se, it’s more of a habit.”
“How is that even possible? How can you function without air?”
“There are no... rules for the amalgamation that I have become.”
That was one genuine bit of emotion you’ve seen him express. Frustration maybe? You’d have thought Darkiplier had come to terms with what he had turned into but it seems time can’t heal all wounds.
“I have been... this way for a very very long time. And yet I don’t know the constraints of myself.”
You hummed in understanding, mind racing with thoughts of what exactly he can and can’t do, absent-mindedly tracing the buttons of his shirt.
You felt his heart speed up, his chest jerking in as air hit your fingers. Your eyes flicked back up to his face.
Burning heat. Molten lava and blistering cold of his aura. His eyes searched yours for something. You weren’t sure what. Maybe he—The cracking of a mirror...
The intensity of his gaze made your hand twitch back, your whole body freezing up.
After a few seconds, he exhaled and smiled softly, bittersweet yet understanding, tender even — have you ever seen him smiling like that? — and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“Rest. You need it.” He stood up and headed towards the door. Just when he was about to reach the door handle, you called out:
“Dark?”
He turned around, a look akin to hope in his eyes.
“Yes?”
“Will you
 make me soup again?”
The tender smile was there again, devoid of all previous bittersweetness.
“Of course. Anytime, darling.”
It was only when he left that you realized, you called him ‘Dark’ instead of Darkiplier. And that Dark apparently resorts to pet names.
——
Fun fact I wanted to write it but could not manage to insert anywhere: Dark was the one who told the others not to disturb the reader :)) Oh and either Wilford or Yancy is stealing your snacks. Which one do you think it is?
Also, if anyone wants to be part of a taglist for future fics, let me know :)
53 notes · View notes
theknightmarket · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
"Who wouldn't be angry?"
In which Wilford's return has less fanfare than what he hoped for. TW: cursing, slight sexual references Pages: 13 - Words: 5,000
[Requests: OPEN]
Tumblr media
Closing up the bar was the best part of the night. After everyone had gone home, either willingly or under attack from your broom, and the only sound left was the quiet tap, tap, tap of a faucet someone forgot to turn off – that was when you felt perfectly at peace. The adrenaline of work was fun, of course, but reaping the rewards of a 20-dollar tip and pair of earphones made the 2 o’clock chime all the more satisfying. 
You unwrapped the apron from your waist and tossed it over your bag. A wayward sex on the beach meant it would need washing before you could wear it again, not that you minded it too much. It was, after all, where that tip came from, and the man who spilt it was almost too apologetic. You’d had worse. 
Dimly, as you wiped down the tables for the last time, you lamented the loss of your winter-holiday themed apron. 
You preferred the Halloween one anyway, so it wasn’t a weight on your conscience that drew you to breaking into your bar late at night. The work kept you busy enough that you didn’t, and couldn’t, despair over small things. The taxes, the patrons, the staff – they were all great, but sometimes you did wish you had time for yourself. A Sunday off, once a month, that would be enough. But, as you said, no time to despair. There was still work to do. 
That night, the work entailed taking the cash out of the register and tip jar, counting it, and stuffing it into the safe, locking all the interior doors and windows, and, finally, flicking the light switch. The neon pink sign blinked once, twice, and died out at its third breath, while you brought out your keys to officially lock the front door. The little hole-in-the-wall that the bar was, it didn’t run the risk of getting broken into too strongly, but there was no reason not to take precautions. You’d heard your neighbors tell you that it was so much a safe town that you needn’t bother locking everything. You told them that you quite liked having money, thank you very much, and there was no way in hell that you were going to pay any more for insurance. 
The night’s air nipped at your face, reminding you that you were still standing outside. Your brain, meanwhile, reminded you that you weren’t on your couch, wrapped in a blanket, and watching random nature documentaries. It might have also said something about paying your rent, but you decided to ignore that part. 
So, your frigid breath fading away in front of you, you waltzed down the four blocks between you and your apartment, watching the few other folk out and about make their own ways home. A group of teens scuttled across the road, technically jay walking but you weren’t going to say anything, while a ruffled office worker took off in a hurry in the other direction. Probably wanting to get into a safe place with the baggy of drugs stuffed into his suit pocket. 
The town you lived in wasn’t a well-off one. It was two steps up from rock bottom, and only because the local deli hadn’t been closed down due to health hazards yet. You liked to think your bar made it better, but there were going to be people who didn’t agree. Those teens, for instance, who always threw crude remarks when you denied them a beer. You didn’t hold it against them. How could you, when you had done the same thing once or twice when you were a kid. It didn’t bother you anymore, so why not wait until they reached 21, or found good enough fake IDs.
You fished your keys out of your bag when you were at the stairs inside your apartment building. The little, pink bear was the only thing that distinguished it from any others, and you ran your fingers over the dimples and nicks as your legs moved for you. Fourth floor, second door on the left. Whistling the few beats of a song you could still remember from the radio, you spun the plastic toy around in the air, caught it with your other hand, and pushed it into your door.
The entry was cold. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but you were always reminded of the difference between the welcoming warmth of your bar and your home’s casual wave of air. Bringing a jacket with you was a moot point since you only needed it when you were actually inside. No, you just had to put up with it until you could get out of your work clothes and surround yourself with the fluffiest blankets you could find. You had this down to a fine art at that point, there was no reason why you couldn’t do it from muscle memory alone. 
Your keys clattered to the wooden floorboards.
No anticipated reason. None at all. You should have been moving into your bedroom by now. You should have been leaving the line of sight of your kitchen and heading to your dresser. You should have been doing anything except staring right at the man who had settled himself against your countertop with a bowl and spoon in his hands. 
You weren’t certain if you’d have preferred a complete stranger, maybe someone with a mallet ready to bash in your head. Something told you it would have been better that the mallet he had poised to bash in your heart with. 
Your mouth dropped open and you forgot about the keys on the ground. Eyes scanning his figure, you begged to find any reason that this wasn’t him, but, if there was, you were too shocked to see it. First, came the slow, creeping sensation of confusion, then a dismal sadness washed through your veins, followed within the second by a tidal wave of anger. 
In a single movement, you’d scooped up your keys, singled the sharpest one out, and lunged for Wilford. 
The fucker was lucky he had those teleporting, magic, screw-the-laws-of-physics powers that let him appear behind you before you cut through his arm. That didn’t stop you from whirling around and trying to get at his shoulder, though, but you missed again. And again. And again. 
“Stop moving!” you yelled, skidding into the fridge. It was a poorly choreographed dance that involved the two of you going around in circles, neither graceful nor calculated. The most math Wilford was doing was making sure he didn’t end up on your stove-top, and you were barely thinking, regardless of how many times the counter drove itself into your stomach. 
His response of a stern, “No!” went ignored while you flung yourself towards him for a sixth time. You were considering just chucking the keychain at him and hoping you struck gold, but luck always seemed to be on his side – if not for his evading of your attacks, then for the fact that his bowl hadn’t spiled whatever was inside it. Although, just as you cursed him for it and a bunch of other irrelevant things, he placed it near the sink and watched you fumble with the keys. Your hands were sweaty against the frigidness of the apartment, the exercise was wearing you out quickly, but you didn’t let up. He’d always liked that about you, but he was getting tired, more of the repetitiveness of the situation than the exertion.
So, what else could he do but twist your arm behind your back, hold your other hand down onto the countertop, and ignore the suggestive position it put you both in to disarm you? You didn’t stop struggling, to which he tutted and wrenched your shoulder back further. Nothing to hurt you, too much, he just needed you to calm down. If there was one thing he’d learned in your past encounters, it was that you didn’t react well to simply being verbally ordered around. 
“Now, why are you so angry?” Wilford asked. 
For a second, you stilled. He couldn’t be serious, but, then again, when was he ever? This was the norm for him. Both the prudent ignorance and the method of disarmament. After jostling for moment more, you let out a breath that gave you more wiggle room against the countertop. 
“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years.” 
Wilford apparently deemed you pacified enough to let you go, and you fell forward slightly. God, your arms hurt. You turned to face him as you rolled the shoulder that he had pulled behind you. Military man. You hated when he actually used what he was taught.
“I didn’t fake my death,” he scoffed. 
“Oh, I’m sorry, you ate all my cereal and abandoned me for three years. That better?”
“I didn’t abandon you.”
You finally met his eyes. Six feet between you, far out of arm’s reach, you hated that they didn’t betray any lies. More often than not, his emotions were masked by a haze of insanity, but the genuineness was crystal clear, like the spark of lighting across a night sky. It was the kind of purity that meant he fully believed he hadn’t abandoned you, but that just made it worse. 
You forced yourself to look away.  
“You still ate all my cereal.”
“For that, I am sorry.”
You believed him there, and you hated that you did. But that was the same Wilford who left all those nights ago, wasn’t it? No reason to anything, not leaving, not coming back, not a single thing.
Huffing, you gave up. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and you now had one more chore to do before you could settle down for the night. “What do you want?” you asked as you dumped the remainder of the cereal from Wil’s bowl.
“Can’t a man check in on an old friend out of the kindness of his heart?”
You levelled him with a blank stare. His grin cracked for just a second, but it was enough for you to spot, not that you changed your expression any.
“I- well, I thought we could catch up. What have you been up to for the last
 what did you say, three years?”
You took a moment to try and figure him out again. Even if it would get you nowhere in the long run, you weren’t going to entertain him if he was there out of boredom. The little voice in the back of your mind reminded you that you didn’t have to play along with him, it reminded you that you had a job and a home and a life outside of whatever Wilford was swept up in. You didn’t have to jingle around the room like a court jester playing it up for laughs.
But you still sighed, ran a hand down your face, and vaguely gestured to the kitchen counter. “Go on, then.”
Wilford waltzed over to one of the stools as though that was just what he expected you to say, and, ashamed as you were, it likely was; it was some kind of routine you used to have, albeit without the giant gap in between. When you got home from working the bar, he would be there at the stove, cooking whatever it was caught his fancy in the books lately. You’d talk about your day and ask him about his, pouring both of you a drink. You couldn’t drink on the job, but your shift ended the minute you stepped through the apartment door.
Then, of course, after solid months of strange domesticity, Wilford up and vanished in the blink of an eye. Magic.
And, what, he appeared in just the same manner, and you fell into the habit, just like that? God, you really were weak.
