Markitwo Imagines (markiplier imagines)

01//Black Coffee

(Transferred from Jumin Han book because I like it haha... so most of this is based off of Jumin but I tried to add Mark related stuff the best I could!!)

It startled me as I was told to grab someone a coffee; one black, bitter coffee. The coffee I had hated as a child, and the coffee I hate now. I wasn't nearly the voices assistant, which made me look behind at the person who owned it.

The infamous Mark Fischbach, aka, my boss.

"Hello, Mr. Fischbach."

"Assistant Ethan isn't here this morning, he's sick, you'll be taking his place," he snapped his fingers. "Remember my coffee, bitter and black as a horse," he smirked.

My father and Mark's father used to work together when they were younger, you could say they were best friends. Mark was eight and I was six years old at the time. Mark's father got a city job and soon became a multimillionaire within the course of two years.

My father still owned a shoe shop, and was otherwise known as the cobbler.

When I was sixteen, my father brought me to visit Mark and his father. Mark's mother had passed and it was rumored the woman he had was his eigth girlfriend that year, and I could tell Mark was miserable.

"One black, bitter coffee," Mark would shake his head, "blacker than a horse," he wanted to hide his mothers past in black, bitter coffee.

Muttering, I walked into the office lounge, and had to brew a brand new pot for the man always dressed in black. Everyone else was too lazy to even brew one beforehand. "Hey you!" A co-worker popped in, and the coffee mug almost slipped out from my hands.

"Would you be careful? Mr. Fischbach would greatly appreciate it if he had a full mug to drink, and not have another accident like the last time," my eyes remained closed until I turned around. "Oh Tyler, I'm sorry about that outburst," I brushed my hair back.

"Nono, I get it, you've had relations with Mr. Fischbach before?"

My face became a burning red. "Um, no, our parents are best friends, so we just know each other from being kids. There was an incident when I was a teenager. That's all."

Tyler smiled. "Well good luck Miss. (Y/N), he's on his way over."

I gritted my teeth.

Of course, you're probably wondering, how'd I get a job here in the city, along with Mark Fischbach? Especially being a cobblers daughter? I was told my father wanted me to get the big bucks, which so far isn't too bad, unless my ungrateful mother comes toppling over for money she can't give back.

"How's your father?" Mark asked.

"Fine."

"Mother?"

"Poor and ignorant as ever, how's your father?" I looked to see if his coffee was dripping.

"Still can't count how many girlfriends Mr. Chairman's had within the last decade, nor fiancés."

"Ah, he's getting fiancés now aye?"

"Same ring for every woman," he clicked his tongue afterward in annoyance of his father.

"Welp, you've got to be cheap somehow."

"Exactly," Mark paused. "He's been bugging me for years to get a wife, but every time I try, which was twice mind you, girlfriends at least, he's stolen them away, and that made me not like women as much from then on."

"How rational," I rolled my eyes. "A woman like that is proven trouble."

"I witnessed it."

We walked into Mark's office and found two people sitting down in some chairs. One, my father; the other, Mr. Chairman,Mark's father.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" I asked hesitantly. Having my father here usually means Mark's father wants to talk about money.

"Don't you have a meeting today?" Mark asked his father. "Like, with the new building or something?"

"We've got some news,"Mark's father spoke.

My father has been friends with this man ever since he was little, and he used to be the one to speak up before Mr. Chairman. I eyed my father, knowing this wasn't about money this time around. It worried me.

"Should we sit?" Mark sighed.

"If you would."

Mark and I sat in chairs distant from each other.

"We have some, news," my father looked down at his twiddling thumbs. "Since you both are a little older, and seem to be getting... older."

"What do you mean by that?" I furrowed my brows.

"Mark's twenty eight, and you're twenty six Ms. (L/N), we've got to do something," Mr. Chairman spoke, smirking afterwards. "Actually, it's been planned for years and we just haven't really told you yet."

"So," Mark gulped. "What about it?"

"We've arranged your marriage and you'll be married next year."

I looked at Mark. "Why next year? Why ever?" Mark asked.

Dad, don't you dare say that old secret.

"You two may seem like two totally different people, but if you used to get along, you will again."

"I was getting along with him two seconds before we walked into this room."

"That's why I've never allowed you to marry, Mark," Mr. Chairmans mouth opened. "I had to interfere somehow, but I must admit those ladies were very attractive."

"It was your way of getting women, Dad," Mark leaned foward in his chair. "But let's see how it works out, though I doubt it will, and see if we can stand each other by next month," Mark spoke. "Don't count on me to fall in love with a brat who drops my coffee when she should of had perfect balance at sixteen years old."

"Mark, please," I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Don't force us into this yourself, all you have to say is 'no'. That's your decision."

"As I said, if we don't like each other within a month, no, two months, than we can stop. Neither of us will have to see each other, unless it's about work, and we won't have to deal with an arranged marriage anymore after that."

I huffed. "I'm dissapointed that you just told us this now," I looked at the two grown men. "I'm going back to work. Mark, call my office if you need me," I said, walking out of the room.

"Do you plan to steal her too, if I end up liking her?"

The cobbler chuckled. "Boy, I'd never let your father lay a finger on my daughter."

"Then why me?"

"You don't have your father's heart, no offense Chairman, but your mother's. I know you won't hurt her, not even in the slightest."

Mark pursed his lips, looking away from the cobbler.

Because he had a secret too.