The Dark Mark (Mark/Dark/Wilford/Google x Reader)

2

That night, I had probably the worst dream I've ever had. I was walking down the street, presumably towards my old school, and there was this overwhelming urge to run. I started running, taken by an overwhelming fear that reinforced my overwhelming urge to run. I sprinted, screaming and crying, not daring to look behind me. I did, though - you have to, right? - and I saw Mark running beside me. 

"Run!" he shouted, as a black fog rolled in. "RUN! RUN! DON'T LOOK BACK JUST RUN!" Mark screamed, but the roaring in my ears drowned it out. I couldn't hear anything more. I ran headfirst into a man who towered over me, wearing a hooded cloak-type thing, more fog from behind him. One of his eyes glowed red, the other blue. 

"It's such a shame," the hooded man said, his voice seemed to come from all around me. "I never thought you'd run, Y/N... I always thought you'd submit... still, there's time yet." 

"How do you know my name?" I asked, but my voice was barely there. The figure reached down to grab me, and I couldn't scream - my lungs didn't work. 

I woke in a cold sweat, the window wide open. I hadn't left it open, that much was for sure. I never slept with the window open because the bugs always came inside. I shivered and climbed from the bed to close it. Admittedly, I was terrified. I turned on the lights and checked every inch of my room to make sure no-one was hiding. I picked up my old hockey stick and made my way through the rest of my house silently, waiting every couple of seconds to listen. I could feel eyes on me, but given that there was no-one else in the house with me, and that I was completely safe, I chalked that up to anxiety and fatigue. Returning to my room satisfied that I wasn't about to be killed by a murderer, I checked my window again and turned on my lamp, checking the time. 3am. I shivered again. I slept with the light on the rest of the night... 

**

"I see you don't have her ready for me." The voice caught Mark off-guard. He snapped his head up, startling Ethan, who'd been fixing a microphone onto a camera.

"Everything alright?" he asked, frowning. Mark didn't answer him. 

"I'm coming to play, Mark, and if I don't have her waiting, then I will send him..." 

"No... don't..."

"Mark?" Ethan had put the camera aside and turned fully to Mark, who was cold and pale and shaking. "Mark, sit down... are you alright? Mark? Can you hear me?" 

"YES, I CAN HEAR YOU, WRETCH!" Mark hissed, his irises jet black. He snatched himself away from Ethan, who stood there stunned. Mark shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "Ethan - Ethan, I'm sorry... I'm..."

"What the hell was that?!" Ethan asked, visibly upset. "That... you've never done that..."

"I know... it wasn't me... sorry..." 

"Tell him you have a migraine, and you're going to lie down in the dark. We need to talk." Mark did as he was told, and left Ethan with an apology and a very tight, desperate hug. Ethan fired off a text to Tyler. Something wasn't right with Mark. Not at all. 

"I want you to leave her alone. All my fans." Mark lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. "I dreamt about her last night."

"I know, I made that happen."

"Dark... please... I'd rather have nothing than have you hurt any of my fans..."

"Then perhaps you should have considered that before you signed your soul to me. It's mine now, Mark, and I have to take back control. We have to take back control... that's what it's all about, you see. I own you, and the others... You're a chaotic mess, Mark... but you're mine to do with as I please."  Mark stood from the bed almost against his will and moved to the mirror on the chest of drawers. He was greeted with the face of the demon he'd sold his soul to all those years ago. He'd wanted to help people. It was a moment of stupidity and greed... the demon was a mirror image of him, sharply dressed in a suit, dark eyes... 

"Just... just please... don't hurt anyone." 

"Then bring the girl to me, and I won't have to send the imbecile to fetch her in your stead." Mark closed his eyes. "You've twenty four hours to get her here and make her want to stay." 

"And why exactly do you need her?"

"You'll find that out soon enough. You've a job to do. Go now." And with that, Mark felt the pressure lift in his mind. Dark was controllable, but after what had happened to Amy, Mark's mental strength had dwindled. 

Amy. She'd been his best friend, his closest ally... he'd been in love with her, too. He'd managed to ask her out on a few dates, and although she usually accepted him, he had no recollection of them whatsoever. Whenever he thought about it, he never really remembered directly asking her, but he must have done because there were always plans with her on his phone texts. It occurred to him too late that it was Dark who was orchestrating the whole thing.  He was dating Amy, he was taking large chunks of his time and using his body as he pleased. He was in control... and he'd had no idea what Dark was doing until he was sat face to face with Amy and she told him how disgusted she was with him. She'd left, then, and rumour had it that she'd killed someone and then thrown herself off a sheer cliff face in Griffith Park. Mark didn't know. His friends rallied around and said she'd grown away from them all. Whether that was to save his feelings, he knew he'd never find out. Not at least until he was alright hearing that kind of news. 

Leaving the room, Mark felt deeply down. He knew it was only a matter of time before Dark would make an appearance... he wasn't sure how it would work. Did he become Dark? Was Dark a separate person? Who was his joker? He didn't want to find any of that out. He went to find Ethan, and instead of the apology he'd planned in his mind, instead he broke down and confessed everything.