#he needs those goofy sound effects that he usually edits into his videos. they help deliver an absurd punchline with his deadpan delivery

[cartoontees]

i like kurtis conner but the funny thing is the less "produced" his content is, the more i like it. i think his podcast is hilarious, and his youtube videos are pretty good too, but i thought his comedy special was barely funny at all i hate to say. i can't tell if his type of comedy really tends to be better the more natural and spontaneous it is, or if that's just my personal preference.

[bffsoobin]

Just One Day

↳ being the extraordinary Choi Yeonjun’s ordinary ex girlfriend had begun to feel like nothing more than a fun fact the longer you two had been apart. He had gone to Korea to chase his dream, and you had all but forgotten about the way he made you feel. When Yeonjun calls and explains he’ll be back for a day, do you go for it?

➤ fluff, angst, smut, idol!yeonjun x ex girlfriend!reader

Word count: 5,313

Requested?: yes

Warnings: This includes (badly written) mature content! Please do not read between the illustrated borders if you’re under 18 or uncomfortable! Smut warnings include: unprotected sex (don’t do it!), some dirty talk, slight male masturbation. General warnings include:swearing, awkwardness, slight pining, self doubt, mentions of crying/heartbreak, Yeonjun is a sly little shit, Feelings, me not editing or proof reading, me not keeping a very good time line for the story (how long ago did they date? How long were they together? What era are txt in when this story takes place? I didn’t bother to specify so feel free to let your mind run wild)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

It felt weird seeing the Snapchat memory pop up. A younger you smiled back through the screen, hair messy from the wind. Even weirder is the sight of a younger Choi Yeonjun, cheek pressed right against yours and a wide smile taking over his face. You hadn’t forgotten him, there was no way you could, but you had certainly forgotten this day. This date. The two of you had spent the day at an amusement park, skin turning red under the sun as you rode every attraction the park had to offer. As you clicked through the memory, you found a video you took of him dancing next to the picnic table the two of you ate overpriced fries and pizza on. The sound of your own laugh made you smile. You had really been so happy. So many happy memories with Yeonjun cropped up in your mind. All of the movie nights, walks along the lake, lunches and mini golf dates flooded you.

With the happy memories also came the hurt. The countdown to the day he had to leave for Korea, knowing nothing would ever be the same again. You had blocked out so many bad things, but one you could never forget was the night before he left. Since he was leaving so early in the morning, you had come to sleep over so you could be sure not to miss saying goodbye. As the night fell, you clutched onto his shirt and begged him not to forget you. It was pathetic how much you sniffled and sobbed into the thin fabric and pleaded with any entity listening to keep Yeonjun in your life. He had cried too, although you never noticed. The sound of your sobbing consumed his senses as the two of you laid down in his bed and he knew he could do nothing but hold you until you fell asleep. When the heaving and shaking stopped, he looked down on your swollen, tear streaked face and began shaking with his own silent sobs. He loved you. You loved him. But that love wasn’t enough to keep the two of you together in the way you wished. Yeonjun didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he watched you sleep and pretended everything was okay. Pretended he wasn’t leaving you behind minutes after sunrise. 

That night is one of your very worst memories. You threw your phone to the side, rubbing your hands over your face to reduce some of the weight laying on your shoulders. A hot shower was definitely in order to relieve some tension in your muscles.

Your worries washed down the drain with the scalding water. With a clearer mind you were able to push the sad memories of years past back to the dark corner of your mind where you left them originally. The rest of your day was normal, save for the fact that you felt as if the selfie of you and Yeonjun you had seen earlier was permanently tattooed behind your eyelids. At every spare moment you had you were thinking of him. The Yeonjun you had fallen in love with way before he had millions of other people following his every move. You had neglected to keep up with his actions many months ago when you decided that there was no point in mulling over a guy who would never come back to you.

And given the general lack of interest of kpop harbored by your family and friends; it wasn’t hard for you to reduce Yeonjun to nothing more than a boyfriend who had to move far away. Most of the people in your life now didn’t even know about the years old relationship, anyway. You had decided it was much better that way.

Your day was boring, to be totally honest. You had dedicated the day to cleaning, but your small apartment needed less attention than you originally thought. By 6:30pm, you had already made and eaten dinner and started yourself on a marathon of Hunger Games movies. Right in the middle of Katniss’ adventures in the 74th games; your phone began to vibrate against your thigh with a phone call. The number came up as unknown, and you didn’t recognize the area code as a local one so you let the call drop. Katniss was mourning the death of Rue when your phone vibrated again. This time you saw a voicemail from the mystery number. You were confused. A little bit annoyed at the intrusion, but mostly really confused. Usually scam callers didn’t leave messages, and everyone else that was important to your life was in your phone as a contact.

What the hell, you thought. Just listen to the voicemail and see who it's from, you can always delete the message and block the number later. Disregarding Katniss’ heavy breathing, you clicked on the notification and pressed your phone to your ear. There were a few seconds of silence and some shuffling that made you think it was an accidental butt dial to a very wrong number until a clear voice broke through.

“Hey, Y/N. I know this is super weird but-“ you dropped your phone out of your hand as if it had bitten you. You knew that voice. Yeonjun. What the fuck? With your phone left forgotten on the couch you nervously walked around your apartment. What did he want? How did he get your number? Why was he calling you?

After some self convincing and a cold glass of water, you decided you would get all your answers if you’d just finish listening to the damn voicemail. This time, you listened closer and in the silence of the beginning you could hear some faint Korean that made your blood run cold. This was for real. Yeonjun’s voice crackled through the phone again.

“I’m, uh, in the US right now. LA, actually. We just landed like an hour ago and I though of you- is that weird?” He cleared his throat, “I have a day off tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d want to meet up? If you don’t, it’s okay.” A heavy sigh and some more shouting of Korean in the back. “But if you do, we can meet at 10am at that breakfast place you like? I looked it up, the one between the library and the corner market we used to go to? Okay. That’s it. Um, bye.” Even after the end of the message you kept your phone pressed to your ear, in total disbelief of what you’d just heard.

Numbly, you unpaused the movie although none of the horrors of the Games stirred you like normal. The only thing you could focus on was whether or not you should go meet Yeonjun in the morning. What did you have to lose? Other than a little pride if he stood you up or something of the sort, you couldn’t think of much. You could easily catch an Uber there in the morning. But would it be weird? You knew the other members would be with him, but how much did they know? Your nerves made you queasy. The option of not going at all seemed more and more appealing with every passing moment.

You played the movie again, watching but not processing any of the presented images. You wanted to talk this out with someone, but no one really knew about your time with Yeonjun and the situation was way too far fetched to be boiled down to hypotheticals for a friend. Twenty minutes must have passed with you mulling every little detail over in your head. The movie had ended without your knowledge but it didn’t matter anyway. You were already in your bedroom, computer open to YouTube. Skimming your fingers over the keys, you gave the universe time to stop you. To make someone knock on your door, or your mom to call you, or for the power to go out; but nothing of the sort happened. You typed in “tomorrow x together” and shut your eyes as if it would change anything.