“So, how’s the family?” was Wilford’s first question. You didn’t answer until you got the bottles out of the fridge and laid them on the countertop in front of him.
“Fine. Youngest brother graduated; parents adopted another dog.”
You turned away from grabbing the glasses only to see your guest wedging the top off the bottle of gin with his teeth. The cork pressed to the side of his mouth a clear danger, you swiped it from him, tossed it to your other hand and grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer in one swift motion.
“You’ll crack a tooth,” you muttered, knowing damn-well he wouldn’t heed your warning as you watched him shrug and remove the cap of the vermouth as well.
You didn’t bother to be surprised when the martini glass you’d seen on a shelf disappeared and reappeared in Wilford’s hand. That little voice, whispering again, reminded you that the magic trick was old hat to you now. You didn’t have to be shocked at the casual manipulation of time and space.
“I didn’t think Danny-boy was still in schooling. What’s he going to be, eh?”
Ignoring the sudden pressure in your chest, you replied, “A pilot.”
“Oh, a ladies’ man, then!” His laugh was more suited to a world war general than the pink-moustached maniac sipping straight from the vermouth in front of you. “I wish him the best of luck.” To which he raised the bottle, and, with a final wink, chugged the thing until half of it remained.
You almost didn’t want to risk finishing the martini you were making for him. You were well aware of how high Wilford’s alcohol tolerance was, but that didn’t make it any healthier. Still, when you had taken back the vermouth and poured it into the glass, you slid it over to him, warily eyeing the rest of the bottles to see if they’d been opened in the meantime. The sight of them all the same as before didn’t bring you much comfort regardless.
“And how’s the bar doing?”
You nodded slightly, your brow still furrowed and avoiding looking directly at him. “It’s doing well. We got a new bartender, she’s
 she’s good.”
“Maybe you’ll finally take some time off, then,” he thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers, “there’s a new roller rink opening up on Alto Street. We could go there on your next day off!”
That pressure tightened into a vice grip. “We?”
“Yes, we. I wouldn’t recommend it if I didn’t think it’s good.”
“But you want to go together.”
“Is that a problem?”
Avoiding looking at him didn’t help, but making eye contact wasn’t any good, either. You only got an expression of confusion. Nothing betrayed an ulterior motive. You squinted but found only that. Surprise, maybe. You tilted your head one way and then the other, as though an angle would let you see something you couldn’t before. It was all the same.
“What are you doing, Wilford?”
Only more surprise. He laid down the martini glass, a mere sliver of alcohol left in the bottom, before placing his head in his hand. “What do you mean?”
“What is this? What- what do you want?”
A tut broke the tension for a second until it rose again tenfold.
“You’ve already asked that one.” 
“Yeah, and we’ve caught up. You can leave now.”
“Well, you haven’t asked me what I’ve been up to.”
“Oh, yeah? What have you been up to, then?”
Wilford opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again with a hum. Go figure, he couldn’t tell you. Whether it was because he was bound by some contract, or couldn’t remember, or just plain hadn’t done a thing, you didn’t know, and you never had.
“Look, it was nice catching up with you, but I have to work in the morning—”
“Hold on, hold on!” Your moving away from the counter was blocked by Wilford rushing to stand and securing his hands on your shoulders. He held you in place, a new emotion appearing on his face. Desperation. The smallest amount, but it was there, and it had you changing your mind about shoving him away.
“How do I make it up to you?”
“I don’t think you can.”
You weren’t about to beat around the bush with this, even if it made you the bad guy – the kicked puppy look certainly made you think you were, but you stayed your course; you couldn’t give in so easily.
“I just
 how do I know you aren’t going to disappear again?” 
“I won’t!”
“How do I know, though? You don’t have the best track record.”
When he moved his hands from your shoulders, you thought he was going to leave, walk straight out the door into the night. It took only a second longer for you to realise he was grabbing your own hands. “This time I promise I’m telling the truth.”
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn him and damn yourself and damn it all. You were weak, of course, but you were weak for the man in front of you with the stars in his eyes and sugar on his lips. And if that man was asking for a second chance – for a third time – who were you to deny him?
“Fine. Okay. Sure,” you spoke slowly, coming to grips with everything that had happened in the last half an hour.
You felt Wilford’s grip tighten at your hands and then release, and that was all that you expected, but you were talking about the time-travelling maniac in front of you. His arms were wrapped around you before you knew it, warmth and his moustache tapping at your skin. You supposed this was some kind of thanks, which you still appreciated. Gently, you lifted your hands to pat his back, causing him to squeeze slightly more, until he pulled away a few seconds later. 
“Alright,” you mumbled, barely getting the word out in time for a yawn to overtake you, “I’m heading to bed.”
“Goodnight! Sleep well.”
You returned the pleasantry with obvious tiredness in both your tone and your body. Dragging your feet, you made your way to your room while Wilford cleared up, the clinking of glasses and bottles only making you slightly worried about how much you’d have left come morning. It wasn’t enough to stop you from conking out the very instance that you touched your comforter, ready and poised to forget the last half hour’s shenanigans.
You woke up in the morning. Not surprising. It happened a lot. What didn’t happen a lot, though, was the smell of pancakes stirring you from your sleep instead of the blinding sun through your windows. You cracked your eyes open, only to see complete darkness. Immediately, you jumped from your bed and scrambled to stand up straight. Nothing. You couldn’t see anything. A creeping sense of dread curled in your stomach, wrapped around you heart, and pulled. Where was Wilford? Did he do something, was he okay, why did it still smell like pancakes—
You hand made contact with something covering your eyes. Oh. Pulling it off, you were slowly greeted with the light of the day, as you expected, and an unfamiliar piece of fabric in your palm. It was silky when you ran your thumb over it, something you didn’t think you’d ever touched, let alone owned.
You left the sleeping mask on your chaotic mess of sheets. Overwhelmed by the haze of adrenaline and sleep, you stumbled to get ready – which, given that you still had to figure out that smell, consisted of swapping out the uniform that you’d passed out in for a tank top and shorts. You weren’t fully awake when you got to the door, but you had nothing else to do but get to the kitchen and hope it was nothing you’d have to call emergency services about.
All three of your panic-questions were answered when you stopped at the archway between the mini hallway and the kitchen. The scene of Wilford at the stove, his back to you but clearly flipping something in a pan, quickly greeted you. Sizzling filled the air and disguised your footfalls on the wooden floorboards. They were nearly silent anyway, and yet you were caught as you got close to the countertop’s stools.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” Wilford sang, turning to wink at you so that you could see the ‘kiss-the-cook’ apron he now sported. Something panged in your chest, like a string cut loose; you’d bought that for him years ago, back when he was cooking dinner for the two of you. The face of the cashier stuck in your mind, somewhere between amused and sickened, but you didn’t care. The only time he hadn’t worn it when cooking was after you’d wrestled it away from him to wash. And then, obviously, after he disappeared, it was stashed in the back of the drawer, piled onto by old cloths and semi-broken utensils. You wondered how he found it again.
“Did you put a sleeping mask on me?” You collapsed onto a seat and rested your arms on the laminate surface. 
“I did, yes.” He went back to peeling the sides of a pancake off the edge and said nothing else on the matter.
“
why?”
Wilford flipped the pancake once, twice, a third time, then pressed it down in a ritual you had seen many times before. The crack of batter shocked the air around it. “Given how tired you were last night – too tired to change out of your clothes, at least – I didn’t want the sun to wake you up too early.” 
“And the curtains weren’t enough?”
“Oh, no, of course not,” he tutted, “I’ve seen how much gets through those flimsy things. It’s a wonder how the stars themselves don’t keep you awake.”
He wasn’t wrong. It happened often that you would wake up in the middle of the night, drowsy and blinking, only to realise that it was ten hours earlier than when you needed to be out of bed by. It happened now, and it happened three years ago. You just never put in the effort to fix it.
So, you just sighed, giving up the debate as fast as you’d started it, and dragged your hands down your face. According to the clock on the wall opposite you, there was still six more hours until the bar opened – you didn’t like encouraging day-drinking and four o’clock was the lowest you would go – and, frankly, you didn’t know how to spend them. A routine of stupid conspiracy theories and paperwork was offset with Wilford’s presence, leaving you with the shambles of a normal morning.
You blinked back to life when he set out two plates of pancakes on the countertop, one of them in front of you and the other just to your right at the next stool over. As he rounded the jutted-out edge, he brushed the small of your back with his hand, still warm from being near the stove. You couldn’t help but tense up, entirely focused on that point of contact like you’d been called to attention by a drill sergeant. 
Wilford dropped into the seat and handed you a pair of cutlery. You didn’t notice the toppings spread along the edge until you blinked some more times to rid the blur of your vision. Half of them had been pushed to the very back of the cupboard while the other half you weren’t certain you had ever bought in the first place.
Something stopped you from reaching for any of them. Something stopped you from doing anything. 
It was a shared feeling between the pit of your stomach and your throat. Like you wanted to scream and cry and laugh at the same time. Manic, you guessed was the best word for it, but even that felt wrong. Your heart thundered in your chest and raged against your ribcage, as though it were the only thing stopping it from telling you just what was wrong with you. Maybe this was just what happened what Wilford was around you, or maybe this was just what happened when he left. You didn’t think you were sure of anything anymore. 
“Is this it?”
“What do you mean?”
The words struggled against the rush of blood in your veins. You weren’t angry. You understood that you should have been, but you weren’t, and you weren’t bitter, and you weren’t resentful. It was another feeling on the tip of your tongue. But you held onto that feeling because it was undeniably there. You would have bashed your head against the counter if you weren’t paralyzed with

You were scared. That was it. You were downright terrified.
“Are you,” you swallowed thickly, “are you here now?”
“Honey, whatever are you talking about?” Wilford asked, facing you with that sugar-coated grin you’d always gotten so hung up over. “I’ve been here since last night.” 
Just those words made you break into an internal panic. The only way that it shone through was in the frantic movements of your pupils, darting back and forth, searching desperately for the truth in his own. Meeker than he had ever heard you before, you asked, “Are you staying?”
And, just like that, he realized what you were asking, what you were going through. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all, and, as he secured his hands on your shoulders, he saw your soul shattered into pieces. He had left, and the memory of stepping out of that front door was seared into his mind. He couldn’t forget, not even under the cover of discos and murder-mysteries, the way that the click of the lock echoed down the hallway and the stairwell, chasing after him when he was out of the building and seeping into the cracks of the pavement. It was karmic justice that the thought of you prevented him from entering any bar from that day onward. He didn’t want to risk it, and, well, he’d already forgotten so much. The few sane memories that remained were ones he didn’t want to taint with similar experiences and get them muddled up in his mind. 
