#dark x reader

"What are you lookin' at, old man?"

Alastor watched. He gathered information.

Angel was the first to fall to her charms. Both born and raised in Brooklyn, the decades did not seem to matter. Home was home and for one another? They were home.

To Y/n, Angel seemed to be a remnant of her family, of the people she had grown up with. Apparently, though they had lived in such different times, when it came to people who were actually from the borough and hadn't just moved there from the midwest? Nothing had changed.

For Angel, Y/n was a treasure. She was something small and worthy of protection. It did not matter that she was more than capable of fending for herself, what did matter was that she could have been his younger sister. His niece or grandchild for all the spider demon knew.

That was not the only thing connecting the two demons, however. There was more than that.

Angel? Hell's most famous porn star? His soul was owned by Valentino. He worked for the Vees and Y/n? Well, when she had first arrived in Hell, she had found a job at the very same establishment.

There was no contract, no soul buying involved in her position. She was merely hired, in the traditional sense. She was a consultant of sorts, as far as Alastor could gather. She had worked to advise the Vees on their precense online, she had cultivated their draw. And when they had raised the issue of her attitude? She had quit.

Y/n, the no name demon, the wolf without a pack, had quit. More than that, she had opted to work for what was essentially the other side. She had joined the Hazbin Hotel.

There was the interest drawn in the fact that she quit, she was allowed to leave. Normally, the Vees killed rather than allowing the people under their employ slip out of the grasps. So there was the spark of curiosity Alastor gained through the fact that she had worked for them and survived, that she had quit and survived, because what exactly did that say about her?

Then there was the disrespect.

"What are you lookin' at, old man."

Y/n seemed to only give respect once someone had earned it from her. When she thought someone unworthy, she made it known.

It had been in that first handful of weeks after her arrival. Alastor had just been passing through the lobby, on his way to address bigger and better things. It had just been right place right time.

Y/n, Angel, and Pentious had been seated on the couch. Well, Pentious and Angel had been sitting. Y/n was laying lazily across an arm chair in her pajamas. The trio had been watching some show when the commercial break had arrived and who but Vox, her former employer, had flashed across the screen.

"Ugh, weather boy." she had grumbled, taking a bite of her kitkat, the snap of the treat echoing in the relative silence.

Alastor had paused. He had not turned to face the group, he would never betray himself like that, but Alastor listened.

"Weather boy?" Angel repeated, turning to her with raised eyebrows.

"Yes." Y/n had nodded intently, "Derogatory."

Alastor nearly had to stifle a laugh.

"Okay..." Angel had at last replied, realizing he would receive no further explanation from the girl.

This overheard interaction had told Alastor two very important things. The first? Y/n knew Vox's past. The second? She was not his biggest fan, to say the least.

So, not only had she worked for the Vees and escaped with her life, but the Vees' own leader had trusted her enough to divulge his human past. On top of that, with all the potentially damming information she held in her hungry grasp, when she had left? When she had joined the opposing team? They had allowed her to live. Vox had allowed her to live.

The thought that she, like Sir Pentious, had been sent to the Hotel as a spy briefly crossed his mind. It was not like Y/n was an entirely unsuspicious person. Just a few days before, she had forced the Hotel's entire population into a picture.

"Come on, Old Man, you're not in frame!"

Y/n was always calling him that, old man. It did not seem to matter to her that they were technically around the same age. She had spotted his getup, seen his persona, and labeled him accordingly.

It was irritating. Every time she said it was like nails on a chalkboard to Alastor's ears, but he had a deal to make good on. As long as she was involved at the hotel, Y/n was protected. All Alastor could do was hope she really was running some sort of con or that she would quit at a harsh word from Charlie as she had seemed to do with the Vees.

That was the thing, however, her disrespect. The more Alastor watched Y/n, the more he realized the idea of her quitting was nothing more than a dream on his end, a hope that was never to be fulfilled. Y/n loved Charlie. In her mind, Charlie and Charlie alone seemed worthy of her respect as an employer.

"She treats me well." Y/n had shrugged when Vaggie had confronted her about this, "Good pay, good benefits. Also, I believe in her and her ideas. Yeah, the Vees were dicks, but that isn't why I left. I left because their business practices are unethical. They don't care about people, just money and power. I don't want to be attached to something like that. Charlie? She is all people. I love that about her."

So, a soul that had landed in Hell upon her death and cared about ethical business practices? It was not something Alastor thought too much about. It was so easy for that to be a lie, some made up excuse. Every day Y/n seemed more and more like a spy which brought Alastor back to the picture.

"Come on, Old Man, you're not in frame!"

How Y/n had pouted when he hadn't shown up in it, when his form had merely been a glitch on the paper. How she had begged him to retake it, and how Alastor had refused.

"Alright," Y/n had huffed as she walked away, "not like I wanted your fuck-ass bob looking me in the eye every day anyways."

Breaking into her room had been easy. While the guests and staff of the hotel had been out running trust exercises, he had snuck his way in using his shadows, intent on finding some evidence of her betrayle.

Y/n's room was a mess. Scattered clothes on the floor empty bags of chips on the tables type of a mess. But then, there had been that photo.

Y/n was not a spy. She did not take a picture of them to send to her Overlords, no. How Alastor knew this? Well, it was because above the bed, right next to where her head must lay at night, Y/n had tacked the little polaroid to the wall.

Above every guest she had written a name and on the white strip at the bottom?

Family.

Oh, Alastor had thought, So that is how she is.

Suddenly how Y/n had gotten to Hell in the first place was a much more interesting question. So Alastor made it his mission. The closer he got to Y/n, the more he put up with her nonsense, the closer he got to his answer.

There was just one flaw in his plan. The closer he got to Y/n, the less her nonsense seemed to truly be that. It was like this.

When Y/n had first met Husk, seeing that he was a cat demon, she had partially transformed. Her ears had grown less domesticated, her teeth somehow sharper, her tail had wagged and she had started barking at him.

"Oh, what the fuck!" Husk had exclaimed, ducking to avoid her attack.

"Uh, do cat sinners and dog sinners normally hate each other like this?" Angel had asked a very distressed Charlie as Y/n had rounded on Husk once more.

