A lot of random Mark/Sean ego oneshots

Promise

This one is sorta based off of a roleplay thing I'm doing with one of my friends (I'm roleplaying as Dark, they're roleplaying as Wilford, not that you asked). I'm going to ignore details of Who Killed Markiplier for this. I don't know enough about it.  I don't have much experience in 3rd person, so forgive any mistakes. It's also full of headcanons, so. Also, there's a part that makes Wilford sound like a yandere- he's not.

I guess a warning is Dark kinda has a mental breakdown?Also they planning a murder at one point-
Also, Dark angst. 

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dark and Wilford were sitting in the attic of Mark's house. Wilford was laying on the cozy couch, and Dark was sitting on the ground next to a window, scrolling on his phone.

"Oh my god. Will. The fans ship us." Dark looked at the bright, cheerful ego. He wasn't quite sure how, but they had ended up as friends despite their opposite personalities.

"Yeah, shit happens." Wilford wandered over to the embodiment of Mark's darkest thoughts. They'd met a few months ago, when Dark first was let out of Mark's head. He didn't like talking about what it was like in the darkest corner of Mark's brain. None of the other egos ever experienced it- they lived in the other sections of Mark's mind. 

"Oh god I clicked on the fanart." Dark could feel his face warm up slightly; he knew how suggestive some art was. He let out a laugh when he discovered the first picture that came up was a picture of Wilford falling off a ladder, with Dark in the foreground saying 'Rule nr. 1. Never trust anybody'.

"That's... sadly accurate." Wilford grinned.

"You made a mistake here. Don't trust me, Will." Dark looked at him.

"Motherloving- of course not! I don't trust anyone." The brightly colored one yelped in mock annoyance.

"Look at that one!" Dark pointed at a simple picture of himself holding two slices of bread on Wilford's cheeks. Dark was colored in completely gray, and Wilford was colored completely pink.

"I am bread."

"No, you are a pink sandwich."

"I prefer the term 'strawberry', thank you very much." Wilford protested.

"Yeah, yeah."

They scrolled through more and more fanart, both attempting to look indifferent. Dark finally broke the silence. "I kinda hate that I don't hate the fanart." 

"Not gonna lie, the fans draw you pretty hot." Wilford grinned, his face warming up slightly.

Dark quickly recovered from his shocked silence. "You're not wrong." He pointed out a picture of himself putting on his suit coat, tie loose around his neck.

"I..." Wilford felt his face warm up. "I'm not usually speechless, Darky boy."

Dark nearly laughed at the nickname. Wilford had given it to him not long after they met, claiming that 'Dark' didn't have enough style. "All of the fanart is surprisingly wholesome."

"Which is strange. I feel like we would commit murder together. I always have a gun on me. Well, more like three, but who's counting?" 

Dark smirked, holding back a laugh. He was used to Wilford's... murderous tendencies by now. "I am. I am always counting my weapons."

Wilford paused, then his eyes widened. "Who lets you around weapons?!"

"Mark lets me around weapons."

"Mark is not as smart as I thought." 

"Shut up." Dark grinned. "And, according to this picture, you let me around weapons." He nodded at a picture of Wilford showing Dark a gun.

"Okay. Well.. I..." Wilford had no comeback.

"So you are also stupid."

"In all honesty, me, you, and weapons. That's a ride I wanna take."

"Kill Mark's haters?"

"Yes!! Burn them!!! Uh. With semi-kindness, of course." Wilford smiled.

"They don't deserve our kindness." When Wilford opened his mouth to protest, Dark interrupted him. "They're trying to kill us."

Wilford paused. "You have a point."

"They don't deserve our mercy. They need to die."

"You are so dark, y'know?" Wilford rolled his eyes. "Why can't we have a disco?"

"No." Dark began to glitch slightly more.

"Why not?" Wilford whined.

"Beca-" He paused, glitching more. "Because."

"You seem to be glitchin' a bit more than usual, bud. You okay?" Wilford's face melted from his typical cheery expression to a look of concern.

