Reader Inserts (Requests Closed)

Markiplier x Reader

Today was particularly rough at work. Not only did the snarky and flirtatious customer, Ethan, return to make a pass on you once again, but your boss shouted at you for dropping a giant roll of pizza dough on the floor. Frustrated and irascible, you left early before you could cause any more damage to person or property.

What was even worse was that there was no one at home to vent to.

Mark had left you quite some time ago. The breakup was with good intentions, and your relationship came to a peaceful end. Your careers were just too different. Mark often found himself engrossed in YouTube and you found yourself engrossed in online classes, compiling a portfolio that would eventually get you accepted into art school. As a result, you and Mark hardly spent any time together, and ended up existing in a shared space, pretending to be a couple.

Every day since then, you missed Mark like you would a severed limb.

You arrived home and stood in the door's threshold for a moment, listening to the hollow echo of your keys dropping to the floor. Not caring enough to pick them back up, you stepped right over the keys and went straight to the bedroom. There, you began sobbing uncontrollably. The tears kept coming and the sobs kept getting louder. Eventually you weren't sobbing out frustration about Ethan or your boss, but rather about how you were receiving gradual cuts on your paycheck and that drawing you messed up completely by spilling coffee all over your tablet. However, your tablet still worked. The gradual cuts on your paycheck were not major cuts, only a few cent's difference from normal. Yet you still cried, and let out the original frustration.

Then, you were reminded of Mark.

The sobs continued, yet they were much louder now. As mentioned before, you missed Mark as if you were missing a part of yourself. Even though your relationship had fallen into disrepair, the state of affairs was much different. Before art school and YouTube, you and Mark spent an abundance of time together. You and him took plenty of road trips. You got drunk together. With Mark, you often felt the obligation to let your hair down, so to speak. He was a genuinely interesting man to talk to, and as a result you would have conversations that lasted into the early hours of the morning about nothing in particular. Every day, after work, you'd eat and talk and watch TV. Life was comfortable before art school and YouTube.

With the wave of nostalgia coming over you, picking up the phone and dialing Mark's number seemed inevitable.

You couldn't let him hear the querulous nature of your voice. If he was aware that you were crying, his reaction may reap more disastrous results than what calling your ex-boyfriend after six months of being apart should reap in the first place. The line rang. One, two, three, four times. A pause.

"Hello, you've reached Mark. I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, I'll make sure to call back."

The message tone sounded. You let out a sob that couldn't be contained.

"Mark, I know you're gonna hear this eventually. I've been having a very bad day and I just wanted to hear your voice," you said shakily. Finally, another sob erupted. "I just wanted you to know that I love you and I miss you. Okay, bye."

You hung up the phone and waited for Mark to return the call that would come when your tears subsided, when you had finally gotten a grip on your emotions and reined them in with the help of ice cream and Netflix. When his call finally came, he opened with a simple, "I miss you too."

Then you hung up the phone.