His Darker Side| A Darkiplier Creepypasta

Chapter 10: Love

The blackness wears off almost as quick as it had begun. I open my eyes to see more darkness. Delightful.

    I realize there was another blindfold over my eyes. The rope burn on my wrists stings, but in recent events, it’s not the worst pain I’ve had. Realization dawns on me all at once what has really happened to me: my best friends are both dead, and I’m stuck with a kidnapper and a woman I thought loved me.

    I hear his muffled voice through the fog of my mind, and however hard I try to ignore it, the voice breaks through my bubble of serenity.

    “Now, Y/N, I’m going to show you something from my host. He was a very. . . delicate man. I’m going to show you what happened to get him and me in this little jam we are now in. And Y/N, I don’t want you to think my showing you this means we’re friends, because we’re far from it, my dear. We are not friends. But we are not enemies. I want us to work together. Can you understand that?”

    I nod slowly, deciding that it was better to let him think I was listening and agreeing with him rather than what else he would dare do to me if I weren’t. He smiled, his eyes sparkling with red hot insanity, if that was even possible. He started to pace around the room, continuing his explanation. “My name, dear one, is Darkiplier. You probably already know that, though. My host’s name, however, is Markiplier. Or just ‘Mark,’ if you please. He’s a YouTuber, and he very much enjoys his job.” He pauses, looking at me. “Or, he did, to be correct.

    “What I’m about to show you is his last memory before I came into his life. Brace yourself, Y/N, it’s very emotional!” He started to cackle at that, throwing back his head and letting his voice echo around the dim room.

    He approached you slowly, drawing a syringe from out of his pocket. “Now, don’t struggle too much, Y/N, or I might miss the spot.” He said, creeping closer and closer with every slow-motion step.

Panic creeps back into you again, and you start to thrash around in your bonds, yelling every expletive under the sun. Dark merely laughed again, flicking the tip of the syringe twice. “This will make you a bit sleepy, Y/N. But don’t worry too much. You’ll wake up when I tell you to.”

He slowly drives the tip into your neck, letting each little movement last as long as possible. Holding back a scream, you bit your lip hard until you had drawn blood, and tasted the tangy metallic liquid in your throat. He smiled widely, pulling the syringe back out quickly, and licking your neck where the blood started to form. You shuddered, and he chuckled deeply again, looking right into your eyes. “Sweet dreams, Y/N. Oh, wait, these won’t be sweet.”

More darkness.

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(Incoming Septiplier Shipping! You Have Been Warned.)

“Jack, move it!”

Jacksepticeye groaned, moving over on the couch where he had been napping. His boyfriend, Markiplier, shoved his feet off the couch, jumping down onto his seat. Jack glared at him briefly before closing his eyes again and leaning into Mark. Grumbling, he responded, “Why don’ you move, ya arse?!”

Mark laughed, lightly jabbing Jack in the gut. “I love it when you call me that.”

Jack groaned again, kicking Mark’s feet. “Seriously, I’m trying to sleep. Move. The fuck. Outta my way!”

“Okay, okay.” Mark gave in, holding up his hands in surrender. “You win.”

“Hell yeah I do,” Jack muttered sleepily, shoving his face back into the folds of the couch. The tv across from him was droning about an infomercial that was selling a mop, and Mark switched it off, turning off the light in the living room to let Jack sleep. He looked at his lovers sleeping body, and a small smile crept onto his face before he went into the kitchen to make some lunch.

You stood awkwardly to the side of the living room arch, half in and half out of the room. Like you were almost ghostly. Neither of the men saw you, or if they had, they were very good at hiding it.

So this is his host, you thought. And from the way those two were acting, I’m guessing they’re pretty familiar with each other.

The other man suddenly appeared behind you, carrying a tray with some food on it. You yelped, jumping out of his way, but he didn’t seem to even notice you were there at all. He set the tray down lightly on the coffee table in front of the other sleeping man, whom you figured out was named Jack.

Mark, Dark’s host, yawned, stretching his arms out wide. “Napping is not a bad idea,” he muttered, heading out of the living room and to the staircase leading to two separate bedrooms. He turned into the one tiny room first; the bathroom. You thought it better to wait outside the door as he closed it, and you waited patiently. Soon, you heard the water in the sink running.

And then, an ear piercing scream sounded from behind the door. You flinched, suddenly hyper aware of every little sound. A voice screamed again from the bathroom, and then the door was flung open. “JJAAAAAACCCKKKKKK!!!”

You looked back down the staircase, seeing Jack fall off the couch. He jerked to his feet, taking the stairs two at a time and quickly rounding the corner into the bathroom. You had to admit, he was fast when it came down to it, despite his lazy appearance before. “What?! What did you wake me up for now, Mark!?” His irritated voice broke through your thoughts, and you sighed to yourself. So much for the caring boyfriend.

“Jack, it’s him,” Mark’s voice shook with fear, and Jack jerked back suddenly, his face a mask of seriousness.

“W-what?! Are you sure!...?”

Mark nodded, showing the blood dripping from his hands. He had tears in his eyes, and he was shaking visibly. “Oh God. . . Jack, I’m scared. What if he-”

“Hush!” Jack interrupted, dashing forwards and starting to wash Mark’s hands in the sink. Pink water wisped down the drain in a spiral. “We can handle him. I know we can.” Jack was looking straight at Mark, who gulped, slumping over the sink.

He didn’t speak again as Jack continued to help him wash off the blood, then hoisted Mark’s arm over his shoulder, carrying him back downstairs and onto the couch. Laying him down gently, Jack ran back upstairs and grabbed some materials. Coming back with a handheld mirror, a Bible, and a notebook with a torn cover, and throwing the items onto the coffee table, he knelt down by Mark, stroking his hair and whispering encouragement.

You silently cheered them on, but you remembered with dread what Dark had said: “This is his last memory before I came into his life.”

Eventually, Mark fell asleep, and a small light inside you opened, hope filling you and forcing you to keep watching.

Jack stood slowly, bringing over a blanket and laying it on top of Mark. He kissed the top of Mark’s head, lightly brushing his bangs out of his face. “You can do it, Mark. I believe in you. . . I love you.” He stood there a moment longer, just staring, before retreating upstairs slowly.

A dark chuckle sounded behind you, and you froze in fear.
    “Love. . . is just a word.”