Pages of videos- both official and fan made beckoned you down a dangerous rabbit hole. One where you began to miss Yeonjun all over again. He had grown a lot since the last time you had seen him. He was taller, broader. HIs jaw was much more defined and he had taken to wearing jewelry all the time. Side effects of becoming an idol, you supposed. None of those details hurt more than the fact that his personality seemed unchanged. Amplified, yes; but he was still the same goofy, clingy and heartfelt boy you had fallen in love with years ago. You watched the way he interacted with the other members and you felt your heart swell with joy. Some small part of you was worried that pressure and fame would change him but you were amazed to see that was not the case.

Autoplay took it upon itself to load up the next video for you. You felt oddly warm at the idea of seeing even more content; this time through the lense of an adoring fan. A title flashed across the screen in a handwritten font: “Best of Choi Yeonjun”. Edited video clips of him singing, dancing and playing around with the other group members flashed before your eyes. You couldn’t help but lull yourself into a state of comfort upon seeing and hearing him so much. In the back of your mind, you knew you had already silently decided on meeting him tomorrow. You closed your laptop with a renewed excitement before you began to get ready for bed.

When you woke up there was still an hour before your alarm was even set to go off. Despite the early hour you were wide awake as if your nerves had been connected to a live wire pumping electricity through you. There was no grogginess in your eyes, and if it wasn’t for the jumble of nerves in your gut you could have believed you were going to have a perfect day. Your mind stalled at the reality of facing Yeonjun in just mere hours. You think you dreamed about him last night; in some weird, hazy fashion where you can’t remember much other than his presence. Vague details swarmed through your mind throughout the entire duration of your morning routine. Even though you had just showered the night before, you took another one to pass the extra time and take the opportunity to shave as well as you could in the dim light of your bathroom. You were oddly aware of just how quickly your heart was beating through the whole process. The drumming sound in your ears became second nature by the time you stood in front of your closet.

Suddenly, the extra hour your body had subconsciously given you became a blessing as you decided that you had absolutely nothing to wear. The outfit you had planned during your shower looked much worse in real life than you ever would have thought. It was almost as if the open drawers were mocking you, laughing about the fact that you were so nervous about meeting Yeonjun again that you couldn’t even pick out an outfit. You shuffled through all of your hangers multiple times, slipped different dresses and pairs of jeans on until you settled on something that you decided would be good enough- especially with the time of 9:10 am glaring back at you. With the consideration of morning traffic, you needed to be out of your apartment as soon as you possibly could. It was sort of embarrassing how sweaty your palms were as you locked up your apartment door and requested an Uber. Luckily your driver came so fast that you didn’t really have time to dwell on just what you were about to do. Even the ride there gave you no time to overthink, as your friendly driver made polite conversation that you felt bad for slacking on.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk after stalling for as long as you possibly could. The breakfast spot was surprisingly unpopulated compared to the rest of the stores, but just as quaint and adorable as you always remembered. Yeonjun used to live over this way so the two of you frequented the family owned restaurant so much that all of the servers knew your order. Your heart felt as if it was permanently stuck in your throat with the knowledge that Yeonjun was just steps away from you. A few bystanders eyed you suspiciously as you tried to work up the courage to enter the building. Fuck it, you thought. There was no way to avoid this any longer.

The hostess working the front stand seemed to notice your nervous disposition. “Can I help you? Just one?” Suddenly the back of your neck felt warm under her questioning.

“Uhm actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.” The hostess nodded politely.

“Oh, can I ask your name? A man here said he was waiting for a girl to come meet him,” she shuffled a menu around on her podium.

“I’m Y/N,’ you supplied meekly. The hostess’ face lit up as she waved to you to follow her further into the restaurant. The layout was familiar even though the decor had evolved over the last few years. At a corner booth sat Yeonjun with his fluffy hair, intently examining the menu as you approached. The hostess announced your arrival and left in the blink of an eye.

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, totally caught off guard by the sight of him actually in front of you. He rushed out of the booth seat and immediately squished you into a tight hug.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, pulling back to examine you once again before you both sat down on the vinyl seats. “I don’t know what to say, I-” he rubbed his hands over his face, “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.” You just stared at him for a second, waiting for the cogs in your brain to start up again.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to come either. But I’m glad I did. I just saw old pictures of us from when we were dating.” It felt so foreign to hear that phrase coming out of your mouth that you almost flinched. Yeonjun’s face softened and he opened his mouth to speak just as your waiter sidled up to the table. He took your orders, and you couldn’t help but realize that you had both ordered your regulars from years ago. Yeonjun picked at his nailbeds for a second. There was so much to talk about that your mind could not settle on a single thing.

“I just wanted to say,” Yeonjun’s voice startled you, “that I’ve missed you a lot. I feel awful about the way we left it, and as soon as I heard we were coming back to the US I had to try and make time to meet you. Unfortunately I only have this one day off so I was hoping you would want to see me too,” he couldn’t contain the smile that grew on his face; the one that hadn’t changed since the last time you ever saw him.

“Of course I wanted to see you, Junnie,” the nickname was automatic and made him crinkle his eyes up happily, “I’ve missed you too.”

It was almost unbelievable how easy it was to fall back into conversation with him. The food was just as good as you always remembered, but it paled totally in comparison to the colorful stories the two of you traded. His were-of course- much more riveting and star studded than yours could ever hope to be. He told you tales of everything from his friends to his late nights practicing, to all of the places he had traveled since going into the company. All you had to offer were some stories of your adventures with family and friends but Yeonjun still listened with rapt attention. The flow of conversation was just as easy as you always remembered it to be. Even through mouthfuls of your breakfast you were having a better time with Yeonjun than you had with anyone else in months.

The waiter came to clear your plates during a natural lull in your conversation and suddenly the magical spell casted on the two of you seemed to lift. Yeonjun’s face was flushed red and you became extremely interested in your cuticles.

“I’ll pay for our food,” he reached for the check that had been placed face down on the table as you scoffed.

“No, I can pay for myself, it’s fine,” you held your hand out expectantly but he never handed over the receipt. Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed.

“No, absolutely not. I’m the one who asked you to meet me here out of the blue after not seeing you for years. And it’s just one day that I’m here. The very least I can do is pay for your meal, Y/N. Don’t you remember what it’s like to have a guy treating you?” He waved down the waiter and handed over the check along with a credit card.

“Well to be fair, I haven’t really had a guy ‘treat me’ in a while,” you grumbled at him, “but that’s an unfair way to guilt me into letting you buy my food.” You were pouting now, you knew. Yeonjun cooed at your change in behavior.

“Too bad. I want to be your complimentary boyfriend for the day. So I’m paying. And you get to pick the next place we go.” There was no way you could argue with him although the thought of him being your “boyfriend” again made your brain set off alarms.

“Okay, Junnie. Just remember you dug your own grave.”

Following breakfast, you drug him into your favorite boutique where the two of you had your own coming of age movie style try on in the dressing rooms. You hated to admit just how well Yeonjun had pulled off every single outfit he put on. Even the bright green button up and cheetah print bucket hat you had picked as a joke looked amazing on him. It was hard to miss the way he had bulked up, arms bulging against the fabric of the shirt as he twisted around in front of the mirror to admire himself. Mentally you slapped yourself. No drooling allowed, Y/N. This was no longer the Yeonjun who was your first love. This Yeonjun was famous and in the eyes of the public, living halfway across the world. There was no way he still thought about you the same way you thought of him.

He had noticed your lapse in behavior and chalked it up to him actually enjoying your prank outfits.

