Floor 5 (septiplier)

chapter 1

Hey I'm not writing joshler for once. If you followed me for Come Off Anon or any of my phan things then you probably don't know what's going on right now, and I'm sorry. Basically there are these two youtubers (markiplier and jacksepticeye) and people on here very much enjoy writing them into stories where they're romantically involved. Fun right? That's about all the background info you need, or you can do some research on your own time and join us in hell. We have cookies. For those of you already deep into the hell crevice that is reserved for us Septiplier shippers, then welcome to my cute college au!!

now let's do this

( it's always gonna be in marks pov the chapters are never gonna be that long bc that style is much easier for me to write ok )

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I really wouldn't want my mother to have mind reading abilities at this very specific moment in time, for literally all that was running through my mind as I hurried out the door of my dorm was a winding string of swear words. My feet carried me at a speed that I personally didn't even know was possible, and the scorching coffee in the plain mug held by my free hand splashed dangerously close to spilling over the edge at the turn of every corner.

Where was this fucking elevator?

Oh yeah, you probably want context or something of that nature. I'm Mark, a very confused freshman in college who is currently very late for a super important literature presentation. Not that I really gave two flying fucks about All My Sons, but I quite honestly found my professor extremely terrifying, so out of intimidation I tried my best to come off as the goody two shoes type.

As I rounded the corner to the open part of the hall where the elevator was now in my sight, I took a quick break as I waited for the doors to slide open, leaning against the wall with a pathetic sounding sigh of exhaustion. I ran a hand through my fading blue hair, and fumbled through my barely readable chicken scratch presentation notes. Most corners now had small little faded brown dots of coffee splashes on the corners. One splash even managed to smear my writing near the center, morphing 'protagonist' into.. a smeared, less readable version of 'protagonist'.

I was forced out of my short fascination of memorizing my starting lines by the mechanical whir of the opening elevator doors, followed by an ocean of chatty students spilling from the tall metallic trap. For a moment I was purely fixated on how that many bodies could possibly fit inside a small square space, and how I could have been in that hell if I was early and responsible. Hilarious concept.

Keeping my eyes down, I hurried into the elevator, which still faintly stunk of shitty bath and body works spray and axe. The aura of all public schools. My finger lazily crept up to the button labeled 5, like a caterpillar after thanksgiving at its grandmas.

Once I was leaned somewhat comfortably against the cold metal wall, I briefly scanned the area, and my eyes fell onto a small statured boy with a fluff of loud green hair atop his head. A polite small smile lifted up the corners of his lips, before he glued his eyes back to his phone, tongue sticking out in concentration.

I tried to smile back, but something had taken over my entire being to where my entire face was frozen but felt warm.

I suddenly really wanted to get to that literature presentation.