224 days until competition.
November 13I was left alone in Mark's basement for a while. Mark had to leave for something, so he asked if I was okay just staying here for a moment.
I was in a "split" position, slowly reaching for my left foot when I heard the echo of claws grow closer to the basement. My head perked up to the sound as my eyes followed in the direction to what or who was making the sound.
The view of shaggy, blonde hair danced in the wind. A perky golden retriever walked in my direction and stood next to me. I laughed to myself for a moment, reaching my hand to cup the dog's face. The softness of the dog's fur caused me to smile widely.
"Hello there," I spoke, glancing my eyes downwards for a split second. The dog stuck it's pink tongue out and began to pant in the process. "You must be Mark's dog, I'm guessing?" I curled my legs to cross them and took both my hands to scratch behind the golden retriever's ears. The dog sat down and began to wag it's tail, giving me the answer that they enjoyed it. I hummed happily, "You're a cutie-"
I glanced my head up when I heard the sound of keys struggling, and the front door being slung open. The dog turned it's attention to the sound and stood up. The booming bark of the dog banged against my eardrums.
"It's okay, Chica," I heard Mark's gentle, low voice say from the stairs, "It's just me." From the stairs, I could see his feet, which were covered by white "no show" socks, glide down the carpeted stairs. His full body was revealed once he made it down the stairs, and in his hands he held two bags of what seemed to be 'take-out' bags.
"Hey," I responded to him, forming my mouth into a hard line.
"Hey," he smiled as he began to walk towards me, "I got us some food."
I sighed deeply, "Mark, you didn't have to."
"No, seriously, I insist," he smiled a little. I walked carefully over to my duffel bag, unzipping the top.
"At least let me pay you back," my eyebrows furrowed.
"Y/N," he exhaled sharply, "There's no need." He placed the heavy bags onto the chairs that laid out behind him. Once I had successfully found my wallet by digging through my duffel bag, I zipped it back up.
"Please, just let me pay you back," I responded back, walking over to him while my eyes focused on zipping open the wallet. My thumb grazed against the tops of the folded money. "How much was it?"
"Y/N, I'm not taking your money," Mark shook his head slightly
"Whatever, I'm giving you a twenty," I said as I began to slip out a dollar bill from the wallet. The twenty-dollar bill rested flat against my palm, smacking my hand against his chest, just between his two pecs.
I left my hand on his chest for a couple seconds, expecting him to take the money. Instead, he glanced down at his chest, then back up at me.
I removed my hand from his chest and watched the dollar float effortlessly to the hardwood floor. Mark tilted his head downwards.
"I'm not picking that up," he shook his head, crossing his arms.
"Well, I'm not either," I shrugged slightly.
"Then, I guess it's just going to stay there," he shrugged along with me.
"Gosh, why are you so difficult?" I sighed, then chuckled to myself.
"Me? Difficult?" He smiled.
"Yes, because you won't take my dang money!" I laughed. He slung his head backwards, causing a boom of laughter to escape from his mouth. His eyes were squinted shut due to the fact that he was smiling widely.
Hearing him laugh like that changed something in me. It made me want to keep making him laugh, to continue to make him smile. It would plant butterflies in my stomach, squirming and fluttering, making me feel...
Love.
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Take This Dance. {Markiplier x Reader}
Fanfiction{Y/N} is a ballet dancer. Mark is a Milonguero, (someone who practices the art of tango.) After trashing the audition for one of the best art schools in the world, {Y/N} decides to quit the game of dance, but runs into Mark after the incident at the...