#markiplier: pre-wkm au

[kanawrites]

Roommates

Damien x Female Reader

Your college life has started and you’re roommates with a familiar face.

Word Count: 1263

Arriving in front of the gates of the prestigious institution, you clutched your acceptance letter in one hand and baggage in the other. It’s finally the day. You’re going to start your university life!

Entering the grounds with confident steps, you headed over to the dormitories right away. A few days prior you came here to familiarize yourself with the surroundings and avoid embarrassing yourself. Glad the prior knowledge came in handy because you could see others having trouble navigating the area.

Inside the dormitory building there weren’t a lot of people walking around just yet. It was early in the morning and others were still getting oriented by either the teachers or friends who already knew the place. Grabbing the key to your room, you tried to unlock the door only to realize it had already been opened. I guess your roomie came in early as well. Without dwelling much on it, you opened the door and prepared to greet them.

Oh… Well this is a sight. You had been made aware beforehand that the school would sometimes pair male-female students but you didn’t expect it to happen to you. Certainly not with a visually pleasing one too. He’s standing in the center of the room, right in front of the window which casted a light warm glow from the morning sun. Beneath his feet is an opened luggage with few stray clothes lying around. He stands up then pauses. His eyes widening the slightest bit. ‘He looks like an angel’ you think to yourself. The soft image that your eyes are seeing doesn’t help.

“Uhh… hello there roommate!” you greeted with a wave and entered the room. Closing the door behind you with your foot, you go over to him trying not to look awkward. “The name’s (Y/N) it’s a pleasure to meet you” you extend a hand to him. He takes it firmly and says “So we meet again. My name’s Damien”. He smiles softly and you feel like cupid just shot an arrow through your heart.

Wait… again? “You mean to say we’ve met each other before…?” you ask unsure, letting go of his hand. Now he looks surprised “It’s been a little over a month but we danced in the rain”. “AH!!!!” you let go of your luggage and put a hand over your face. The luggage lands with a thud which spooked Damien. “That was embarrassing. But ah, thank you so much for helping me out. I feel sorry for troubling you that night” a small blush forms on your face. “It wasn’t troublesome at all. Besides you made my night with your antics” he replies.

“To think we’d cross paths again. It’s like we’re fated to meet each other” Damien lets out a laugh. You finally recovered from the memory and fiddled with your hands “I didn’t think you were a local or a student at all but this is a nice surprise. At least we’re not complete strangers”. He didn’t seem to be offended by your wording and took it in stride. “Well then. I shouldn’t hold you up. We still have classes to attend to” he finishes the small talk.

You two finished settling in and Damien even helped you with your stuff since he was already mostly done when you arrived. The two of you meanwhile talked about some ground rules but they were pretty standard and all boiled down to one thing. Respecting each other.

After that day you two just clicked. As if you two had been best friends all your life. Attached to the hip, rarely apart.

There are some things you learn about another person after living with them for quite a while. I noticed Damien had an undeniable charm that would make even the most disagreeable of people listen to him, even if unwilling. He would often fix his hair when stressed and has a habit of fiddling with whatever he has on hand when he’s thinking. His eyes express more than he thinks. They always wander to whoever he last spoke to, most likely thinking about what impression they have of him. It lights up when someone would mention an actor he liked as if he wanted to spill every little thing he knew. The way it widens when I’d surprise him with a meal after he stayed up all night to perfect his assignment. These are just some of the small things I noticed about Damien while living with him for some time.

We’re currently in our shared room after classes. He’s practicing for an oral presentation tomorrow and he asked me to listen to his speech delivery and that I didn’t have to watch him since we’re both crammed for the week. I didn’t want to do it half-heartedly because then neither of us would be really focused on our own tasks. So here I am, sitting on my bed, watching Damien with a focused gaze as he continues his presentation.

His body language conveyed a sense of confidence and coolness to it that would assure the listener and even convince them. His voice was loud and clear, each word enunciated with vigor. The only thing I noticed wrong is that his face has a disconnect with his words.

“So how did I do?”

Damien sat next to me, his form relaxing.

“You did great. The teachers already love you, pretty sure they’ll pass you even if you just stood there and talked about what you ate for breakfast.”

“Great isn’t really helpful. If that was what I wanted then I would’ve asked anyone else to be my audience. I need an honest opinion.”

He pouted and I rolled my eyes. 

“Well, your non-verbal language is top notch like always…”

“But?”

“But you always get so worried before a presentation. You do great when you’re up there and actually giving it. Seriously, I’m betting that you already rehearsed the whole thing at least 5 times before I arrived.”

“I may have done something like that”

“Yet your hands were shaky half the time you did it”

To emphasize, I took both his hands and waved it about.

“Noodle arms! And somehow they magically become solid during presentations!”

I let him go and lie on the bed, eyes still focused on him. He laughs “I know there’s more”. I let out a huff and sat back up.

“Yeah because you still haven’t gotten that face mismatch fixed. Your eyes don’t convey the same thing that your words do. Just earlier you talked about how the faculty is lacking in manpower compared to the student population and your eyes were excited instead of serious. We’re just at the start. No solutions just yet. You got too excited again”

He lets out a content smile.

“And there’s my little monster”

“Hey”

“Thanks for your evaluation. I can always count on you to point out my flaws.”

He gives me a pat on the back and stands up.

“I’ve already taken up too much of your time. The sun’s all gone. I’ll buy us dinner while you start on your assignment.”

“Alright. Just order the usual”

He nods, grabs his wallet and leaves.