“Awe, it’s okay Y/N. We can go to Goodwill and you can find me something really awful to try on. I promise I’ll look hideous,” he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and guided you towards the cashier with a grin so he could buy the last two items you ever thought he would enjoy. You pushed through your slowly souring mood to dutifully follow Yeonjun to another small shop nearby. Your thoughts were beginning to wander farther and farther until you completely tuned his voice out of your head. A hand ruffling up your hair ended your daydreaming. You grabbed Yeonjun’s hand and yanked it away.

“Leave me alone,” your tone was flatter than you wanted him to hear. His face instantly crumpled in confusion before turning serious. You could tell he wanted to say something to you but the atmosphere of the store was just not right. Pop music was piped through the speakers and you could hear the faint hum of the workers talking to one another. Without another word, Yeonjun guided you out of the store and back out to the front of the store.

“I think we should talk in private. Would you feel comfortable if we went back to your apartment?” Your heart swelled at his consideration of your comfort.

Just one slightly awkward Uber ride later, you were letting Yeonjun into your apartment. Suddenly you were worried about the fact that your bed wasn’t made and that you hadn’t dusted in way too long. Of course he didn’t notice, but as he sat down on your couch you couldn’t help but remember the pizza sauce stain on one of the cushions that you had hidden with a well placed throw pillow.

“C’mon, sit down. This is your home and you’re acting more awkward than I am,” he patted the cushion beside him but you chose to leave an intentional space between you, intimidated by the way he spread his legs out in front of him. “What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle, just the way you remember it from all your late nights and early mornings together.

You sighed. “It’s just weird. You being here, I mean. Before, I just saw you as a boy like the same way I was just a girl. Now I’m still just a girl but you’re,” you struggled for the words, “now you’re an it boy. But you still had my number in your phone. You still chose to use your day off to walk around with me! I guess I just don’t know why.” He was silent, watching you with slightly pouted lips and wide eyes.

“Oh,” your eyes crinkled in shock. Oh? That’s all he had to say? Before you had time to fume, he continued; “I thought it was pretty obvious. I still like you. A ton. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. You’ve never been just a girl to me, Y/N. I chose to come see you on my day off because I couldn’t bare the thought of being in your city with free time and not at least trying to make you understand.” You could feel yourself shrinking under his intense gaze.

“Understand what?” you whispered. He leaned closer, eliminating the gap you had created between the two of you. Just inches from your face, you could clearly see the way his sparkling eyes shifted between your own eyes and your lips several times. You knew he was giving you an out. Time to back away and tell him no. But you didn’t want an out. His lips were chapped but just as full as you had always remembered them to be. The first kiss was short and sweet, just a little testing peck as the initial spark lit a larger, raging fire inside of you.

He wasted no time going in for a second kiss, this one much longer and slower and very reminiscent of what you used to share with him. It felt as if he was pulling all of the air from your lungs and replacing it with his own. You felt your dormant feelings leak from the inside out in such a rush that you had to push him away from you. Chest heaving, you laid your head against the solid muscle of his chest. Your eyes burned with unshed tears and all of the thoughts you desperately wanted to spill. Yeonjun stroked your hair and said nothing as you quietly collected yourself.

“It’s been so long. How do you still make me want you so bad?” Yeonjun laughed in a tone that bordered on remorseful.

“Guess I’m magic,” his lips descended on yours again, this time much needier as his hands began to roam all over your body. He kept a strong grip on your hips before sliding a hand up the front of your shirt. You gasped at the feeling.

“Are you okay? I can stop if-“ you shook your head rapidly and wrapped your hand around his wrist to guide him farther up your shirt, resting over your bra.

“I’m fine, please touch me.” He pushed you down against your couch and pressed his weight between your spread legs. Every part of you was on edge, hyper aware of every single movement that Yeonjun made. Mouthing at your neck, using both hands to squeeze at your breasts, the subtle rock of his hips against your center. Jolts of pleasure wracked through you.

“You’re so beautiful. So much more perfect than I even remembered,” Yeonjun stripped your shirt over your head and traced his fingers down your sides. You shivered as he worked his hands behind your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You couldn’t help but snort at the scrunched up face of concentration that melted away his dominant facade.

“Need some help?” Trying to bite back your laughter only worked for so long before you turned into a giggly mess under him. He tipped his head back and let out a whine that made your stomach stir in arousal given your situation.

“Don’t laugh, it’s been a long time,” his voice was thicker, deeper than it had been for the rest of the day and only served as a reminder of the tell tale bulge pressed against your inner thigh. Unclasping your own bra was a breeze, but you allowed Yeonjun the pleasure of actually pulling it away from your body. Before you had time to cover yourself up, the boy above you was diving down to press kisses on each breast, paying special attention to your nipples until you were squirming uncontrollably under his weight. He got the message and made short work of your jeans and panties.

“Hold on,” he groaned at the sight of you while he struggled to get off of the couch and strip himself down as quick as possible. He had no shame, and the way you were laying gave you a perfect view of all of the exposed skin. His well built arms and torso flexed underneath his virtually flawless skin. He shucked off his jeans and boxers in one go before eagerly climbing back on top of you. You were at a loss for words at the sight of his body but luckily Yeonjun didn’t mind your silence. He used it to his advantage as he rubbed circles into the meat of your thighs teasingly.

“Jun,” your hips canted upwards and caught on the head of his cock, “please.” You stuck out your bottom lip in a pout and that seemed to break his resolve instantly.

“Okay, fuck. I can’t resist you anymore princess,” he grunted his understanding and weaved his fingers through yours on either side of your head. Slowly, he pushed into you. He bit back moans the whole time, occasionally rocking his hips against you to stimulate your clit as well as he could. Your back arched off of the couch; neck bent at an awkward angle although it was the least of your worries as Yeonjun’s cock was fully sheathed inside of you. Your body was in overdrive; impossibly warm and sensitive even at the smallest roll of his hips.

Instantly you were a needy mess and could only focus on the feeling of Yeonjun’s skin against yours. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as he pinned you down and began to thrust with the kind of intensity you weren’t expecting. Hard thrusts shifted your body underneath his and forced sounds you never heard yourself make from your throat. Yeonjun was just as loud, grunting and moaning at every snap of his hips.

With a slight shift of his weight, he was laying on top of you, totally encasing your body in his presence and burying his nose in the sensitive skin of your shoulder. The new angle forced him even deeper into you and a new wave of pleasure rolled through you. Your inner walls contracted around Yeonjun’s cock as a result and his hips stuttered at the feeling.

“Oh, do that again,” he commanded before biting into the soft skin behind your ear. You followed his orders easily and felt his cock twitch as a reward.

“Fuck, I’m close already, you’re so hot. You made me like this. Shit, princess. I missed you so much,” his thrusts became impossibly faster and deeper, bringing you just moments away from the feeling you were so desperately chasing.

“Jun,” your voice was high and needy, “I need more, I need more,” your words melted into incoherence but he still got the message and dislodged one of his hands from your shared grip to harshly rub at your clit. The touch was absolutely electric. Your eyes rolled back in your head and it only took a few more thrusts from Yeonjun before your vision turned white. You knew you were yelling and whining pathetically but you couldn’t get yourself to stop as he continued drilling into you to prolong your high and chase his own.

