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

Fear in Black Eyes

Dark's hand on my throat feels cold at first, then gradually becomes colder. The pain increases as his hand freezes my skin. The pain is intense and inescapable. I paw at his hand, trying to get him to stop. Obviously, it doesn't work. Not only is my skin turning to ice, but my throat is burning from the lack of oxygen. My vision blurs, and a throbbing headache ensues. Dark has extended his arm, so my feet are far from the ground with no hope of connecting with it. All I can see through my teary eyes are Dark's terrifying black ones, which aren't the most comforting sight.

But, rather than being full of the same hatred for Martino like I suspected they'd be, he doesn't seem furious with me. His eyes show more frustration and impatience than anything. He almost seems angry with... himself? My confusion, however, is masked by the poisonous, blossoming fear in my stomach, releasing its dizzying aroma into my head and making me nauseous.

"You are under my sovereignty and will do as I bid or endure the consequences – And don't think I won't punish others for your insubordination, as well. Do you understand?" His demonic, growling, layered voice echoes through my head, increasing the volume of the migraine with it.

Nodding is difficult, but I manage a slight movement of the head, which he seems to accept. This doesn't mean he lets go. Instead, he brings his hand closer, so that I can feel the tips of my toes brush the floor. It's not like I'd be able to stand, though – my limbs have gone limp from lack of oxygen. Our faces come closer, but I lose consciousness before I see what he does. The last thing I see before blacking out are his glossy, onyx eyes. I retain some cognitive function, but I'm less than half-lucid.

I'm being lifted from the floor by someone, then brought to another room. I don't know how I've gotten there – I couldn't feel them walking – but we've arrived in another place. I'm set down onto a more cushioned ground – a bed – and blankets are placed over me. The presence of that person lingers, and they lean over me and place a soft kiss on my lips. Then, they leave. I fall asleep soon after.

When I completely wake up, I can only remember bits and pieces of what happened after I passed out. I sit up and swing my legs out of bed. There's a momentary headache, but it passes quickly. I don't feel nauseous or in pain, but something's not right. The house feels too still... unoccupied. I get up and walk to the window, finding that it's nighttime. A storm is raging outside, rain rapping against the window. Then, I realize what's wrong: Dark's not in the house. Yes, he sometimes leaves, but he's almost always here when I wake up.

Maybe he decided to cool down after getting so angry? a tiny, optimistic voice dares to hope. I immediately snuff it out. Dark is not someone to be optimistic about. Something's up.

Just as I begin to head down the stairs, his presence returns, chilling and dimming the entire house. It's become kind of familiar, so the house seems odd without it.

His sudden appearance isn't odd in and of itself, but I'm still extremely suspicious. Frowning, I find him standing and looking out of the large window in the living room at the violent downpour. Before I open my mouth, I remember the pain I felt before: the glacial grasp on my throat, my burning bronchus, those onyx orbs that seemed to be capable of staring at my soul. It's enough to cause me to hesitate, but I shove my fear aside and get straight to the point.

"What did you do?" I demand to know.

Dark turns halfway to me, giving me a glance that sends my pulse rushing. His face is paler in the moonlight, and the dark circles under his eyes are more apparent, contrasting with the pallor of his skin. Not all of his eyes are black, but the blackness of his irises and pupils is extreme, as if they consist of vantablack. Dark's hands are clasped behind his back loosely. Dark hair sweeps over the far right side of his face.

He turns to look out of the window again. "You'll never learn your lesson, will you?"

"I asked a question, Dark," I insist.

"Are you certain you want the answer, or are you simply here to pester me?"

"Would I ask if I wasn't certain? You know I think through things. It's one of the many things you hate about me."

He sighs heavily, reluctantly relenting. "I killed him."

My breath falters because I think I already know, but I manage: "Killed who?" Dark doesn't respond. "Dark, who did you kill?"

"Martino."

I stand in shock for a moment, eyes wide and mind foggy. He said if I stopped talking to him that Martino could live. I said I would stop, but now look at me. I still got Martino killed.

"I thought you were giving me another chance," I whisper, loud enough for him to hear. Dark turns to me in confusion. He doesn't voice his question, but his eyes speak for him. "You said you wouldn't kill him if I didn't talk to him anymore!" Anger washes through me. Surprisingly, it's not primarily because of the death of my friend.

"He was in the way–"

"I don't care that he was in the way. You fucking lied to me when something of importance – like my friend's life – was on the line." My voice isn't loud, but it's strong and quiet. I stare into his eyes and slowly begin to walk forward. "Toy with my life and mess with my head all you want. I don't give a shit. But don't lie to me about stuff like this like I wouldn't find out or know it was you. I would hope that you know I'm smarter than that."

My arms are rigid at my sides with fists clenched as I advance. My voice remains eerily steady and my eyes are locked onto his without hesitation. And, for the first time, I see a disturbance in the demon's eyes. It almost looks like... fear. Dark's never seen me truly angry, before, and this side of me frightens him. This is still only a minor glimpse of what I'm like when enraged and hateful, and he knows it. The man takes a step back, inches in front of the glass leading out onto the porch pelted with precipitation. Lightning flashes illuminates my undemonstrative expression, only adding to his solicitude.

"I would hope that you know I'm not an idiot. I would hope that you understand that I don't actually care if you kill people. I would hope that you know that I don't try to be high and mighty or judge you for killing people."

I finally reach him. Despite being significantly shorter than Dark, I'm still foreboding, full of tenebrous energy. He's now clearly daunted by my sudden confidence and redoubtable presence.

"I would hope that you'd understand that I'm not some cretinous, imbecile mortal that you can delude and perceive like all the others!"

I feel a sort of power that I'd only felt in snippets before. It's the same thing I feel when murdering or manipulating, but now magnified by ten. The fear that's so apparent in Dark's eyes is so unbelievably satisfying, that it practically makes me glad that he killed Martino. I can feel his dark energy in the room shrinking back and making way for my own. Unfortunately, being angry is extremely exhausting for me, so I soon begin to calm down.

Taking a step back, I sigh and close my eyes. "It's useless talking to you or trying to explain. I doubt you actually care," I say, giving him one final look of disgust before turning and walking away, taking my dusky aura with me.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter of "I'm Here to Help You" as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments and votes are super appreciated. Thanks for reading! ~Blue