It’s been no more than a few seconds but the soft look Damien gave when he called me that nickname pops up in my mind. Ahh I went overboard again. “He’s definitely trouble”. I lie back down on my bed and feel my face grow hot. I suddenly don’t want to do my assignment anymore.

“He better have ordered extra… and understand science better than me”

Bro my brain shut down at the start of the fic because I was focusing inside my head about the cute roomie things and I had 0 clue how to start it nor do I know how the whole process works. I just wanted lighthearted fluff. Also I had fun with starting the first five paragraphs. It’s just the vowels lol. Made for a fun mini challenge.

Lmao from not having the reader talk much in previous fics, this one is a chatterbox.

[marshmellowtea]

related to that last post i just made uh. technically i don’t need two different aus where damien and the da take care of a very hurt actor but i,, want them,,

[falseroar]

Silent Watch Part 1: Mr. Jackson

((Hi! A while back I did a monster hunter/werewolf au with Abe and the District Attorney from WKM, called Silver and Peppermint, which I’ve finally put up over on AO3. Speaking of things I should have done a while ago, I’ve had this story sitting in a file on my computer for...longer than I’d like to admit. I’m planning to post one part a day, and hopefully by the time it’s done I will be finished or close to done with this universe’s version of WKM.

This though is a prequel to Silver and Peppermint, taking place before WKM, before Abe met the DA, before Y/N even was a DA. Before a lot of things. This is the story of how Y/N met an actor, but not the one you’re thinking of, and one terrible night that changed both their lives forever.

If you’ve read Silver and Peppermint or are familiar with the character of Jameson Jackson, you might be able to guess where this is going.

Links to Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, and Part 7.))

The lights strung up all around the field and crisscrossing over the partygoers’ heads provided a soft, uneven glow to everything, but as you went around with tray in hand and a poor attempt at a smile plastered on your face, you noticed more than one of the caterers and locals among the crew looking up at the darkening sky with varying degrees of worry. Despite the many, many reassurances from the town elders and the slightly more flippant response from the assistant director that everything would be fine with the proper precautions, you knew many of your temporary coworkers wished the film crew could have just had their wrap party within the familiar boundaries of the town itself.

“And did it have to be so late?” whispered another caterer when you returned to the staging area for another tray full of ridiculously small appetizers. You recognized him from school; actually, most of the locals hired to fill out the cast and crew while they were filming in and around town were around your age or not much older, and you wondered more than once over the past couple of weeks how many of the others were saving up for similar reasons as your own. “Why couldn’t they just wait until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Because there are some party activities you can only really have fun with after dark,” one of the girls answered with a wink that sent her and a couple of nearby caterers into a giggling fit.

“They’re planning on packing everything up and leaving tomorrow,” you added, once they had calmed down a bit. “I think they’d rather use the daylight to get out of here.”

Your fingertips brushed against the silver chain connected to your belt loop, the other end reaching into your pocket, and you felt a familiar calm settle over you as you added, “We’ll be fine as long as we stay out of the woods tonight. You all know that.”

“You working tomorrow?” asked the first caterer, who seemed visibly surprised when you shook your head ‘no.’ “What, really? You’ve been pulling more shifts than any of us, and still working at the bakery every morning before school, how are you not working the last day?”

You shrug at the sarcasm in his voice, not wanting to admit that you had asked only to be told you needed to choose between working tomorrow or tonight. Apparently, the crew director didn’t believe anyone would show up the next morning after a night shift, and working the party offered the chance for more hours and more pay.

And you needed all the help you could get.

“Do you ever stop and actually have time for, I don’t know, fun Y/N?” asked one of the girls.

“Have you ever even been to a party before?” asked another. “You could always leave your tray with one of us and maybe get to know some of the stars—”

“I’m good,” you interrupted, trying your best to ignore the new round of giggling as you grabbed a ready tray and turned back to face the party.

Most of the people here were part of the crew, faces you had come to know over the past month or so with the occasional name to go with them, but as you threaded your way through the laughing, chatting partyers, you did pass more than one actor or actress who until recently had only existed on a big screen or in a washed out picture in the newspaper. They seemed occupied enough with the drinks and recounting stories to keep the inevitable crowd around them entertained, but the star of the show, of this whole production, was nowhere to be seen among all of the festivities.

That is, until you turned at a call for a new glass and ran straight into him.

Spinach and mushroom puffs tumbled to the grass below and it was all you could do to keep the whole tray from spilling, his hands reaching to help you regain balance.

“Sorry, sorry!”

You were surprised to hear him saying it too, and once sure you were okay his face broke into an open, easy smile.

“Sorry, I can be a bit clumsy. Works out well on the screen, not so much in real life.”

“It was my fault, Mr. Jackson, I wasn’t—”

Your apology, more out of reflex from too much time spent dealing with angry customers in your other job than anything else, was quickly cut short.

“Please, you can call me Jameson, or—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Jackson?”

Jameson Jackson paused, his smile slipping as he glanced at the interrupter. While most if not everyone here that wasn’t working were dressed in comfortable clothes or, like Jameson in his white shirtsleeves and bright blue vest and bowler hat, whatever they had been wearing in the last scenes to be filmed, this guy was dressed up in a suit and tie, as though expecting a more formal party. He also wasn’t anyone you had seen around before, either on set or in town, although Jameson seemed to recognize him.

“I don’t remember inviting you to the party,” Jameson said, his smile more forced now.

