Iplier and Septiceye One-Shots/Imagines

Together Forever (Yandereplier)

Suggested by: IrishOne101

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You were walking down the dark road after a long and tiring day of school. This weird boy named Kurt kept harassing you, and you were so sick of him.

"Hey, cutie," a voice rumbled. Speak of the Devil....

"Leave me alone, Kurt," you sighed, turning around to face the sandy-haired boy.

"Why, cutie? Can't I keep a pretty girl like you company?" he asked slyly, putting his arm around your shoulder.

"And I told you, stop calling me "cutie"!" you growled, pushing his arm off and resumed walking, faster this time. He had been bothering you since your first year, and you were really tired of him.

Two years ago, when he first came up to you and winked with his signature lopsided grin, your heart would have fluttered and your face would have been as red as a tomato. Now, however, you knew he didn't want your heart. He just wanted to get inside your pants.

"Don't be like that, lovely. I just want to make sure you get home all safe and sound," he whispered in your ear, and suddenly, you were up against the wall. His mouth brushed your cheek, and you pushed him away.

"Get off, you creep!" you shouted, and stared running.

"You can't run, (Y/N)! I'll be there at school tomorrow!" he shouted, his voice fading as you turned the corner, sprinting home.

Crash!

"Oof!" the boy grunted as you toppled into him. You fell on top of him, and you saw chocolate-coloured eyes.

"H-hi," you stammered, getting off quickly. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you, I'm sorry, I didn't kno-"

"It's okay," he chuckled, brushing himself off. "Don't worry about it, I wasn't watching where I was going either." He looked at you, smiling.

"Your pants are torn," you realized, looking at his jeans. There was a scrape leading from his knee to hallway down his shin. "I'm sorry."

"Honestly, it's okay. I have more pants at home," he told you. "What's the name of the wonderful young lady I happened to crash into?"

"Oh, I-I'm- Don't we go to the same school?" you asked, just then realizing that you had seen him in the halls when you were going to class. You didn't know much about him, but your friends speculated that he had a crush on you, since whenever you caught his eye, he was looking at you.

"Erm... yeah. Yeah, we do, but I was hoping for more of a formal introduction, (Y/N)," he said sheepishly, stepping closer to you. You obliged, holding out your hand for him to shake.

"Oh, well, I'm (Y/N). Nice to meet you...?" You trailed off, waiting for his name.

"I'm Mark. Fischbach," he told you, his eyes alight when he grabbed your hand firmly. You couldn't help but giggle at his gentleman-like actions, and his grin widened. "I would like to hear that wonderful laugh again," he whispered, just as he pulled you closer at jabbed a syringe into your arm. Your eyes widened, but then you fell as your limbs stopped working, and you felt no more.

*

You slowly opened your eyes, looking slowly around the room. It was a small room, somewhere most likely in the basement, as there were exposed wooden boards and the weird stuffing in the walls. You were securely tied to a chair in the corner of the room, and no amount of struggling would loosen the ropes. That didn't stop you from trying, though.

"Please, (Y/N), don't struggle. I don't want you to go," a voice pleaded quietly. Mark's voice.

You turned to where you heard the voice, although he was encased in shadows, and cried, "Why?! Why are you doing this?!"

"Because I love you," was his answer, and the shadows fell from him like they were retreating from the light. "I want you to be mine. Forever."

You stared into his eyes and saw his brown orbs, but this time, empty of light. They were just... staring at you. Hungrily.

"What are you talking about, Mark? Let me go!" you shouted as he calmly walked closer.

"No! Otherwise people will take you from me! And I can't have that now, can I?" He ran a finger down your jawline, smiling softly. "Because I want you in my life. I need you. Did you know what I did for you? Getting rid of that harasser that followed you home everyday? I did that for you. Because he can't have you. You're mine, and I can't have anyone stealing you from me."

You were panicking now, not wanting to be anywhere close to this... psychopath.

"Please, Mark. If you loved me, you wouldn't tie me to a chair in your basement!" you tried convincing him.

"I don't want to do this, sweetheart, but I have to." There were tears in his eyes as he said this. "I have to. Otherwise you'll run away. And I would be alone again. All alone, with no one. And I don't want that. Not anymore." He planted his lips on your forehead.

"I can't let you run away, not when you make me... feel. You make me feel, (Y/N), my love. Something I have never felt before. Something... something like affection. And when you leave, those feelings go away. I don't want them to go. I want them to stay... therefore you have to as well."

"Mark, please," you sobbed quietly. "You need help. Please, if you let me go, we can talk through this, plea-"

"NO!" he screamed. Tears were streaming down his face, quite possibly more than you. "Don't you understand?! I don't need help! I need you!" He tightly grabbed your shoulders, visibly making you wince. "If you stay- if you promise to stay, I can untie these ropes, but I want you to stay. Please, please, please."

He would untie the ropes?

"Okay. I promise, Mark. I promise I'll stay," you said quickly, nodding. "I love you too."

His face instantly brightened, and he resembled a young child.

"Really?" he asked. You nodded again, and he quickly untied the rope. As soon as he did, you pushed him back and ran as fast as your legs could carry you up the stairs.

You didn't know the layout of this house, didn't know where you were going, but you tried your best anyways. Running through hallways, the echoes of your footsteps making you look behind you, thinking it was another pair of steps, coming after you. Turning the corner, you saw a living room. It all looked so normal, if not a little boring and empty. It looked like a regular person's house. No blood on the walls, nor corpses lying strewn about on the ground. Not the home of a psychopath.

"Don't run from me, (Y/N)! You can't run from me!" Mark screamed from somewhere behind you, his voice bouncing throughout the maze-like halls. You just kept running, faster and faster.

Thud!

Your feet were pulled from underneath you, and you fell to the ground, hitting your jaw on the ground as the breath was knocked out of you.

"I thought you loved me, (Y/N). You told me you loved me," he whispered. Slowly you turned around and looked right into his empty eyes. "Well, if you don't love me now, I'll make you love me."

He grabbed your ankle, and no one heard your screams as you were dragged back into the basement slowly by the obsessive, possessive madman.

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Word count: 1259

What does it feel like to kill?