Now that he was back, Wilford couldn’t imagine leaving again, not when you were staring at him, panicked and desperate for a response.
Slowly, gently, he brought you closer until your chest was pressed against his. The embrace was tight but comfortable. Supportive. A promise he couldn’t yet put into words. He shushed you as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, your own arms tugging him even closer than that, as if you expected him to disappear at any moment – not that it was unjustified. His grip on your shoulder blades tensed alongside yours.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. On your part, you were too preoccupied with holding back the floods of tears that threatened to spill over at any second. A few had already escaped and dampened his dress shirt. On Wilford’s, he understood already.
The pair of you sat there for five minutes more. It felt like longer, but the clock was barely passing half ten. The most concrete thought that dragged through your head was that the hug was nice. You hadn’t been held like that since the last time Wilford was there. Sure, you’d been close to other people, but the complete relaxation of your body was a sensation you could see yourself chasing like an addict’s high.
It was practically painful to pull away, though you kept your hands secured around his waist.
“Shit,” you laughed quietly, voice clogged with tears, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”
“Pish posh! I think we both needed that, and I’m more than welcome for another in the future. For now,” he rose from his seat and gathered your plates, “I’m going to make some more pancakes.”
As Wilford passed behind you, he leaned around and pecked your cheek with his lips. It must have been an unconscious decision because his eyebrows raised, and he sounded apologetic as he spoke.
“Was that too much?”
Truth be told, you weren’t expecting it, but that didn’t make it any less appreciated. You had gone from trying to stab his with your keys to crying in his embrace in less than a day, you imagined you could handle a little kiss. And, as it happened, a larger one, too.
Wilford watched as you got up from your own stool and took a step closer to him. He was almost worried you would shove him out of the door, but you did something different. Very different.
In one swift motion, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward. For a second, he was focused on keeping the plates steady in his hands, before he felt the oh-so-familiar warmth of your lips on his, and, had he forgotten, this was a pleasant reminder. He sighed into your mouth as his shoulders fell from their tensed position and he tilted his head for a better angle. A lopsided grin spread over his lips, only somewhat messing up the kiss, but you continued. 
You lifted a hand up to cup his jawline, smoothing a thumb over the texture of his skin; the other you used to card through his tousled hair. Your reward? A light groan so quiet that you nearly missed it. Luckily, you didn’t, even as he tried to twist it into a hum. He’d missed this, and so had you. And besides, who were you to ignore the order on his apron?
Eventually, you had to separate. Time-travelers and bartenders both had to breath, after all.
“Oh, honey,” Wilford muttered, slowly but not subtly moving closer again.
You accepted another kiss, and then another when you parted, and then another after that. Each of them was slow and sweet, only half like him in that regard. 
“Still making those pancakes, are you?” you managed to get out in the interim.
His chuckle was just as carefree as his other sounds, but he did step back to put the plates by the sink. You moved to start cleaning them as he prepared the next pancakes. The splash of water against the sizzle of batter warmed your chest, and the glimpse of Wilford standing next to you had you grinning ear to ear.
This was good. Making breakfast in a tiny apartment, not yet dressed for the day but content to stay like this for the rest of it – you were happy with this life.
You were certain of it.
Tumblr media
[It's weird that this blog has been open for over a year and yet this is the first Wilford one-shot I've done. Side note: this was inspired by @valentivy-makes so you should go and check out their amazing art of Wilford, because, um, you should. Thanks for reading <3]
39 notes · View notes
mothgodofchaos · 1 year ago
Text
Frame
I was inspired to write a good ending version to my fic Burn, and I think I've done it.
Actor x GN!Reader, ft. Dark & Wilford, TW: none Words: 730
A century of loneliness can stir something inside your gut when left alone for long enough. Loneliness, regret, rage, a burning desire to change your situation. But you can’t change the past. The deals have been made and the stage was set, starring in the directorial debut of the devil. It wasn’t fair. It still isn’t. 
Mark paces on the floor of the manor, trapped inside with the only breath of fresh air being the puppeteering of the entity within the walls. It speaks into his ears, feeding him lies, mourning, rage, trying to refuel that fire that was burning when he fell into their lap, a perfect puppet for it to enact its misery. But now he’s just a lump of coal, a shell of what he once was, the walls that he now wanders aimlessly a painful reminder of.
He perks up at a knock at the door, waiting to hear the voice of a solicitor, girl scout, or census taker. Waiting for the voice, so he can justify staying hidden in the dark like the monster he’s become should. 
“Mark–?”
Tears came to his eyes as he heard your voice, nearly sprinting to the door to open it, praying that it wasn’t another trick. He tears the door open, looking at you in disbelief. He studies your face, the cracks running deep. A hesitant hand is extended to hold your cheek, but pulls back right before his hand crosses the threshold of the doorway. “Darling
”
You smile up at him, tears in your own eyes as you let out a breath of a laugh. “You’re alive
”
“Yes, I am. I’m here. Come out, Mark. Please. For me.”
“Darling- I– I can’t.”
The fear returns to his eyes as he goes to close the door. But he meets yours again, and keeps his hand on the edge of the door, just looking at you with all of the emotions that have festered over all these years. You know he wants to.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. For everything. I’m doing what I should’ve done that night, staying alone in these walls where I can’t hurt anyone. What I’ve done, it’s unforgivable. I don’t deserve to come out–”
You cut him off, which surprises him.
“Did you think I came alone? How do you think I got out, Mark?” Wilford and Dark step around the corner, standing on either side of you, a hand on each of your shoulders. “We know, Mark. We know it wasn’t your fault.” “Damien-” Mark’s hand almost reaches the doorway again, before retreating back. He’s nearly cowering behind the door at this point. You know his acting skills, but this is far from acting.
“I killed you all that night, you deserve to be angry! To want revenge! I’m a horrible monster who hurt his only friends and love of his life!”
“Oh nonsense, we had- oh dear how long has it been-”
“-a hundred years, Wil-” “-a hundred years to deal with all of those, old sport! We’re here to help you.” The whispers start again, but you can hear them too. The heart of the house nearly beats with the waves of darkness that disappear onto the stoop. Dark makes a face, dismissing the dark smoke that tries to latch onto his foot with a wave of his hand. You all look back up and see Mark surrounded in the smoke, silently afraid. “Mark, beloved, take my hand. We will get you out.” You reach out your hand to him, hanging just within reach.
“No- I can’t- it won’t work-”
“Listen to me, not the house. Take my hand, Mark.”
He hesitates once more before latching onto your hand, and you tug him through the threshold, a film of smoke shattering like glass as he breaks through it. He looks around for a moment, then back at the house. He laughs, almost hysterically, before scooping you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.
“You came back for me. I’m so sorry, I love you
”
Dark and Wilford surround the two of you, happy to have their friend back. They guide you back to Dark’s car, leaving the dreadful house behind as Mark speaks with an energy he hasn’t known for a century. The backseat as he holds you close is filled with a love he thought he’d never know again.
21 notes · View notes
okiefuckindokie · 1 year ago
Text
Now and Then Ch.2
Here is the long awaited chapter to my take on WKM đŸ€— It’s been too long and I do plan on still writing for this series (and others that came after WKM like Heist and Space)
I will have my requests closed atm as I still have things to work out but you will see me here and there.
I hope you all enjoy🧡
——————————————————————
Read Chapter 1 here
TRIGGER WARNING: I do have a part in here that involves a p***ck at***k. You can always scroll pass where it says “the fear” and start again the paragraph after the one that follows. 
——————————————————————
You needed to get home. You need to get home as fast as you can. This is getting too extreme. What the actual HELL was that?! And how did they know your name? Well, you were just dreaming; of course people in your dreams can know your name. The library is dead quiet. The lights seem slightly dimmer. Is everyone gone? You quickly looked around the library to see if anyone noticed what had just happened. Thankfully no one did. You gather your things and nearly sprint towards the exit. As you head outside, the storm seems to have subsided for now and you make your way to the bus stop. The entire way there you think about anything and everything different to get your mind off your “almost living nightmare”. The bitter breeze nips at your face, making you scrunch it tight. The flickering light poles are the only thing guiding you to your bus stop. You were about to turn the corner to take a seat but you slam into something pretty hard. Losing your balance, you start to tip over but you feel a strong hand grab at your forearm.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”, the male exclaimed. It took you a moment to gather yourself before properly looking at him. The second you do, it took you by surprise by how attractive he actually is. He has a pretty tall and toned physique from what you can see. Nothing dramatic but you can tell he’s an athlete. He wears a black and white jacket with a matching black beanie and blue jeans. His chestnut colored curly locks peek out of the beanie in front of his fair skinned face. His eyes focused on you are soft despite his worried expression. They’re a warm hazel color that fit his features quite well.
You respond with a sigh, “No, no, that was my fault. I should have been more careful.” He looked at your face for a good few seconds. Does he sense something wrong?
He asks, “Are you sure? Because you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.” Oh, if he only knew.. The inner torment you’ve been going through for months now. Countless sleepless nights on top of work and school. It doesn’t even scratch the surface
. He takes your silence as a sign to not go further on the subject. The man sighs as he takes a seat, “Well, the next bus won’t be here for a while.” You hesitantly take yours next to him. “Name’s Benjamin. What’s yours?”.
“Y/N. It’s Y/N.”,you shyly replied. You were running out of things to talk about without seeming too stressed from what just happened. Luckily, your route so happens to come up to the stop, giving you an utter rush of relief. The old, wet, squeaky doors open in front of you and you rise from the bench. You turned to Benjamin and gave him a small farewell smile.
He smiles back and waves, “Nice meeting you, Y/N. Have a good one.” You go on to enter your bus and sit in the very back where nobody else was. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but it’s almost as if you feel like you’ve met him before? Or maybe even just seen him in public? No
 that's not it. Oh well. You don't have the mental capacity to be thinking about this. So you reach into your bag and pull out your earbuds to drown out the world for right now.
The rest of the way home was a blur. You don't even remember walking into your apartment. Almost like a trance.. It wasn't until you slammed the front door that took you out of your thoughts.
Darkness
.