“I just need a minute to ask some questions,” the stranger said, his own smile too wide and yet failing to reach his eyes. “Alone, if we can, unless you want to talk here. Although, knowing how rumors spread…”

Jameson narrowed his eyes, not even pretending at a smile anymore. “Especially when they get help from muckrakers.”

The stranger put a hand to his chest with a mocking gasp. “You wound me, Mr. Jackson. My paper only reports the truth, and I just wanted to give you a chance to present your side of things before certain uncomfortable truths hit the page.”

Uncomfortable truths? You look from Jameson to the reporter, wondering if you should say something or back out of this conversation, but before you could make a move either way, Jameson rolled his eyes and spoke.

“Oh, and I’m sure you won’t twist everything around. Again. I’ll give you five minutes, which is five more than you deserve by this point.”

The reporter smiled and followed Jameson’s gesture with a snide, “So kind of you, Mr. Jackson.”

You were curious, of course, but you couldn’t exactly follow them to the edge of the party, away from the music and crowd and just within the circle of lights. Instead, you could only get back to doing your job and serving the other partygoers while trying to avoid running into anyone else who might be less friendly than Jameson.

You were just trying to fake a smile while waiting for the crew director and one of the actresses to choose from the identical puffs on the tray when you heard the gasps and shock ripple out from the other side of the field. The three of you turned in time to see the reporter stumble back, one hand raised to his bloody nose, while Jameson stalked away from the party with shoulders hunched, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“I wonder what that was about,” the actress beside you said as she took a spinach puff from the tray before taking a delicate bite. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jameson that mad, not even when we had to scrap and reshoot a week’s worth of scenes.”

“Is that the guy from The Morrow Gazette? What is he doing here?” asked the crew director, narrowing her eyes as she watched the reporter stumble away in the direction of town. “I told security to keep him away from the set and crew, what are they even doing?”

Drinking a few beers somewhere between here and town, not that you thought you should mention that. Instead, you asked, “Where is Jameson going?”

“Ah, he’ll be fine, he just needs to cool off,” the crew director said, then muttered something under her breath about wishing he’d punched that reporter harder.

The actress glanced at you and lowered her voice, even though you could still clearly hear her ask, “Is it true what they’ve been saying? About the studio being broke?”

“You’re still getting paid, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the crew director answered. “We’ve hit a few snags here and there, but—”

“It didn’t look like he was going toward town,” you interrupted. “Jameson, he has a ward on him, right?”

The worry steadily growing inside you immediately skyrocketed when you saw the blank expressions on their faces, even before the actress asked, “A what?”

She was too stunned for a moment to do anything but take the tray you shoved toward her, her surprised exclamation following behind the crew director’s shout as you turned and took off running.

You bit your lip but kept on running in the direction you last saw Jameson. After all, it was your last night on the job. What were they going to do, fire you?

((Thank you for reading! If you want to be tagged in this, or don’t want to be tagged, just let me know.

Link to Part 2.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate))

[foxtamer113]

070: “We both have nowhere else to be so we get to spend our rare day off at home.”

ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP! WHOO!

-

Damien jumped in surprise as the door to his home office just slammed open, cursing quietly when he noticed his pen left a jagged line over the form he was writing on.

William stood at the open door, arms crossed, an annoyed look on his face.

"I can't believe you're working on your day off" William tsked, a fond tone coloring his voice, as he strode towards his boyfriend, leaning against the side of the desk. "It's Labor day. The day you get to relax and feel appreciated for the work you've done for our country. Why not leave your work alone for one day dearest?"

"Ah, sorry love. It's a force of habit by now." Damien sheepishly explained at William, cheeks a flustered red at the term of endearment. "I'm just used to working thru the holidays I guess, since I usually have no one to share it with."

William's eyes softened, pulling the smaller man out of his chair and into an embrace, Damien melting into it.

"You have me now Dames" William softly said, slowly swaying them into an impromptu little dance, enjoying how Damien didn't protest and further melted into him. He silently promised to himself and to the universe that he'll never leave Damien alone and lonely if he could help it.

"I know" Damien smiled back, just basking in the feeling of being surrounded by his love. They swayed for a while, Damien humming a few notes here and there randomly, making William laugh in delight, and spin them around a few times.

Unfortunately, the unheard song finally stopped, and with it the dance ended.

Reluctantly, Damien stepped away from William's arms, smile still etched on his face. "So, what do we do now?" He asked, content with letting William choose their activities for today.

William leaned down and quickly pecked Damien's lips, before entwining their hands together, "Well... We both have nowhere else to be, so, why don't we spend our rare day off at home, away from prying eyes, and just relax? I'll make some hot chocolate and we'll cuddle, watch Mark's old movies and laugh about it. Okay?" He suggested, leading them out of the office, Damien in tow.

"That sounds absolutely perfect."

[forget-mad-not]

𝙰 𝙼𝚊𝚍 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚍('𝚜) 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

━━━ AO3-fanfiction + Tumblr-aesthetic masterlist ━━━

(gif: xxx)

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fandom: Markiplier Multiverse

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

✰ We're Not Meant for Happiness

/ multichapter, WKM? retelling, inspired by (mostly) Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca /

(in progress)

━━━ White Periwinkle Means... [prologue] / post

━━━ Dark Crimson Rose Means... [chapter I] / post

━━━ Coming Soon... [chapter II]

✰ The Tales Trader

/ multichapter, WKM? dark fairytale!AU, collaboration with the stunningly talented @zulzinho /

(in progress)

━━━ Chapter 1: The Coin / post

━━━ Chapter 2: The Ring / post

━━━ Chapter 3: Coming Soon...

