cathedreal

[cathedreal]

*𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗*࿐

PART 2 of ?: ❛ Corpse and Y/N’s List of Fake Dating Rules ❜

fake dating isn't as easy as it seems. there is more behind it than mere tweets and posing for a camera to capture the shadows of you holding hands. it requires boundaries, rules. welcome to the aftermath of the dating announcement.

─── corpse x female reader ༉

─── social media au + written fic ༉

─── word count: 1.5k ༉

author's note: i genuinely cannot believe how much love i have received for the first part! it make me so happy that i'm writing something that people enjoy. thank you for being so kind and wanting to join the taglist! the taglist will remain open for as long as i upload this fic/smau so don't worry about asking to be added <3 have fun reading!

also: click on the images for better quality. tumblr cuts them off sometimes. i also added image descriptions to the rules list!

“Jesus Christ,” you mumbled, staring down at your screen in disbelief. “Have you seen this?”

Corpse came back smirking, two cups of steaming hot tea in his hands. The rings on his fingers glinted in the sunlight. “It’s chaos on the bird app. I like it.”

“Of course you do.”

You shook your head at Corpse with faint amusement, curling up a little more on the very comfortable couch in Corpse’s living room.

The apartment wasn’t unfamiliar to you – you had been there before back when it was Corpse’s birthday. Your fingers were curled around one of his own on the photo that spread through Twitter even faster than when Adele had dropped a new album.

Pure insanity.

It was the photo that was used now to talk about your ‘relationship’. A flurry of ‘I KNEW IT!’s’ and “I should have seen this coming?!’ spread through Twitter. You liked the chaos too, but, contrary to Corpse, it made you anxious as well.

“Some people aren’t happy,” you pointed out, holding up your phone to Corpse’s face so he could read the negative comments. Corpse curled his fingers around your bare wrist and tugged your arm a little closer as he squinted at the screen.

His hand was warm, big – it made you feel frail and steady at the same time.

He released your wrist then and grabbed his own phone. You didn’t even have to guess what was going to happen now.

“You answered,” you sighed, reading over Corpse’s tweet a couple of times. “You sound protective.”

“Isn’t that what I should sound like as your boyfriend?” Corpse replied cheekily and you couldn’t help but hit his arm in reply, keeping your touch light enough for it to not hurt. Corpse didn’t want to be treated as though he was some porcelain doll but you couldn’t help but worry sometimes about his health – physical and mental.

You pulled your pyjama shirt down, which was basically just one of Corpse’s shirts. Corpse followed the movement for a moment before going back to scrolling through Twitter, his eyes moving back and forth as he read the screaming comments about your supposed relationship.

While setting up the photos, you hadn’t expected to stay over. Just a few snaps and you would go home again.

But then you started talking on the way back to Corpse’s apartment and your badly parked car. Nothing was ever boring between the two of you, there was enough to talk about even if you talked about absolutely nothing. Corpse had been hesitant to go back inside, finding new things to mention every time you piped up when silence fell and the car keys in your hand were starting to get warm from the amount of time they had been laying in your palm.

Corpse had invited you inside, mentioned pizza, and then you were watching anime until 3 am.

There was no way for you to drive back home in the state you were in – eyes bleary with fatigue, hands shaking from the amounts of caffeine you had pounded back to watch just one more episode. Corpse had come back to the living room with a shirt of his own, which – upon wearing it – fell to your mid-thighs.

You had crashed in the guest room, woken up to the whistling of a kettle and here you were, in Corpse’s shirt, on his couch, wondering when would be a good time to go and if you even wanted to.

“We need rules,” you blurted out suddenly, flushing a little when Corpse turned to you with one eyebrow raised. “You know, for the fake-dating thing.”

“Rules,” Corpse repeated, slowly turning his phone off and laying it face down on the coffee table in front of you. You nodded. “Look… It’s not like people will actually see us so we’re safe on that front, because otherwise we would need to be touching and-”

“And that would be such a disaster,” Corpse interrupted, head tilted to the side. In that moment, he looked more like a lost puppy dog than someone who rapped about being choked.

You fixed him with a glare. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that we’re safe. We don’t need to act out touches and look very awkward while doing so because we’re not actually madly in love.”

“But?” Corpse asked then, scooting a little closer. One hand grabbed his teacup in that strange way of his that looked both ridiculous and exactly right for someone like Corpse. “Why the rules then?”

You scrolled a little and pulled up Instagram this time, showing him the comments underneath. “Because of this… and with that…”

“Ah.”

