I'm Here to Help You (Darkiplier x Reader)

Am I?

I know I'm not going to be able to fall asleep for the rest of the night... or any other night. My hyperventilating has worsened, and I've begun to pace around my room. All thoughts are fleeting and scattered save for one: Everything is so royally fucked.

I don't know how long I've been pacing like this, but Dark seems to still be finding amusement in my antics. Realizing that panicking is getting me nowhere, I dart my eyes to a random object in the room and focus on it. All of my mental energy goes into focusing on a small pencil sitting on my desk.

It's a blue mechanical pencil, I think. There's nothing wrong with it.

Oddly enough, this calms me. Dark, confused by my sudden stop and strange change in thoughts, stops smirking. I take three deep breaths, closing my eyes and imagining the pencil instead of the corpse of the man I just murdered. When I open my eyes again, I jump backwards. Dark is – or was – standing in front of me, leaning forward so that our faces were only a few inches apart. He seems to be analyzing me again, and I fidget, forgetting about my issues.

"Why did you stop panicking?" he asks in a serious tone, genuinely curious.

"Freaking out is getting me nowhere, and I have a murder case to segue my way out of," I respond, voice still slightly shaky. "Though the fact that I've never seen that man before and there's no murder weapon helps me, I still have to worry about stray strands of hair and other DNA that might've made its way to the crime scene." I take the pencil in my hands, twirling it between my index finger and thumb.

Dark laughs. "Do you really think I'd let them catch you?" I turn to him. "You're my new entertainment. I can't have any fun with you when you're stuck within prison walls, now can I?"

Though all panic leaves, it's immediately replaced with anger. Before unconsciously deciding to stab him with the pencil in my hands, I set the pencil down and rub my temples.

"You're the reason I'm going to die young," I sigh. "I'm going to have ulcers or a heart attack or something, I just know it."

I head to the bathroom to wash my slightly bloodied hands. The warm water is soothing to me, yet doesn't quite negate the presence of the suited demon standing in the doorway. Whenever he's around, he seems to be staring at me, trying to figure out the next best way to torment me. Though I've never received this much attention, this isn't the type of attention I want. Prying eyes, wicked smirks, powerful aura, unclear intentions... not exactly how I wanted to be noticed.

I don't look directly at him, but I can tell he knows I'm thinking about him from the way he's smirking. The moment he opens his mouth to give a snarky comment, I cut him off:

"Don't."

"I was just going to say–"

"Don't." I hold up a hand and look at him through the mirror. "I don't need your sarcasm to be added onto my stress, Dark. I fucking don't."

The demon rolls his eyes, but continues to stare at me. It still makes me incredibly uncomfortable when he does that.

I finish washing my hands and push past him to get out of the bathroom, but he grabs my arm, pulling me to face him. Though I stare him dead in the eyes, it's still a struggle to look back when he's gazing at me so intently.

There're a few moments of apprehensive silence, then he says, "Think about what you did." I sigh.

"I just murdered a guy. I'd be going to prison if it hadn't been because of you – Then again, I wouldn't have killed anyone if it hadn't been because of you," I reply, glaring. Dark's blank expression doesn't change. "What? What else do you want me to say?"