✰ deny your god

/ WKM? + KOllOK crossover; Celine The Seer x The God of Day /

/ post

✰ Celine's Gun

/ Celine's nights in the DAMIEN-loop when ex-husband hunting season was announced /

/ post

✰ ending, ending, entropy

/ experimental character study around Darkiplier after ISWM's post-credit scene /

/ post + web weaving

✰ As Real as Prop

/ a short scene starring Actor Mark's ring in ISWM - Part I /

/ post

✰ Three of Swords.

/ pre-WKM?; a heartbroken Actor Mark and a manipulative House Entity /

/ post + incredible art by @zulzinho ✨

✰ IT'S DEATH, JIM, RUN!

/ crossover: WKM? + Unus Annus; silly crackfic with Mori/Annus and the Jims interacting during the events of WKM? /

/ post

✰ Story of A P̢u̵p͠p̕e͘t (Regarding Lost Things)

/ crossover: Markiplier + Jacksepticeye egos; the Host narrates a Magnus Archives-style podcast-episode about Jameson Jackson /

/ post

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fandom: Jacksepticeye Multiverse

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✰ So... You Like The Classics, Doc?

/ fluff&crack-fic, focusing on Antistein and Schneep's professional music taste /

/ post

✰ There Are Laws Even You Must Respect, Demon

/ fluffy little crackfic, because I missed my cats and the Antistein ship /

/ post

✰ tinted glasses, truth-variations

/ Antistein angst; maybe Schneep's nine months-long "vacation" wasn't that sinister, or was it? /

━━━ Chapter 1: die gelbe ziegelsteinstraße / post

━━━ Chapter 2: die grinsekatze / post

━━━ Chapter 3: die granatapfelkerne / post

/ + gorgeous art by @florenceisfalling ✨

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Writing About Works In Progress / WAWIP

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

━━━ WAWIP # 1 / idea-list from 2021

━━━ WAWIP #1.5 / status-update of the Unus Annus fic

━━━ Concepts I'd like to write about... / moodboard

[copper-sands]

continuing on my WKM Swap AU, here’s Mark! he’s still an actor, just not as big as canon Mark is. he’s trying his best tho. and he beby. please love him. now, this is a pre-WKM / WKM design of Mark, his WMW design was already posted there one day(though i still have to make a reference sheet/backstory for him), and his Markiplier TV design is... still in progress. i’m making decisions. anyway, hope you like the Boy!!

[kanawrites]

Dancing in the Rain

Mayor Attorney (Damien x Female DA)

Set prior to university. Cars are referred to as automobiles/autos here. Thanks.

Word count: 3823

A letter arrives in the mailbox of a residential home early Saturday morning. A young postman arrives, ready to insert the mail when an excited young lady, waiting by the stairs of the front porch, bounces up and grabs it out of their hand. Offended and surprised, the person looks up and takes back the letter “Ms. (Y/N) of the Morgan Residence?”. Eyes wide, she covers her mouth with both hands and mutters a quick apology. “Sorry, and yes, that is my name”. Behind her hands, her smile begins to grow again and the constant light tapping of her foot fails to hide her emotion. They looked her up and down quizzically.

“That was very rude of you, Miss. But uh, it's convenient you’re out here. The lads back at the post office said there was an extra package for you that they couldn’t bring. You’d have to drop by. It’s from uh, England? From Mr. Morgan.” he hands her the mail.

 “Thank you for the letter and relaying the message, Sir?”

“Jaime”

“Jaime, sorry for taking up your time. I’ve been antsy all morning, you see-”

 Realizing the lady in front of her was ready to go a tangent, if the glint in her eye was anything to go by, he picked up his bicycle from the sidewalk and awkwardly tried to get on while trying to maintain eye contact. Out of courtesy. “It’s really no problem, Miss. Hopefully the contents will give you the results you wanted.” Tipping his hat, he bids her a good day and leaves. “Ah, I got over excited” she held the letter in one while biting her index with the other. “You too!” she shouts and waves goodbye to the postman, not really comprehending how her reply didn’t make sense nor could the person it was directed to, hear it.

Going back inside the house in a rush, the door slams with a loud thud. It made me jump but my eyes immediately wandered back to the letter. Written in newly dried ink is my full name. Beneath it is the university’s name. It really is a letter from my college application. I wasn’t lying earlier to the postman when I said I’d been antsy waiting all day. It’s just the excitement overruled my fear but now... I’m feeling light-headed. This is my only chance to prove my worth. Please let me make it in.

Her head falls back to the hardwood of the door. Her eyes closed, as if praying in her mind. Her heart is beating fast. Clutching the letter as if it’s her lifeline. Letting out a deep breath, she takes one last look and rips it open.

“Greetings and salutations to all our applicants. If this letter finds you in good health, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to-”

She read the rest of the letter hastily and you could hear the joy in her voice the longer it went. By the end she mutters in disbelief “I got accepted”. With a bit more confidence “I got accepted”. “I GOT ACCEPTED!” She dances around the empty hallway with glee and falls on the couch. She hugs a pillow with one hand, and the other dangling on the edge of the couch with the letter. Bringing up the hand without the note to her forehead she shakily mumbles “Thank the Gods”.

Sitting up properly, she dusted off her clothes and gave herself a light slap on both cheeks.