As soon as you began to calm down, Yeonjun pulled out. Although you felt painfully empty, your attention shifted immediately to the sight of him working a hand over his cock. He hadn’t given you the time to marvel at him earlier, so you took the opportunity to wonder at the perfect size and curve of his reddened cock, glistening with the sheen of your release. Yeonjun’s voice heightened the faster he moved his hand; swirling his thumb around the tip shakily before he finally released in hot spurts across your body. The sounds he made as he came all over your stomach and chest were nothing short of heavenly. Even through his ragged breaths he called out to you, chanting praise that made your stomach turn in more ways than one.

Despite the messy state of your skin, Yeonjun pulled you upwards and insisted on wrapping you up in a hug. You felt a little disgusted at all the fluids involved but said nothing. The two of you hadn’t really hugged since the day he left. He placed a kiss on your forehead and there was no denying just how tender the action was, especially following the spontaneous sex the two of you had just finished.

“I wasn’t lying, you know. I do like you. I’ve never stopped liking you. I didn’t just say that to have sex with you, I hope you know that. I would say I even love you but…” his voice was raspy from overuse. You stared into his eyes, trying to read the odd mix of emotions swirling in his irises.

“It’s okay, Jun. I know you can’t...with work and everything,” you traced patterns on his bare chest, “I like you too. Even though we’ve found ourselves in a super weird spot here. And I’m happy we, ya know.” Your face was burning at the absurdity of being shy about it when a mere three minutes ago you were begging for him. “And I love that we’re cuddling and everything, and it’s a great moment for us, but I’m cold and sticky,” your nose scrunched involuntarily at the confession. Yeonjun couldn’t hold back the loud laugh that brought you back to every other moment you’d heard it before.

“Guess those things are my fault, huh?” Yeonjun teased, leaning down to place a light kiss onto your nose. You feigned upset but he didn’t buy it. Instead, he wiggled his way off of the couch. You tried your best not to stare at his towering form as you took the hand he held out to you.

“Shower?” He questioned, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you as you stood to your full height. For a second you hesitated, knowing the fondness growing in your heart would only hurt you even more in just a few hours. But you had him for just one day. Why not make the most of it?

[dolansmith]

CEO Pt. Two~ Grayson Dolan

A/N: I took too long to upload this and this isn’t even long enough to compensate for that lol oops. But I hope yall like it anyway c: Let me know what you think! (Next part will be longer I sweeeeaaarr)

Summary: YN is an aloof businesswoman that meets her match in the hopeless romantic that is Grayson Dolan.

Warnings: mentions of sex, fluff, angst towards the end

Word Count: 2,204

And if you haven’t read part one, here it is

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The night consisted of a lot of hot sex, and a lot of laughing.

But despite that, the next morning, Y/N awoke to an empty bed. She wanted to be unsurprised. She even wanted to not care, but for some reason she did care. Sex with Grayson was some of the best she’d ever had—not that she’d ever get the chance to tell him so. 

After talking a bit more about the project he wanted to start with Ethan, his twin brother, they drank some more and then started where they left off at the car. They both got oversensitive from how much they’d fucked, Y/N’s pussy tingled at the thought of it.

She sighed disappointedly before making her way to the bathroom to shower and get ready for her day. After having done her hair and makeup to her liking she entered the kitchen, surprised to see Grayson lying on her sofa. Her eyebrows shot up as she watched him snore. How did I miss that sound when I woke up? She thought to herself. 

Y/N shrugged before making her way to the kitchen, making a breakfast shake and some toast. After placing the two smoothies, and a large plate of avocado toast on the coffee table, she turned the tv on loudly, taking a quick bite of her toast, sitting back and watching as Grayson sat up, startled by the loud music from whatever show she’d chosen off of Netflix.

Grayson looked around the room in a confused state before his eyes landed on a smirking Y/N. She turned the tv to a normal volume and gestured towards the food. “Made you breakfast as a thank you.” Grayson’s eyebrows shot up at the gesture, his chest warming at how kind it was. She wasn’t as cold as she made herself out to be. “A thank you? Also, is that smoothie dairy free?” He asked sheepishly.

She looked at him strangely, “No, it’s almond milk—the only dairy consumed in this household is cheese. I didn’t think that’d compliment the fruits very well, though, but if you want some—“

Grayson pecked her lips, effectively cutting her sarcasm off, “This was really nice of you…ma.”

For the first time, in what felt like maybe ever, Y/N blushed. Grayson noticed, but didn’t comment, he simply smiled triumphantly. “Why’d you sleep on the couch?” She asked, sipping on her smoothie. Grayson shrugged, “something told me you weren’t the type to cuddle.” He wanted to seem nonchalant, but his heart couldn’t help but stutter at the thought that maybe she wanted him to cuddle her.

“I’m not.” Or not, he thought.

“Then good thing I didn’t stay in your bed then, huh?” Grayson mocked her, a smirk finding its way onto his face despite the slight disappointment he felt. Y/N made a face, nodding a bit, continuing her breakfast. They watched the show in a comfortable silence, finishing their respective meals. Once they did, Y/N watched as Grayson gathered their dishes and made his way to the kitchen to wash them. She followed suit, sitting on the countertop by the sink as he cleaned up.

“Thank you,” she muttered as he finished. He leaned his hip against the sink, facing her, his signature goofy smile on his face as he said, “You made breakfast, it was only right. About last night—“

“I’d like to do it again, if you’re interested,” she stated. No use in beating around the bush, not when she wanted something. Grayson’s eyebrows shot up, his heart racing as he moved to stand between her legs. He placed his large hands on her thighs, “I think something could be arranged,” he muttered. Grayson softly rubbed up her thigh, his thumbs only an inch from her core, before he pushed them back down to her knees, rubbing circles into them, a smirk on his face.

He leaned in closely, his breath tickling her neck before he began to place small, fluttering kisses on it. Y/N chuckled as he made his way down, making Grayson’s heart skip a beat as he continued kissing down her chest and breasts through the fabric of her shirt, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Her laughter stopped when he pressed his lips to her hastily; his tongue swiping against her bottom lip for the entrance she decided against, pushing him backwards instead. Grayson groaned as the pretty, red painted smirk he knew he’d grow to be very fond of, took its rightful place on Y/N’s face as she said, “Not quite yet.”

Those three words ignited a flame that neither of the two would quite know how to extinguish. They met up almost everyday for three months, creating an unspoken, but strict, routine: on Sundays, Grayson helped Y/N film and edit her videos. He’d sleep over on Saturday nights. Most of those Saturdays consisted of Thai takeout and a movie followed by long makeout sessions and sometimes fast and rough sex, sometimes it’d be a nightlong 50 Shades ordeal, and sometimes they wouldn’t have sex at all—they’d just hold each other and talk, something neither of them could bring themselves to do with anyone else. The next morning Y/N would make breakfast while Grayson set up her equipment. At some point, he became her unofficial cameraman and would spend the evening helping her edit.

During work on weekdays, they’d spend hours on FaceTime. Helping each other through the lull that paperwork brought, and Grayson especially loved when Y/N began a new project and took him into meetings. Her eyes would sparkle as she ran through ideas with her team, her phone propped up so he could see her, and she always kept at least one AirPod in so he could hear her too. She had to learn how to acknowledge Grayson’s commentary while staying as professional as possible; she spent a long time earning the respect she had, she wouldn’t want to damage that.

A couple time’s a month, Y/N returned the weekly favor Grayson did on Sundays and would help the Dolan twins with their videos. She’d help them film sometimes when they needed more than one cameraman, and she’d helped them plan a few videos as well. They’d truly become best friends; Y/N knew Grayson almost as well as his own twin did and Grayson knew her better than anyone else did.

