Realism Mode *Enabled* {Markiplier x Reader}

Chapter Three

"How early did you wake up?" (B/F) asked, looking like a zombie leaning against a doorway. A cup of coffee was clutched in her hand, steam rising from it so fast it appeared as if it just came from the pot.

"Around 5 a.m. I'd say," you responded, typing away on the laptop in front of you. With your research completeーyou deemed it complete though you could still learn vital information at any timeーyou began working on the layout of the game. You thought starting with the plot would be a good idea, as well as getting the setting, characters, and other small details figured out.

"What do you think of the character models already?" You asked, looking over at her. She walked over at a snail's pace, then, once she was behind you, she stooped down to squint at the screen.

"Wait, they look familiar..." She studied them a few seconds longer. "Isn't that your old high school friend," she pointed at the female then shifted her eyes to the male, "and your old college buddy you were convinced you didn't like?"

"I've only had one crush in my life, (B/F), you know that. And it wasn't him," you gave her a short look then turned back to the screen to make the characters rotate so she could look at their entire models.

The only guy you'd ever liked was your dad's friend's son. Your dad was a businessman, so naturally he talked with other businessmen, and this particular one's son was handsome and knew what he wanted in life. He looked great in a suit too. Since then, however, you tossed any sort of romantic interests out the window; you didn't have time for that. Once you were making hard-earned cash and floating off your parents praise, then you could consider a partner.

"Who does the player get to play?" (B/F) asked, switching her eyes from the screen to you.

"Their own, somewhat customizable character. The gender effects the possibilities but they can change their hair, name, facial hair if they're male, and if they want to be big or small."

Your friend looked blown away. "You have all your ideas down to a T."

"What?"

"Is that how the saying goes? Or is it supposed to be instructions?" You pushed her mug of coffee out of your face and turned her towards the door.

"I need to get back to work, so I'd rather appreciate it if you left," you said, giving her a minimum effort push so she didn't spill her drink all over your carpet.

"Alright I'm going," she rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, making a face when it burnt her. After she swallowed and stopped a moment to fan her open mouth with her hand, she turned back. "Do you want any coffee?"

"I only drink it if I haven't gotten enough sleep the previous night, and I got more than a sufficient amount last night, so no thank you," you didn't even glance at her. She shrugged and walked off, looking a little less like a zombie than when she first came.

After working for another hour and a half, you stood from your chair to give your legs their needed stretch. Working all the soreness from your limbs, you traveled from your office to the kitchen. You got sore if you sat for too long, you were much more used to standing up and moving around.

Although you wouldn't necessarily call yourself an active person, you were Type A so you always liked to be doing something. It wasn't often you were able to watch a movie or TV, but when you did you could feel your skin crawl. You could be doing so many other things at that moment, doing something more with your time, but instead you were in front of the television watching people/characters be more active than you.

Upon arriving at the kitchen, you looked for some breakfast and found some oatmeal. Deciding it would do, you tore open a package of Quick Oats and poured it into the bowl, then added milk and stuck it in the microwave. After pressing a few buttons, the bowl started spinning slowly on the turntable.