"No?" Charlie had replied, her voice thick with concern, "At least, I don't think so?"

"Well it's happening!" Husk had yelled as he clambered up onto the bar top, Y/n barking at his feet, "Are you guys gonna just keep discussing it or fucking help me!"

A sudden laughter had broken through the fear gripped group and all had watched with wide eyes as Y/n stood up, allowing her features to fade back into her more humanoid form.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I fuckin' got you!"

"Dude..." Angel shook his head, unable to keep the slight smile off his face.

"Not cool, man." Husk had hissed.

Y/n, catching her breath, smiled brightly up at him.

"I'm sorry." she offered, extending a hand to help him down which Husk hesitantly took, "I just couldn't resist."

As Husk found himself on solid ground once again, he shot the laughing Angel a disapproving look before fixing his attention back on Y/n.

"Well, next time, resist."

"Yeah, yeah." she waved him off, "I promise. For what its worth? I really dig your whole vibe. The aesthetic? Immaculate. I love a highly themed anything and you? Are definitely highly themed."

It was then she had turned to Alastor, surveying him carefully. He had watched her right back and Y/n had smiled.

"I severely fuck with your vibe too, Old Man." she had announced, "We love a bitch who is committed to the bit."

Nonsense it may have seemed but in reality? A calculated move, a breaking of the tension. She had seen Husk, noticed his demeanor, and realized very quickly that the best way to break down his barriers was to do it all in one go.

It was a strange tactic, but it had worked. Unlike the other members of the Hotel, Y/n never had to fight to gain Husk's friendship. It was simply already there, once she had apologized enough.

It did not take very long for the other members of the Hazbin Hotel, employees and guests alike, to come to terms with Y/n. She was always playing practical jokes, poking fun at people. This was because, they soon realized, it was how she showed love.

Strangers never got this treatment, nor did those she disliked. It was because she loved them, trusted them, that she felt comfortable running wild with them. While she could still be vaguely irritating on this front, it did endear her quite a bit.

Around the same time they realized this, Alastor realized something else as well. He could only gain so much information about the wolf demon from watching, from hiding. If he really wanted to get at her core, he was going to have to talk to her.

And talk to her he did. The little obsessive bug in his brain bit out any irritation, any annoyance. He wanted information, he needed it. He needed to understand this girl otherwise, Alastor feared, it would all come caving in.

She was a liability, he rationalized. If he couldn't understand Y/n and her motives, he couldn't control her. If he couldn't control her, who was to say what damage she could cause the hotel.

By the time he had his question answered, Alastor was hooked.

They had become quite close in the months since he had deemed her a potential threat. It was Alastor's attempt at gaining intel that had started it, but since then it had spiraled into something much more.

"Why does it matter how I lived or died?" Y/n had asked him over a drink one night, "I am here now, might as well make the best of it."

"Call it, curiosity." Alastor had replied tactfully.

Those keen eyes of hers narrowed.

"I'll trade you?" Y/n had offered at last, "You tell me yours I'll tell you mine?"

It should have made Alastor suspicious, should have made him clam up, but it didn't. Instead, his smiled simply widened because how could he complain? Once he had this final, vital piece of information, he could leave Y/n well enough alone and wasn't that what he wanted? To be over with this?

"Sure." he nodded, with no intent of actually honoring his words, "I'll tell you mine."

"Well," Y/n began, "I think my form mostly comes from how I lived. I had this group of friends, see? We were family. We grew up together, helped one another through a lot of shit. We were all hopelessly, platonically, in love with each other in one way or another and each of us was fiercely protective. Hence," Y/n gestured to herself, "the wolf. I guess they were my pack, so to speak."

"And your death?"

Y/n sighed, drinking deeply. She leaned back in her chair.

"It was stupid." she shook her head, returning her gaze to Alastor once more, "I was in this abandoned train yard with a few people, just fucking around. We were drunk, climbing shit, just having a grand old time until... well," Y/n's cheeks flushed pink, she averted her eyes, "I fell." she admitted, "It's easier to tell when I am 'fully transformed' or whatever you wanna call that shit, my bones are all wonky and bent at weird angles. But, yeah. That was me."

Alastor sat silent in thought for a moment.

There was something completely unsatisfying about her answer. He didn't know what he had expected. That Y/n had been torn to bits by dogs? That she had been a murderer? A thief?

"So why are you here?" he found himself asking and Y/n let out a rueful little laugh.

"Sometimes your own survival comes at the expense of others."

It was not the answer Alastor had been expecting. Before he could interrogate her further on the matter, Y/n spoke again.

"I'm just fucking with you." Y/n smiled, elbowing him playfully in the side, "Nah, I just was everything you're not supposed to be to get into Heaven. For one, I am not even Christian or religious and for another thing, I am bisexual. Also had suicidal ideation for years," Y/n sighed, "self harm, a whole host of other things. Anger, lots of anger. Oh! And...."

"Yes?" Alastor asked.

"I was a bit of a kleptomaniac as a kid." Y/n shrugged, "Nothing too bad and never from small businesses. Just lighters from CVS and shit like that, you know? Little things that made me feel more in control of my life. What about you?"

He was not sure why he did it, what compelled him, but, despite all his intent, Alastor told the truth.

"Mass murderer." Alastor hummed lightly, an attempt to pass the it off as a joke, "Got mistaken for a deer while burying a body."

Y/n's eyes narrowed. She watched him carefully for a moment before she broke out into peels of laughter.

"You? A mass murderer? Sure." she said once she had calmed herself down.

Y/n raised an arm, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder as she leaned in. Normally such an action would have set Alastor off, would have led him to brush off the touch at the very least. For the first time since he could remember, however, Alastor found himself enjoying the human contact.

"I'm gonna get the truth outta you eventually, Old Man."

So no, it hadn't been over. The answer had not satisfied his question because, Alastor's question hadn't really been the source of the hunger, of the wanting.

He began to test her, to try and get a reaction out of the wolf demon. He was just trying to make her angry, Alastor rationalized, to see if she was a threat in any other sense. He had confirmed Y/n was not a spy, not unless she was the best liar in all of Hell which he very much so doubted, but that didn't mean she could not harm the hotel in other ways. That her intent couldn't still be bad.