“I’m going to celebrate tonight”

 And (Y/N) went about her day as always, the only thing that changed was she dropped by the post office for the package delivery. Apparently their carrier called in sick so everyone had to manually pick it up for the day. It’s a good thing she is amicable with a lot of people. It’s a skill she needs to develop if she wants to become an attorney after all. As she was about to leave, Jaime had just arrived after doing his first round of deliveries. He awkwardly bowed with his hat and left after being called by one of the other employees. Shy but nice. Maybe he’ll become a useful ally in the future.

The package was from her guardian. It had her monthly allowance, a couple of practical items, a dress, and a note.

“While I am of the mind that unmarried women should be dressed demure, my lovely wife wanted to send you this dress so you could experience the flaming passion of youth. It’s been years since we last met but we do hope it is to your likeness. Warm regards”.

She took it out of the package and held it up over her frame. Turning around from her bedside to the full body mirror, it was a loose black dress that ended under her knees. It shimmered a bit in the light and it reminded her of the dresses that the ladies wore to the bar. It’s funny how the perfect outfit arrived in time. As if her guardian knew that she’d be getting an acceptance letter today. Wishful thinking but it is an entertaining thought. Now that she has a dress prepared, and with the sun setting down, it’s time for her to get ready to celebrate tonight in her favorite bar.

  Damien and Celine were both greeting the guests that arrived at their parents’ party for the rich and elite, celebrating the business’ successful opening overseas. The night had just started but they’re already tired from smiling towards people that arrived with greedy and selfish intentions. Anytime Damien’s smile faltered, Celine would step on his dress shoes. Whenever Celine would slowly zone out, Damien would discreetly poke her sides. They’d rather be anywhere else than near their parents but formal gatherings like tonight are inevitable. They can deal with being in their presence for a few hours. When the last of the guests had arrived, they could finally take a break and sit at the “kids” table. Celine gagged that they were still called as such despite being young adults already.

The only saving grace they had at this convention of self-absorbed capitalists telling each other empty praises was Mark’s presence. The young actor with big ambitions is casually leaning back on the chair. His grin widened when the twins appeared. “Finally! sensible people!” He stood up and gave Celine a kiss on the cheek. She rolled her eyes at the comment “and another person whom I actually like in this stuffy room”. Cupping Mark’s cheeks, she plants a kiss on both sides. Damien took a seat, a chair away from his sister to leave the two some personal space. “At least we aren’t the center of attention this time” he remarked. “Please, I was tempted to stab a few men that were ogling me on our birthday” Celine spitefully said, recalling the day. “It made for a fun rendezvous after, wouldn’t you agree dear?” Mark hugged her and rested his head on her shoulder.

Now Damien is a patient person, he could deal with how lovey dovey they are most of the time but without William, it was awkward to be the third wheel. Speaking of… 

“Is William not arriving today?”

“Willy’s family is too brutish and boorish to be invited apparently” Mark replied, finally sitting down. “That’s a shame. He would’ve livened up the place” Celine sat down. The gang already miss William’s antics. Sure would be nice if any one of them had the guts to topple the champagne glass tower to offset the stiff atmosphere. Unfortunately, they all had appearances to keep up in this social gathering, even if they’re not the main focus.

Dinner is served and the night passes by. As everyone is chattering and laughing away, Damien couldn’t help but dissociate from the party. Even now as he is surrounded by his peers.

He feels empty.

Damien scans the entire floor. His parents chatting with their business partners, the staff moving about with some in the corner speaking in hushed whispers, the people at the buffet table taking seconds, and he feels out of place. He looks out one of the many floor to ceiling windows and sees the new moon. Maybe the celestial object could understand his feelings tonight.

  Tonight the music is blasting loudly in the cabaret bar, the ladies are dancing their worries away and everyone is here to be entertained. The loud and jubilant music accompanied by the chattering of the customers, those who came alone to destress, and those who are accompanied by friends, family, or lovers to have a grand ol’ night. Our dear attorney-to-be was in the dressing room hanging out with the cabarets while the burlesques are preparing for their performance. Easy-going and genuine smiles could be seen around the room as they’re making small talk.

She had already filled them in on the exciting news earlier and the girls had cheered for her. The older ones acted like her moms giving proud looks and speeches while those closer to her age bounced about and gave long warmth filled hugs. Now she isn’t a social butterfly by all means, but (Y/N) understood the importance of a support group. These dancers became her family in place of her absentee guardians. While they gave her the necessities to survive, they lacked the emotional connection that is necessary for her personal development. These group of talented women became her friends and family and she could always go to them for advice or announcements such as these.

As it was the burlesque’s turn to perform, the cabarets that had gone out took a break, and the group that surrounded (Y/N) left to help the others rest or prepare for their own show. One of the ladies on a break then approached her with a mixed cocktail in one hand and a beer bottle in another. She handed (Y/N) the cocktail and ushered her out in the main floor to have fun. The whole reason she came here is to party and let loose after all. Downing the drink in one go she headed to the dance floor.

  The rain was pouring down heavily by the time the party had ended. Some guests had to be carried by the valets or life-long partners to their automobiles. The twins' parents are talking with the remaining ones as they stand outside, waiting for their own auto to arrive. Damien and Celine lived in a house independently from their parents. It’s for their safety, they’d explain. Celine had her umbrella open, slowly twirling with it to kill her boredom. Damien had the umbrella on his side, leaning a bit into it. Any words that they wanted to share with each other would be said at the comfort of their shared living space. They won’t take any risk where there are eyes on them.