That was all what accompanied you; and you were fine with that. Accepting being alone was nothing new. Granted, it made life difficult sometimes. But ever since these
 dreams
 nightmares
 visions
 whatever they are; you want nothing more than to just be LEFT ALONE. You drop your belongings on the couch closest to you and head towards your room. The dark and dreary hallway is engulfed by the pitch black shadow of night. You drag your feet against the carpet; you’re exhausted. Hell, that’s not even the start of it. At this point, it’s the vein of your existence. You enter your room and it’s still slightly dirty from this morning because you were almost late to the bus. You plop yourself down to your bed facing the ceiling. This
 all of this
 it's too much. The dreams. The stress. The fear..
Is it really getting to your head? At this point, who really knows. And if you talk about it, who's gonna believe you? Your friends? Family?? Nobody can help you. The more you think about it, the more you feel like the world is suffocating you. Your chest is pounding with your heartbeat. You try to calm yourself down by slowly closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose and out from your mouth. You do this enough so you feel comfortable to open your eyes again. A tear escapes from your eye and trickles down the right side of your head. The second you noticed, it was all over. There was no stopping it, at least for a while. You turned to your side as you quietly sobbed the night away and eventually fell into slumber.
Some hours passed and you awakened with a headache. Finally getting up from your bed, your feet padded across the floor and you get to the kitchen. You reach your arms out slightly to find the lightswitch and your eyes scrunch up when it turns on. Crying a lot really gets you dehydrated so you grab a glass of water from the sink. There is a window above the sink and you gaze at the night sky. It looks
 peaceful. Everything seems like it’s in a standstill and you wish with all your heart you could be a part of that. Just for once to be in peace. You take a moment to try to gather your thoughts. Nowadays with this hellish nightmare, what’s there to think about anymore? And who’s gonna care? You sigh and take a sip. As you lower the glass from your lips, you fixate on the leaky faucet. “Is this my life now?”, you asked yourself. The light starts to flicker for a moment and goes out. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, “Ugh, why now?”. You turned to find the lightswitch again and attempted to turn them back on but to no avail. "Stupid wires
 even more stupid apatment
”.
You lower your hand from the switch and suddenly feel the air thicken. Your body is gradually getting the pins and needles all over. This makes you shiver to your core. You want to move. You want to retreat back to your room but you can't. You can't move an inch. It's almost as if there's something keeping you in that spot. A faint ringing resonates in your eardrums. They're getting louder. Louder. LOUDER. You harshly wince at the volume. The pain is getting too much and you try to cover your ears. Your face is scrunched up so hard, it might even get stuck. The noise is persistent and there's no stopping it. With all your might, you attempt to combat the noise with your own. You scream, "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO MEEEE!?".
And just like that, it stopped. Still holding your head in your hands, you try to breathe. The air grows cold, you can see it in your breath. You slowly gain as much composure as you can. You reach for your ears only to feel some blood coming out of one side. Palpitations are almost setting in. The volume of your chest starts to rise and lower rapidly. Your blood pressure is rising by the second. An unsettling presence invades your home as you try to gather yourself until you hear..
“There you are
.” His voice was like poison in the air.
“You, my dear, were a hard one to find
”
16 notes · View notes
lulu-reads · 9 months ago
Text
I need to catch up on this series. I love Curtis.
Wilfords Demands (Darkish Curtis Series)
Tumblr media
Moodboard made by @thelemonadestxnd​
Just Another Prisoner- 4.5k. Curtis Everett x Y/N. Wilford places you in Curtis care so he can impregnate. WARNINGS- Non Con, Loss of Virginity. Written for MCU Dark Library March Kink Challenge. This has no relation to my other Curtis Fics.
Who Do You Belong To?- 5.2k. Curtis Everett x Y/N. Been in Curtis care for a few weeks now and he has no issue in reminding you who you belong to. Warnings- Dub Con/Non Con situations, punishment, and drug/alcohol mentions. Written for MCU Dark Library April Kink Challenge. 
Raising The Stakes-  6.2k Curtis Everett x You. Its the day after the disaster of the trains New Years party. Curtis processes some of what caused his out lash towards you as well as start to prepare for the up coming tournament against Wilford’s Prized Champions. You are once more checked to see if you have become pregnant and the doctor decides to increase your chances. Warnings- Dub Con/Non Con situations, Needle Use, mentions of pregnancy, language. 
Mutual Understanding- 5.6k Curtis Everett x You. You are being driven mad after the shot you were given to send your hormones raging. Curtis knows he has to help you. Afterwards a peace settles between you two and the situation you have both been forced into. All seems fine till Wilford collects you to let you in on his plans for you. Warnings- Non Con/Dub Con, sex pollen theme, darkish story line, mentions of scars, mentions of punishment/torture. 
Simple As That-  7.3k Curtis Everett x You. Realization of your predicament really sinks in, but Curtis wont simply let that happen. Wilford seems happy to extend the deal, after all Curtis is his favorite fighter, always has been. Confident that things wont be as bad as they could be, you and Curtis settle into preparing for the new child. Warnings- talks of pregnancy, hint of possible abortion (a sentence), smut. 18+ Only. 
It’s Time- 6k Curtis Everett x You. You are in the third trimester of your pregnancy and things have been to good, for to long. It’s time for Curtis to finalize his claim on you in the tournament. Warnings- Violence, Blood, Smut, Pregnancy. This is an 18+ Blog. 
Separated- 5.6k Curtis x You. Curtis lost the tournament and has been cast back to his original home, the tail end. You are now contained in Wilford’s precious engine to see the crazy ramblings of Snowpiercer’s leader. You also must find out Curtis’s fate and you believe you can find him, if you can just get beyond that door Wilford likes to disappear into. Warnings- Stressful situations, spitting, hitting, demeaning talk, threats, language. You also find out what happened with Curtis’s other children, its dark and upsetting. Proceed reading with caution. That’s as descriptive as I’m going to get in that warning. 
Revolution- 5.5k Curtis Everett x You. Right now you are stuck in the engine car and Curtis is in the tail end. There is a whole train between you two. Not to mention locked doors, Wilfords guards, kronole crazed residents, and dangers that would keep you two apart. You have to escape and keep yourself safe for Jace’s sake. Warnings- Stressful situation, assault of pregnant reader, mentions of blood and violence.
Coming To The End- 4.9k Curtis x You. Curtis is just beyond that closed door and with Edgar at your side, it’s coming closer to the end. Right when you all think the fighting is over, Grey takes one last attempt to destroy Curtis. Warnings- Danger to unborn child, traumatic birth, violence, and descriptions of death. 
Find Us In Paradise (Final Chapter)- Ending A (4.6k) Ending B (6.8k) Curtis finds out your fate and has to keep it all together for Jace. Now it is no longer about you and Curtis, it is about taking care of Jace. There is also the matter of dealing with Grey who has lost his protection as Wilford’s right hand. Warnings- Death.
Wilfords Demands One Shots- 
Making The Best of Bad Situations- 3.7k Curtis Everett x You. Pregnancy has you unable to rest, no matter what you or Curtis try. It’s becoming an ongoing issue, but Curtis had gotten some tips from the midwife in charge of the front-end nursery.
Dark Curtis Random Pieces- (Not a part of above series) 
Curtis HC- Curtis receiving Oral
Make Me Curtis- 1.1k. Curtis Evereett and Y/N. Late night ramblings on my part. NSFW
Curtis Request- Dealing with Brat. Short. NSFW
837 notes · View notes
ahhhwomen · 1 year ago
Text
Officer Hot
Tumblr media
Trigger Happy AU
Part 2
Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
A/N: Tried to switch between pov and past/present some more with this one.  Also, this may be a calm chapter
. But let’s just say the tags aren’t for nothing
 some true colors are soon to be revealed

Thank yall for the love on part 1, hope yall enjoy (+∀Ž)b
Disclaimer: English is not my first language
 all mistakes are my own
AU Warnings: Kidnapping, murder, Mommy kink, smut, pet play, death (not main characters), framed murder, violence, drugging, angst, obsession, dub-con/rape-con | Minors DNI
Warnings Part 2: Slight stalking, impatient professor, thirsty reader
Summary: Officer Maximoff doesn’t like your roommate.
Word Count: 1357
You can’t stop. Your legs bounce under your desk, and your fingers tap a paced rhythm. You sigh in annoyance; you just can’t stop thinking about her.
/////
You had been extremely late to class.
The professor had stood there cussing you out for a good 10 minutes until he finally relented and let you sit down. When he was yelling at you, you were sure you would cry, but you didn’t. You didn’t even have to sniffle to keep the tears at bay, like when you were in high school and would tear up every time someone mentioned Mr. Wilford, your then-Spanish teacher.
It feels like you aren’t even here, your mind is hazy, and you can’t seem to pull focus. Your thoughts just keep drifting toward the redhead you practically ran from to get here. Had you known you would be late anyways, you might have stayed a bit longer. You liked her rich voice, the way she spoke with such authority.
She had stood so tall and secure when she spoke to you. Her green eyes, searching. The way she looked at you was so disarming, so
 Hungry.
She had acted like she wanted to eat you alive.

..What would happen had you let her?
The way her hot breath felt against your ear, the way she smirked at you. It was all a sweet form of domination. Would she be gentle? Would she pet your hair while telling you what a good girl you are as you kneel for her?
Or would she have fucked you right there, by the side of the road for her team, and any by-walkers to see? Would she wrap her hands around your throat and squeeze just the right amount? Or maybe she would leave bruises, show the world whom you belonged to-
“Hallo?”
You almost jump out of your seat.
Looking around with wide eyes you realize you are the only one left in the classroom, save for the professor. The professor that is continuously waving his hand in front of your face. Realization washes over you and you almost smack your head into your desk in embarrassment. Before he can question you, or yell at you, about what the hell is wrong with you. You hastily pack up and leave with a quick sorry thrown in his direction.
You feel flush, never had your fantasies taken you down that road. Especially not with a complete stranger. Your thighs rub together as you walk down the corridor; an uncomfortable amount of wetness was accumulating.
You feel a bit guilty as you wonder what the issue was. Maybe something really bad had happened, maybe someone had died. You chew your lip, nervously. Was there a reason for Officer Maximoff to question you specifically? You shake your head; you were getting way ahead of yourself.
Perhaps it was just by chance? Wrong place, wrong time maybe?