So he began to test her. He would purposefully run into her in the hallway, pretending not to have seen the smaller demon as they collided. He would use his shadows to pop into existence just behind her back.

The most Alastor ever seemed to get in return, however, was a startled gasp. A hand held to the chest. A kind smile.

"Jesus fuck!" Y/n would exclaim and then, realizing it was him, she would catch her breath.

Her hand would lower.

"Al," she would happily exclaim, "what the fuck!"

Then, one time, she had put a hand to his face.

"Ya gotta stop, Old Man." she had announced, shaking him slightly as she caressed his cheek, "You're gonna give me a heart attack."

After that? Well, Alastor would never admit his true goals to anyone, not even to himself.

A hand on the shoulder here, a grabbing of her waist to pull Y/n back from some precipice there. A pat on the head.

"What the fuck?" Alastor overheard Angel exclaim once as he exited the room, having trailed his fingers across Y/n's back as he left.

"What d'ya mean?" Y/n had hummed, the bag of chips in her lap rustling as she reached for another.

"Uh, what was that?"

"Dunno, isn't he always like that?"

"Y/n, you are the only person I have ever seen that strawberry pimp touch willingly. Ever."

Alastor had hesitated, listening, waiting for her reply.

"I don't know." Y/n mumbled in response at last, "That's just how I am. I'm touchy, you know that. He's probably just acclimating to me because he is a nice guy."

"Uh-huh. Sure." had come Angel's unconvinced reply.

For all their glistening days of glory, the peace had to come to an end sometime. There had always been the overarching threat of extermination, of the angels. Now it was finally here.

They were attacking tomorrow, targeting the hotel specifically. There was a plan. Alastor and Y/n had helped Charlie create troops and then rally them, but that did not mean there was no fear in the air as they gathered in the lobby for what might be their final night together.

Alastor watched. He watched as everyone hyped Pentious up, trying to give the snake the confidence he needed to confess his feelings to Cherri Bomb. He watched as Y/n, Angel, and Cherri did shots at the bar, as Y/n wrapped a comforting arm around Charlie, as she picked Nifty up and placed her on her shoulder so the little demon could better watch what was going on around them.

He watched as Y/n smiled to Husk, calling something to him over her shoulder as she headed off, at long last, to bed. Her exact words were lost in the cacophony but whatever she had said had made Husk smile too as he shook his head. It seemed the wolf had even been able to win over the grouchiest of the crew.

Using his shadows, Alastor stopped her in the hallway.

"Yeah?" Y/n yawned.

"Just making sure you won't show up to the battle tomorrow in your pajamas." Alastor teased, his heart thundering dangerously within his chest.

"Hey! Rude." Y/n crossed her arms, "But yeah, I know. I wont. If I love anything, I love a theme and what is tomorrow if not highly themed?"

"Off to bed now."

Y/n scoffed, raising her eyebrows.

"Not your kid, Old Man."

"Then stop calling me 'Old Man.' I am only a few years older than you." Alastor explained for what felt like the millionth time.

He did not know why it bothered him so much. The nickname of sorts was, on the one hand, endearing but at the same time, he hated the implication.

"A few hundred years." Y/n teased.

Turning, she made to continue down the hallway.

"I'll see you in the morning!" she called to him, waving over her shoulder, "All dressed up and ready to fight! I promise."

Though Alastor had some doubts as to the veracity of her words, they were proven wrong as he stepped outside the next morning. There Y/n was, not in her normal sweatpants and tank top but sporting what could only be called armor.

Chains dripped off her and in the gaps between them, Alastor could just make out a pair of ripped, light blue jeans with holes cut into the knees and a form fitting black top. She grinned at him as he approached, her teeth sharper than he'd ever seen them.

"See, I told you." she hummed placidly as Alastor came to a stop beside her.

The hour was upon them and yet, she showed no fear. Y/n's eyes were fixed on the place where the angels would come through, where the portal always appeared.

"I am fucking terrified." Y/n admitted.

"You don't look it."

"Oh yeah?" she smirked, turning back to him, "And how do I look?"

Alastor said nothing and Y/n gave him a light nudge.

"Fear isn't a bad thing." she sighed, "Just gotta remember who you're doing this for."

"And who might that be?"

"You, of course."

Alastor's breath caught in his throat.

"And everyone else here at the hotel." Y/n continued, seeming not to notice, "Everyone else in all of Hell, really. But mostly you, and people like you."

"Your family."

The word was sharp on his tongue, sour.

"My family." Y/n confirmed.

The portal was opening now, the first few exorcists beginning to trickle through. Y/n looked up at Alastor once more, her grin wider than it should have been as she began to transform.

"Ready, Old Man?" she asked as saliva began to drip from her elongating face.

Alastor watched in awe as before he knew it, a monster stood before him. He had always known Y/n was no bark and all bite, it was one of her defining characteristics. This, however, was different.

Limbs bent at odd angles, claws sharp, ready for blood. In some strange sense, she was beautiful. In every sense, she was powerful. Alastor understood now why Charlie had paired them together for the battle's fateful start. How she had known this aspect of Y/n and Alastor hadn't was, however, beyond him. In this moment? It did not particularly matter either.

"Just don't die." Y/n hissed softly, her breath curling hot from her mouth.

Alastor's grin grew.

"You don't either." he quipped back.

No, I won't let you.

-----

NEXT PART → Addict pt. 2 (Yandere!Alastor x Gen Z!Reader)

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You sit in your rather uncomfortable chair on the other side of the desk from Dark, neither of you has said anything yet but he knows exactly why you’re here. You want answers. You know he’s hiding something and the box is the key to whatever is going on. The silence in the room is deafening but the ringing of his power hurts your ears.

“People like you only want one thing, it's disgusting…” Dark sneers, holding the intricately carved box in his hands, glaring you down and cutting through the silence.

“I just want to know what’s in the box and why it’s so important to you.” You retort, eyes darting from the box to Dark. Coming to his domaine like this was risky and made you extremely vulnerable to whatever Dark wanted. You weren't scared in the least of him though, Dark and you were old friends and truth be told, he was kinda hot when he was scary.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You wouldn’t kill me.” You instantly call his bluff and his expression falters for a moment.

