Mark's POV: A Difference (Markiplier X Reader)

Chapter 12

Kissing her was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had. It had made sparks fly. I moved my hand to her back, moving our lips together slowly.

Then I had an idea. I knew just how to cheer her up. I pulled back after a second. I could feel warmth in my cheeks, and I knew I had given her a stupid looking a smile. She was blushing too, smiling back.

"Are you any better now? Because if so, I would like to take you to a very secret location," I grinned. She nodded, still looking kind of hurt.

"Sure, I'm up for anything that's a distraction," she responded.

"Great! Okay, well I'm gonna need you to get in my van..."

"Oh you need me to get in your van now, Mark?"

"Yes," we both laughed. I lead her out to my car, holding her door open for her.

I got in, driving off. It was about 30 minutes later when we ended up at the museum. Yes, I took her to an art museum. She liked art, so it should work out.

I parked, got out, and ran around to let her out, "Mark, you're such a gentleman," she smiled. She got out. She realized where we were, putting her hands on her mouth.

I held out my hand, and she took it. I lead her in. We walked around for a little while, then she stopped at a certain painting. It looked like swords were on top of a hill and there was a bunch of squiggly stuff around it. I watched (f/n) look at it. "You must really like what you do, (f/n)," I stated.

"It is a way of expressing myself. It is a way to give off your anger or to let your tears drop onto the surface of the canvas and create a sea of images. Art means a lot to me."

"I can tell. I guess it's like me being a gamer, and you being an artist. We're passionate about what we do." I looked at her, then said something stupid, "Also, it's kinda like how Slenderman was obsessed with people reading from his secret diary in the woods. He always expressed himself by doing that," I began to laugh, "he doesn't like people reading it, yet he just leaves it around for people to pick up."

"Mark, your comparisons are just great," she smiled.

As we made our way through the museum, I would listen to what her interpretations of the art was and I told her funny interpretations. I was trying to get her to feel better, and I think it is working.

When we got through, we went back to the car. When we were both in she said, "Mark... thank you."

"Anything for you, (f/n). Anything for another one of these," I leaned in, brushing my lips with hers. She was the one to kiss me first. I could feel the warmth of them on mine, sparks going crazy. Stupid sparks, going everywhere. We smiled in between kisses. I put my hand on her cheek, it was so soft. It was as if she was a wall, and I was the one knocking it down. At first she was kind of limited, but not now. When we pulled away, I realized my stupid comment I had made a few weeks ago. "Did I really say 'paint me like one of your french girls' when you drew me?"