Iced Out
Pairing: Darkiplier x GN!Reader
Word Count: 589
TW: depression, self-loathing, angst, not a happy ending
Summary: What happens when two people in a relationship both have issues with self-loathing and communication? This fic apparently
(A/N: idk where this came from but i think i like it. i am considering doing a part two with a happy ending tho)
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You hated him. He knew it. There was no other explanation. One might think he was being irrational or jumping to conclusions, but he wasn’t—it was a logical explanation. You had become distant. Reserved. You never asked to be held anymore. The silences that had once been peaceful had become awkward. It was bitter, but unsurprising.
Dark couldn’t believe he had let himself fall so clumsily, so carelessly. How could someone love him? He wasn’t human, hadn’t been for a long time. He was a beast. He wasn’t supposed to be able to care others. He didn’t care about others. He didn’t care about romance. He certainly didn’t get fucking butterflies at the feeling of waking up to a mere mortal in his arms. Never mind the fact that you were the best thing to ever happen to him.
He sighed, rubbing his face in frustration as he leaned back in his desk chair. Gazing out the window, his ego subsided, leaving him with the raw and uncomfortable realization. You were the best thing to ever happen to him. You were the best thing to ever happen to him and he blew it. He should find you and apologize. For what, though, he didn’t know. He thought he had cared for you and treated you as well as one could. He supposed maybe that wasn’t enough. It’s not like you didn’t deserve better than him—you did. He knew that.
You deserved someone who wasn’t cold to the touch. Someone who was vocal about their adoration of you. Someone warm and full of life. Someone who wasn’t a fucking demon. It’s for the best, he thought to himself. Otherwise, he’d just drag you down to hell with him. Hot tears would’ve stung his eyes at the thought, if his tear ducts still worked.
He hated you. You knew it. There was no other explanation. One might think you were being irrational or jumping to conclusions, but you weren’t—it was a logical explanation. He had become distant. Reserved. He never asked to hold you anymore. The silences that had once been peaceful had become awkward. It was bitter, but for the best.
You couldn’t believe you had let yourself fall so clumsily, so carelessly. How could someone love you, especially someone as ethereal as him? You scolded yourself for your emotions. You had always cared too much for others. You’d fall too far, too quickly. You knew that he wasn’t perfect, but he was too good for you. He was fierce and beautiful and loyal to a fault. He was gentle with you, as if you were made of glass. You supposed you were, to him at least. You were a mere mortal. He was the man who had been to hell and came back its king.
Foolishly, a part of you hoped he would come to you. That he would find you, alone and sad and wrapped up in your blankets, and comfort you. You sighed. You were being selfish. It was unfair to hope for such a thing. He was the best thing to ever happen to you and you blew it. You had iced him out. Even if you were once a fit partner for the borderline deity, you had fucked up. You should find him and apologize. It wouldn’t be enough though.
He deserved someone who could love him fully. Someone who could openly adore him without becoming wrapped up in their thoughts of self-pity. Someone independent, who didn’t need reassurance every other day. Someone who wasn’t you. Hot tears stung your eyes at the thought, if only your tear ducts didn’t work.