“Maybe I won’t but the box could.” Dark’s face returns to expressionlessness. “But I’m all for adventure, why don’t you open the box, dear?” He holds the box out to you, tempting you to see how far the rabbit hole goes. It was a test, but pass or fail, this is exactly what you came for.

You stare at the box in his hands for a moment, thinking about what exactly could be inside that Dark seemed almost weary about.

‘Fuck it’ you think before taking the box out of his hands, its lighter than you thought it was going to be. You give it a small shake but don't hear anything rattle around.

“Why did you shake it? You don’t know what dangers it can hold!” Dark hissed, reaching to take the box back.

“Oh so you think I’m hot?” He smirks back at you. Demenor shifting as he stands to his full height on the other side of the desk. He braces his hands on the desk, looming over you, oozing power.

“Awww are you suddenly worried about me, hot topic?” You flash him a grin, holding the box just out of his reach.

“Yup.” You nod and while you think you have him distracted you pop the lid of the box open.

Nothing happens. You look back up at him and he looks confused. You decide to dump the contents out onto his desk, and out pours candy, beautiful brand name candy. You shake it to empty it and stare back up at Dark who looks utterly incensed.

“The box is supposed to hold your deepest desires! Not candy! What the hell is wrong with you!” He shouts, hands digging through the candy to find anything else.

“I am a little hungry” You laugh, all the trouble you went through just for the box to be filled with candy. Then you spot it before he does. A tiny plastic spider ring in the midst of the candy. You pick it up and slip it on his finger.

“Did you just…” Dark stops his digging and looks down at the ring.

“Yeah! Guess you were my greatest desire.” You beam at him, cheeks flushed.

“You humans are so strange.” He mutters before finding a matching ring in the pile and slipping it onto your finger, giving your hand a kiss as he does so. In a stunned silence he places the lid back on the box and places it back into his desk.

“So can I keep the candy?” You ask hopefully.

“Yes, you can keep the candy, I suppose I should take you on a date now?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, a very rare blush gracing his greyish cheeks, while you nod eagerly.

You had known the man who called himself Dark for a while now. He was kind, and utterly charming. Your relationship grew, and ended up considering him a great friend of yours. If you texted him you were hungry, he’d bring you lunch at work. If you were sad for any reason, he’d come over and hold you as you cried into his jacket. If you were excited over good news, he’d bring a bottle of wine and celebrate with you however you wanted. 

It was a good situation…but it became apparent he felt differently about you than you felt about him. You always avoided the questions, and brushed aside the looks he gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. But you did trust him, knowing he would be polite and cordial if the topic ever got brought up. 

Today was a long day, and you needed to invite your friend over to vent and ramble about how shitty the work day was. You sent him a quick text, and he responded by saying he was in town anyways and would come over immediately. It made your day slightly better, knowing you’d have company instead of being alone in your small studio apartment. It wasn’t the most fancy place, but it worked. 

A knock on your door had you pause in your enraged pacing, and you strolled over to open the door. He was waiting there, a small smile on his face with concern in his eyes. He was carrying flowers, and a small bag from the nearest grocery store. “Are you alright?” He asked softly, letting you lead him over to the couch. 

As you sat, you groaned, the weight of the day slowly lessening at being in the presence of your dear friend. “Today sucked! Like physically I’m alright, but my mind is a mess!” You waved your hands around as you talked, completely letting all the emotions out that had been building up through the day. “Some dude wouldn’t stop pestering me, practically cat-calling me while I worked! It pissed me off since my manager was watching and you KNOW how he gets. All “customer is always right” bullshit without ever considering that some customers are just creeps or assholes!”

Dark’s look flickered as you mentioned the verbal harassment of a customer. His brow furrowed as he tried and failed to suppress a scowl. “That does sound like an…inconvenient day. Your manager always seems to ignore any issues or mixed feelings about situations.” He paused for a moment, hesitating on his next choice of words. Opening his mouth to speak, he shook his head and placed a hand on your shoulder as a calming gesture. 

“That…moronic man ought to have better things to do than to mess with you. He didn’t hurt you, right?” The feelings of a dark aura swaying around him made your expression falter. He didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he didn’t bring it up. “I swear if he hurt you I’ll go to your work and make sure you’re safe every shift.” 

You blinked in confusion, wondering where all this was coming from. “That’s…a bit extreme, yeah?” Tilting your head, you continued. “I know damn well you have better things to do, and stuff like that doesn’t happen often. Just sometimes. And like I said, he didn’t hurt me, it just made me uneasy and feel grossed out at the things he said.” After a moment, you placed your hand over his as it rested on your shoulder. 

He shuddered slightly, but kept it covered up. A small nod from him, and he seemed to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Good…it’s an unfortunate situation, but I’m glad he didn’t bring any harm to you.” He shifted his hand, bringing yours to his lips as he planted a small and soft kiss to the back of it. 

It made you shift slightly uncomfortably, but you brushed the feeling aside. He was only trying to comfort you, even as you said softly, “You don’t need to get so mad like you did. You can calm down some, it almost seems like you’re more upset than I am.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as if ridding yourself of the tense nature in the air. 

He reflected your laugh with a chuckle of his own. His gaze became stern, more serious than yours was. “It’s only natural. Of course I’d be agitated when someone tries to mess with what’s mine.” He spoke without any hesitation, confident in his words and claiming as if he was stating a fact. 

You recoiled back slightly, not expecting the venting to lead to this type of conversation. “W-woah, woah. You can’t just say stuff like that. You’re my FRIEND, and claiming someone as yours without them stating the same is just…not right.” A slight movement and you’d removed your hand from his. “I just…don’t feel that way about you. It’s nothing against you…I’ve just always considered you a friend. Nothing more.” 

His expression dropped, and he reached back out for your hand. He had no intention of letting go, and held it as firmly as he could without it being painful. “Oh darling, you’ve always been mine.” He said, noting the slight withdrawal as you looked at him uncomfortably. “We’re not just friends. All I’ve helped you with, would I have gone so far to ease your emotions and provide you comfort all this time if I wasn’t enamoured by you?”