You wonder what she is going to ask you.
-------
The redhead’s rapport sits unwritten in her folder. It didn’t matter. Not when she finally has something of purpose to do.
Like the proper girl you are, you had written down your full name on the piece of paper. Wanda smiles as she reads it over and over, Y/n Y/l/n. You had been such a good girl, such a sweet little kitten.
Wanda had been researching you, and your life, for the past few hours. After you ran away from her, earlier that day, she had driven back to the station and immediately entered your name into their database.
How could someone blame her for wanting to take a peek into the life of her good girl?
Y/n Y/l/n, y/a years of age, you live two blocks away from the “crime scene”. Apartment house: Acornhouse Ave, Apt 62. You have a roommate named Jessica Maison, age 24. From what she could find on her own, you don’t use social media a whole lot.
Your roommate, however, appears to be obsessed with it. She has countless users, all of whom are updated thoroughly throughout the day. Every post is a useless picture of either Jessica’s face or food.
There is only one photo that caught her eye.
It was posted 7 months back. It is a picture of you and her, at some party, she is standing far too close for comfort, and she has her hands wrapped around you.
Wanda’s nails dig into her palm as she clenches her fists. She has to remember to breathe through her nose and exhale out her mouth. It’s best she stays calm; she doesn’t want to scare you away too fast. However, Wanda can’t just ignore the photo, you looked so uncomfortable. Like you had wanted to get away, away from that disgusting girl. She has to do something. She’s a cop, after all, it’s her responsibility to keep you safe and secure.
She has an idea.
-------
You almost moan as you set your bag down. After having to walk an extra three blocks just to get home, you were exhausted, and in much need of some food.
You lean down to unlace your Converse and put them on the shoe rack, and with a groan, you also put Jessica’s shoes in their designated place. You love her, but come on, was it that difficult to move her shoes?
“I’m home!”
“
.”
Strange. You can’t recall her having a shift at the diner today? Least of all without her snickers. Your brows knit together, but you shrug it off, she’s probably just getting food or something.
As if on cue your stomach rumbles. You make your way to the kitchen, disappointed to see the lack of food, you throw in a microwavable dinner into the microwave.  As you wait, you think more of what could have happened in your, rather boring, neighborhood. They had blocked off the street from this morning. So, you couldn’t get a good look, but you remember seeing a big black plastic bag before the Officer walked over to you. A body bag maybe?
You hope not.
A “pling” alarms you that your food is ready, and you sit down at the small dining table, which could barely count as a table, to eat it. Jessica always prefers to sit on the couch and eat, but you find it a bit sloppy, and you would rather not have to clean the couch every day due to your habit of missing your mouth. More than what is probably normal for a legal adult like yourself.
After a while, and a thorough cleaning of the table from your mishaps, you can finally get ready for bed. You roll your shoulders as you walk to the bathroom. You have been feeling all types of sticky since this morning and can’t wait to get it off.
As you turn on the light to the bathroom you feel a shiver run down your spine. You can’t place it, but something feels
 off.
Like you weren’t the only one there, in your tiny little apartment.
You intend on just ignoring this strange feeling as it would be almost impossible to hide in this small space, but your guts tell you to just check. Just to make sure. You turn back around, intending to check if Jessica is just in her room sleeping, but something else catches your attention.
Did Jessica rearrange the furniture?
(a/n: Im sorry. I just love cliffhangers)
260 notes · View notes
zee-stars · 2 years ago
Text
Reader and egos as love tropes
Tumblr media
So basically I looked up love tropes and I'm gonna be writting the egos that I think fit into them :)
Rivals:
I'm thinking like Actor Mark after the events of WKM and like you guys go for each others throats but you were in love with him before WKM and you still kinda are.
Maybe also Dark but not so much in my brain.
God x worshiper:
Obviously god of night. He is literally a god and you are his worshiper. Do I even need to say more??
Has a dark side × loves them anaway:
Obviously Dark. Like you were there for WKM and after the events you always find a way to go back to him because you love him but he thinks you shouldnt cause hes evil and you're like "stfu"
Dumbasses in love:
Wilford x reader%
I think this one fits it perfectly. There is not much else to write about it. Just when I think of this trope that is exactly what I think about.
Sunshine x sunshine protecter:
Yancy x reader and probably Dark x reader.
I feel like for Yancy it could go either you being the sunshine or him being the sunshine I think it works both ways.
For dark he is definitely the sunshine protector. I can just imagine you're talking to someone and hes just standing behind you giving them a death glare.
Super cocky × tried not to fall for them but did anyways:
Illinois x reader. Man is so cocky. Like Imagine you are trying so hard not to think about him and his stupid smile or about how much you would love for him to hold you that you try to avoid him during adventures. He catches on to why its happening and then one day he just like kisses you or something idk. Idk about you guys but if that happened to me I'd just about die.
Friends to lovers:
Yancy x reader, Damien x reader, Head engineer x reader. I think this fits so many egos but these are my top three. Like when you first meet them you guys get along really well and become best friends but eventually you both catch yourselves falling for the other. Then you guys get together and you are the happiest ever.
Second chance:
Tbh I love this idea with Dark. Like Imagine you and Damien you're together or married if you would. But then everything goes down in WKM and you lose him. A while later you run into Dark and you instantly see Damien in him. At first Dark is against starting anything with you but he has Damiens heart and his heart calls for you so you start dating Dark and maybe get married again, if you will.
Fake Dating:
Damien x reader. This is before WKM. Imagine he is sick and tired of people trying to hook him up with their daughters or whatever at parties and one day he says he has a wife. Many people are shocked and they start bugging him about it. They ask for his wife's name and he says your name by mistake. They say that next party he has to bring you so now hes trying to explain what happened to you. You agree to be his fake wife for the night. You both have an amazing night and at the end of the night as he is bringing you home he starts confessing and stuff and then you kiss him.
Flirt x oblivious:
Illinois x reader. He is very flirty but you are kinda dumb and just don't pick up on it. He literally would say he loves you and you're just like "I love you too!" But he can tell that you mean it in a platonic way. Eventually when you confess to him this is how it goes.
"Look, I've liked you for so long but I was scared that you didnt feel the same way"
"I LITERALLY HAVE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR MONTHS"
"Friends do that"
"I SAID I LOVED YOU"
"Friends do that"
"what about that one time when we were walking through a narrow path and we almost kissed while you were pressed against me?"
"Okay maybe friends dont do that..."
Overthinker x never thinks:
Head engineer Mark x reader. Let's be honest. There is not a single thought going on in Head engineer Mark's head. With the captain on the other hand thinks to much. There is not a single second that they aren't thinking about something. Especially when they think about something going wrong with the ship. Luckily for Mark the captain is there to think for the both of them.
"You do realize that it's not supposed to be like that?"
"What do you mean? Was it not always like that??"
Talks x listens:
Head engineer Mark x reader. Kinda goes back to the last one. I feel like there are many times that the captain and Mark are together and he will just be rambling.
"Oh, I'm sorrry captain, I dont mean to be a bother with my rambling."
"No, I want to know why you hope the new plant has a beautiful sky."
Long distance:
Yancy x reader. I'm thinking like during iswm. Reader is up in space doing Captain stuff and they miss Yancy so much. They told him that they were going to space camp cause they didnt want to explain what was actually going on. In case he started to worry. But they found a way to still keep in contact and write letters. It was tough not getting to see him in person but they knew when they got home Yancy would be able to come with them.
Temporarily one sided:
I feel like this one could fit many egos but I like Yacny x reader the most.
So you stayed in the prison with him and you guys were really close. You shared a cell and spent all day with each other. You had fallen for Yancy. It was easy too. He was clingy in a good way and always made you feel heard and comfortable. You didnt know how to tell him. He didn't realize you're feelings and he didn't recognize his at first. He didn't think it was love. He didnt really know what love was cause he had been starved of it for so long. Tiny helped him figure out and after awhile he told you.
Fell first x fell harder:
This but with Damien.
You and Damien were very close. He was you childhood best friend and now you worked by his side. His crush on you definitely started around you guy's teen years. Mark and William definitely teased him for it and Celine tried to convince him to tell you. But he never did. Around the time you guys graduated high school, you started to fall for him. You were completely smitten by him. Confused by how you went this long without noticing. It was hard to keep it in, so you told Celine.
"Omg finally. Tell him. He is in love with you and has been for years!"
After you did and you guys got together it was easy to tell that you were completely in love with him. You're guy's friends (Will and Mark) teased you by saying you were worse then Damien. It was true. You fell so hard for that man. (We all did. He's so pretty)
Workaholic x clingy:
I think this one fits Damien x reader and head engineer Mark x reader.
For Damien he is the workaholic and you are clingy. Like he'll come home from work and be like "I have work to do."
"Is it due tomorrow?"
"No."
"Then we can take a nap first."
And if the work is do tomorrow you'll but wrap up in his lap while he gets it done. Usually you fall asleep while he's working and he'll carry you to bed after.
For head engineer Mark you are the workaholic and he is clingy. You can not get work done around him. Especially if it's late at night. He will beg you to go to bed with him or pay attention to him and if that doesnt work he will pick you up and carry you to bed or away from your work.
That is all of them. I plan on writting actual stories for some of them so expect that. If there is any that you just want me to write let me know and I probably will if I wasn't already planning on doing it. Also I found the best photo of Damien earlier and I want to share it with you.
Tumblr media
ISN'T HE BEAUTIFUL!!!!! I WANT TO GIVE THIS MAN THE BIGGEST SMOOCH!! God I love him so much.
1K notes · View notes
jacksepticeye-simp · 25 days ago
Note
Wilford Warfstache x reader 😞. Idk what plot, it's just something I suppose đŸ˜Œ
Adoration
Pairing(s): Wilford Warfstache x F!Reader (So happy to see you on here bestie! Here's some hurt/comfort with your favorite journalist! Hope you enjoy it!)
TWs:Mentions of death and suicide (implied), Insanity stuff, Illusion of actor trying to degrade Wilford
Wilford stared at his computer blankly and sighed as he twirled his mustache. The light of the digital document before him was almost blinding, wasn't really like he cared much though. He groaned in frustration, pushing his chair back to stretch his legs. Did it really matter what he wrote? It'd never be good enough..