To Y/N, it was all perfect. She had someone she could call her best friend: someone who could make her laugh until she wheezed, make her scream in orgasm, someone who knew her Thai order without asking, and bought her tampons and groceries whenever he was able to—their dynamic was perfect. There was no drama, no distraction from work, no—

“I think we should stop,” Grayson said one Saturday at Y/N’s door. He’d gotten there a lot earlier than he usually did, but Y/N had a tendency to wear lingerie as loungewear so she was never not ready to be taken by him. He’d knocked so loudly, she imagined the scenario going very differently as she was already untying the red silk robe while opening the door. Her manicured fingers fell from the robe as he spoke.

While their friendship and all its factors meant more than a great deal to Y/N, Grayson was beginning to see that there was no future in what they were doing. No matter how close they became, no matter how happy they were, no matter how familiar they’d become to each other…Y/N was never going to see him as more than a friend. He’d come to terms with this reality. This didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt him, but it did mean that he’d asked a girl he’d met, and had a rather lengthy conversation with at a coffee shop that morning, out on a date. He liked Nancy enough. She was kind and soft-spoken. She reminded Grayson of sunshine, except on legs. He knew that if they were to go out, it was more than likely that he’d fall in love with her.

But she wasn’t anything like the fiery, intimidating, and blunt woman he’d grown to love. He wasn’t sure that anyone like Y/N existed, he highly doubted it—but at the very least she’d stay his friend.

“Stop what, baby boy?” Y/N asked as she furrowed her brows, not bothering to cover herself back up, her red lacy bra and underwear on full display as she left the door open for him to walk through. She took a seat on her couch and patted the space next to her, concern in her eyes. He seemed nervous and reluctant. She knew what he meant, but she didn’t understand where it’d come from. They were fine last night before he left to go back home to hang out with Ethan, what had happened in less than 24 hours that would have him wanting to leave her?

What did I do wrong? She asked herself, suddenly wanting to kick him out so she’d be in control of the situation. So maybe the sting of losing someone she’d become so close to wouldn’t hurt as much.

Grayson ignored the stirring in his pants at both the sight of her and the pet name. He’d never been one to be submissive, or enjoy it at the very least, but having Y/N dom him, made him change his mind. Judging by the color she was wearing, that’s what he would’ve been in for had he not said anything. He wanted to take it back as he took her in, his mind briefly imagining her tying him up and making him beg for her—but he pushed the thoughts down. He needed to move on.

“Stop the sex part of our relationship.” He clarified. There was a brief pause before he continued, “I met someone.” He was hoping to elicit some type of reaction. A part of him, the selfish part, hoped that she would realize his feelings if she felt him slipping away. That if she watched him begin to fall for someone else, that it’d change her mind about relationships, about commitment.

Grayson’s life wasn’t like the romcoms he binged with Y/N on Saturday nights, though. He’d always found it ironic that romantic comedies were her favorite, when commitment was something she couldn’t fathom. He was disappointed when a wide smile, one he didn’t think he’d ever seen before, made its way onto her face, “Really? That’s great, Gray! Tell me about her?”

It took him a moment to gather his disappointed pieces and shove them in a box but once he did, he told her about Nancy.

The pair sat together on the couch, discussing Grayson’s potential love interest, both doing their best to ignore the tension it brought between them as they both figured it was a figment of their own imaginations. Y/N didn’t want to let what they had go; she knew a relationship would take him away from her in big ways—not just sexual but also their weekend routines, or even just hanging out in general. He’d met someone, though. She knew what that meant to him because he wasn’t like her. He wanted a family one day. She wasn’t the person to give that to him. And the way he described Nancy? He described her as some kind of goddess living amongst them, and it was something she could never amount to even in her wildest dreams. Even if she was the ‘settle-down-start-a-family’ type, he wouldn’t love her. She was too much of the opposite of what he wanted.

What felt like hours later, but was really only half of one, Grayson checked his watch to see he had to get going or else he’d be late for the date. “She’s gonna love you,. Who wouldn’t?” Y/N smiled, fixing his hair a bit after walking him back to her front door. She knew she was doing the right thing, letting him go. It didn’t hurt her any less, though. Grayson’s eyes softened, silently begging her to ask him to stay.

But Grayson knew his best friend better than anyone. She either wouldn’t notice his silent pleas, or she’d ignore them. So instead of making any other embarrassing attempts to get her to ask him to cancel the date, he kissed her forehead swiftly and grinned, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

She nodded, closing the door behind him. Y/N slid down her door, ignoring the startled feeling the cold tiles brought as they met her warm, exposed skin. She brought her knees up under her chin and tried to calm her breathing as her chest began to ache and tearless sobs racked her body. She didn’t want to cry, but the second the thought of Grayson no longer being in her life crossed her mind, the tears fell freely.

If he didn’t stick around for the sex, it was only a matter of time before the friendship aspect of their relationship deteriorated too.

TAGS: @szadolans​, @sweetbily​, @preciousd0lanboiz​, @reblogdolan​, @babyboydxlan​, @afrophilia​, @jeweldolan​, @sugarfootdolan​, @g-e-dolan​, @miriamxsworld​, @graysavant​, @dolanskippy​, @giggling-grayson​, @whiskyryeandredlipstick​ 

[awkward-child-of-satan]

Alrighty! I know this took FOREVER and I apologise for that @ihalfandhalfbastardi so I made it a bit longer. I hope you like it!

Patton was tired. Tired of the butterflies, tired of the way his heart pounded in his chest and tired of not getting anything back. Most of all, he was tired of grading these papers. He sighed and looked at the time: 11:56. He still needed to teach his first period tomorrow at 9:15 and he wasn't even done with the day's lesson plan.' I'll just go in early and finish, if anything I can always show a video. ' he thought to himself. He had wanted to get everything done tonight but he just couldn't focus. The thoughts of the English teacher next door kept invading his mind. But could you blame him? Patton loved everything about him. From his deep blue eyes to the way his laugh made Patton's heart flutter. It was all of this and more that made him absolutely in love with his best friend Logan.

Logan was fustrated, to say the least. He was supposed to be reading his book, The Great Divorce, for his class tomorrow but somehow got distracted. He didn't even notice his change of thought until the book fell from his lap. He usually finished the book by now having read it multiple times, but he couldn't get the bubbly teacher out of his mind. His smile that seemed reserved just for him and his baby blue eyes that saw the best in every student and teacher alike. He was caring and helpful to everyone he came across. Logan's heart began to beat faster and faster the more the other teacher was thought about. He didn't know what to do. Patton and him had been friends for 3yrs and he'd never thought that he'd feel this way for him. He didn't even expect to become friends with someone as goofy as him. But that's the thing with Patton, he just had this thing that drew you to him. Logan was in over his head thinking that Patton would be just another coworker. The man sighed. He needed to finish the book soon if he wanted to be. Prepared for the next day.

Patton woke up with a start, " Ah! I'm late for school!...wait! I'm 27....IM THE TEACHER!" He had run to his car so fast , he almost forgot to change his clothes. With 15 mins to spare Patton pulled up to the school and went immediately to the teachers lounge where lo and behold, there he was. The man that has been invading his mind for the last year. Logan Sanders. Patton could already feel the blush from his cheeks starting to spread. "Good morning everyone! How are you guys?" Logan looked up at the sound of his voice and began to walk over to him until he was in Patton's space. "I am well Patton, but there is something that I wish to speak with you about later on, if you could spare a few minutes?"