You tugged at your hand slightly, only stilling when you realized you couldn’t break free of his grasp. “Dark…I’m sorry you feel that way, but I don’t feel the same. We’re friends, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.” You spoke firmly, leaving no room for debate. It hurt, turning him down. He really was dear to you, but the feelings were purely platonic. Rejecting him wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you had to be firm and strong in your confidence of your feelings. It would only be painful if you tried to act as if you felt the same, only to get his hopes up before breaking things off. He’d be far too attached at that point, and it was better to get it out of the way now than to regret it later. 

His expression, however, didn’t seem to accept your rejection. He tilted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. But for some reason…it almost looked like his eyes were glowing. It was entrancing, and you didn’t have the energy to pull your chin free from his grasp, instead, looking deeply into his eyes without being able to pull your eyes away. His smile shifted to be almost a smirk. 

“You didn’t really mean that, right? Your feelings for me are just as strong as the ones I have for you. It’s always been that way. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Eternally.” His voice was like silk, soft and filled with his adoration for you. “Don’t worry dear, I’ll make sure no one bothers you anymore.” He tilted his head, eyes now glowing brighter. 

“Yeah…” You mumbled, any previous feelings of friendship for him becoming entirely painted in love. He was yours…and you always wanted to be his. The look in his eyes, so devoted to you, had you leaning forward to look even deeper into his eyes. As he kept your chin in his hand, his eyes drifted to your lips as his smirk grew. 

“That’s right, love. It was nearly on sight, falling for every part of me. It’s been months of wanting to be together, and guess what my love? We can finally be together as we’ve always wanted.” His thumb ran along your chin, stroking your skin softly. It seemed he couldn’t hold back much longer, desperate to finally kiss you. “Say you’re mine, love. Say I’m the only one you want.”

For a brief moment, your mind tried to fight back. You couldn’t think clearly, everything running through your mind while being almost entirely empty at the same time. “I’m yours…always. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.” Inside, you were screaming. This wasn’t right…why were you telling him all this? It wasn’t true! 

Yet as the seconds pass, all thoughts of the platonic friendship you cherished become complete devotion. It was driving you mad, these conflicting feelings. Yet as he touched you softly, your feelings dissolved, only able to imagine being in a love-at-first-sight situation with him. All the times you gazed at his lips, imagined being with him in every sense of the word…you wanted nothing more to be his. And now you finally were. 

Dark could see the inner battle you were in, and before you could find the will in you to break free of his trance, he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss against your lips. It only lasted a single moment, but he could see the glow in your own eyes. A sign that his manipulative magic was taking over. It made him smirk, only pulling back enough for your lips to brush against each other. His hand tangled in your hair, and he muttered quietly. “Show me how much you’ve wanted to be with me.” He commanded, and who were you to refuse?

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he sat next to you, turning to face him fully as you pulled him into a bruising kiss. It had him let out a pleased groan, tugging gently at his hair as he pulled you closer. Only a moment had passed before he eased you down, hovering over you as he deepened the kiss. His body pressed against you, and it drove you absolutely wild with need. 

As he pulled back, you panted for breath. It had you whining, wanting to feel his lips on yours once more. He chuckled at the sight, brushing one hand against your cheek while the other held him up. “Don’t worry my love, we have all the time in the world. No need to rush things, you’ll be mine the rest of our days.” 

As he cupped your cheek, you lightly nuzzled it against his hand. “Forever.” You breathed out, still catching your breath from the kiss. Your words had the darkness in his eyes intensifying. A primal growl left his lips, as he looked at you with a mixture of adoration and lust. It was taking everything not to claim you right here and now, but he maintained his composure. 

He lowered his head, planting soft kisses against your neck. “Don’t fret, darling. You’re mine. I’ll never let another soul touch you, even look at you. With everything I have, I’ll protect you.” He paused to suck lightly on the soft spot on your neck. “Nothing will ever come between us again. Not another man…” He chuckled against the soft skin of your neck before he continued. 

——

You rummaged through the cupboard to find some of your favorite snacks but were met with empty space instead. You sighed and shook your head. Your secret stash of snacks has been disappearing at a suspiciously fast pace, so it was safe to assume someone was eating it. But eating all of it without notice? You’d have to have a stern word when you found the culprit. If at all.

This shortage has happened multiple times already. At first, you let it slide, but it was really beginning to get on your nerves. Scratch the beginning. You were mad. You were going to get your snack. Now.

Breathing slowly to clear your head a little, you decided to go for a late-night shopping run while you were at it. After all, there were some other things you wanted to buy, along with the snack. And then you’d catch whoever had been stealing them.

You walked down the corridor and noticed the time on the grandfather clock. You winced. If you wanted to go shopping you needed to get ready and fast.

You grabbed everything without thinking too much about the details. Your phone, purse, and a shopping bag and bolted for the door. You managed to faintly hear something Google was trying to say, but you had no time to listen. Off to the shop it was.

—

By the time you returned, it was pouring. And you hadn't brought an umbrella.

The door opened with a creak, and you stepped in, clothes dripping with water all over the carpet.

Out of the corner of your vision, Google raised an eyebrow before coughing silently: “I did attempt to tell you the forecast was saying it would rain.”

You pushed your wet hair out of your face. “Yeah. I don’t think that'll help now.”

“Well, if you had given me admin privileges, I would have been able to contact you even while you were away—“

You walked away irritated, not bothering to hear his ‘Giving me admin privileges is the solution to all your problems’ speech.

While sprinting to your room, you almost crashed into someone, but you were able to steady yourself and not make his suit wet. Suit. Only one man would wear a suit well into the evening.

Darkiplier eyed your very much drenched form from head to toe. Before you could say anything, he spoke, no visible emotion on his face. “Your clothes are wet.” It sounded as if he was merely making an observation.

A scoff escaped your lips. “Haven’t noticed.”

“Did Google not tell you about the weather?”

He who stayed mostly cooped up in his office most of the time had the audacity to lecture you for going out when it was raining?!

“Well, obviously I didn’t have the time to get an umbrella!” You threw your hands around, irritated, and stormed off into your room.

