“I am NOT crying, okay?! I’m allergic to jerks!”
“Give me cake or give me death.”
Markiplier X Pregnant!Reader
Warnings: none except light cursing(??? Maybe????)
A/N: so I’ve been on a huge baby/pregnant thing lately and I just HAD to write this. Obviously, the hormones may seem a tad overdone, but TBH with my luck and my high emotional outbreaks, this will most likely be me as a pregnant woman. Also, the reader describes a lot of Mark’s attributes as stupid. It’s NOT LITERAL. It’s the hormones and stuff. It’s the whole, "I’m trying to be mad at you but your eyes keep distracting me,” type of scenario. Hope y'all like it! Xoxo -Em
You sat in the dead center of the couch with one hand holding the remote control and the other resting on your swollen belly. Mark was upstairs recording–or maybe he was editing at this point, pregnancy brain had really been doing you in lately and you couldn’t keep track of time that well–while you had been watching an amazing episode of ‘Cake Boss.’ And then the creeping feeling of a cake craving began making its way into your mind, but you quickly shook it off and changed the channel. Sadly, on just about every one, they seemed to be eating cake.
With a huff, you set the remote down and stood up, making your way to the kitchen–hoping to find something to at least semi-satisfy your craving. Just as you’re approaching the fridge, with a hand on the handle, you spot something out of the corner of your eye and you pause. Slowly turning your head to face the item, you see it for its true glory. A cake. The most glorious of cakes.
You let out a sigh and swallowed the drool that had built up. ‘You don’t need cake,’ you thought to yourself, trying to convince your raging pregnancy hormones that you didn’t need the cake. But the damn thing seemed to speak to you, saying things like: "Please eat me,” “You know you want me,” and "Look at me. You’ll regret it if you don’t have just a slice.”
Clutching the fridge handle, you whimpered and gave in. You made your way to the cabinet that held the plates and grabbed one. On your way back to the cake you grabbed a knife and fork, ready to slice yourself a little piece of heaven.
As you cut into it, you moaned in delight at the delicious scent of whipped sugar and its spongey counterpart. You were shaking from the excitement when you placed the slice on your plate. You smiled and stared at it for a bit, taking in the exquisite sight of such a lovely creation sitting on your plate.
You paused for a second. ‘Do you really need this piece of cake?’ You felt a kick coming from your abdomen and you smiled, taking it as a sign. 'Yes. Yes you do.’ You grabbed the knife and turned away from the cake to place it in the sink. Once you did, you turned around and saw Mark staring at the piece of cake.
"Ooh… This looks good,” he stated.
"It does, doesn’t it,” you stated, making your way to him and the cake. “Too bad it’s m-” you were cut off by the sight of him grabbing the plate. “What are you doing?”
"Huh? Oh I’m gonna eat th-”
"Like hell, you are. That’s my piece of cake!”
He raised his eyebrows and his stupid knowing smirk appeared. “Oh is it, now?”
"Yes! It is,” you exclaimed reaching for the cake, but failing as Mark raised above his stupid head with faded out red hair. You looked him in the eyes with a stern look. “Give me the cake, Mark.”
"Mmm, I don’t think I will.” His mouth was in a full blown smile.
"Give me the damn cake,” you reached up for the plate but he shifted and moved the plate further out of your reach. He raised his eyebrows and bit his stupid lip.
"Mark. This isn’t funny. Give me the cake.”
"Why should I?”
"Because your six-and-a-half month pregnant wife is craving cake, and that is MY PIECE!”
He just stood there holding the piece of cake over his head with a loving look in his stupidly stupid eyes. He started to lean down toward you but stopped just millimeters away. His lips brushed yours as he said, “You, hon, are so damn cute when you’re determined and mad.”
"Give me cake or give me death, Mark. Give me cake… Or give… Me death.” You had you brows furrowed and your hands clutched in fists.
At that, he pulled back. “If you want a piece of cake that bad, just cut yourself a new one.”
You glanced from the cake itself, to the piece in Mark’s hand, then to Mark. “I don’t want another piece of cake. I want… I want that one!” You started to get choked up and could feel the tears threatening to burst through their hold, as you glanced back and forth between Mark and the piece of cake.
He quickly set it down on the counter and placed his warm hands on your shoulders. “Woah! Hey, why are you crying, baby?” He proceeded to pull you into his big, warm embrace.
"I am NOT crying, okay?! I’m allergic to jerks!” Your voice was muffled in his shoulder as the tears came, and you sniffled.
“I didn’t mean to be a jerk, I was just playing around!” He spoke softly into your ear, while rubbing soothing circles on you back.
"I know, I just,” you sniffled and hiccuped. “That was my piece. It was the piece. There was a reason why I cut that piece in particular!” You sniffled some more and wrapped your arms around his waist while trying to subtly wipe your tears and maybe even a little snot onto his shirt.
He pulled away and reached for the plate with your perfect, beautiful piece of cake on it. “Here, honey. Take your piece of cake.” He placed it in your hands and pulled your head in to place a long and loving kiss to the top of your head.
Almost immediately, the tears stopped flowing and you stared at your iced love, slightly sniffling. “Thank you,” you said, softly and you proceeded to press a kiss onto his stupidly cute, scruffy cheek and all but skip back to the couch, leaving Mark in a dumbfounded trance.
After a minute, he joined you on the couch, pulling you into into his side. “Well, that was one hell of a ride on the hormone coaster,” he mumbled in your ear, kissing the top of it.
You instantly stopped chewing the bite you were on and turned your head to look at his face. You narrowed your eyes at him with a 'really?!’ look and said, “If you weren’t so right, I’d punch you in your perfect teeth.” You ended your statement with a peck on his lips and went back to eating your cake.
"Did you just quote Civil War?”
You rolled your eyes, “Shut up and hold me.”