Markiplier Imagines (Mark X Reader)

·I'm Not Perfect·

This part is going to be from Markidarlings POV
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Okay, first off, wake up. Second, turn off alarm. Third, sit up. Fourth, stand up. Fifth- Damn it I'm doing it again.

I stand up and immediately make my bed. The sheets perfectly line up, and I move the pillow so it's in the top middle of the bed. I smooth the sheets down so it's free of wrinkles, then do the same to my pajamas. Smoothing that is. I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and I walk back to my previous place.

I fix my hair in the mirror next to the bed. I sigh and walk over to my wardrobe and find the outfit for today; the same as all the other days, but clean. I check to make sure that there isn't a thread hanging or a scratch on it. I smile with content and take it out. I change, fold my pajamas and place them gently in the laundry hamper. I then get dressed into the clothes, knowing that I won't be taking this off until tonight. The uniform isn't perfect without it.

"You're doing it again." I hear a voice behind me and I jump. I see my roommate Ethan with a somewhat unamused look.

"I know. But I can't help it Ethan."
I fix my hair again. I hear him sigh.

"Just, try not to push anyone else away today at work, okay?"

"Else?" I question.

"Yes. Else."

"Okay." I sort of ignore him as I continue about my buisness.

"God- Mark! Just- let someone get close to you. No one is perfect. I get that you want perfect, but you can't find it. Trust me. I-"

"Yes I know. I know I can trust you. And I don't have to find perfect, because I'm not looking. I never will." I walk to my bathroom and brush out my hair.

"Mark. Just- just try. For me?"

"Sure Ethan." He sighs and leaves my room.

I stare at the mirror, thinking about why I have a fetish for all things perfect. I glance over at the painting on my wall, the way the brush strokes were so precise, leaving no line unfinished. The colors all work together and compliment each other... Okay, maybe more than a glance. If you haven't gotten the clue, I'm a perfectionist. I can't help it. I mean, who can stand it when a book is 3 centimeters larger than all the others? Anyways, time to get to work.

I button up my jacket and fix my hair one last time before grabbing my keys, wallet, and phone. I leave my bedroom and go downstairs to find Ethan on the couch, typing away on his laptop.

"Still no work today?" I ask.

"Nope. YouTube is my job."

"When are you going to get a real job?" I take my keys out of my pocket.

"As long as it keeps paying the bills, never." I roll my eyes, and unlock the front door.

"Good luck with that." close the door before he has a chance to say anything else.

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"Good morning Mark!" I hear a shrill voice call. I turn slightly and see one of my female co-workers waving excitedly. She has always tried to shove her way into my life. First of all, she's married. Secondly, she sleeps with any guy that whispers sweet nothings to her. What can I say? She's not perfect.

I nod my head in her direction and continue to walk. I hear a huff of annoyance, but I ignore it. All these imperfect women trying to get me to like them, and some even claim to be in love with me. I mean, it's not like-