—

You woke up still tired. Your throat felt dry. You swallowed. Sharp stabbing pain. You groaned and turned around to check the time. You slept for 10 hours?!

The sun was already high in the sky, an unusual sight for an early bird like you. Weird, but you supposed it was better to get started for the day, you said to yourself, trying to sit up. Emphasis on trying.

You clutched the side of your head to dull the throbbing pain that emerged from your movement and flopped back onto your pillow. Well, this was a problem. Everyone would start wondering where you were sooner or later since you routinely woke up first.

The pain was almost enough for you to consider just staying in bed. And yet you couldn’t do that.

You’ve never allowed yourself to rest even while tired or under the weather. The work helped you focus on other things. Without it, your mind started to wander into territories it shouldn’t. Like those recurring dreams of a strange mansion or a poker game with people you didn't recognize… and it was doing it again. Which is exactly why you needed to get back to work.

You weren’t able to attempt to get out of bed again when your door handle swung open violently, almost slamming into the wall. There was almost no time to register the urgent steps stop as Wilford put his hands on your shoulders and began shaking you.

“Oh, my word, we thought you died!”

Wilford was a mess. Eyes shot wide, clothes untucked, hair unkempt, like he was running around and forgot to fix himself up.

“Wilford…” you said lethargically, Wilford’s shaking making your hoarse voice sound even quieter.

“Illinois said he hadn’t seen you at breakfast, so I thought you must have eaten already, but when I went to check, you weren't at your office and you’re always at your office, so we all thought you got kidnapped…” he continued ranting, almost like he was stuck in panic mode with no regards to the fact that you were actually safe and sound in your bed.

“Wilford, I’m fine!” you yelled as loudly as you could muster, which was not much but it seemed to break the loop he was in. He stopped shaking you. “I’m just not feeling well, that’s all…”

“Oh…” he said softly, slowly pulling his arms away.

His eyebrows scrunched up in almost a comical fashion. “You’re sick,” he stated, as if for some sort of confirmation.

“I’m not that sick—”

“But you never get sick.” He shook his head, looking positively baffled.

“Again, I’m not that sick. Just woke up a little later than usual, nothing to be worried about…”

“You are ill?” you heard his voice before you saw him appear. Darkiplier was standing in your doorway. Who knows for how long. His face looked neutral, except for the smallest furrow of his eyebrows.

You sighed, exasperated. This was too much to deal with in your current state. Which was not that bad, mind you. Besides, how and why was Darkiplier even in your room? Wilford, you could understand. You were acquaintances—friends even, but it was different with Darkiplier.

Sure, you had mutual respect, but your relationship had always been on the more formal side, seeing as you were one of the few people he could rely on to complete the tasks you agreed on. But he would have never struck you as a person to be worried about someone’s physical state.

“I am fine. It’s just a cold. Nothing I can’t handle—“

He interrupted you before you could finish your sentence.

“A cold? A cold that leaves you unable to get out of your room until noon? Is just a cold the reason you are left bedridden and shivering despite being underneath a duvet?” He walked until he was near your bed. There was a cold sort of fury hidden behind his eyes.

That irked you. Of course he never cared about your well-being. He only cared about how the search for Mark continued. And no matter who helped him along the way, as long as he got his revenge, nothing else mattered.

You weren’t able to yell, but your gruff voice was teeming with anger. “Well, I’m sorry I had the gall to fall ill. But not all of us have the ability to work for days on end. Some of us are human!”

You hadn’t meant to say that last sentence. Pain flashed in his eyes. You’ve always had a suspicion that he used to be human. At least at some point in time. You got your confirmation now. You would’ve regretted saying it any other time, but not now. Not now when you finally found out the thing he cared about most was your productivity.

“I think you should leave,” you said coldly.

You’ve honestly forgotten Wilford was also in the room as he hasn’t butted into your conversation like he usually did. Darkiplier’s face was stunned, maybe even regretful, but he did nothing, as Wilford took him by the shoulder and led him away from your room.

As they left, you turned to the wall and closed your eyes. Tired from the emotional exchange and your current sickness, slumber soon overtook you.

—

You woke up still tired, your mouth dry as if you hadn’t drank water in forever. Which, you hadn’t. Your stomach ached, but you highly doubted you could muster up enough strength to make yourself something. Another grumble of your stomach convinced you otherwise.

You looked around for a bathrobe to put on over your pajamas when your eyes got caught on your bedside table. There, lay a tray with a plate full of chicken noodle soup along with a spoon.

Did someone…. make you food? You have eaten along with some of them, such as breakfasts with Illinois or Yancy, and sometimes Wilford liked to join you for lunch. Then there were the late dinners in Darkiplier's office. But this? You weren't used to that. You leaned over and put the tray on your lap, careful not to spill anything.

You wondered who would do such a thoughtful thing for you. It looked homemade, so that ruled Yancy out. He approached you a few weeks ago if you could re-teach him some simple recipes since he's been in prison for so long that he's forgotten how to cook.

You were familiar with Illinois’ cooking skills, but you doubted he would find the time to make you soup. He’s always joked that he can’t give anyone special treatment or else they’d fall in love with him.

And Darkiplier… you threw that thought away before you could even start thinking about it properly. As if he’d be all nice to you after treating you no less than an expendable employee.

Wilford, you couldn’t be sure about. You’ve seen him cook occasionally, not soup, but he seemed to have both skill and like you enough to be so considerate.

Satisfied with your thought process, you set to eating the surprisingly still warm soup that you deduced Wilford had made for you.

After about twenty minutes, you already having finished your soup and cuddled up facing the wall to sleep the cold off some more, a quiet click of the door handle filled the silence of your room. Soft tentative steps tapped on the floor, seemingly so as not to wake you up.

You turned around.

“Hey Wil, thanks for the soup…” You trailed off when you realized the one who entered your room was, in fact, not Wilford but a rather startled Darkiplier. You have never seen him with that much exposed emotion. He was frozen reaching for the empty plate, his eyes slightly wide, as if he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. It, however, didn’t last long. He promptly straightened his back, wiping imaginary dust from his jacket, his expression back to being deadpan as usual.

“Why are you taking that plate?” You eyed him warily. Was he here to chastise you for not working? Or perhaps—

“Because I made the soup. I figured you’d have finished it by now.” He moved to pick the tray up.

