Damien Markiplier Novels & Stories

Me: (sent him all the pictures and videos of me on his clothes). Damien: I need sunglasses! You are glowing too much, my eyes might hurt. Me: You like them? Damien: Babe😍 you are hot🔥. Is that you shaking my butt? Me: 😂,I was playing around. Damien: I will like to see you shake them tonight. Me: I will think about it. Damien: I will help you think fast. Is that my Nike? Me: It is mine now! Damien: Silly! You look great in it.

“Gale, can you help me with something, please?” “Here.” Damien places the water down beside my plate and I shake my head at Damien when I feel him trying to open the mindlink again. “He is the spitting image of Coal.” I hear Flame’s hushed voice from the other room. “Like actually identical, down to the dimple in his cheek and the flecks of black in his irises.” “He is fit. Is that why you’re acting so crazy?” Her friend replies. “I’m not sure how it’ll work since Darius likes you, but I say, if you want to pull him, go for it.”

As a member of the Discipline Pack, she wasn't about to show anywhere here weakness. "Skye Austin, Independence Pack." She sat two seats down from me. Her face paled, as she closed her eyes for a second. For a moment, I am shocked that Malik has sent home such a naturally beautiful girl like her. She sung with radiance, and would have made a Luna that everyone would be proud of. Clearly, Malik just didn't see something in her, that he found necessary. I watch Malik take another visibly deep breath. "Demi Lilz, Harmony Pack."

A stack of game tapes by the television. Damian sat on the couch with his laptop—Sebastian had a burner laptop, because of course he did—and started typing. Sebastian paced behind him, dictating ideas, shooting them down, building them back up. "We need a name," Damian said. "Someone recognizable but not too famous." "What about Mark Hanson?" "The guy from the Post?" "He's a prick. Everyone hates him. It's believable." Damian nodded and started typing. "Sources close to Mark Hanson, veteran sports columnist for the City Post, have confirmed that the journalist is facing mounting gambling debts following a series of undisclosed losses..."

"It's just that I feel like I don't know anything about you. I'm your friend, right? I don't even know what you did abroad. What your job is. You never talk to me about yourself." "Are you interested in me?" Damian asked. I knew he was just teasing me. And my sharp gaze made him understand. He chuckled and apologized. "Where to start? Um... Let's start our introduction from the beginning. My name is Damian Blackwood, I'm 29 years old. My job includes lyricist, composer, music producer. People know me more as Whitehollow than as Damian. You can type that name into a search engine and you'll find out more. Then... I came home for a vacation, but my grandfather gave me a task of making a demo s

I kept my hands folded in my lap as we drove, wondering what I had gotten myself into by agreeing to this. Inside the car, it was quiet for a long time. I finally broke the silence. “Tell me about your family.” Damien’s expression changed right away. “There’s not much to tell.” “I doubt that,” I said. After a pause, he started talking. “My father remarried after my mother died. Victoria is my stepmother. She likes control.” I smiled a little. “That’s your warning?” “No.” He glanced at me briefly. “This is. Answer only what you’re asked. Don’t volunteer information.”

My brothers suddenly sit up straight. “Fans flooded social media, shipping the pair under the trending couple name #Damena. However, according to a statement released by his agent, there is no romantic involvement between the Reaper rider and his best friend’s little sister — or any other woman for that matter. Damion Grimm is reportedly leaving his wild ways behind to focus on racing.” The reporter smiles, sharp and hungry. “But here at Channel 1, we always dig deeper.” The screen splits. On the left — me and Damion, standing on the beach. Very close to each other.

He was looking at me with a straightforward concern that had nothing calculated in it. "There is a loose section on that ridge," he said. "Third plank from the end. Somebody should have marked it." I looked at him. "Who are you?" "Damien." He said it simply. No title, no pack affiliation, no context. Just a name. Before I could say anything else Lyra came jogging up from behind me, slightly breathless, her eyes going between us with an expression of surprise that was entirely convincing. "Damien?" She stopped. "I did not know you were back in the territory." She looked at me. "He is an old family contact. He moves through this area sometimes." Then back to him: "Did you just"

If I had just stayed put and hadn't followed Sabrina to the party, then none of this would've happened. I feel so horrible that he went through whatever it was he went through to save me. And now here he is, peering at me with those stony grey orbs of his, so intense, my heart races. Liam's gaze drifts to the TV, his face twisting into a little frown as the anchor woman's voice continues to talk about Damien. “Damien Blackwell, 32, was a visionary entrepreneur and philanthropist, known for his innovative approach to technology and business. His company, Vismo, revolutionized social media and...”

“Ghosts don’t walk into a Luna’s office with clean paperwork and an investor’s charm unless they have someone pulling their strings. And this man is playing one dangerous game that I don’t like. Valerie is already walking on threads, and Maxine is being pushed off a few things in the company. I heard it all from Rosalyn, but nothing makes sense as to where that bastard came from.” Hunter’s mouth twitched, a reluctant agreement. “That’s what worries me. I’ve had men cross-checking every D’Amaris in the northern registry, nothing. Not even a rogue clan by that name. Whoever he is, he’s hiding behind a fabricated identity. And this makes him even more dangerous. If Valerie couldn’t catch his sc