N̔͐ͅoÌŽÌœÌčt̷͕͝h̷̭̒iÌŽÌŠÌ©n̔̎ÌČgÌžÌÌł Ì·Ì•ÌĄe̶͎͆v̗̔̍e̷͉̐rÌ”ÌżÌ˜ Ì·ÍÌĄw̞̏͜o͚̔̃u̔̐ÌȘl̶̊͠d͖̔͝.̞̖̇.ÌŽÌœÌč
The lightbulbs throughout the hall in front of his office flickered aggressively before shattering one by one into thousands of tiny pieces, The sound of this caused you to look up from your work. You stood up quickly and ran down the hall, doing your best to avoid the glass on the floor. "Wil?" You asked, knocking on the door of his office. No response came from inside, which worried you since it was unlike him to be so quiet.
You placed your hand upon the knob and twisted it, opening the door and entering the room. You found Wilford sat at his desk in front of his laptop, but he wasn't typing or anything. He was just sat there, his eyes glowing pink while he muttered words you could barely make out. You slowly approached him, his words becoming a bit more coherent to you.
"You're absoloutely useless, William..Your own wife is afraid of you.. Maybe she'd be better off without you.."
Wilford stared down at his gun, locked away within his desk drawer. Perhaps the snake was right for once.. He slowly started to reach for the key around his neck..
"Wil? Are you alright?" You placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality in an instant. He was sweating, but he felt so cold at the same time..
"..Dearest?" He asked weakly, looking at you. He rubbed his eyes a bit, just to make sure you weren't some sick hallucination.
"Hey honey, you doing okay? You were muttering and mumbling and the lights fused out so I came to check on you.." You said to him as you gave him a small shoulder rub. Wilford relaxed slightly, smiling at you.
"I'm doing marvelous now that you're here, sugarplum~" He took your hand and kissed it like the gentleman he was, while also taking a moment to admire the wedding ring he'd gotten you.
"Wilford, I love you but I don't want you to lie to me." Wilford scoffed and put a hand over his heart, looking a tad offended.
"I would do no such thing to you, my love! I cannot believe you'd accuse me of that!" You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed his hand.
"You're taking a break from your work, It's not like you'll get fired since you're the boss after all."
"Technically I'm senior vice president, Dark is the boss." He corrected as you dragged him into the kitchen
"Dark wouldn't fire you."
"You're very correct sugarplum, but I-"
"No buts, you're taking a break and watching a movie with me."
"That sounds incredibly perfect, just like you my love."
12 notes · View notes
mbgcreates · 4 months ago
Text
HOW DID I MISS THIS WHEN GOING THROUGH THE CREATIVE STUFF WHAT 😭
Parenthood and a Selection of Egos (Headcanons)
Or rather, how well suited certain egos are for parenthood. I had to stick this under a read more bc it got so long. While I think this might be considered more niche in this particular fandom, here are some thoughts about this (word count 1673):
Dark
Depends on how much of a soft spot you headcanon him to have, and how strong his desire to defeat Actor is and how manipulative he can be
He absolutely is not suited for parenthood if his focus is still entirely on beating Actor and doing whatever it takes to get there
(However, I ascribe to the “stoic character that has a soft spot for a select few people,” so I am going that direction)
Keep reading
63 notes · View notes
otterlyinluv · 2 years ago
Text
A touch of darkness (pt.2)
Here's part 1
Summary: What happened after the office incident OR in which Yancy tries to eat breakfast and Wilford becomes a matchmaker
Pairing: Darkiplier x DA!Reader
Tags: sfw, fluffy, jealous Dark, proximity, thunderstorm, comfort, confessions and realisations
A/N: I apologize for the long wait, I actually finished it earlier but I decided to scrap the last third and rewrite it completely- Anyway, hope you enjoy!
Word count: 2.9k
"So you like Mr. Doom and gloom, so what?"
You almost choked on the chocolate milk Wilford made you.
"No, that doesn't make sense. Nothing even happened. He just fixed my computer, and then I felt weird."
Wilford raised an eyebrow at you.
"My dear, you might not see it, but you look like a lovesick fool."
Your face started to feel warm.
"No, I do not! I came for advice, Wilford, but now I know I chose the wrong person." You stood up from the armchair, leaving the chocolate milk on the desk, when Wilford started to wave his arms around.
"Okay, okay, fine, I'll stop." He grabbed you by the shoulders and plopped you back on the armchair.
"Now," he said, no longer in the spot he was a second ago. His little teleporting shenanigans didn't bother you as much as they did during the first months of your stay at the mansion. Whenever he suddenly disappeared and reappeared at a completely different place, you'd always get a mini heart attack, which lead to him doing it even more frequently to mess with you. What you hadn't realized then was he did it only to get you used to things that weren’t exactly normal. Wilford was a good guy at heart even if his methods were a bit... unconventional.
"Since you don't believe me, we'll go about it in a different way." You turned around to where he was. He made you stand up from the chair and gripped your hands.
"Which thoughts race through your head like fluttering butterflies frolicking in a field when he’s with you? How does he make you feel in general?"
The corner of your mouth turned up at the metaphor, and you looked off into the distance. After the encounter in your office, you started bumping into each other far more frequently than before. Or maybe you noticed him more. And when you did see each other, his gaze seemed to linger on you a suspiciously long time. Whenever you made eye contact during meetings, you felt a flutter in your chest. A flutter you didn't feel with anyone else.
You looked at Wilford with a sense of epiphany. His eyes seemed to light up.
"Am I interrupting something?" Dark said, standing in the doorway, his arms crossed.
You ripped your hands from Wilfords'.
"Oh, Darkie. Why we were just having a lovely chat, nothing for you to worry about." Wilford drawled, putting his arm over your shoulder.
Dark's eyes darted to your shoulder, and his gaze hardened. The colored aura that surrounded him seemed to gain a more blue hue. It only lasted a couple of seconds before he rolled his neck.
"Excuse me." He suddenly ran off out of the room, his fists clenched.
You saw Wilford grinning out of the corner of your vision as he put his arm away from you.
"Wilford, what did you do?" You said, glaring at him.
"I just gave him a little push, that's all." 
--
You really wanted some cereal.
The mansion was pleasantly quiet because you liked to wake up earlier than everyone else. While listening to Illinois boast about all his adventures or Google try to subtly persuade you to grant him admin privileges was entertaining once in a while, it wasn't something you wanted to do first thing in the morning.
You were able to find your favorite brand of cereal, a spoon, and some milk. The only thing that was missing was a bowl. You looked into the cupboard where the bowls usually were, but there were none. You wondered who kept misplacing the contents of the cupboards and kept searching.
Still nothing.
You grabbed a chair to stand on so you could reach the cupboards that were higher up. You carefully stood up on it and opened the one closest to you. Finally!
Unfortunately for you, the bowls were on the top shelf. You huffed and stood on your tiptoes. After stretching your arm as far as you could, you were finally able to grab a suitable bow.
But you leaned back so suddenly you lost your balance. You flailed your arms in a futile attempt to regain stability. You mentally prepared yourself to come into contact with the cold hard floor when you felt someone grab your waist to support you.
You let out a relieved breath only to look down at the grey hands, which were now firmly holding you in place. The area which the hands were in contact with was completely devoid of color. You turned around to see Dark without his signature jacket, his eyes wide. You were frozen, but your skin burned where his hands were.
"You should be more careful. You would have fallen if I hadn't gotten to you in time."
You couldn't move. The only thing you felt was the oddly gentle hold he had on you. The bowl, which you were now holding safely, was the last of your worries.
"Still as clumsy as ever," he chuckled under his breath. His thumbs twitched, and you blinked at each other in realization of your compromising position.
He cleared his throat as he stepped back as if burned, removing his hands in the process. You carefully got down from the chair.
It was so quiet you could almost hear his aura crackle in the air like static.
"I, uh... Thank you for... that."
"You are welcome," he said quietly.
You were looking at the ground, your face strangely warm. Your gaze traveled to his shirt, the first two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands bordered with blue and red the hands that held you were now hanging at his sides.
You stared too long. You could feel him looking at you. You glanced at him.
He was looking straight at you. So intensely that you felt like he could see directly into your soul. So expressively, his eyes seemed more brown than black.
He took a shuddering breath.
"Is youse making cereal? Leave some for me!" Your head jolted to Yancy standing in the doorway.
Dark snapped out of whatever trance he was in and promptly left the room with no parting words.
"Woah, what got him so worked up?" Yancy walked to you as you looked at the door, deep in thought.
"I'd like to know that too."
--
After having finished your perfect bowl of cereal, it was back to sitting in your tiny office. Normally, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Nothing special, just you sitting behind your desk working at your computer. Except you weren't. You couldn't.
Not when whenever you closed your eyes, you could remember Dark standing over you so clearly. Your little... encounter happened a few weeks ago, yet you still couldn't focus properly while you were here. It took you at least half an hour to distract yourself enough to at least start working. It was frustrating, but there wasn't much you could do. Talk to him about it when he has most likely forgotten about it already? Yeah, sure.
Now that you thought about it, there was something else that was making you unfocused today. Why did Dark look like he wanted to murder Wilford when he was just being touchy as usual?
And this morning... He just caught you out of politeness so you wouldn't fall flat on your face. Or maybe he just didn't want you to break the bowl. You didn't allow yourself to even consider the possibility that maybe he didn't want to see you hurt. And the way his hands stayed on your waist just a few seconds more... Boy, did you forget how to talk then.
Maybe you were looking into it too much. Sure, he was nicer than before, but he could simply be more comfortable with you. As a friend. Yeah, that must be it.
Satisfied with your thinking session, you were ready to get to work.
Your concentration was disturbed by the sound of your door opening, followed by a thud of something heavy being dumped in, and then the door immediately slammed shut again.
You looked up from your computer to a sight you never would have expected - Dark rapping at the door, violently shaking the door handle.
"Now Damie, remember what I told you. If you want something, go get it!" Wilford slurred, his voice muffled by the door.
"Wilford, open the door this instant, or I swear I will kill you. I am serious."
"Oh, promises, promises. Focus your energy on the important things!" Wilford's voice faded away as he supposedly walked away from the door.
"That insufferable..." he mumbled to himself, turning around.
His clothes were wrinkled as if someone tried to physically push him into the room but was met with resistance. You couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
"Uhm, welcome, I guess."
He sighed. "Hi."