From the corner of Celine’s eye, she catches Mark’s family about to leave and their eyes make contact. Mark’s face which had been in a neutral position now held a mischievous smile, he mouthed ‘come with me’. Celine at the prospect of sneaking away with her lover had her eyes light up. To get Damien’s attention, she tilted the umbrella and tipped it to make contact with his head.

Tip

.

Tip

.

Tip

.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Damien looks over to his sister and catches the look that says ‘Don’t tell anyone I’m gone’. He sighs resignedly. Mark comes up to the two, and offers his hand to Celine “Shall we?”. She closes her umbrella, and passes it to Damien and chirps “Thanks lil brother”. With no choice, he takes the umbrella and watches the couple leave with a chauffeur behind them, making sure they arrive at the auto without a drop on their head. As the Fischbach family leaves the premises, the twins' driver arrives. The chauffeur notices that their lady is once again absent and doesn’t comment on it. It’s part of their routine now. Making sure their master is safe, they drive off into the foggy and rainy night.

  The pitter patter of the rain is calming to Damien. It almost lulls him to sleep. Even if the night wasn’t physically tiring by any means, he finds it too much, the legacy that he has to live up to. Being in the same space as all those influential people tire him out. Stories and accounts of people saying that their family is blessed to have talented and beautiful kids. Socially skilled twins with high intellect. A graceful daughter, a kind son. They’d make for fine leaders. The endless praise is overwhelming. Then there’s the ugly side, the envious and hateful stares that hide under the surface... In the murky depths where it feels like one wrong move and they’ll drown him. This uncomfortable itchy feeling that won’t go away. He hates it.

White noise. The rain’s comfortable constant sound makes him unwind. He breathes in and out slowly. The umbrella that lies beside him is now in his hands. He’s playing with the handle. Tapping on it in a constant beat like a metronome scale. He wouldn’t mind relaxing like this for a bit longer. As he shuts his eyes, the driver toots the horn so suddenly, jolting him awake. In front of them was a lady dancing in the rain without a care in the world. She didn’t even stop or walk out of the way after almost getting run over. The chauffeur was about to get out but Damien stopped them.

She looked so inebriated and didn’t even look like she had any belongings on her person. Damien asked the driver to give him the extra umbrella, and he got out, with one umbrella being used to cover himself from the harsh downpour, and the other to give to this strange lady. “Excuse me miss but may you please step off the road?” He’s having trouble verbalizing to this intoxicated woman. Did she even hear what he said? Did he come off as too rude? Should he rephrase it? “May I?” her eyes looks a little less clouded as she was interrupted.

“Maybe if you dance with me”

She gave him no room to answer and held onto Damien’s hand and led him to a waltz. With the sudden contact, both umbrellas fell off his hands. Now he’s cold, wet, and flustered. From the random excited moves, splashes, and turns she did earlier, now her movements are much more controlled and practiced. As if she’d committed the steps into her memory. It’s a bit sloppy, her left arm closer to his neck than the shoulder, her tempo a beat too fast, but in her drunken stupor, it’s as graceful as it could be. Box step. They were doing the classic box step.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Somehow he lets himself be guided by a complete stranger in the middle of the night.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Dancing in the rain

One, two, three. One, two, three.

With low visibility

One, two, three. One, two, three.

On a quiet road

It’s an odd experience, to say the least. His custom tailored suit is soaked, his feet are wet, his breath coming out in small puffs of clouds, eyes blinking away raindrops that fall near. Yet he can’t say he hates it. The girl holding him slows down, eyes closing and resting her head on his shoulder. Humming what sounded like Johann Strauss’ The Blue Danube Waltz. From a waltz, the dance slows down into a simple sway.

If you were to ask any passerby, they’d assume they were moony lovers. No one would ever guess that they were strangers.

Now that the dance is almost at a halt, Damien could take a proper look at the drunk woman. There was no moonlight that could shine down and give her that ethereal luminescent glow that romance stories tend to have. To make him feel like he’s looking at a Goddess, or to make him feel like he’s falling in love. All that existed is the low warm flickering of the light post giving her a much more human glow. It makes the moment feel so grounded and real, and he’s actually dancing with a stranger. And he hopes she can’t hear his heart beating faster. He isn’t dreaming. There’s a pretty lady who is not in her right mind and she needs to get home.

Damien stops their dancing and snaps out of it. Finally remembering why he came out in the first place. Holding her up, he motions over to the driver to grab the umbrellas. As the chauffeur opens both, Damien lowers the two of them to the ground and gives the lady a piggyback ride. Nearing the auto, the chauffeur tries to open the door but Damien shakes his head. He doesn’t want her to wake up confused and scared of being taken away. He motions to the front porch ahead of them and they set her down on the stairs. Damien sits next to the sleeping lady and asks the chauffeur to hand over an umbrella. Afterwards, the driver goes back to the auto and waits.

The rain isn’t pouring as hard anymore as when he first met the lady. The skies start to clear up. Signaling that it was almost over. The woman next to him starts to wake. Rubbing her eyes, she lets out a yawn and a burp which makes her surprised. Feeling a person’s presence on her left, she jumps but doesn’t let out a sound. Looking like a deer caught in headlights, Damien waved and explained himself. “Sorry for startling you, miss. We found you dancing in the middle of the road.” he then extended his arms out to the road with the auto parked near a light post. “And we didn’t know where you lived or if anyone nearby knew you, so we settled to let you rest here until you were sober enough to go home.” he finished.