“See!” you replied with a triumphant smirk. “We need some kind of rules so we don’t go over each other’s boundaries but we will have to act differently while streaming, you know? Not fully differently but enough to not be friends anymore but in a relationship instead. Otherwise, if we don’t, people won’t believe it anymore and that would be bad, Corpse. We don’t want to be the people who faked a relationship for attention.”

Corpse patiently watched you ramble, waiting for you to stop so he could gently interject. “We’re not doing it for attention-”

“They don’t know that!”

“And we can always pretend it was a joke if someone were to find out,” Corpse finished, his hand falling onto your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I agree with the ‘making rules’ thing, but chill, okay? It’s gonna be fine.”

You smiled and breathed in deeply, slowly breathing out again. “You’re right,” you mumbled and stood slowly, scouring the living room for some loose paper and a pen.

“Let’s get started on the rules then.”

You looked over the list with Corpse again, your pen tapping against the paper. “Did we miss anything?”

Corpse smirked and took the pen from you. His fingers brushed against yours for a brief second, a small current of electricity zapping through your skin. You blamed the carpet below.

“Now it’s done.”

You took the paper again, crinkling it underneath your fingers when you saw Corpse’s all too familiar handwriting.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” you laughed and placed the rules list back on the coffee table in front of you, making sure it was out of the splashing zone of the tea in case a cup fell over. With your and Corpse’s luck combined, you would have to rewrite the rules list until the end of your fake relationship.

You jumped a little when two fingers were placed underneath your chin, tilting it up so you had no choice but to look Corpse in the eyes who only seemed to lean in closer and closer. “Are you sure about that, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, even more than you remembered it being. You blinked up at him and swallowed hard, your mouth opening and closing. You didn’t know what to say, it was as though your mind had drawn a complete blank, all snark lost.

Corpse pulled away suddenly and giggled, hitting the table a little as he wheezed. You grabbed a pillow from behind you and smacked it into his arm. “You bastard.”

“Hence rule number seven,” Corpse said, waving the paper triumphantly. “You can’t fall in love with me. It says it in black and white.”

You looked Corpse right in the eyes then, never wavering. You leaned closer, looking Corpse up and down once before looking right back into his eyes, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You can’t fall in love with me either, Corpse Underscore Husband. It says it in black and white too. Can you handle that?”

Now it was Corpse’s turn to be at a loss for words and your turn to smirk smugly.

“Shithead,” Corpse mumbled then and hit you right back with the same pillow you had attacked him with. “I can handle it, Y/N. Don’t worry.”

You giggled and grabbed the pillow so you could swing it behind the couch. “Okay, truce,” you said quickly, holding up your hands. “We have a stream to plan.”

“What kind were you thinking?”

You thought for a moment. Among Us was very much overplayed and you wanted something that could bring in both chaos and funny moments. And chances to actually act like a couple. It wouldn’t be very coupley to chase each other with a chainsaw.

“How about The Sims? We could create each other, go on adventures. Something new and fresh and kinda old school?”

“You’re on.”

@strawberry-moonpies @dtftheavengers @misfitinfinity @gaysludge @ceym0rules @rexit-mo @just-that-bi-girl @poetnstuff @pizza-post-sex @golden-ghost @mishthemess @alilshit

#oh and part 2 for those interested #it’s a great story! #cant wait to see where it goes! #reblog

[cathedreal]

blessed be, the mystery of love (corpse x reader)

Summary: In a fit of loneliness, you decide to join a dating site and meet a mysterious man who seems awfully familiar.

Authors note: Ive had this idea for so long, but finally wrote it woo! No real warnings, except maybe swearing. Hope you enjoy.

This is also fiction, do not meet random strangers off the internet.

“This is so stupid,” you said, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before pressing down, the room filling with a soft clack, clack, clack. You looked at the page in front of you, the screen so harshly white it was almost clinical. Height, eye colour, interests. You supposed it was kind of clinical. “This is really fucking stupid.”

It was Rae’s idea, of course it was Rae’s idea. Well, it wasn’t an idea, more a joke, but it had planted the seed in your brain and had started to grow.

“Maybe you should join a dating site,” she had said, giggling. At the time you had laughed, but as you closed over the laptop that night and found yourself alone again, the idea didn’t seem so funny. Was it desperation or loneliness that had caused you to sign up? In the stillness of the night you weren’t sure of the difference.

You were a Youtuber, some regarded you as pretty decent, heralding you as genuine and funny, even though you sucked at gaming. You had found yourself in a group of people that loved to game, and though they welcomed you with nothing but open warmth, you had always felt disconnected - your idea of gaming was Animal Crossing. Still, you had found your place in the group, and with that place, came relative success. You had always classed success as having money and fans, and while you had both, there was a certain loneliness that had started to grip you. At the end of the day, your fans didn’t know you, they liked to think they did - the joys of parasocial relationships blended that line between friend and fan, but they didn’t truly know you. They didn’t know how you liked your tea, or what your favourite type of pyjamas were.

