The prompt is once again from Figment Daily Themes: "I'm looking for a place. Mine blew up." Warning: it's RPF. AND it's a crackship: MarkiplierxEllie Goulding. I literally dreamed it up a year or so ago. I put music on to fall asleep to sometimes, you see, and at the time I was on an Ellie kick, and my crush on Mark was only in my subconscious. Such a combination resulted in shippy dreams involving them and instead of going "wtf" and forgetting about them I had more dreams and it turned into a ship? Apparently I'm insane. This is not the first fic I've planned for these two. Far from it. ((laughs maniacally)) But you'll have to go to AO3 for more: I don't like posting RPF here. (except for the last promptember which is also Gouldiplier whoops)

Anyway! Vague post-apocalyptic AU featuring Ellie in her Bad Blood persona (sort of). All RPF could be considered crack, really, so why not start with supercrack?!

Was that a knock?

It wasn't much of a safe house, Mark thought, if someone could find it.

Yep, someone's knocking. Murderers don't knock, right?

"Two days," he muttered, grabbing the baseball bat. "Been here two days…"

He crept to the door and looked through the peephole. What the–

Bat at the ready, he grasped the doorknob, flung the door open–

and saw that his eyes hadn't deceived him. A blonde woman dressed entirely in black– leather jacket, jeans, boots– stood on the doorstep, a motorcycle helmet under one arm.

"Good. You're prepared to defend yourself," she said. She took hold of the bat he'd forgotten he was holding.

"Uh." He jerked away, and the bat clattered behind him. "Um–!"

"Listen, I need a place to stay. Mine blew up."

"You… what?"

She made to move past him and he let her, not realizing what had happened until after he shut the door.

"Well, it was an accident, really," she was saying, wandering through the living room looking at things. "How was I supposed to know there were explosives in the basement? I'd been told it was a safe house. Shouldn't have trusted intel I didn't gather myself…"

"Just– Just wait a second." His ability to speak came back when he forced himself to stop looking at her. "Who are you? Why are you here, exactly?"

He had so many questions they were a tangle in his head, and his heart was beating so fast he felt dizzy. He sank down onto the couch and made sure he was breathing normally.

"I'm not an enemy. Wouldn't have come here if I were. I knew this place was occupied." Her voice was lacy, accented, soft yet strong. "And I came here because… something told me I should. Instinct, I suppose."

He glanced at her and nearly jumped off the couch when he saw her perched on the far arm, helmet on the seat next to her.

"Don't do that!"

He stood and began pacing, raking a hand through his hair. "A week ago my life got upended, I've been here for barely forty-eight hours, you show up looking like– like an angel from hell and instinct is the best explanation you can give me?"

"You did let me in, you know."

He laughed, incredulous, returning to the couch. "Uh, I was kind of in shock. Wasn't exactly planning to have visitors."

"Then kick me out. Tell me to leave and I will."

Something tightened in his chest, and he looked at her, searching for words.

She looked straight back, face neutral. "You followed your instinct, too."

He sighed, pressing his hands to his face for a long moment. "Okay." He stood and took the few steps over to her. When he held out his hand, she also stood, glancing down at it then up at him.

He took a steadying breath. "Let's do this the right way. I'm Mark. What's your name?"

The ghost of a smile wisped across her face. "Ellie."

Their hands met, and a spark raced through his veins. Her eyes snapped to his for a split-second before he let go of her hand, heart racing.

"Pleased to make your sudden acquaintance, Ellie." His voice was much calmer than he'd expected.

"Same to you, Mark."

He wondered if he'd imagined it. "Here's to instinct," he said, before he thought.

A half-smile, now. "Yeah."

Then she glanced at her hand, and he felt his fingers tingling, and he knew he hadn't imagined anything.