Suspicious Minds [Darkiplier/Markiplier x Reader]

Chapter Fourteen: Guess Who's Back

A/N: Tag yourself in the fan art above. I'm Wilford. (Credit: Kanniballistic on Tumblr).
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You awoke with a jolt, reality soon setting in. In your dreamless sleep, you had escape from this perpetual nightmare. Now that you were back to reality, the gravity of the situation was crushing you.

You glanced at your phone to see that it was early morning. If you were outside, you would be able to see the sun rising right now.

Your mind inevitably ended up wandering to the subject of Dark. You remembered the moment he told you he didn't love you. Your heart lurched at the thought and you tried to push the memory away. You knew it wasn't true, but with all the shit that was happening, your head wasn't exactly clear.

You also remembered that night below the stars with him, all of your good training sessions, and enjoying some good food and some bad laughs. You yearned for that again, for the Darkiplier you knew.

But is it worth it? Dark was hurting you over and over again, whether it be intentional or caused by external forces. He put you in danger and he was a horrible person in his past.

Dark was a murderer, no, he was a serial killer. You had so easily forgotten that, or pushed it aside. Then again, he was created to be evil. He had bettered himself because of you, but do the ends justify the means? How would his victims feel if they knew you had fallen in love with their captor?

You shook your head in attempts to push those thoughts aside. You got out of your bed and did your morning routine. You needed to do something to keep your mind off of your current problems. You couldn't stay in your room forever, no matter how much you wished to.

Your stomach gave a mighty growl, indicating that it was in dire need of nourishment. Of course, your brain disagreed, as this room was your safe haven. Leaving it would make you vulnerable to Dark's d̶a̶n̶k̶ ̶m̶e̶m̶e̶s̶ fuckery.

You slowly opened your door and poked your head out. Luckily, you saw nothing and proceeded with caution. You just had to get to the kitchen. It wasn't that far away.

You heard footsteps behind you and you whipped around. Nothing was there. Before you turned back around, you could've sworn you saw someone out of the corner of your eye. Again, nobody came.

The halls seemed to be much longer than you remembered and nothing could be heard. The silence was unnerving. You moved onward and saw Dark standing in front of you for a second, but he disappeared. It was like he was never there. Needless to say, it sure as hell was making you paranoid. You thought for sure he was doing something, but maybe you had finally gone insane. You wouldn't be the first to do so in this place.

The power in the bunker was still off and those ominous red lights were your only guidance. They only made your anxiety worsen because you knew you were at a disadvantage. Dark knew the bunker like the back of his hand and Dark doesn't get lost.

You heard his sinister laugh behind you and turned around again. Still nothing. A faint ringing in the background was growing louder, but there was no sign of Dark. The thud of your heartbeat became audible to you, you were on edge to say the least. In fact, you were edgier than a teenage Edgar Allan Poe right now.

You were only a few feet away from the kitchen now, at this point you were speed walking there. You prevented yourself from running in case Dark would hear you.

You sighed heavily and had to stop yourself from diving into the kitchen. You ran your fingers through your hair, keeping your eyes on the floor. You used slow deep breathing to calm yourself down.

You turned towards the counter and you felt a warm breath on your neck. You spun around as fast as humanly possible and were met with nothing other than thin air. Maybe I'm imagining this? No, that felt way too real.

"Dark," You called out in a firm tone, "Knock it off." You clenched your hands into fists, expecting him to come charging after you. Not another sound could be heard, other than your breathing.

You grabbed some food for breakfast and plopped down at the table in the dining room. No point in going to your room again if you would just have to bring the dishes back.

You sat there in silence, listening for any oncoming threat. Your chest felt tighter than a nun's pussy. You were ready to shit out a diamond at this point. Dark had gotten you so worked up, well you presumed it was him.

You finished your breakfast and brought the dishes to the sink. You set them down in the sink with a clink. You were trying to be as quiet as possible, but whatever was taunting you, knew you were in the kitchen.

"Hello, my dear."

No. Please no.

You grabbed a frying pan in the sink and whipped around to face him. He stood there, his yellow dress shirt was torn and bloody. His suspenders and bowtie were nowhere to be seen. His hair was unkept, his pants were ripped like his shirt. His pink mustache, however, looked perfectly fine.

"No spoon this time?" Wilford's infamous voice made you cringe. God how you hated even looking at him, now. "What do you expect to do with that?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You snarled, brandishing your trusty pan. You so eagerly wanted to bash his smug face in.

"Somebody (once told me) isn't a morning person." He waved off your hostility as if it was nothing. What is this fucker playing at?

"Dark let you out, didn't he?" You seethed, cutting to the chase. There wouldn't be any beating around the bush in this conversation.

"He so happens to be my partner in crime." He clasped his hands behind his back. "It is reminiscent of the good ole days we spent together. Although, I haven't the faintest idea what has gotten into him."

"Would you mind filling me in?" He stepped close to you, but stopped when he saw you tense up. Both you and he knew that a frying pan would hurt a hell of a lot more than a spoon.

"Fuck you." You growled, glaring at him as hard as possible. If looks could kill, Wilford would be six feet under by now.

"(Y/N), don't you have any manners?" He scolded you as if you were a disobedient child, "I suggest you show me the respect I deserve."

The bastard believed he deserved YOUR respect? Those words infuriated you and you weren't holding back any longer. You were so fucking sick of walking on eggshells and holding everything in. You knew it wasn't good for your mental health to bottle things up.

"Alright," You lowered the pan, softening your gaze, "How's this for respect?" You swung the pan with all of your might and almost got him.

Wilford's reflexes were fast and he caught the handle of the pan before it made contact. He ripped it out of your grasp and slammed your back against the counter. He used his magic to pin your arms to your sides and his body pressed tightly against yours. His legs and hips slid in-between yours, preventing you from kicking him in the crotch.

"I could take you on this counter if I wanted to." He growled into your ear. "I could fuck you into this floor and you couldn't do a damned thing about it."

"You are so lucky," He pulled back and grabbed your chin, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "that we made deal that wouldn't allow that." He stared at you for a few seconds before backing off. His magic still had a tight hold on you.

"Count your blessings, (Y/N)." Wilford was making his leave, turning back to glare at you. "Your luck will be running out shortly." And with that, he finally left.