(Y/N) felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment for being caught doing something indecent. Putting her hands over her cheeks she replies “I’m sorry, good sir, for making you witness such indecency and wasting your time. I have no way of repaying you right now but thanks… for.. taking care of a stranger.”. Damien gives her a soothing smile. Glancing down at her wet clothes, she takes a look around to gather her current position. Standing up, she leans on the hand rails. “My place is only a few houses down this road” she starts. “My feet feel numb right now. Must’ve partied too hard” she rubs her arms up and down and avoids eye contact. “If it’s not too much of a bother, could I lean on you for support?” she looks back up at Damien and the moment their eyes meet, she averts. A light blush on her cheeks, highlighted by the low warm light of the light post.

Damien takes off his wet suit jacket, squeezes some of the water out, and drapes it over her shoulder. Afterwards, he picks up the discarded umbrella with his left hand. With a charming yet mischievous smile, he extends his right arm “Maybe if you dance with me?”. She’s not sure why the wording makes her face heat up, but she takes his arm and clings on to it. The driver comes out and Damien instructs him to follow them closely, keeping the headlights on. He asks her if it was okay and she nods in response. And so the duo, with the driver slowly driving behind them, move forth.

 It wasn’t more than a minute since they began their stroll when she spoke up. “I didn’t do anything else, did I?” she shyly asked. A voice in her head was telling her that there was something more to it he didn’t say. Damien answers honestly “We danced together but you didn’t break any law whilst intoxicated if that’s what you’re asking.”. She hums in acknowledgement, her left hand gripping his arm tighter. If she was trying to mask her embarrassment, this did little to hide it. Still, it didn’t seem that she wanted the conversation to end, if the way she opens her mouth and getting stuck on a word was anything to go by. So Damien starts.

“I don’t mean to pry but how much did you drink for the night?”

“I am actually lightweight. It only took one cocktail before I got knocked out.”

“That makes two of us.”

“That means we could be really bad drinking buddies. For the record, my friends didn’t leave me or anything. The place was near my home and I always managed to get back in one piece. And I uh, don’t go around dancing with people randomly! I was just super excited because I passed my uni exam and… I spoke too much. Right. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I liked listening. Your cheerful attitude makes for great company.”

They both smiled and ended the conversation. A comfortable silent atmosphere falls between them. With every step they take, they can hear small splashing sounds on the pavement. The new moon overhead, the crickets noise, and the hum of the car’s engine made for a relaxing walk.

 “And your calm attitude makes it so easy to trust you.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not sure why but it feels like I could trust you. Maybe I’m still drunk or something but you’re the kindest stranger I’ve ever met. I’ve been warned to never go with unknown people and I don’t know. It’s hard to describe but I feel safe. Maybe I shouldn’t put this much faith in you but my feelings have never led me astray.”

“If it makes you feel better, my name’s Damien. I hope I can be a person worthy of your high praise.”

 They didn’t have enough time to dwell on the matter as (Y/N) lets go of Damien “We’re here”. Giving back the suit jacket to Damien, she gets closer to the two floor residential house, and takes out one of her 2 inch pumps. Inside the insole was the key and she unlocked the door. Turning back around, she sees Damien standing there, both hands now clutching the umbrella. He looks up at her and back down at the item.

 “You can have the umbrella”

“Oh no. You’ve already done plenty to help me tonight.”

“No, I insist. In case you’re ever caught out in the rain again.”

 She takes it from his hands and gives a small smile. “Thank you, Damien” he felt his stomach flip when she said his name. He bowed and was about to leave when he heard “It’s (Y/N), my name”. She doesn’t add any more and closes the door. 

He leaves with a smile. It’s certainly a name, and a memory he won’t forget.

I don’t know why but I love writing filler much to plenty of readers' annoyance. I have 0 clue what I’m doing. Just wanted to contribute to this lovely ship and make an excuse to write in like uhh… old-timey way?? I suppose... It was just supposed to be the main scene in the rain but I had to start from the beginning like an over-explainer. This was supposed to be a drabble, not a short story. Listened to rainy jazz while writing.

Also it’s been years since I wrote anything to completion so I’m proud I actually finished something. I hope you liked it.

To note: Even if people love their Marc for Actor’s first name spelling or Iplier for the last name, canonically it’s Mark Fischbach. Kind of like how Abe’s last name is Lincoln. The twins don’t have last names so I tried working around that. Y/N is a lightweight because in WKM we just took one shot and got fucking knocked out after that one. In my head the setting was around 1920-1922.

[kanawrites]

Hardly Listening

Actor Mark x Female Reader

He meets you at your low point and you meet him on his high and to be frank, you don’t want to deal with him.

Word Count: 1317

Music blasting on full volume as you down another glass. One shot. Two shots. Three shots. For there is more to come in this funky night you found yourself stuck in.

You had ended up in a fight with Damien and ran away to drink your worries away. An illogical move on your part, future attorney, but the feelings overwhelmed you even though it wasn’t even a big deal. He acted so strangely, and you were so off put by it all and the fatigue and stress from university was starting to catch up to you. A gagging feeling rises up from within you but you gulped it all down and tried to go for another.

You hadn’t even changed out of your university uniform when you ran to this underground bar. The same one Damien brought you once upon a time. Trying to get the man out of your mind, you ask the bartender for another shot when a hand comes up and puts it down.