Patton couldn't help the blush that formed on his face as he nodded slowly, afraid of his voice not working properly. Logan smiled at him and walked away as if the whole conversation had no effect on him. How did he do that? How could he just ignore the tension between them like it didn't matter! Patton had then decided that he would bring this to Logan's attention the next time they talked. It was now or never. It was then that he heard someone clear their throat next to him. Patton jumped. There next to him with a biggest shit eating grin to exist was no other than Virgil Storm. "You know you talk out loud when you're really focused. It's quite entertaining actually."

Patton felt his heart drop. Had the head of his department head just hear him confess that there was something going on with his coworker? He felt nothing but panic, what is he was homophobic? Or what if he was interested in Logan and hates me now? Patton didn't know what else to do but stare as he waited for the inevitable "You're gay?" But it never came. What he heard instead was: " If you're going to argue about your relationship don't do it in front of the students, then they know too much about your personal life. Also keep the bedroom eyes for outside of school."

Patton wasn't sure what to say but," You're not mad?"

Vigil just scoffed," Why would I be mad? Did you not finish your lesson plan for the week? What or who you do outside of work is none of my business. And I'm not homophobic, I'm actually gay myself."

Just as Patton was about to reply that he was NOT in fact sleeping with Logan the bell decided to ring signaling that there was 5mins until school officially started. Patton grabbed his stuff and walked to his classroom.He couldn't help but glance over at the room next door, Logan's English 3 classroom as he let his first period students in. His eyes were met with those of Logan's as he winked and went on into the class. Patton could do but try and un-red his face before addressing his class.

It was after school and no student was to be found in his classroom when he heard a knock at the door. Logan looked up and was greeted with the smiling creative writing teacher from next door. His heart pounded against his chest as he cleared his throat. "Ah Patton, I was just about to order some food, would you like some?"

The other teacher shook his head,"No thanks! I'm going to dinner tonight so I'll eat then."

Logan felt his heart tear a little, he wasn't sure why, but it hurt to hear that Patton wouldn't eat with him. "Of course, no problem. I just had a question for you. It's about our classes. I was thinking that we could do a little collaboration of sorts. My students our learning about editing others work. So I was thinking your students could write a story of sorts and I would have mine edit. What do you think?"

Patton felt his heart sink to his stomach. That's why he wanted to talk? "Sounds great! I'll ask Virgil about it. So,... is that it?"

Logan blinked. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Uhm, no th-that's all I guess."

He turned to leave but stopped. He needed to do this. Patton was going to go insane if he never got the chance to tell him. "Wait, that's not all actually, there's something that I need to tell you. "

"Oh, ok, go ahead Patton."

Patton took a deep breath trying to calm down. He needed his voice to be steady. He looked into those deep blue eyes and just said it. "Logan, I... I'm in love with you. Like a lot. So much actually, that I can't focus, and my heart beats faster and, I can't help but think that you like me too. And it's ok if you don't I just had to tell you befo-"

"Patton."

"Y-yes Logan?"

The other teacher stood up from his desk and walked toward the mess of a man that was Patton. He grabbed his hand and brought it to his heart. Patton could feel his heart, even through his clothes, he could tell it was beating as fast as his. "Like this? Is this what your heart feels like? I don't understand it but it seems that I feel the same way."

Patton couldn't help but smile, "This is love Logan, this is what it feels like."

"So this is love.

This is what makes life divine

I'm all aglow and now I know

The key to our heaven is mine. "The teacher smiled, "I get it now."

Patton blushed. Did Logan seriously quote a Disney song? Before he could question it, Logan's lips were on his as they began to-

"Woah ok! I did not expect that to go that far. Great writing, though, Roman! Maybe just a little too explicit?"

Patton handed the paper back to the Disney obsessed student as he went back to his desk. What was he thinking when he thought of the prompt? He didn't think that asking his student to write about what they thought happened when his husband and him got together would be this exciting. But here he was reading another paper.

Fin~

[juju-on-that-yeet]

> SHOOT RIGHT > NO

In my defense, the good ending isnt done yet ;w;

This is the bad end in which Dark stays dead forever and the other egos have to cope. Be warned that theres some pretty messed-up stuff in here. I added new tags on AO3, Take a look at those before you read if youre worried.

Tag list: @spookyscarydarky @alliedoesstuff

Happy reading?

> NO

“Well?” Chrome asks.

Dr. Iplier shakes his head.

“He’s not going to come back,” he says, somber and quiet, “It’s been weeks, and the bullet wound is the same as it was when he first got shot. If he was going to heal, there’d be some progress by now.”

Chrome’s eyebrows knit together. He was never Dark’s biggest fan, but Dark is still one of them, not to mention the leader of them all. Chrome is young, he’s never seen a figment die like this before.

“What happens now?” he asks.

“I…” Dr. Iplier shudders. “I have to tell the others. I have to tell everyone.” He begins to pace as it sinks in. “Dark’s dead, the others have to know. Wilford…fuck, Wilford might kill someone. He might kill me. Someone has to watch Yan…”

“I can watch him,” Chrome says, “And I can put out an alert for a meeting.”

Dr. Iplier pauses, surprised to hear the most crochety of the Googles offer help.

“Yes, please do, thank you,” he replies. He sighs. “This is bad. This is really bad.”

Chrome nods as he sends a mental ping to his brothers, letting them know that a group meeting is to be called.

Dr. Iplier leaves the clinic, still muttering.

Yandere sleeps a dreamless sleep.

Yandere misses the meeting, which is for the best. Dr. Iplier relays the news, and despite how uncertain they all were to begin with, they can’t help but be shocked. Wilford takes the news especially poorly, putting a dozen new holes in the conference room. It takes all three attending Googles to restrain him, but by some miracle no one is shot. It takes quite a long time for the meeting to calm down, and Dr. Iplier is beyond drained by the end of it.

When he walks back to the clinic to see if Yandere has woken up yet, he finds him sobbing into Chrome’s chest. Chrome, meanwhile, holds Yandere with a pained expression that he doesn’t bother disguising when he turns to Dr. Iplier. The doctor bites his lip as he walks over.

“Oh, kid,” he says softly, sitting down beside Yandere and Chrome. He lays a gentle hand on Yandere’s shoulder, and feels it shake as he cries. “I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t…don’t say it,” Yandere chokes out through his sobs, “P-please don’t say it.”

Dr. Iplier’s mouth snaps shut. It’s in his nature as a figment to say what he’s about to say, so doesn’t let himself say anything at all. Chrome is silent, too, and the pair comfort Yandere as best they can.

Several days go by as Yandere cries almost nonstop, curled up in a clinic bed with half a dozen IVs in his arm. He starts to recover despite himself under Dr. Iplier’s care, and Chrome is practically glued to his side the entire time. Dr. Iplier and Chrome both know that Wilford is always the best at comforting Yandere, but they also know that they can’t go to him for help right now, not when the man is barely himself.