After defining yourself in a small parameter of less than 500 words, you went to upload a picture. You weren’t sure what to select - a sexy selfie, a “candid” picture of you laughing. You went to upload a picture before hesitating. While you were not on the level of Beyonce, you were known and the prospect of someone finding the profile turned your stomach. There was nothing embarrassing about joining a dating site, but you liked to keep your personal life private. Though sometimes it felt like there was nothing private about it, you relished in the small moments that weren’t talked about or scrutinised.

Every picture idea you had didn’t seem right, so you uploaded a plain black one. You sighed a little at your lack of creativity, but maybe it would attract the right type of person, though you weren’t quite sure who that was. Giving your profile a quick once over, you clicked save, and stared at the screen expectantly.

“You’re not going to get a message right now yn, get a grip,” you muttered to yourself.

You exhaled as you sat back in your couch, sinking back into the plush cushions, your eyes closing. The living room was silent, you supposed that was a perk of being single - no noise. You loved the silence, sometimes when you streamed, you craved nothing more than to end the stream and sit in the silence. It was like in that moment you could unplug your mind, no thoughts, no noise, just you.

A shrill ping from your laptop made you jump a little, a small heart in a box bounced up and down from the corner of your screen.

New message

It made your heart race a little in excitement, could it be possible that the love of your life was just a click away?

A plain black profile pic and your interests are emo music, horror movies and makeup. Is this Gerard Way?

You laughed a little, it was certainly not the generic “hey how are you” that you were expecting. You remember joining a dating site when you were younger, you had lasted a day before deleting; the messages too mind-numbingly boring. Small talk was a pet hate of yours, it sounded mildly pretentious but you liked conversation with substance. Small talk was reserved for your hairdresser.

You: I am superior to gerard way in everything except for looks, talent and fame

Adamo: How humble of you.

You: I really am the most humble person. So your username, is your name Adam?

Adamo: No, it’s latin. Means to fall in love with.

You: Thats your name on a dating site? Little on the nose, dont you think?

Adamo: I think the concept of subtlety on a dating site is non existent

You clicked on Adamo’s profile, nothing except one line that stated “I don’t know anymore.” No profile picture; just a grey faceless entity. The only information given was that he was male, though you weren’t really fussed about that anyway.

You: Your profile says the opposite, you’re creating quite the mystique about you

Adamo: Or, maybe my lack of profile is actually incredibly ostentatious

You sat back for a second, scratching your cheek as you tried to think of a response. He was clearly smart, or at least appeared to be from the way he spoke but you couldn’t help but feel like there was something “off” about him, you just weren’t sure what it was.

You: Maybe i should take notes, and become more mysterious

Adamo: I wouldn’t suggest it, it’s been unsuccessful so far. You’re the first person that’s replied that hasn’t been a milf bot.

You: Who says im not??

Adamo: True, but you haven’t sent me a link to a weird looking website to “talk with you”, so I’ll take my chances.

You: its cos im being subtle

Your phone vibrated on the table, the sound echoing through the room. Tearing your eyes away from the laptop, you picked it up, smiling at the message from Corpse asking if you wanted to play Dead by Daylight. You looked at the laptop again, frowning a little that Adamo hadn’t replied yet. Shaking your head at yourself, you opened Discord and loaded up the game, sending a quick reply to Corpse.

Your friendship with Corpse had been unexpected to say the least. What had started as a few casual games of Among Us had turned into talking outside of streaming, and becoming friends very quickly. It had taken you aback, both of you could be quite guarded when it came to letting people into your life. But there was something there, this instant connection, and you had both joked that in another universe you must have been married.

The fans had latched onto shipping you together pretty quickly, and for the most part they kept it respectful so you didn’t mind too much. But for all the memes and ynhusband posts you saw on Twitter, you could honestly say that you had never thought of Corpse as more than anything but an incredibly good friend. At the early months of your friendship, you had briefly considered it - he used to flirt with you but you had caught on that he was just a flirtatious person by nature and any thought had disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.

“Hey Crops,” you greeted.

“Hey baby,” he said back. You set up the game quickly, and before you knew it, the hours had flown in and it was time for bed. Yawning, you closed the game and briefly checked the dating site. Still no response. Shrugging, you tried to ignore the confusion you felt as you got ready to sleep. Maybe Adamo was just busy, or maybe you had said the wrong thing.