"I-It's normal." Dark tried to grin to mask the pain. The truth was, glitching like this hurt. It was nearly enough to make him cry, but he attempted to recover.

"Okay, Darky boy. I'm still worried." Wilford slowly turned to face him, worried he'd accidentally startle the crimson-eyed, hurt ego.

"I'm mu-multiple people at once. I-It's bound to happ- ugh-" He winced slightly, then took a deep breath. "Happen." 

"Understandable." The two sat there, one worried and the other shakey, but recovering. 

Once his glitching slowed, Dark grinned weakly at Wilford. "So. Disco. Why?"

Wilford smiled, knowing Dark was doing better. He knew that he hadn't recovered yet, but this was as much as he could ask for. "'Cuz! That's how you do a mass murder in style."

"How would that even work?" Dark raised an eyebrow.

"You invite people, dance a bunch. Then, drop balloons. The balloons pop, releasing deadly gases." Wilford grinned slightly menacingly as he imagined it. 

Dark considered it, unphased by the insanity behind the smile. "Wouldn't that put others in danger, though? For example, Mark?"

"You bring gas masks, you silly goose."

"I do not have gas masks in my possession." Dark grinned slightly, knowing that Wilford often forgets not everyone plans this kind of thing. "Plus, then you can't torture them."

"Why would you want to torture them?!"

"We can use them as examples so people don't get in our way." Dark smirked.

"That doesn't have style, Darky boy."

"At the end we could put the survivors into Mark's car and crash it into a building." Dark froze, realizing that Mark would be pissed.

"That is style."

"W...We would get in trouble..." Dark slowly put his knees to his chest, trying to get as small as possible.

Wilford paused, wondering how this mellow, tiny thing was the Dark that he was used to. "Yeah, Mark would be pissed."

"I...I don't want to.. I don't want to die. I don't..." Dark mumbled. He wasn't with Wilford anymore, not mentally. He was there.

"You can't die." Wilford masked his concern with a weak grin.

Dark curled up tighter and shouted, his eyes watering. "I DON'T WANT TO GET LOCKED INTO HIS HEAD AGAIN!!! Not again, not again, not again, never again." He was glitching, worse than Wilford had ever seen him glitch.

"Okay, okay. It's fine, Darky. I wouldn't let that happen. You have me." Wilford scooted closer, slowly wrapping an arm around the typically calm ego. It was more containing than comforting. He was nearly immediately greeted with Dark hitting him repeatedly.

"I-It's terrible in there. I almost never see an-anything, and it's dark, and I can't control m-my emotions, and I can't move, and I'm sur-surrounded by dark thoughts, and..." Dark's choked words faded into sobs, but he still hit Wilford.

"Dark. I. Wouldn't. Let. That.  Happen." His happy, cheerful facade completely crumbled, leaving only himself, a person concerned for Dark, and only Dark.

"YOU C-COULDN'T DO ANYTHING!!!" Dark shouted, glitching even further. "I'M PR-PRACTICALLY IMAGINARY! HE CONTROLS WHETHER I HAVE MY OWN PHYSICAL FORM OR NOT!!!"

"Hey. Hey. Dark. I'm here. Listen to my voice. Come back. You're not there. You'll be fine."

"I won't be fine." He ran out of anger, out of fear. Je finally hugged Wilford, defeated. "If he decides I go back, I go back. It could happen without warning. And I couldn't do anything about it. I just... I don't want to go back, Will."

"I know. I wouldn't let Mark do that."

"I-It's lonely in there... I can't even talk to Mark..." Dark looked at Wilford, his eyes overflowing with tears and his eyeliner ruined.

"It'll be fine, Dark. I can make sure of that." Wilford hugged Dark tightly, and Dark buried his face in Wilford's shoulder.

"But can you? And... would you?"

"I could. And I would. I really would." He smiled softly, rubbing circles on Dark's back.

"...Promise?" Dark looked at Wilford, his glitching slowing down.

"Promise."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1305  words. Damn. I might actually do a second part at some point, ngl.