Since the meeting, Wilford has become more erratic than ever. He paces, mutters, twitches, and doesn’t respond when others try to talk to him. Before long he ends up in Dark’s room, taking Yandere’s place there. But instead of cuddling Dark and talking to him quietly, Wilford rages. He screams at Dark so loud the whole building can hear, curses him for doing this, for dying on him again, or else he laughs, letting out peals of deranged hysterical laughter because surely it’s another joke, isn’t it? It has to be another joke, Dr. Iplier is in it, and it certainly was a fine prank, but it’s gone on too long, it’s not funny anymore, quit joking around and wake up Dark it’s not funny wake up come back not again not again not again not again it’s been ten hours it’s been so much more than ten hours Dark you asshole you self-absorbed bastard don’t you fucking do this to me–

As angry as he gets, somehow he always stops short of violence towards Dark. He’ll punch the wall or fire into the ceiling, but he never touches Dark. Anyone who enters the room to talk sense into him is fair game, however, so the other egos mostly leave him alone.

Eventually, though, Wilford and Yandere both calm down, and the other egos decide it’s finally time to bury Dark before either of them get too upset again.

When Dr. Iplier leaves that meeting and enters the clinic, this time he finds Yandere laying in his hospital bed, staring at the ceiling with tired, half-lidded eyes. Chrome is sitting nearby, silently watching as per usual.

“Hey, Yan,” the doctor begins as he approaches Yandere’s bedside, “How are you feeling?”

Yandere says nothing. He doesn’t even look at Dr. Iplier.

“Look, Yandere, we’re having the funeral tomorrow,” he says, knowing he doesn’t have to – and shouldn’t – clarify for whom, “Do you want to be there?”

There’s a long pause as Yandere closes his eyes. When he opens them, his blank expression remains unchanged.

“Of course,” he says, voice flat and monotone and so unlike Yandere that it hurts Dr. Iplier to hear.

The funeral happens with every ego in attendance but Wilford, who couldn’t bear to see his oldest friend go under the ground. It’s somber and mostly quiet, though the most sensitive among them can’t help but cry.

All but Yandere.

Throughout the entire sad ceremony, Yandere’s expression remains blank. His eyes are glazed and half-lidded, but they stay dry. His lips are a straight line, never turning even slightly up or down. His steps are measured and quiet, his arms at his sides, body language stiff. He doesn’t shed a single tear, doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t give Dark any last touch before he’s buried. He’s since healed up from his time spent not eating or sleeping, but he still looks like a ghost as he stands among the other egos, silent and nearly still. He stares at the ground where Dark is buried, remaining there even as the others leave. For nearly an hour he stays there.

Mourning.

Brooding.

Plotting.

Mark already knows what’s going on. He was shocked to hear of Dark’s death, and despite how much he and Dark hated each other, he still expressed sorrowful and guilt-stricken apologies to the other egos when he was told about it. Yandere doesn’t doubt Mark’s sincerity, but sincerity cannot raise the dead, nor can it make up for what death takes. An apology isn’t good enough. There needs to be something more.

Consolation.

Reparation.

Revenge.

And Yandere knows just how to get it.

The other egos, by now, are used to him leaving Ego Inc. and traveling through Los Angeles to have fun or let off steam. So no one thinks anything of it when he slinks away from Dark’s grave and disappears into the city.

Mark takes a moment to sit back and stretch for as he edits a video. He’s been at it for only an hour, but already he finds himself getting distracted by his thoughts as he works. Perhaps it’s because he’s editing footage of himself playing a horror game, but he can’t help thinking about Darkiplier.

It’s stunning to know that he’s dead. That something as simple as a Valentine’s video, intended to be goofy and lighthearted and a treat for the fans, was the thing that did it. It’s almost poetic; videos brought Dark into the world, and a video took him out of it. It’s sad, too. Mark didn’t like Dark, still doesn’t like him now that he’s gone, but he can’t help but feel a strange sort of sorrow. Maybe the fans were the ones who created him originally, but they only made him because Mark gave them the idea. In a way, Mark made him, and he hadn’t meant to cause his death. His friends have already told him it wasn’t his fault and that no one could’ve predicted this outcome, and objectively Mark knows it’s true, but he can’t help but feel responsible. It had been Dr. Iplier who told him, and Mark could hear in his voice how serious the situation is. Dark had led all the egos, who’s going to do that now? Mark’s first thought is Wilford, but having created him, he can’t imagine him as a very effective leader. So who, then? Mark doesn’t know. He suspects Dr. Iplier doesn’t know either. The entire future of the egos is up in the air, all because of a video that, by all accounts, should’ve made Dark stronger.

He sighs to himself, shakes his head to clear his thoughts, and decides to go back to editing. He slips his headphones back on, but before he can unpause the footage he was looking at, he hears Chica running through the hall, hears her claws scrabbling on the hardwood. He takes his headphones off again, wondering if she might need to go out. Chica makes a deep sound, somewhere between a bark and a woof, and beneath it, Mark hears a door opening.

Wait, that can’t be right. He’s the only one in the house aside from Chica. He isn’t expecting any visitors, and even if he was, they wouldn’t be able to just come inside. This is Los Angeles; Mark can’t afford to leave his front door unlocked, and he never does.

He stands from his chair, walking to the door of the recording room he’s in and pressing an ear against it, trying to listen to whatever’s happening in the house more clearly. He knows he could hear better if he just opened the door, but he’s too nervous to. Chica continues to bark, sharper now, in a way that suggests whatever’s she’s seeing is unfamiliar to her.

Mark’s heart stops when, between Chica’s barks, he hears a voice telling her to hush.

He pulls away from the door and instinctively puts a hand over his mouth, hoping whoever’s here – whoever’s invaded his home – doesn’t know he’s here. Hoping whoever’s here isn’t out for blood. The kitchen is within sight of the front entrance, his wallet’s on the counter there. It’d be a hassle to cancel and replace his cards, but the best-case scenario in his mind is whoever’s here snatching his wallet and leaving as quickly as they came. Mark hopes they don’t hurt Chica, who continues to bark and growl.

Until she stops.

Mark feels ice freezing his veins. Why did she stop barking? He can hear the person walking around still, no longer telling Chica to be quiet. Emotion rises in Mark’s throat. Is Chica hurt? Did this person break into his house and hurt his dog? Or worse? Terror grabs hold of Mark’s heart, but he stays where he is, frozen in his recording room. He wants to go out and confront this son of a bitch, find out if Chica is alright, but he has no idea what he’d do if the other person started a fight. What if they’re armed? Mark hasn’t heard a gun go off, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have one. Or a knife, or a bat, or anything that could’ve silenced Chica quietly.

That thought makes Mark whimper from behind his hand, but he doesn’t move. He feels like a coward as he listens to whoever is in his house walk around a little more before the front door shuts.

Then, all is quiet.

Mark waits, silently counts to ten, before throwing open the door and running down the hall, rushing to the kitchen. He finds Chica laying on the floor, chewing something between her paws, blood spotting her neck and back.

“Chica!” Mark cries as he reaches her. He pats Chica all over, looking for injuries, not caring about getting blood on his hands.

But he finds nothing. Not a scratch. Chica looks at Mark blithely, tongue hanging out of her mouth, as though nothing is amiss at all. Mark finally looks at what she’s holding in her paws: A bone, rather like the rawhide ones he’s given her in the past, long and already pocked with Chica’s teeth marks on one end. Mark has never seen it before. Is that how the intruder got Chica to stop barking?