“You made the soup? You made me soup?” you blurted out before you could really think about what you were saying.

“You’ve seen me cook,” he said in the most matter-of-fact voice.

“Well, yes, but…” You sat up and tried to gather your thoughts. It all lead down to just one thing. “Why?”

“You are ill. You need rest and warm food. So I made you soup. Is that enough of a reason for you?” There was a hint of humor in his voice, his expression mostly unchanged, except for the faintest sparkle in his eyes.

You were absolutely baffled. He gets angry at you for getting sick and not working and then makes you soup?

He seemed to notice your irritation increasing and opened his mouth to speak. You crossed your arms and leaned on the pillow.

“Listen. I know a plate of soup isn’t enough to make up for what I had said. And I didn’t just make the soup to make amends. I want you to get better. I know what’s done is done but you need to know the truth.” He looked away momentarily as if he had to find strength to continue. “I wasn’t angry with you for not being able to work. I was angry… with myself.”

“What?”

He sighed, looking away.

“What I had said and the way that I had said it was harsh. There is no excuse for it. I was just…” He took a deep breath and shook his head absentmindedly. “I was worried. When you didn't show up in the morning. I thought something had happened. That maybe you had left or perhaps needed some time off. You work too hard all the time. And I did not want to intrude even if I was worried. A part of me was glad you finally decided to take some time for yourself. But when I was passing by and heard Wil say you were ill…” He looked off to the side for a moment.

“I have never seen you ill. Ever. So I said things without thinking them over. And for what it's worth, I am sorry.”

Your eyebrows only scrunched up more. Many emotions of increasingly more confusing variations started bubbling up in your brain. You didn’t say a thing. Just kept looking at him as if that would help you comprehend what exactly he had just said.

He sighed.

“Do with that what you will. But believe me when I say, I am being completely sincere that I truly hope you do get better.” With that, he grabbed the tray with the plate and left your room.

A part of you wanted to say something. To tell him to come back. But you couldn’t will your tongue to move. And not because you were sick.

With a closing of the door, you were left alone once again. This time, with many more things to think about.

—

Evening rolled around faster than you expected it to. You spent most of the time sleeping. You even felt good enough to make some light dinner for yourself. It seemed none of the residents were up to their usual antics of annoying you today. Lovingly, of course, but you had thought when they came to know you weren’t dying, they’d come to visit you. But that didn’t seem to be the case as no-one has been in your room since your… exchange with Darkiplier.

But as all sickness goes, it gets worse in the evening. And so you were lying in your bed, as lethargic as ever, unable to even sleep.

Your door creaked, the sound so quiet you wouldn’t have been able to hear it if you hadn’t been lying in dead silence.

Darkiplier opened the door and looked over into the room. Your eyes met. And even through your hazy state, it felt like you locked eyes just a second too long. Not like any other time.

“I... came to check up on you.” He looked away, cutting the silence.

“That's awfully nice of you.” You weren’t really thinking about what you were saying. It seemed to a side effect of your illness. Or maybe you weren’t so guarded with him anymore.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. It looked oddly adorable.

“Are you feeling alright?”

You didn't know if he meant healthwise or your current state of mind, and you didn’t care.

“Absolutely.”

He walked over closer, right up to your bed. You watched him curiously, a bit more attentive even despite your heavy mood.

“No fever or anything of the sorts?”

You scoffed lightly. “No, nothing of the sort. Really, I’m fine. Never been better. See?”

You moved to sit up when he gently grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back onto the pillow.

Breathing became a foreign concept. Even your sickness existed only in the back of your mind. Your body was faintly pressed against the plush of your pillow, yet everything paled in comparison to all but one sensation.

Him.

So close.

And yet not close enough.

His hands on your shoulders were secure and just a bit insistent. But not necessarily painful.

“Don’t get up, you need to rest,” he said firmly but softly just the same.

Your eyebrows raised. He leaned closer. And closer. You closed your eyes.

The touch of his lips on your forehead was feather light.

After seconds which seemed like hours, he pulled away just a little, deep in thought. “Your forehead isn’t warm so it seems like you really don't have a fever…”

It sounded like an inner monologue or a passing thought, but your brain froze from the moment he kissed your forehead. It was so soft you weren’t sure you weren’t actually having a fever dream. Your eyes moved on their own accord, studying his face. His eyes caught yours. You have never seen him from this close. Your mouth was slightly open as a shallow shaky breath escaped it. It was as if the Earth itself stopped spinning and all you could feel were his eyes. Staring. Pensive. As if he himself was also frozen.

“You… you shouldn’t be so close to me,” you said quietly, almost indiscernibly. Your mouth was dry. A few seconds passed. Silence. Just him and you. And his eyes. Oh, those dark eyes. They went deeper than you thought. Like they were their own little galaxies. Did he even hear what you said? Did he—.

“Why?” His voice was quiet, similarly to yours, with a slight purr that you’d never heard from him. You could feel his chest rise and fall, dangerously close to your own. Your heart was beating so quickly that you wondered if he could feel it. A shiver ran up your spine. Your brain desperately searched for an excuse. But did you really want him to stop?

“I’ll get you sick,” you tried. Oddly enough, you weren’t feeling all that unwell at the moment. You were, however, feeling something else you couldn’t describe. And his closeness only heightened the tingling in your stomach.

“I’m not human. I can’t get sick,” he said without missing a beat, almost matter-of-factly.

Curses, he’s always been good at quick responses. But— Hang on. How would you know such a thing about him? You’ve spent some time together, yes but… Not enough to know an obscure detail like that.

“But you were.” The words left your lips almost by themselves. And yet, something in you knows that it’s the truth. Somehow, someway you feel he used to be something else before this.

His face darkened, his expression shifting to the all too familiar one you knew from working together late into the night.

“I… used to,” he admitted. You had to keep your mouth from falling open. This was the clearest confirmation of their past you’ve gotten out of any of the residents of this mansion. And to get it from Darkiplier first… If anybody told you a few days ago that such a thing would happen, you would’ve laughed straight into their face. But now… Him sharing something vulnerable with you felt strangely familiar. Like it happened before.

