Markiplier Imagines

69 // Random Bits For Ya

this is just gonna be random bits of stories ─ kinda like preferences ─ that I came up with in my head, so enjoy! (and this might also be a little long, so i apologize in advance) also, let me know if you'd like to see more of these in the future...

y/n/n - your nickname

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"I'm extremely cold, and I'd love to have a cuddle session with you, even if you are recording."

You shivered, rubbing your hands on your arms in an attempt to keep them warm before reaching out for the thin blankets stretched across the back of the couch. You didn't understand why it was so cold in your house, especially since you were in the middle of California, but it was and you hated it. Now, of course, you were used to cooler weather, but not the fifty degrees your home seemed to want to keep itself at.

Groaning when not even the blanket seemed to help you, you looked hopefully up the stairs, waiting for your fiancé to come down and "save the day." See, the thing about Mark was that he was like a walking heater, so when you were in bed, you always kept it cool just so you could be warmed up by the mass that normally slept with you. Flipping the covers off of your curled up legs, you quickly tip-toe-ran to and up the stairs, making your way to the bedroom you and Mark shared.

You heard him talking, rather loudly at that, which meant two things: one, he was recording, and two, he was using the HTC Vive. Sighing at the volume of your soon-to-be-husband, you walked into the room and crept up behind him; the fans knew who you were so it was never a big deal when you showed up in his videos. 

Tapping his shoulder, you got his attention long enough for him to not talk as loudly as before, and to turn around. He ended up whacking you in the finger with the headset, to which you responded with a quick suck of air through your teeth and a slight whimper.

Taking off the headset, he looked at you with wide eyes, then looked at your finger and beginning to ask if he had done that and if you were okay. "I'm fine, Mark, I'm just fine. I just came up here to ask you if you wanted to have a cuddle session, 'cos I also don't care if you're recording." He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing your fingers in his larger hand and kissing them before letting out a sigh and agreeing to cuddle with you. 

"Yes! Cuddle time with the Markimoo! Hell yeah!"

"You hate it when I kiss the tip of your nose, so I'm just going to keep doing it until you give up and let me do it more often."

You sat under Mark's arm, leaning up against his chest with your legs pulled close to your body, and a movie playing in the background. Looking up at Mark, you just gazed at his features; the way his sharp jawline moved slightly as he clenched his teeth together; the way his eyes moved everywhere on the screen, trying to soak up as much detail as possible; the way his Adam's apple would move when he laughed at something that occurred in the movie. 

It was all so handsome to you, but there was one thing that you needed to do, no matter how much he didn't like it.

Leaning up, you kissed his cheek, making him look down at you, to which you took the opportunity to kiss the tip of his nose – he never liked that, which you didn't understand. "Babe," he whined, turning the opposite way of where you were and staring out the window at the night sky. 

You got on his lap, putting your hand on one side of his face and softly pushing it to where he was looking at you directly. Once again kissing his nose, he let out another soft whine and tried to look away once more, but was stopped by your hand.

"Why can't I kiss your nose, Marki?" At this point, you just wanted to keep kissing it because you loved the way he would blush slightly every time your lips caressed the soft skin. 

"Because," he whispered, leaning forward and kissing your lips. "I said so." You giggled under your breath, watching a small smirk work its way to his face. 

"Thas' not good enough, babe." You kissed it once again, hearing a soft sigh and feeling a weak push on your waist. 

"Y/n, c'mon," his mouth wasn't turned into a frown, so you knew you could keep going. 

"Marki, I'll stop if you tell me why you don't like me kissing your adorable nose," you tried to compromise, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

"Meh, I don' wanna," he complained, a nervous blush causing red patches to show on his neck. 

"Marki, please?" You weren't sure why you wanted to know so badly, but you did; Mark was obviously on the rocks about telling you. 

"Fine, okay. You don't have to give me those puppy eyes," he chuckled a little when you pulled out your secret weapon. "I- Ah- I just don't like my nose. It's always awkward looking and, meh."

Giggling, you shook your head and kissed it again. "Mark, it isn't 'awkward looking'. If anything, it's one of the cutest things I've ever seen, and it makes you ten times as more handsome." He only shook his head and looked down, pressing his forehead to your shoulder and placing his hands on your hips. You looked at him, pulling his head up and kissing his nose once more before uttering, "I'm gonna keep kissing your nose until the end of time, and you're not gonna stop me."

"I accidently ate all the cookies, and I'm not sure how to break it to you."

Mark stared at the empty Oreo package, then down at the crumbs on his shirt and keyboard, then repeating. "Shiiit," he cursed, wiping all of the crumbs off his shirt and throwing the package away, hearing you coming in the kitchen – no doubt looking for the cookies. 

"Mark! Where are the Oreos!?"

Cringing, he tried to stay quiet and act like he didn't hear you, hoping the excuse that he was upstairs would help support that fact. "Mark! I know you can hear me! Where are the cookies!?" By this time, both of his eyes were closed and his whole body was tense, hoping and praying you wouldn't come up there and spot him. "Mark," your voice was now in the room, and he knew it was over for him.

"Y-Yeah, y/n/n, what's, haha, up?" He tried to throw in the laugh to make himself seem less nervous, but only succeeded in making himself look guiltier. 

"Where are the cooki-" you cut yourself off when you saw them in the trash can by his desk. Sighing, you facepalmed and groaned, looking at Mark through your fingers. The one thing you just couldn't help but be mad at was when he knew he was guilty because he had this certain look to his face that made him look like a small child that had just gotten yelled at by their parents.

"Just," you said, walking over to Mark and tilting his chin upward so he looked at you; his brown eyes were big, making him look like he was incredibly sorry for what he'd done. "Don't do it again, baby. Those were my cookies, okay? I'll start buying you your own if you like them so much." He smiled brightly when you kissed his nose – something he'd started letting you do without turning around and whining – and nodded at the proposition you'd made.

"Okay. Welp. I'm going to the store to get more cookies, you wanna come with?" Shooting up out of his chair, he grabbed your hand and raced down the stairs.

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again, lemme know what you guys think! (i've lost my southern accent wth?)