“No, no, you can’t have that, you don’t know where it’s been,” Mark says as he pulls the bone from between her paws. He chucks the bone in the trash and washes his hands, getting the blood from Chica’s fur off them. It occurs to him that if Chica is fine, then the blood wasn’t hers. Did Chica bite the intruder? He looks back at her. There’s a bit of red in her teeth and lips, but most of it is around her neck and on her back. It doesn’t add up, not to mention he’s never known Chica to bite before. He finishes washing his hands, drying them off on a dish towel before walking back to her.

“What the hell happened?” he asks, exhaling. The fear is wearing off, leaving Mark exhausted, not to mention confused. He peers at Chica as if he’s expecting her to answer him. In a way, she does, because it’s then that Mark sees something white at Chica’s neck, near the blood. Paper? He takes it, avoiding the blood (he’s wary of it now that he’s no longer worried for Chica), and finds a note tied on a string around Chica’s neck. It’s loose enough for him to simply tug over her head, and he does, looking at the bloodstained string and paper note now in his hands. He unfolds the note and finds a message written in black ink, letters scraggly, splotches of scribbled ink covering errors. He reads it:

Mark,

           If Yami taught me anything, it’s how to take revenge. I already know I can’t kill you: Without you, the channel dies and so do the others. But I can make you wish you were dead.

           You can see I left a present for Chica, and I left one for you, too. Check your doorstep.

Sayonara,

Yandereplier

Oh.

Oh no.

Mark thinks of the bone he took from Chica, the bone sitting in his kitchen trashcan, and feels sick.

He supposes he has no choice. He gets up on suddenly shaky legs and moves to the front door, letting the note fall out of his hand and flutter to the ground. Chica follows suit, padding after Mark nonchalantly. When he reaches the front door, he takes a deep breath, then grabs the doorknob and turns it before he can change his mind.

On the doorstep, partly covering the welcome mat, is a cardboard box. Chica sniffs it intently, but Mark pushes her away from it, ushering her back inside. He closes the door behind him, making sure not to lock himself out. He turns back to the box, and right as he does, takes in a breath through his nose. He reels, gags, almost pukes from the awful smell he catches coming from the box. He starts to tremble, as afraid as he was when Yandere was in his house, maybe more. He takes in a shuddering breath through his mouth, exhaling in a nervous sigh. He thinks again of that bone, and of the blood in Chica’s fur. He closes his eyes, willing the bile in his throat to settle back into his stomach. But Mark knows he can’t stand out her forever. For better or worse, he has to open that box. He bends down, takes the cardboard flaps, and pulls the box open.

Mark screams.

Resting inside the box is Amy’s severed head.

Her once-pretty face is frozen in an expression of horror and agony. Her once-beautiful brown eyes are wide open and glassy. Her mouth is twisted in a grimace. Her dark hair is splayed around her head. The ragged stump of her neck is just barely visible. Blood coats the bottom of the box, reaching out in a pool from her neck, staining parts of her deadly pale skin, slicking up the ends of her hair, stinking up the air.

Mark wails, howling with grief and fighting the urge to vomit, kneeling and sobbing on his doorstep as Chica whines from behind the front door.

The egos don’t find out until hours have passed, and Mark is still a wreck when he thinks to call Ego Inc.’s landline, screaming into the phone as soon as Google picks up. He’s so distraught he’s incomprehensible, and Google has to get Dr. Iplier to calm him over the phone, to get him to breathe and explain himself. Once he does, Google and Dr. Iplier can’t hide the horror they feel.

“Google, do you know when Yandere came back?” Dr. Iplier asks, voice wavering.

“Four hours and seventeen minutes ago,” Google answers, eyes wide as he forces out his typical monotone, “He was covered in blood, but that’s typical for him, I didn’t think anything of it…”

“We have to find him, make sure he’s still here,” Dr. Iplier says, beginning to pace, “Now that he’s done this there’s nothing he won’t do, the rest of Mark’s friends could be in danger.”

“I have sent out an alert to my brothers,” Google says, “They can put out an announcement and tell the others.”

Dr. Iplier nods before leaving to search for Yandere, Google going in a different direction to do the same.

Before long, the doctor runs into Chrome, looking around the building with a deeply worried expression, and they both run into Wilford, stumbling through the halls much more leisurely.

“He’s fine, of course he’s fine,” Wilford laughs, “He has to fine.”

Dr. Iplier and Chrome say nothing.

The three head to Yandere’s bedroom. If Yandere is there, then there’s no one else but then who he’d allow inside. But when they reach the door, they find a piece of paper taped there. The message is messy, blobs of ink covering unreadable, half-formed kanjis. The only parts readable are in romaji:

Watakushi wa kare nashi de wa ikiraremasen.

Suggoku gomen ne.

-Yan

Chrome’s eyes flash as he translates the words. His expression twists with pain, but before Dr. Iplier can ask what the message means, Chrome is breaking down the door.

They’re too late. Yandere lays on the ground, facing away from the door, curled around his katana and surrounded by a pool of blood.

Chrome curses, punches a hole into the wall. Dr. Iplier crumples where he stands. Wilford’s eyes widen even as he grins a tight-mouthed grin.

“We’re figments,” Wilford laughs, “He’ll be fine.”

“Wil…” Dr. Iplier manages as he begins to cry.

“He can’t be dead, he’s just…” Wilford takes a breath in, still grinning with shining eyes, “He’s pulling one over on us. Just like Dark. Ol’ Darky was too stubborn to admit it, but Yan is…Yan’s just pulling a prank. A joke. It’s a joke.” He barks out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “It’s a joke. He’ll come back. He’s fine.”

“Wil, h-he’s not like you,” Dr. Iplier says, voice shaky and quiet, “He’s n-not popular like y-you are, and he…” He shudders. “He w-wanted to die, and putting th-those together…he w-won’t…”

“C’mon, Doc, he…” Wilford starts, grin faltering as his mind tries to make sense of the doctor’s words. “Chrome?” He turns to the android to back him up, but Chrome is facing the wall where he punched it, shoulders shaking. “No, that’s not right…Yan…” He stumbles forward and kneels next to Yandere, practically falling, cold blood sinking into the knees of his pants. “Yan, quit fooling around. Dark already made this joke, it’s not as funny the second time…” He swallows thickly as Yandere remains still. “Yan, kid, you can’t…you…” He grins again, more forced this time, as tears roll down his face. “Dark’s gone already, you wouldn’t leave me alone, would you? You wouldn’t leave your onii-san, right? Yan, c’mon, I know you, you wouldn’t…” His mouth turns down suddenly as he finds awful clarity in the fog of mania. “Yan, kid, otouto, please don’t leave me alone…”

Before long Wilford breaks down, crying along with Chrome and Dr. Iplier, and there they remain until the other egos find them.

Later, Chrome will destroy everything in his room and scream until his voice processor gives out, trying to purge the grief from his circuitry.

Tomorrow, Wilford will be pulled away from Yandere’s body, sobbing and laughing but letting himself be dragged out of Yandere’s bedroom.

Forever, Dr. Iplier will have regret eating him from the inside, making him wish he could’ve prevented this, all of this, making him wish he could go back to before that damn video and stop all this misery and death before it happened.

But for now, the Host sits in his library, shudders, and sighs.

“Sadistic, aren’t you?” he says to no one, voice cold and bitter. “The Host hopes you’re happy.”

> TRY AGAIN?