It was raining when you woke up, the sound of the rain hitting the window was comforting, and you enjoyed the excuse that you wouldn’t have to leave the house because of the weather. Grabbing your phone, you went about your morning routine; a cup of tea, some yoga and a bath. You knew you had to work, stream something, but lately you had been feeling a little burnt out. You were incredibly grateful to be in the position you were in, but sometimes the pressure could be a lot. The expectation to always be “on” and force out content regardless of how you were feeling had meant your creative juices were running on empty.

You remembered a conversation with Corpse, and decided to shoot him a message to video chat. That was another thing that was unexpected - he trusted you enough to video chat. It was never an issue with you; to never see his face, but it warmed your heart to know he considered you a person in his life that he trusted enough.

“Are you just up or not been to bed yet?” you asked as his blearly face popped up onto the screen, his hair tousled.

“Just up,” he replied, punctuating the sentence with a yawn. “Haven’t had my coffee yet.”

You smiled, “Go get some, I can wait.”

He shook his head, “It’s fine. I guess you’ve had your tea, since you look so chipper this morning.”

You nodded. “I don’t get how you can drink that stuff, just come to the dark side and drink coffee.”

“I don’t like the taste of coffee,” you replied.

“Do you even like the taste of tea? You have three sugars in it, I bet it just tastes like sugar.”

“Shut up and go drink some nasty bean juice.”

He laughed at that before agreeing to, and you grinned as he went off camera. A familiar ping emitted from the speakers and your eyes immediately flashed to the tab you hadn’t closed down. You bit your lip in anticipation, clicking on the message.

Adamo: Sorry for the late reply, I was super busy.

You: its okay, are you batman? That would explain it.

Corpse sat back down, diverting your attention back to him, a cup of coffee in his hand. You pinged again, and you could see Corpse’s brow furrow in confusion at the noise.

“I….joined a dating site,” you explained. Corpse’s once furrowed brow raised at that, and you nervously awaited a response.

Taking a sip from his cup, he pressed his lips together. “I saw a documentary about a murderer that joined a dating site while in prison. They ended up getting married.”

You gaped at him, of all the responses you were expecting, that was definitely not one of them. “I don’t think they have phones in prison.”

Corpse laughed, narrowing his eyes slightly. “YN, they’re criminals. What’s your mystery person like?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve spoken to him once, he doesn’t even have a photo.”

There was a silence from Corpse, and your face felt slightly flush. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him. “Invite me to the wedding, I guess.”

The rest of the conversation was less mortifying, and he had given you some really good advice in regards to the creative burn out you had been experiencing. After saying your goodbyes, you looked at the messages from Adamo again. While you had been sure that he was not a murderer, your conversation with Corpse had made you realise that you really did not know anything about him. Not even his age. For all you knew, you were chatting to a 65 year old married murderer. It was unlikely, but you never know.

Adamo: Not Batman. Batman kind of sucks.

You: Oh youre not a joker fanboy are you? Cos hes really not someone to look up to

Adamo: No, he’s a decent-ish character but not really a good person at all.

You: thats good, that you dont admire the murderer

Adamo: Did you think I would?

You: im not sure, i dont really know you. You could be a murderer for all i know

Adamo: You could be too. But what do you want to know?

You: how old are you?

Adamo: Less than 30, but older than 22. You?

You: Since you’re being vague, i will say the same.

Adamo: That’s good, though I am slightly disappointed that you really aren’t a milf bot.

You found yourself relaxing at the small exchange of information. While you still had so much more to learn about him, it was slightly reassuring to know that you were at least in the same age group.

You: i’m sorry. How can i make this grave injustice up to you?

Adamo: Let me buy you dinner?

You read the message over and over, your heart rushing as you moved to type a reply. Your first thought was excitement - it was strange, you felt like you knew Adamo though you really didn’t know a thing about him. The second thought was apprehension. You didn’t know a thing about him other than his age.

You: okay

You had replied before your brain had even caught up. It was reckless of you, so inconceivably stupid and dangerous, but you had always trusted your gut, some people ran on logic, you ran on instinct and everything was telling you that this was the right choice.

Adamo: There's a chinese place near me, are you near San Diego?

You: yeah i am, should i get your number?

Adamo: We can talk on here, I’m always online anyway. I need to go now, but we can talk later and plan?

You: okay, speak soon

The rest of the day had sped in, you had managed to stream and for the first time in a while, you were excited and actually enjoyed what you were doing. You hadn’t realised that feeling had been missing until you felt it again. It was just a burst of energy around you, every nerve in your body just buzzing with positivity.

It wasn’t long before the night had come again, the small lamp in the corner the only light source as the rest of the living room was shrouded in darkness. Grabbing your laptop from it’s usual resting place of the coffee table, you opened it up and smiled at the new message from Adamo. It was an address and a time. You would be meeting him tomorrow at 5pm. Clenching your hands in excitement and letting out a small squeal, you replied that you were looking forward to it. It was finally happening.