“Miss, don’t you think you’ve had enough for the night?” Your vision was swirling and it took you a moment to focus. His voice sounded suave and you could tell he was wearing a bright red suit but you felt like gagging again when you caught a whiff of his perfume. “Bartender, do you have any bucket to spare?” the item was shoved in front of your face, or at least that's how it seemed, you’re drunk, it doesn’t matter. Hugging it tightly, you started to puke and you think it made the onlookers awkward since it would stink up the place. Or maybe they weren’t and you’re just overthinking again. Placing it on the table, you lie your head on the counter as the bartender takes the bucket to the back.

There’s a placating massage down your back “I just entered the establishment but you seemed so depressed that I couldn’t help but comfort you”. You put a hand on your temple and mutter out “Thank you sir, but please kindly fuck off”. His laugh was annoying, you think to yourself. He ordered his own glass and made a toast. To who or what, hell, you don’t care enough right now. 

“A beautiful lady is in misery while I had the grandest day of my life is an odd trade off” the man muses. He doesn’t drink it down in one go and paces himself, watching as you furrow your brows, trying to focus on something, somewhere else that wasn’t your current location. He looks down on you with feigned pity and speaks easily “It would ease the worry in my heart if the lady would share her plight but she seems to have drifted off far away”. You flip him off and turn your head the other direction. Eyes closed as the throbbing headache comes back.

“If she won’t share a story for tonight’s festivities then it’s only courteous of me to share mine in its place” He says with arrogance. The man in red places a hand down on the table, looking at the lady who was still turned away from him. He starts “Today I had been accepted to be part of a magnanimously grandiose televised show tune and for an actor of my caliber I was honored. Then in the afternoon, I had a lavish feast with my fiancé with her favorites. Her shocked face was so adorable. And tonight you got to meet me to help chase your rain clouds away” You’d think he likes to gloat but honestly, he’s just an egomaniacal man who can’t read the room. He’s not intentionally ill-mannered. Just dense… and maybe likes big words to make himself look smart. He definitely used a word or two wrong there.

You try to sit up properly, one hand on the counter to stabilize. “Don’t use words you don’t understand dumbass” you used your free hand to point to yourself. “I’m no linguistic but what you just said doesn’t make any sense” your words were slurred and your brain was still a pile of mush but you’re pretty sure that came out right.

“Ah! She speaks!” he says enthusiastically. 

“And why should I care about some random celebrity talking to me when I’m feeling like ugh peace? piece? of shit” you accusingly pointed at him and he feels offended by your words. “Lady, you have not been in the right state of mind all night but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re intoxicated” he rubs your head and the headache subsides a bit. “My name’s Mark. An actor since my childhood years that has been in an insurmountable amount of shows ranging from televised Hollywood films to stage plays to radio shows. I have been in every single form of entertainment media a person can be in” Mark says with practiced speech. A small part of you is impressed but the feeling of disdain from the continuous interaction overpowers that “I’m not asking for your job experience. I just want you to shut up and leave me be”.

“It seems you’re starting to sober up madam” Mark seems to ignore your words which annoyed you greatly. You wanted to wallow in despair for the night and deal with the problem later but a new problem came to you and now you want to deal with the other one instead. He’s a pain in the ass and if he says you’re sober, and you’re not sure why you suddenly trust this man’s word in this particular instance when you’ve been combative the entire time, then you can walk back to your dorms no problem.

As you were about to turn around and walk off he grabs your wrist and pleads “If you really want to leave, at least take my suit. It’s cold out tonight”. He doesn’t seem to understand what was wrong about the way he interacted with you all night but the gesture seems to be done in good faith. You’re somewhat aware as you grab the cloth that it’s made out of uncommon but comfortable material. You started to walk away from him but suddenly remembered “OH! Ma– Your perfume sucks and would you pay my bill for me? If you’re a celebrity that much won’t be a problem, right?”.

The cold night air sends chills down your body. Your body temperature is finally starting to cool down from that fiery hot atmosphere inside the bar. Letting out a breath, you mentally thanked the guy for giving you his coat for free. If you would take a guess, the coat was much more expensive than what your professors would earn in a year, or maybe you’re overestimating it, maybe underselling it? The name escapes you but you did hear Ma something. You didn’t pay attention to what he said for most of the night, it’s all going through your head like a blurb.

Something about an actor and something about how you didn’t like something about him. Huh… You’re not even sure if you’d meet him again or how you’d give this red velvet-like coat back. Stuffing your hands inside the coat’s pockets, your mind starts to calm down and you could smell the alcohol coming off your clothes. It reeks of it and you look down to see your uniform stained.

Wait a minute… If the school figured out you wore the uniform to an underground bar past curfew, you’re screwed. Not only that, now you have to find the owner of this coat after you clean it or maybe you could just sell it and earn fast cash and apologize to Damien and you haven’t even done your essay due tomorrow. You bash your head against a wall and cry out “I don’t want to deal with this right now damn it!”.

You start to understand why drunkards are the way they are.

Dear God, the way I wrote Actor in Dancing in the Rain and here is so different. What did the years do to you and where’s my son?! And how come introductions of both characters in this AU happen when the reader was so fucking drunk. What’s wrong with me.

Actor got selective hearing here lol

[kanawrites]

You guys have no idea how many fic ideas are sitting in my docs just because I kept putting off Roommates. It’s not the start of this AU (That belongs to Dancing in the Rain) but it does establish one major thing. Damien and the reader are in the same college/university, are friends, and roomies.

Every fic that takes place in this will be semi related to each other. Can still be read as their own individual one shot but some will need more context than others. I can finally start on that Abe x reader.