Markiplier x Reader: As Cute As A Box

   Adorable.
   That was probably the only word Mark could use to describe you. Also cute. Teensy. Maybe even going so far as to say kawaii.
   You didn't know this, of course. It was bred into your personality for so long that it didn't seem like anything new.
   "Mark!" you called from the kitchen in his house. Mark looked over at you from his position on the couch.
   "Yo," he said. "What's up?"
   "I'm hungry." You lay your head sideways on the counter and slouched back on your feet. "Food." Mark chuckled and stood up.
   "Get up, then, you dingus, and make something," he told you as he walked towards the kitchen.
   "Mark."
   "What?" He stopped walking.
   "I'm tired. Sleep."
   "But... Wait a minute, aren't you hungry, too?"
   "Mark!"
   "What?!"
   "Help me. Lazy." Mark rolled his eyes and walked to you, lifting you up by your waist. "Mark," you whined.
   "What do you want to eat?" he asked you.
   "Food."
   "What kind of food?" You giggled.
   "Food that you eat?" Mark let you go.
   "I ain't dealing with this crap," he chuckled. "How about you help me make some sandwiches?"
   "But that's work," you groaned.
   "Do you want to stay in this house?" You stood up straight.
   "Yes, please."
   "Help me make food. I'm hungry anyways." You nodded and opened a cabinet, attempting to reach bread. You stood on your tip-toes, but still only the edge of your finger grazed the pack. "You need a little help?"
   "...No," you lied, reaching for it, though you knew full well he could tell when you were lying.
   "Move over." He scooted you away and was about to reach for the bread when you stopped him.
   "I want to get it, though," you said. Mark gave you a sideways glance.
   "And you're going to do that how?"
   "Lift me!" You grinned childishly as Mark sighed and slowly lifted your tiny body up by your legs. You grabbed the package with ease, and Mark let you doing.
   "Thanks, Markie!" You smiled.
   That was adorable.
   "Oh, my God, that's so cute!" you squealed as you attempted to read through fanfiction. Yeah. You squealed. Meanwhile, while you were on the couch, Mark was upstairs changing into something to sleep in when he heard you squeak loudly.
   "What're you doing?" he asked as he revealed himself at the bottom of the stairs. You looked behind you and grinned madly.
   "I am reading the cutest thing ever!" you giggled. Mark made his way to the back of couch to look over your shoulder.
   "There's actually things that can make your shriek that loud?" he asked.
   "Definitely! It's this Destiel where Dean has a completely normal life, and then he meets Cas, and they start being, like, really awkward around each other and then they have that one phase where one of them finds everything the other does extremely adorable and stuff, and I just..." You trailed off suddenly as your face scrunched up and you let out the smallest sneeze. "Oh, my God, sorry."
   "It's fine," Mark laughed. "Bless you."
   "Thanks. Sorry, you probably don't want to hear all about this story." Your face lit up. "Oh, what about all of those other stories that don't involve shipping? Oh, there's this one that so good!" You then began scrolling through your phone as Mark watched, a tiny grin on his face.
   That was cute. Kawaii, even.
   But there was one point that threw everything off course.
   "Mark, movie!" you yelled throughout the house from upstairs.
   "What movie?" Mark called back from the kitchen.
   "The Avengers!"
   "Now?"
   "I said I'd bring it over, didn't I?"
   "Uh... You did?" You giggled as you jumped down the stairs, DVD in hand.
   "Yes!" You skipped forward to the couch and flipped over the back into the few pillows you threw on there for a better, and comfier, movie experience. Mark walked back into the living room to see you hanging halfway off of the arm of the couch, looking at him upside down.
   "Weirdo," he said, snatching the disc from your hand and going to put it in the player.
   "But...you're a weirdo, too," you said sitting up and crosslegged.
   "But you're more of one." He stood straight and plopped onto the couch with you. You dragged a blanket from your side and wrapped it around you before you looked at Mark.
   "I am a burrito," you said, a tiny bit of your face peeking from where your eyes glinted. He laughed and pulled the blanket from over your head so your hair was a complete mess. You frowned dramatically and threw the blanket over you and Mark before the movie began playing.
   "Loki, you bastard," Mark muttered as he stared at the TV, unaware of your clinginess to his arm.
   "Mark, I'm tired," you mumbled, closing your eyes. Mark gave a whine of disapproval.
   "The movie's almost over, we can make it to the end." You whined and went limp on Mark. As you did this, Mark looked down. He couldn't really help the words that came out of him next.
   "You are as cute as a box," he said. You opened your eyes.
   Instead of questioning the fact that he said box, you said instead, "What kind of box?"
   "What?" Mark asked, glancing at the TV for a second as the alien battle raged on fictitiously.
   "What kind of box am I as cute as?" Mark sighed. He hadn't thought he spoke loud enough for your sleepy brain to hear.
   "As cute as Tiny Box Tim," he decided. You giggled.
   "Tiny Box Tim is too cute, there's no way that's true. If I'm as cute as Tim, then you're as cute as Tina." Mark chuckled.
   "Well, if Tim's got Tina, then who do I got?"
   "Your little biscuit." You smiled as you closed your eyes. Mark hugged you closer to him.
   "You're my little biscuit now."