Waking up was not an easy task that morning. You hadn’t slept particularly well, whether it was due to nerves or excitement, you weren’t sure. You had texted a friend nearby the address and time, and told them that you would text them to let you know that all was good. You had a good feeling about the day.

Staring at your closet, you realised that it had been so long since you had been on a date, that you weren’t sure what to wear. You had already looked up the restaurant - and the menu, and it wasn’t a particularly fancy place. Selecting a simple dress and some ankle boots, you went and prepared to get ready and soon it was time to meet Adamo.

As you drove up to the address, you could feel your heart start to beat wildly in your chest, your throat was dry as you swallowed in a feeble attempt to quell your nerves. You checked yourself in the car mirror, fixing a stray hair back into place, and sprayed yourself with perfume. It was now or never. Adamo had advised he would be at the back of the restaurant, reading a book. Walking in, the smell of food instantly made your stomach growl and you really hoped that the date would go well so you could get something to eat at least. You could make out someone at the back of the room, their head buried in a book, and you took a deep breath as you walked shakily towards them.

“Adamo?” you asked tentatively. He put down the book, and your heart dropped down past your stomach and onto the floor.

“Corpse?!”

“YN?!”

Your face was red hot with mortification as you looked at him, his face no doubt a mirror image of your own. You exhaled shakily, a rush of different feelings attacking your brain at once. No wonder he had felt so familiar, like you had known him for longer than the two conversations you had had.

“Oh god,” you said, grabbing the half drank glass of wine that was in front of him, and taking a gulp. It wasn’t nice, you hated wine, but you really needed a drink. Maybe this was all a dream, and you were still in bed.

“What are you doing here?” Corpse asked, and you knew then that this was really happening. Your mysterious stranger was actually your very close friend.

You looked at him incredulously. “I came for the spring rolls. What do you think I’m doing here?!”

He sighed, “Right. Stupid question.”

You nodded in agreement, still too stunned to fully speak. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m going home.” You ignored the harsh sting of tears that threatened to fall. You felt so stupid; for once in so long, you were hopeful and excited about something, at the prospect that you might have found someone. Because that’s why you joined, to find your person.

“Wait,” Corpse said, reaching out to grab your wrist, his fingers cold against your warm skin as they moved to hold your hand to stop you. “We can still have dinner.”

You looked down at his hand on yours, before looking at his face. He looked almost nervous as he waited for your response, was he wanting this to be a date? His hand hadn’t left yours, and it was confusing in how it felt almost right. You sat down, ignoring the way your heart almost soared as he smiled at you. Had he always smiled at you like that? Like you were the best person he had ever seen.

You ordered food, and made conversation, the previous disappointment had disappeared and you felt almost content as you looked over at Corpse, the candlelight making him look ethereal. He was incredibly attractive, you had always known that. Not only was he attractive, he was funny and attentive. You wondered why he had joined a dating site when he could find someone by simply existing.

“It’s hard to find someone that doesn’t just see Corpse Husband the famous streamer,” he said as you asked. You understood that, you understood a lot of things about him, and vice versa. You really were kindred spirits, he had all the things you didn’t realise you were missing in life.

“You need to find someone that just sees you for you,” you replied.

“Like who? I don’t know if you’ve noticed that I don’t have a lot of people that see me just for me,” he said, a tone of bitterness to his words. You mulled over your next words, hesitating as your brain tried to find logic against the instinct of your heart.

“I do,” you said quietly, looking down at the table. It was silent for too long, and you looked back up to find him staring at you intently. The way he looked at you was like you were a sum that needed to be figured out, like he was processing you with every movement of his eyes. The intenseness made you blush, though you never broke his gaze.

“You do,” he repeated slowly, almost as if he was questioning it. “Would you like this to be a date?”

You grinned, “We’ve already finished the meal, so I guess this is a date.”

Taking a sip from his glass, he chewed his bottom lip. It was something he did when he was nervous, and you always scolded him for doing so, threatening that he would have no lips left if he kept chewing them. “Would you like to go on another?”

You reached across the table to take the hand that was resting on the tablecloth, “I would like that very much."

You looked down at your hand on top of his. Maybe you had already found your person.

#i’m super happy to see you’re writing again! #check it out! #reblog

[cathedreal]

*𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗*࿐

PART 1 of ?: ❛ date me? ❜

NEXT PART

when corpse is finally fed up with a streamer named AVAlanche who will not stop flirting with him, he asks for your help to get rid of her. what's starts as a simple fake dating set-up to try and shake her off, proves to be a lot more difficult as you ensnare yourselves more in the lie that starts to act more like a truth. where do you draw the line? how much can you take before you fall? find it out in according to plan.

