literature

Markiplier x Reader: It's From Winning The Battle

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“Mark!” you yelled, jumping onto the couch. Mark jumped at your presence, wondering why you looked so excited.
“What?” he asked, putting his phone in his lap.
“I want to go to the beach!” You grinned. “It’s all sunny and nice outside and I want to go!” Mark grinned nervously.
“You want to go have a picnic on the beach?” You laughed and shook your head.
“No, silly. I want to go swimming. In the ocean. Like normal people do when they go to the beach.” Mark gave a chuckle. He didn’t want to deny your excitement about the summer fun you hadn’t had the chance to enjoy.
“You want to go tomorrow?” he asked. You pouted.
“No!” you whined. “I want to go today!”
“It’s too late to go today.” He checked his watch. “It’s already 5:30pm.” You pouted more, leaning on him.
“But Mark-”
“But nothing!” he laughed out, pushing you off of him. “Tomorrow, we’ll go, okay?” You sighed, crossing your arms.
“Alright,” you said. “Don’t you dare go back on your word, Fischbach.”
“Oh, bringing out the last names, are we?” You smiled.
“I only do it when I’m really serious. I’m serious about going to the beach, I really want to go.” Mark nodded. “Pinkie promise me.” You held out your pinkie.
“Okay, okay,” he locked pinkies with you, “I pinkie promise.”
The next day, you had your bathing suit all ready underneath your regular clothes, along with a beach towel, some sunscreen, and a beachball. Classic supplies for summer fun.
“Mark!” you yelled outside of the house, waiting for him to get out so you could go.
“I’m coming!” he shouted back, laughing as he closed the door behind him. “Jeez, you’re really excited for just the beach.” He walked over to you and the armful of stuff you were hugging to your chest. “That’s a lot of stuff for the beach.”
“It’s just a towel, sunscreen, and a beachball.”
“Looks like more than that.” You laughed and hit him in the arm with the beachball. “Okay, okay, let’s go.” You put the stuff in the backseat of the car and sat in the passenger’s seat, Mark taking the wheel as you both made the drive to the beach.
“And we’re here,” Mark said, stopping the car and stepping out. You did the same.
“I’ve got the blanket!” you said, grabbing the blanket along with the rest of the stuff you brought. You started walking with Mark towards the slightly crowded area of the beach where you found a spot to sit down.
“It’s a little crowded,” Mark said uneasily, making you wonder if he was okay.
“Yeah,” you said. “It’s okay, though. I’m here, so don’t you go off and wander.” You grinned, looking at the ocean. “C’mon, let’s go swim.” You started taking off the overclothes to be in your swimsuit, but stopped at your shirt when you saw Mark not moving. “Mark, are you okay?”
“What?” he asked, seeming out of it. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I said that we’re going swimming. Get your shirt off, it’s too warm for it.” You laughed, but when his face stayed a bit nervous, you sat down next to him. “Mark, what’s wrong?” He shrugged. “Mark, there’s something wrong, don’t you even try to lie to me.” He sighed.
“Okay, so you know I had surgery, right?” he asked. You nodded.
“Yeah, but you can still go swimming.”
“I know, I just... You know, I still have my scar. I’m still self-concious about it.” You sighed.
“Mark.”
“What?”
“You know what that scar is?” He shook his head. “It’s from winning the battle. You know, it’s a battle scar. It’s not a shameful thing.” He still seemed tentative. “Okay, look.” You lifted your shirt, showing off your side. “You see this?” He widened his eyes at the scar, long and right down to your hip.
“What happened to you?” he asked, almost scared.
“I was in a car accident,” you said simply. “I got a giant gash in my side. I mean, I survived, obviously, but I was really embarrassed about it before.” You took off your whole shirt. “But then time went on, and I realised that it wasn’t my fault. So one day, I went out in those shirts that show off your belly and people looked at me. Some didn’t like it, but some asked me what happened and said they were sorry. They said I was brave and that I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. That’s why it’s a battle scar. And that’s why it’s from winning the battle.” You sighed. “See what I mean?”
“I think so,” he said, nodding.
“Our scars are from winning the battle, and I’m saying that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Okay.” He shrugged.
“Do you still want to swim? You don’t have to, it’s okay.”
“No, no. Let’s swim.” He smiled and took off the shirt he was wearing. “There. Ready for battle.”
“No, Mark,” you laughed. “This isn’t battle.” He shrugged.
“If I have to kill a shark, it will be.” You laughed as you stood up with him. “You know, you’re my favourite person.”
“Are you sure?” He nodded, hugging you sideways.
“Yup.” You looked at him, wondering why he seemed to be leaning in, and wondering why you were doing the same. He kissed you on the lips softly, happily, but chastely and pulled away. “Last one to the ocean is a rotten monster.” He smiled and ran off to the ocean, you chasing after him as people gave the two of you odd looks, wondering what the scars were on your bodies.
But you know what? They’re from winning the battle.
Wooooohooooooo! A commission story! I don't know if they want to be mentioned here, but they'll comment below I'm sure saying it was them if they want and I'll confirm it!
If you want to commission a story and give me points, you can! You don't necessarily have to, but still.
Thank you for submitting this! It actually makes me feel better about my own scars xoxo
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ADickson10193's avatar
This story remind me of Lethal Weapon 3 showing off scars and then making out screen next and I feel bad about the dog in the screen if you didn't watch it I'm sorry for spoilers for once.