“I can see that brilliant mind of yours working. But whatever questions you want to ask, save them. There is time and place for such conversation and this is not it.” This was his way of saying no to talking about this topic. Rather tactfully from how you’ve seen him snap at Google when he is genuinely angry for a sensible reason. There was, however, something in the sentence that you could use to gauge him. You could consider yourself fairly well-versed in a few things in life but for Darkiplier to call you brilliant? And with such casualty. Like he has already said it before. But he hasn’t. There had to be something more behind it.

“’Brilliant mind’?” you repeated his words inquisitively.

His eyebrows furrowed apprehensively and you knew then you struck gold. He pulled back from leaning over you but you followed suit, sitting up on your bed.

“Forget it,” he said, his voice clipped.

“No.” You surprised yourself by how fast you replied. And it seemed to have the same effect on Darkiplier since he didn’t move from the spot. Encouraged by this, you continued: “… No. Why did you say that?”

“I…” There it was—he hesitated. You waited with bated breath for him to reveal whatever it was he kept trying to hide. You knew it was something that weighed heavy on his soul.

“It is none of your concern,” he said after a few tense seconds of your waiting. Ever the diplomat. Was he a politician in his past life or what?

“Considering the fact that you said something about me, I think it very much concerns me.”

“Look, you are ill and there are things that are beyond your understanding—”

“Then tell me something I can know.” That was it. Your last ditch effort to get to know something more. More about this man who went from only a colleague to someone who has actually, and much to your surprise, proved to care for you. As much as a man with seemingly so little external emotion such as Darkiplier was. But only seemingly. You have seen him smile before this even if it was scarce. But now you could finally admit — it did suit him.

Darkiplier looked at you, brows furrowed, seeming almost perplexed. “You truly wish to know more about me?” he asked, to which you nodded quickly before he could change his mind and decide to leave right then and there.

He sighed.

Then begrudgingly sat back down on your bed.

Bingo.

You made yourself more comfortable, propping your back on the wall behind you. It felt like a child getting ready to hear a bedtime story. Darkiplier raised an eyebrow and let out a soft breath through his nose, the corner of his mouth raising almost imperceptibly.

He looked to the side thoughtfully for a few moments before turning back to you.

“I don’t have to breathe.”

Well, that was unexpected. You thought he would talk about his life experiences or the people that he met. Then again, you should have known better than to think he would actually tell you anything about his past or elaborate on the whole “brilliant mind” comment. Nonetheless, this new information was quite intriguing.

“What do you mean you don't have to breathe?”

”It’s… more of a habit than anything physiologically needed.”

“But— your chest raises and falls so regularly...” you said, more musing out loud than actually meaning to share any information.

“Do you watch me?” he asked. If you didn’t know him well, you’d think he’s irritated, his tone slightly accusatory. But when you looked at him, there was that familiar tug of the corner of his lips. He was playing. He didn’t sport that look often but he pulled it off quite well.

Apparently, you had drifted off again because his lopsided smirk had only gotten wider and he was closer than before.

“Do I have the privilege of your presence now?”

He was close. Really close. Like when he kissed your forehead to check for a fever kind of close. Your heartbeat picked up, and you could only hope he couldn't hear it. Heartbeat... does he have one? You must have spoken out loud because a thoughtful look spread across his features.

“I’m not too sure myself. Want to check?”

Did he really mean to say that? You blinked. His expression hasn’t changed. So he did.

You placed your hand on his chest matter-of-factly. That’s all it was. A checkup. You weren’t doing anything weird. It’s not like you felt his dichromatic aura bristle slightly at your touch before returning to a faint buzz, albeit a bit louder than a few moments ago. With him wearing only a dress shirt, you could feel his skin and the lack of a heartbeat.

“You know I’m only letting you feel me up like this because you’re ill.”

“Stop being cheeky.” You clicked your tongue in irritation when he disrupted your concentration. There was a faint huff of laughter before you refocused on what lay beneath your palm.

“There’s nothing,” you said quietly.

“You won’t be able to feel it like this.” And with that, you found your hand pressed even closer to his ribcage, covered by his. You felt his chest rise and fall more deeply, almost like you’d feel a regular person breathe. That’s when you felt it. A faint heartbeat right under your fingertips.

Badump badump

Even with his palm on top of yours being extremely distracting, it was clearly discernible. Orderly. A sign of life where there really wasn’t one.

His hand lifted from yours but you kept it there, utterly entranced by the sensation of his heartbeat. He didn’t comment on it and spoke up, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard him be.

“There has to be oxygen for it to beat strongly. And that happens when I breathe more. Not that I need to per se, it’s more of a habit.”

“How is that even possible? How can you function without air?”

“There are no... rules for the amalgamation that I have become.”

That was one genuine bit of emotion you’ve seen him express. Frustration maybe? You’d have thought Darkiplier had come to terms with what he had turned into but it seems time can’t heal all wounds.

“I have been... this way for a very very long time. And yet I don’t know the constraints of myself.”

You hummed in understanding, mind racing with thoughts of what exactly he can and can’t do, absent-mindedly tracing the buttons of his shirt.

You felt his heart speed up, his chest jerking in as air hit your fingers. Your eyes flicked back up to his face.

Burning heat. Molten lava and blistering cold of his aura. His eyes searched yours for something. You weren’t sure what. Maybe he—The cracking of a mirror...

The intensity of his gaze made your hand twitch back, your whole body freezing up.

After a few seconds, he exhaled and smiled softly, bittersweet yet understanding, tender even — have you ever seen him smiling like that? — and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Rest. You need it.” He stood up and headed towards the door. Just when he was about to reach the door handle, you called out:

“Dark?”

He turned around, a look akin to hope in his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Will you… make me soup again?”

The tender smile was there again, devoid of all previous bittersweetness.

“Of course. Anytime, darling.”

It was only when he left that you realized, you called him ‘Dark’ instead of Darkiplier. And that Dark apparently resorts to pet names.

——

Fun fact I wanted to write it but could not manage to insert anywhere: Dark was the one who told the others not to disturb the reader :)) Oh and either Wilford or Yancy is stealing your snacks. Which one do you think it is?