─── corpse x female reader ༉

─── social media au + written fic ༉

─── word count: 2.5k ༉

author's note: welcome to my very first social media au + fanfic! i'm super excited to start this journey! i hope you will like reading it as much as i loved writing this! i will update every couple of days but if you want to be notified when i upload, you can send me an ask, reply, or dm and i'll put you on the taglist!

“Corpsie!”

You rolled your eyes at the mere grating sound of her voice filtering through your headphones. Adjusting the cat ears on your headphones so the camera wouldn’t record your annoyance seemed like a great idea but you couldn’t contain a groan when she spoke again and it was very much picked up on by the audience.

y/n is so done with this shit already

Can you blame her? I would be done too!

corpse seems annoyed too

“We’re forming a team right?”

“Ehm, this is Among Us. We don’t get to choose,” Corpse’s low voice came through, soothing all of your annoyance until you were mellow again, twirling subconsciously on your gaming chair.

A fake laugh rang and you flinched back a little, trying your hardest not to say something mean that would get you cancelled by her fans on Twitter.

“Bro, you’re so mean, oh my god. Why wouldn’t you want me on your team? I’m better than the other girls.”

Now it was your time to laugh.

Everybody knew that you excelled in playing Among Us. It was one of the few video games that you were actually amazing at.

You had started as more of a chill streamer, playing Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley, doing some talking streams and editing streams too so you could spend more time with the people who watched you. ‘Fans’ was a word you rarely used even though the people following you were your fans. They used your name for their usernames on Twitter after all.

And yet, because the vibes of your streams were so chill, the audience were too so there wasn’t much of a separation between you and who watched you, something you worked very hard on keeping intact despite the growing popularity of your channel.

The moment you had streamed with the popular Among Us players, your follower count had doubled and your viewer count tripled.

It was scary to suddenly have so many people watching you, tracking your every move. One wrong word, one wrong move, and you would be blasted on Twitter.

Perhaps that is why you struck up a quick friendship with none other than Corpse Husband himself, the prime example of blowing up on the internet and how much it could strain you as a content creator, as a person.

You never treated him like he was anything but another human being with his own thoughts and feelings, rather than a streaming god who could do no wrong, who was untouchable. Many nights were spent talking about the pressure it put on the both of you to be seen as someone to look up to, to never know who your friends are and if they only want to hang around you because of fame or popularity, to always be in the spotlight and never have a moment that is your own unless you stay cooped up at home.

There were shippers, many of them.

Shipping accounts with the combination of your names, art, fanfics, the whole bunch. It was strange to see but flattering in a way too. You never thought you were interesting enough to even make something for, to serve as inspiration for someone else’s creative outlets.

Neither of you stopped them, it was quite funny to see after all and the pieces that were born out of the love for the friendship you two had, were beautiful.

On the other, perhaps darker, side of the internet, were fans of AVAlanche.

Now, you liked girls, loved girls even. Rae was your other best friend, maybe even triumphed over Corpse since you lived with her and Rae put up with a lot of your shit. You had a whole friendship group of only girls who you regularly hung out with. You supported girls, as every girl should, and there was no jealousy or animosity with any of the other female streamers.

But Ava got under your skin the first time she joined the group for a few rounds of Among Us and she hadn’t gotten out ever since.

“I look so bad today, nobody watch my stream, okay?” Ava said, obviously fishing for a compliment.

It wasn’t so much the asking for attention or the constant flirting with the guys from the group. The seeking of male validation was something you could understand to a degree, that is what society told women they should do. It was the constant putting down of other girls that got your blood boiling until it threatened to overflow.

Ava piped up again then and you could just hear Corpse’s low grumbling from the other side right before he was muted again. “At least I don’t cake my face with makeup. I like to keep it natural.”

“What’s wrong with wearing makeup, Ava?” You asked, your voice biting. “I think that people can wear whatever they want.”

You glanced at the mirror on your desk insecurely, wiping the bits of fallen mascara away from under your eyes.

Fuck her for making me feel insecure about wearing stupid face-paint.

‘IMPOSTER’ you saw flashing by right before the round started. You should’ve paid more attention to the game and the stream in general but you had been playing Among Us for so long by that point, it came as second nature to you.

“Ah, so we’re a team,” you teased as Corpse ran past you a couple of times. “I hope it’s not a disappointment to have me by your side instead of-”

“Why would it be?” Corpse immediately asked before you could even utter her name. “I’m with the best Among Us player after all.”