"So, what happened for you to end up here of all places?" You leaned on your arm. It might have been an unexpected situation, but that didn't mean you weren't going to enjoy it. Dark, on the other side, seemed really determined to fulfill his promise to Wilford. "When Wil sets his mind to something, nothing can stop him. Not even me." He tried to open the door to emphasize his point, and as expected, it didn't budge.
"Can you not get out by... other means?" You never really knew how his powers worked. And you doubted he would tell you even if you did ask.
"No. I don't know how he did it, but he managed to completely lock me out -" He looked around. "-or in. Technically."
As his eyes surveyed the room, you realized how small it was. It was enough for you, but Dark seemed to fill a big part of the room just with the colored aura that surrounded him. Come to think of it, why was he standing so far away from where you were?
"Well, I'm guessing we're going to be here for some time, so why don't we sit down somewhere more comfortable?" You pointed to a light brown sofa leaning against a wall. His eyes followed your hand to the middle-sized sofa. You winced. You didn't want to make it awkward for him to sit down there alone, but maybe he would rather you didn't sit with him. Why didn't you just ask him what he wanted in the first place-
He simply nodded and sat on the sofa. Having no other choice, you plopped down next to him.
Small raindrops started hitting the window.
You turned to say something to fill the silence at the same time as he did, which resulted in you looking away from each other. He let out the quietest chuckle, and you couldn't help yourself but do the same.
"You can go first." Dark said.
"Ah, it wasn't anything specific, just that the rain is getting stronger." You expected him to simply nod and direct the topic somewhere else. Instead, he looked over to the window. The rain was now strong enough to be audible if you were both quiet, which is what was happening now. Dark looked as if he was observing the rain. As if simply the fact you told him about it gave it value.
"It indeed is."
After a couple of seconds, he took a breath. "I've never noticed how small this office is."
"You're right, but I like it. It makes it feel cozy. It also holds memories more easily. " In fact, your brain was recalling a rather specific memory involving him. But you doubted he would be thinking of that.
"Well, I'm glad. The area carries a certain air that only you have."
"Oh, and what might that be?" You smirked.
"Comfort. Something you want to return to and treasure every moment spent with."
You stared at him wide-eyed.
"Ah, I said too much, didn't I? Forgive me." He looked to the door.
You were touched by how highly he thought of you. Yet there was an unspoken implication in his statement.
Thunder rang out.
You flinched and crashed into Dark. His arms shot out, cradling you against him.
"Are you alright?"
You squeezed your eyes closed as you tried to focus on your breathing.
"I... I'm just scared of thunder. The sound..." You trailed off, heart beating rapidly in your chest.
His hold on you tightened as he gently moved your head to the crook of his neck. He rubbed his hand across your back in soothing motions with a soft "Shh" every couple of seconds. You let him hold you until you eventually stopped shaking like a leaf in the wind.
That's when you realized what a compromising position you were in and stared at him in shock.
"I apologize, I overstepped." He frowned, untangling his hands from you.
As soon as you felt the absence of him, you realized.
"I don't mind." You said, and his face visibly relaxed. "I actually don't mind a lot of things when it comes to you. Simply being with you is... nice."
He let out a quiet laugh. You wished you could put the sound in a bottle. "You're just saying that because we are stuck together."
You laughed and let out a rebuttal.
Minutes passed with other witty remarks, and before you could realize, the brief rainstorm had completely passed. You were confused that you hadn't heard another thunder since there had to have been at least one. But you had gotten too involved in Dark's quips to notice the sound. Dark cracking jokes... now that was something you would have never imagined.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Dark asked, leaning his head on his arm.
"What?"
"You were staring at me without saying anything for a while now, so I figured you had something interesting going on in that brain of yours."
Heat rushed into your cheeks. You didn't realize you had been looking right at him.
You cleared your throat and saw him smiling out of the corner of your eye. "I was just wondering," you smiled back, "do you often run away?"
Dark quickly turned his head away in shame.
"First, it was when I was talking with Wilford. You came in and then suddenly excused yourself. Then, this morning, too... What's going on? Did I do something?"
He sighed. "No, no, you didn't do anything. It's me." He added quietly.
"How so?"
He responded after a couple of seconds. "I am afraid that if I tell you, a lot of things might change... between us." The look in his dark eyes was earnest, almost nostalgic.
Oh.
Oh.
You pondered upon his statement for a few seconds. "Does change always have to be bad?"
As soon as you said the sentence, you were hit with a sense of deja vu. You felt like you've said it before, but how?
In tandem with your confusion, a slight shock spread on his features. As if in a trance, you put your hand on his cheek. Looking him up and down, you studied his features. There was nothing different from what you've come to know. Why were you expecting to see something else?
Your fingers moved on your own in a caress.
His eyes fluttered shut. You traced over his forehead, moving to his cheekbones when you ended up near his lips. Features oh so familiar like you knew them for years. Now that his eyes were closed, he seemed different. At peace. So close.
He opened his eyes, and there it was again. The two of you in your office. The proximity close enough to feel electrifying. None of you said anything as a decision hung in the air. But only up until his onyx-like eyes flicked from your own to your lips.
He smiled. "Would it be foolish of me to say I want to kiss you right now?"
And you answered by leaning in.
You let yourselves be entangled by the sheer amount of emotion as your lips brushed against each other. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer like he wanted to drown himself in you. You basked in the softness of your embrace, finally feeling as if everything has fallen into place.
He pulled away as you tried to catch your breath.
"So beautiful." He whispered, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
Before you could respond, he went right back in. Not that you minded, of course.
No sooner than a minute had passed were you interrupted by your office door swinging open.
"Glad to see you've finally figured yourselves out! Now, if we could-" Wilford's voice was cut off as Dark slammed the door with a motion of his hand.
He brushed his hair away from his face and turned back to you.
"It did look like he needed something." You gazed at the door pensively.
"I am sure he did, but," he smoothed out your shirt, "I do believe you don't want anyone seeing you like this."
You tried to keep from laughing as you regarded his own disheveled appearance. "You're not too neat either, Sir 'Irons his shirts every morning'."
He rolled his eyes but smiled at you regardless. Getting up from the couch, he held out his hand, which you accepted, and headed to whatever wacky escapade Wilford was up to this time.
156 notes · View notes
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
60 notes · View notes
goosedoes-fics · 1 year ago
Text
Quiet
Wilford Warfstache x nonverbal!Reader
Tumblr media
Content warnings: Gender neutral reader, use of y/n, boss and employee relationship, what the fuck is a slow burn
Notes: this is another re-upload. errrmmmm wilford the silly
~~~~
"[Y/n]!"
A loud voice jolted you out of your imagination. It was a very slow day, the kind that you'd spend curled up in a blanket by the fireplace, but of course you had to spend it at work. Typical.
You turned expectantly to your jovial sounding co-worker. What you had assumed was correct, as usual. The boss himself, Mr. Warfstache.
To call Wilford a "friend" would be an odd choice of words. You preferred to think of your relationship as strictly professional, but Mr. Warfstache seemed to consider you as a close pal.
Wilford plopped himself unceremoniously next to your seat at the sound booth. A wide grin was present on his face, as usual.
"So! The day's almost over, yeah? You ready to head home?"
You shrugged slightly, hoping he would leave you alone. It's not that you disliked him exactly, but more that he didn't really understand your aversion to conversating. As usual, he paid no mind to your wordless response.
"Me and a few a' the guys are headed over to a fancy li'l resteraunt in the area. And y'know of course I had t' see if you wanted to come along!" The eccentric man grinned wider, maintaining eery eye contact with you.
Naturally, you didn't respond verbally. Honestly, you didn't respond at all. You gave Wilford a strange look, turning your head towards the soundboard and flicking off the power switch for the night.
Wilford leaned forward, trying to catch your eye again. "But, hey, if you don't want a crowd, we can just go by ourselves! The two of us!" he piped up hopefully, his odd voice taking on an even odder tone.
That... actually didn't sound too bad to you. You turned to face him once more, hesitating for a moment before giving him a small nod. His face immediately lit up.
Wilford jumped out of his chair, running a hand through his hair to adjust it. "Well! Let's go now, then!"
With a small sigh, you lifted yourself from the chair, stretching a bit before gathering your belongings and heading for the studio door. Wilford trailed close behind you, locking the door as you exited the building.
The walk was about how you expected it. Wilford chattered away, nearly talking your ear off, but thankfully stayed away from anything that required you to speak. The sun was starting to go down now, painting the sky with a lovely gradient from blue to pink. You took a moment to admire the beauty of the scenery.
It was a little while before you began to realize the two of you had been walking for quite some time. Wilford had piped down a bit, and was glancing around in confusion as he scanned the streets.
"...coulda sworn the damn thing was this way," he muttered, seemingly embarrassed. "Yeah there was... that big ol' sign? And further down was the restaurant, right?"
The odd man seemed quite nervous now. Bits of sunlight filtered through the buildings on the horizon, but the streets were dimly lit as the lamps littering the sidewalks had yet to turn on.
After a moment, Wilford sighed heavily, turning swiftly on his heels. "I don't want us to get lost. Let's just head back." He hung his head sadly. Something told you he had been looking forward to this for a while.
You reassuringly pat his shoulder, making Wilford jump slightly, as if he had forgotten you were there. He looked back at you, giving you a small smile. "Don't you worry, I know where the studio is from here."
The walk back was much quieter than before. Your boss was so uncharacteristically quiet that it startled you half to death when he protectively wrapped an arm around your waist. You didn't protest. The closeness was quite comforting.
Eventually, the two of you managed to return to the studio. It was dark out now, and Wilford dejectedly retracted his arm as he turned to look at you.
"I'm sorry this turned out so boring, [Y/n]," he commented sadly.
You patted his arm again, this time letting the touch linger a bit more than you realized. You swiftly brought your arm back to your side, gazing at the sidewalk with embarrassment.
When you looked back up, Wilford was a bit closer. You felt your face heat up immediately as he drew you into a strong hug. After a moment of shock, you put your arms around him and hugged back.
Wilford pulled away with a deep breath. "Ta be honest, I was really looking forward to spendin' time with you. I didn't mean to get all lost like that."
You blinked in confusion. Wilford was talkative, sure, but he never tried to "spend time" with you outside of work.
