Iplier and Septiceye One-Shots/Imagines

Quiet Boy (Markiplier)

Yeah, you know all those one-shots that have you as the shy, bullied character? And Mark's the "cool, popular dude with girls watching his every god-like step"?

Yeah.

Let's change that up a bit.

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You stared down at your sheet of paper, finishing of your test with a flourish and a period. Slowly, after skimming through your answers to make sure you did as best as you could, you walked to the front, and handed your test in.

The bell rang after ten or so minutes, and the rest of the class was forced to hand their test in, completed or not. You grabbed your backpack, and checked your phone, seeing who texted you mid-test.

Heya! Busy?

You rolled your eyes, and answered Aspen as you walked to your locker.

I was in the middle of a test.

Soon, your friend answered back.

I forgot we had different lunch periods. Lol

You turned off your phone as you got to your locker, and saw Max walk towards you. Max was the annoying kid that was in three of your classes. They would always try to flirt with you, even though you weren't into them.

"Hey, love," Max smiled, leaning on the locker beside yours.

"That's not my name," you reminded him. "Now, shoo. I have soccer practice," you scowled at Max, speaking civilly as to not start a ruckus.

"I'll be there to watch." With a wink, Max turned around and strutted away. You rolled your eyes, and put your backpack away, grabbing your uniform.

"C'mon, (Y/N), we're gonna be late!" your group of friends shouted, some pulling you to rush. You closed your locker, but was stopped by bumping into someone.

"Oof!" he grunted. Oh, it was Mark. Mark Fischbach. He played trumpet in band. He was pretty good, you had seen him play in practice. You had even once gone to his performances. When you were there, you had gained a newfound respect for people who had to deal with that strenuous stuff. It was hard work.

"Hiya, loser," Alex, one of your... more brash friends, snickered. Mark blushed, gathering the music sheets he was holding in his hands that he had dropped when he fell. You grabbed one or two for him, offering them when he stood back up. His blush deepened, and he looked away. With a quiet "thanks", he hurried off, not wanting to be late to practice. You shrugged, and followed your teammates to the soccer field.

Practice was grueling. It always was, with a coach that demanded nothing short of perfection. It was almost as if Coach Parker used to coach professional teams or something.

"I'll see you on Thursday, people!" she called to the team as you slowly gulped down water. "Have a good evening!"

After changing out of your uniform, you grabbed your duffel bag, waved goodbye to your teammates, and walked out the door with Alex and Jesse.

"Hey, band's just finishing, too," Jesse pointed out. The goalie was just like Alex, almost in every way. Quite literally, considering they were twins, with Alex just being three minutes older. With bright blonde hair and freckles, they stood out easily.

"Let's pay a visit to Fishcock," Alex chuckled. You frowned at the nickname, but went along with it still. They were your friends, after all... right?

So the three of you followed Mark to his locker, and he grabbed his backpack and put his textbooks inside. He looked solemn. Maybe practice hadn't gone well?

"Hey, Fishcock," Jesse greeted, slamming Mark's locker door closed. The trumpet player jumped back, and looked at you, hurt.

"I-I, uh... hi, Jesse," he stammered, trying to look brave. Alex sneered.

"You're saying hi to my sibling and not to me? How rude." Mark paled considerably, his mouth moving as he tried to come up with an excuse. You felt bad, but honestly didn't know what to do. These two bullied and mocked him constantly, but whenever you asked them to stop, they kept laughing it off, assuring you it was just a joke.

"And you forgot to say hello to (Y/N), as well," Alex reminded, bringing you in.

"Oh, no, I don't need to hear a hi fro-"

"Nonsense, friendo! We're pals, the least you could get is a little greeting, isn't it?" Jesse's eyes narrowed at the Korean boy.

"I say the little twerp needs to be taught a lesson," Alex growled.

" How about we take him out to the field and see if he can run as fast as his fingers move on his little brass horn," the other one suggested, grinning wickedly. "And if we catch him...."

"We get to see your metal kazoo get thrown into the river," Alex howled with laughter, and Mark gripped his instrument case tighter. You knew his family wasn't doing the best in money, and if Mark had to pay the school back for a lost instrument, it wouldn't bode well with all the other loans.

"Come on, trumpet boy!" Alex grabbed Mark's shoulder, and Jesse grabbed the other one. Together, they pulled Mark towards the door, trumpet case in tow. But you had enough of this.

"Enough!" you shouted. The two bullies turned your way, looking confused, as did Mark. You had never stood up for him before. "I want this to stop, now! What are you guys even doing this for?"

"Duh, (Y/N). Because it's fun," Jesse answered. Dumb idiot.

"How about I drop kick a soccer ball into your jaw and laugh? How funny is that?!" They stayed silent. "Leave him alone now, or we're ending this... weird excuse for a friendship!" you spat at them.

"So what? We don't need you," Alex sneered.

"I have more bend over these teachers and the students than you two ever will in five lifetimes in this school. And I will personally make the rest of your days here a living Hell. So how about you let Mark Fischbach here," you strained out the proper pronunciation of his surname, "go, and I won't have to ruin your social lives?!"

Begrudgingly, they surrendered hold of the frightened boy, and walked away, sulking. You helped him up, and he stammered a "thank you".

"Do you have everything?" you asked him. He nodded, keeping his gaze away from your eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know. I'm pretty sure I just saved your instrument, after all."

"Why... why did you do that?" he questioned you quietly. You just smiled at him, patting his shoulder. He looked up at you with chocolate and honey eyes, staring in wonder at how such a popular student could ever bother with someone as awkward and shy as him.

And you turned around. "I think we have fourth period science together. Help me with my notes? I'm having a bit of trouble." And without waiting for an answer, you walked down the stairs, yelling,

"Bye, Mark!" down his way.

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.

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Word count: 1122

My schedule is clearing up! Hooray! And I have a long weekend, so things are looking up.