“Of the women.”

“Of everyone.”

You smirked and booped your character into Corpse’s. “You flirt,” you said with a laugh, laughing harder when Corpse booped you right back. “You know exactly what to say in every situation, don’t you?”

“Nah,” Corpse said. You could hear the faint swishing of hair brushing against headphones. You tried not to think about what Corpse looked like – it didn’t matter after all. But in times like these, you could almost picture him sitting there, shaking his head in faint amusement at your antics.

“It just comes easy with you.”

You flushed a little, something you knew would be all over Twitter right about now.

But how could one not get flustered when Corpse complimented them like that, when anyone said the romance novel shit that Corpse uttered to you alone.

You were friends, and yet something you wondered…

No, you two were platonic, always have been, always will be. You just liked to flirt sometimes, the same way you liked to flirt with others and Corpse liked to flirt with others as well. It just came a bit more natural with him, perhaps because he was a natural flirt himself. That was the reason, what else could it be?

“Let’s incite some chaos,” Corpse said and you could just hear the smirk in his voice. “Wanna speedrun this?”

You grinned yourself then, a competitive glint in your eyes that could even pick up on the viewfinder. “How else would we do this? A killing spree is of the order, Corpsie.”

“Fuck off,” Corpse laughed, and then you were off.

Speedrunning is something you mostly did with Rae. You two became the queens of killing people before the first meeting was even called. The moment you pulled it off the first time, it wasn’t a question of if you could pull it off but how fast you could do it. The speedruns became a timed event and everything was set on beating the previous time.

With Corpse, it wasn’t as serious but still a whole lot of fun.

“Duo kill on three,” Corpse stage-whispered.

You rolled your eyes – fondly this time.

“They can literally hear you!” you exclaimed, watching as Corpse killed Karl while you quickly offed Jack at the same time. “Oh. My. God.”

Corpse laughed maniacally. “Now it doesn’t matter anymore that they heard.”

“You incite anxiety, not chaos, asshole.”

“You know you love me,” Corpse shot back proudly, already in search of the next victim.

“XOXO, Gossip Girl,” you couldn’t help but mutter, giggling at the stunned silence. “Don’t tell me you have never seen Gossip Girl. What is wrong with you?”

Corpse ran a quick circle around you. “Maybe I should watch it with you sometimes.”

“Is the Corpse Underscore Husband asking me on a date?” you asked dramatically, clutching your heart with one hand. You gasped, another hand to your forehead as you sank in your chair, pretending to faint. “Yes, absolutely yes!”

“Wow, could you be any more of a drama queen?” interrupted the voice of none other than Ava. The light and flirty air immediately dissipated with her arrival and you never wanted to punch someone through the screen as badly as you did now. “Girls are all the same.”

“You literally identify as a woman,” You shot back, moving your character closer to her. “So what is your point?”

Ava laughed a haughty laugh and walked right past you to get to Corpse’s side. “I’m not like you other girls. I’m cool. Right, Corpsie?”

Corpse killed Ava without a word, right as Rae walked past.

“I’m not saying anything!” Rae exclaimed quickly so she wouldn’t be assassinated on the spot too. “Babushka and all that, right, guys? Guys?”

Your mouth was still hanging open as you stared at the dead body of Ava next to Corpse before you snapped out of it and turned to Rae. “Yeah, you can join us! You’ll be the final girl, the last survivor of the massacre. Main character energy.”

With Rae’s… ‘help’... aka, screaming Babushka at any given moment and you and Corpse rushing to kill the person before they could run and scream bloody murder, you speedran the rest of the round.

You actually managed to get through the entirety of the crew, minus Rae, without having to lie through a meeting first.

“Why did you kill me?” Ava asked, her voice high and shrill before she cleared her throat and forced it to be lower again. “I thought I was one of the guys. You can’t kill your bros.”

“Jesus fuck,” Corpse cursed under his breath. “I’m not even gonna get into that… Let’s start up another round.”

More rounds indeed followed with Ava following Corpse around, her newest victim as you liked to call him, and you trying very hard not to either perish from annoyance or pull a muscle laughing at Corpse’s grumbling.

At first, Corpse had entertained her, weeks ago when she first joined, figuring that she would back off at some point but nothing seemed less true. If anything, she had latched onto him even more, inseparable but only from one side.

The stream finally ended and you hung back a little to scroll through Twitter before a notification came in.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Husband,” you smiled, spinning your gaming chair from left to right and back. “Why did you want to call so badly? Did something happen?”