"Actually, I'm really sorry for a lot a' things. I know I talk a lot an', I mean, you don't." His words began speeding up as he started to ramble. "You always seem so... uncomfy when I talk to ya. Did it feel like I was pushin' the whole outin' on ya? Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't think about that, of course it must've felt like that. I'm your boss and you're always so quiet. I wish you had told me, not that this is your fault, but I mean-"
You put a finger over Wilford's lips to stop his rambling, and he cut off quickly. He stared at you for a moment, and as you realized what you had done, you quickly pulled away. You gazed at him and shook your head to indicate his worries were incorrect.
You both stared at each other for a moment. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment once again.
Wilford gently placed a hand on your waist. "Is it okay if I kiss you?" he asked cautiously.
Your face was now evidently reddened. After a moment of processing his words, you nodded slowly.
Wilford brought his face closer to yours, eyes narrowing slightly as he slowly planted his lips on yours. For how rough his hands were, his lips were comfortably soft. The way he kissed you made it seem as if he'd been waiting to for quite some time.
Slowly, he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours in a caring gesture.
The warmth of the embrace lasted some time before you stepped back, earning a sad whine from Wilford. You smiled slightly.
"It's dark out now. Can I walk you home?" he asked hopefully.
You nodded, grasping his hand firmly as you began leading the way.
The quiet of the night gave you some time to reflect. You realized how easy it was to communicate with Wilford, as you didn't have to say a single word. That was very comforting to you.
Maybe one day you'd even be confident enough to speak in front of him. You smiled at the thought.
Maybe the talkative man wasn't so bad after all.
138 notes · View notes
mothgodofchaos · 2 months ago
Note
You should write some Darkiplier fluff
Smug
Darkiplier x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 558
You right. Now you’re married.
Dark has been taking every opportunity to kiss you. This has been going on all day, and it’s starting to affect your ability to work. Anticipating him ambushing you around a corner or as soon as you walk into a room. Sometimes it’s a peck on the cheek, sometimes it’s him pulling you into the deepest kiss you’ve had in a long time, and you were wondering if he had plans of
 escalation.
After he kisses your hand as you pass him in the hallway, with flushed cheeks, you’ve had enough.
“What is your problem today!?”
“I have no idea what you could possibly mean.”
“You! With the kissing! Stop it!”
“Is a man not allowed to adore his partner, and show it in any way possible?”
He leaves you sputtering, while he leans on his cane, looking a little smug. You meet his eyes and it’s not hard to see he’s absolutely lovestruck. Admiring your face, looking down your body, then back up to your face. To him, you are the most gorgeous being he has ever laid his eyes on.
“You can, but isn’t the kissing a little excessive?”
He approaches you, taking your hands in his, leaning his cane against the wall.
“Do you really want me to stop?”
“No
”
“Is there a problem with how I’m doing it?”
“It just catches me off guard
 I can’t focus on anything other than you.”
“Maybe that is the point. Take the day off, for me.”
Dark raises your hands to his lips, kissing each individual finger, then your palms. You hold his face, rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks. He closes his eyes, letting out a soft growl at your comforting gesture.
“Alright, I will. Just for one day.”
Dark lights up, excited that his tactics have worked. You take his hand, grabbing his cane for him as you walk down to his private parlor. He coaxes you to sit on the couch with him, pulling you into his arms. It’s weird having him this touchy when he usually is content with the passing kiss or handholding usually.
“Is something going on today? Bad day?”
“I missed you. I missed the old you, before I hurt you. Before I was hurt.”
“Dark
”
You take his hand, rubbing his wedding ring to remind him it’s there. A simple silver band with a garnet and sapphire set into it. You gaze down at your own ring, rose detailing around the diamonds. He tried to go all out, and you had to convince him to tone it down. Your wedding was modest, a day spent together with just a few of the household members present, Wilford officiated. Although you’re not quite sure if he’s legally allowed to do that, it doesn’t matter.
“I love my hubby. Very much.”
“I love you. So much. I thank my lucky stars I have you in my life again.”
You turn towards him, getting him to lay back as you wrap your arms around his torso. He seems happy that you’re cuddling him, letting out quiet growls as you’re pulled in tighter.
“I don’t want this to end.”
“It won’t, not for a while.”
“Good. Because I am not moving.”
Dark kisses your cheek, settling in for a nap. Cheeky bastard got what he wanted, but it’s hard to say no to him.
49 notes · View notes
yuckie-obsessive · 2 years ago
Text
Double Trouble
Uh-oh
 been thinking about a double possessive x reader 👀
So been thinking about if you got both of the boys in the same room and they only barely tolerate each other because you’re there. I’ll try to make it gn
Tw: brief talk of Anti’s “neck incident” and swearing
Darkiplier x Reader (gender neutral) x Antisepticeye
Set up: you are just chilling with Anti (just imagine a living room) and Dark arrives because he wants to talk with you about something and Anti gets real defensive and clingy.
~★~
“They aren’t your prisoner, you know. They can talk with whomever they wish,” Dark was already irritated with Anti’s shenanigans.
“Yeah, well you’re in my home, my fucking territory. You don’t have a fucking say here!” Anti was getting angry a lot faster than the other alter- as per usual. Dark sighed, “Does this really need to be an issue every time I wish to see them? They already stay with you, why do you insist on being selfish?”
“Cause I know what’s safe for them, and they don’t need to be around you or any other insane ego in your little group.”
The iplier egos were never all that harmful towards you, though. Only Dark and Wilford ever seemed to have interest, to which Dark would always ward off Wilford’s more
 extreme tendencies.
Dark sneered in response, “You know what’s safe? The one who brought a knife to their own neck for entertainment-?”
“THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THEM!”
Things were growing heated fast. You decided to quietly step away to let them work it out (in their own special way).
“Dollface, hey,” arms wrapped around your torso, making you stop, “where are ya going? I was just messing around
” Anti mumbled as his face brushed up beside yours.
“Just a minor spat is all,” Dark stepped in front of you and took your hand, “takes more than a couple harsh words to send me away.” He placed a soft kiss to your knuckles.
Anti growled and his hold possessively tightened, “would certainly make my life a lot easier
 I think they prefer me anyways,” he chuckled a bit and started a trail of kisses along your neck.
Dark’s expression twitched only slightly at this, but remained overall neutral. He brought his free hand to your face and maneuvered yours to rest on his shoulder. “They just need to see what I can offer
” his chest pressed up against yours, now pinning you between the two extremely dangerous beings, “I can entirely rewrite reality at your command.”
His lips connected with yours in a rather soft display of affection, catching you off guard with how gentle he was being. He separated for a breath, “say the word my dear, and I will give you the world.” He captured your lips once again.
Anti huffed. “Darlin’ you already have the world with me,” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver only for Dark to deepen the kiss to bring your attention back to him. “What could he possibly have that I don’t, hm?” Anti placed a small kiss behind your ear.
Dark separated to glare down at him. “Humility and grace certainly comes to mind.”
With that, they were at it again. Attempting to one-up each other for your attention.
You, at their mercy, had one hand clutching at Anti’s arms and the other clawing into Dark’s suit jacket, there was hardly anything you could do to stop them. Your mind, being as flustered as it was, probably wouldn’t let you do much of anything if you could.
400 notes · View notes
erexart · 9 months ago
Note
I agree with ur engie talk! I think like a lot of the egos he's somewhat of a base of a character that has hints and scenes of deeper character to them that we as fans get to go crazy with. I think marks work has a way of like..... beginning as a parody or pastiche of something else (date as a romantic movie, heist as a heist movie, iswm as a Sci fi) that slowly morphs into something deeper and emotionally destructive, ala darks appearance in date as well as heist, heists deeper routes that turn into almost entirely different genres, and spaces secret behind the wormhole. I think engie being both a bit of a blank doll that serves as the caps yes man and then splintering apart to show a deeper character is very much purposeful and a part of the impact of iswm. engies descent as old mark and "dont" and emotional beats of "thanks for not giving up on me" and such are so devastating BECAUSE he begins as such a blank yes man to us I think
Thanks for sharing your thoughts anon! I also saw another person’s tags about this that talks about how engie is singular yet a multitude and I’m glad people are thinking the same thing! I personally think EVERY character is sort of a blank doll too
Like my own interpretation of warfstache is he is a tortured mind with a fragile side, and i focus on the more gentle more tender side to him, dark is the same and i focus on the more heartbreaking more softer side of him. But that doesn’t make the fun-disco-murder loving wilford headcanon wrong! Or dark the cold-harsh-manipulative-red flag entity you wouldn’t date wrong either! Every interpretation is right and inconclusive, none of them are incorrect unless mark himself specifies.
Mark basically made x reader fanfics but in video form😂 and he told all of us “just go crazy with it idfc” and I just think it’s so neat of him
18 notes · View notes
nach-ito · 1 month ago
Text
Masterlist + DNIs
Green: I will do.
Amber: Might do.
Red: Won't do.
I will do;
Batman
Markiplier Egos
FNaF mostly
Fandom of Choice
Character x Reader
Types of Book Tropes
Female Readers
Male Readers
Gender Neutral Readers
Fantasy AUs
YA Stories
Semi Spice stories
INTERACT;
Markiplier Fans
FNaF fans
Batman Fans
LGBTQ+ Folks
Readers
Fantasy Book enjoyers
Cats & Coffee lovers
Cars
Motorbikes
Motorsports
Markiplier Fans;
PewDiePie Fans;
I might do;
Smut
Fluff Scenes
Dark Romance
Character x OC Stories
Character x Self Insert Stories
Other types of Book Tropes (MUST be included for it to be decided in the request given)
Will NOT do
Pedophilia
Rape
Watersports
Incest
HEAVY pet play
Parent Kinks
DNI
Anti-LGBTQ+
Religious People
Proshippers
Homophobes
Racists
Transphobes
Political People
Fandoms
Five Nights at Freddie's;
(Movie)William Afton;
(Game)William Afton:
(Movie) Michael Afton;
(Game) Michael Afton;
(Movie) Vanessa;
(Game) Vanessa;
Batman; [some Telltale]
(Movie) Bruce Wayne;
(Game) Bruce Wayne;
(Movie) The Joker;
(Game[Telltale]) John Doe/The Joker;
(Game) Harvey Dent/Two Face;
(Game) Oswald Cobblepot/The Penguin;
(Game) Selina Kyle/Catwoman;
(Movie) Edward Nygma/The Riddler;
(Movie) Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy;
Markiplier Egos;
Murdock;
Wilford Warfstache;
Darkiplier;
Illinois Jones;
2 notes · View notes