“Just wanted to talk to you for a bit longer,” Corpse mumbled back. You could immediately tell the difference between Corpse on stream and Corpse in real life. What many fans of streamers didn’t realise is that even though they were often true to themselves, they did alter parts of them for entertainment value. Like Corpse. He was much more low energy in real life than he was on stream. No excited yelling, no excessive cursing. Corpse was Corpse Husband on stream but just Corpse in their late-night conversations.

He wasn’t more or less, he just was.

Different and the same.

You looked at Corpse’s icon for a little, watching it blink as he sighed. “Something is bothering you.”

“Someone is bothering me,” Corpse replied with a tired laugh.

“Ava.”

Corpse didn’t deny it so you knew that you were right.

“She’s sticking to me and no matter how much I sigh or ignore her, she won’t go away. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You almost laughed at the sheer desperation in Corpse’s voice. “Want me to chase her off with a broomstick?”

“If you could…”

It stayed quiet on the other end for a moment but you didn’t mind too much. Silent lulls in the conversations were never uncomfortable with Corpse.

The darkness of the night had made its appearance already so you were just basking in the purple lights of your setup. You shivered slightly at the coldness and grabbed a blanket from under your desk. You kept blankets there now in case Corpse called because usually, the conversations would last long enough for the clock to hit AM again.

“Couldn’t you… chase her off in some way?”

You laughed a little deliriously. The fatigue of the streaming and the lateness of the evening was settling into your bones. It made you more susceptible to find everything funny, to say yes to things you normally wouldn’t say yes to.

“How am I supposed to do that?” you asked, curiously. “You’re always so vague, Corpse. I can tell there is something brewing in that chaotic mind of yours so… spit it out.”

“Date me.”

The silence that stretched on then wasn’t the usual comfortable kind. It was heavy and pressing. You could feel the silence thrumming loudly in your ears.

“What?” was all you could utter.

Corpse was quick to scramble back. “I didn’t mean… Fuck. I didn’t say that in the most subtle way… Ehm…”

An expectant silence fell again.

You were starting to get tired of these silences.

It took Corpse a while to get his thoughts in order, yet you waited patiently, playing with the plushie that had quickly become your mascot. A little white bunny with pink accents. It matched Corpse’s but in a completely opposite kind of way. You had it before Corpse even blew up but not many seemed to realise that. Instead, people often used it for fanart – two bunnies in love.

“I meant: date me but not really.”

You giggled, unable to stop for a moment. “Tell me you’re not suggesting fake-dating as if we’re at the start of one of those slowburn romantic fanfics.”

“So you do read them,” came Corpse’s triumphant reply. You could just picture a smirk tugging at his lips. The smug bastard.

“This sounds like an insanely bad idea,” you countered, gnawing a little on your bottom lip, something you often did when you felt unsure or anxious. “It sounds like absolute chaos.”

Corpse laughed himself then, a low and rumbling sound. “I like chaos.”

A heart beat passed.

“So? What do you say, Y/N? Wanna date me?”

#reblogging some other corpse creators #since i’m on hiatus #reblog

[cathedreal]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭? (𝐢'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲) [ 𝐜.𝐡. ]

───

𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬

“Are you a pornstar?” Michelle asked as she walked into the ‘recording studio’ that she ‘couldn’t randomly enter’ for ‘privacy reasons’. “You can tell me if you are, I’m not the judgy type of person.”

How could she be when he pulled off the ledge not even an hour ago?

“I am not a pornstar,” Corpse said, and though the words were said with a heavy emphasis, amusement shone in his eyes. “You really don’t know who I am.”

The world wasn't made for everyone.

Michelle realised quite early on that she was one of those people who couldn't bear the weight of it - who were too soft, too fragile, too easily broken.

And then, when she finally thought she could escape it, a mysterious man pulled her right back into the world and begged her to stay.

This is their story. A story about breaking, a story about healing, a story about living.

A story about love.

─── corpse x oc

─── multi-chapter

─── tw: mentions of su*cide, mentions of s*lfharm, mentions of various mental health issues including but not limited to: anx*ety, d*pression, p*nic attacks. please, proceed with caution.

─── like with all my fics: yes, there will be a happy ending!

─── 3.3K

─── taglist is open.

author's note: this might be the most personal story i have ever written. i include things about my own life through my oc 'michelle' and while i hope that i write things accurately, i sincerely hope you won't relate to this. if you do; remember that you are loved, that you are desired, that you are perfect the way that you are.

“Are you a pornstar?” Michelle asked as she walked into the ‘recording studio’ that she ‘couldn’t randomly enter’ for ‘privacy reasons’. “You can tell me if you are, I’m not the judgy type of person.”

How could she be when he pulled off the ledge not even an hour ago?

“I am not a pornstar,” Corpse said, and though the words were said with a heavy emphasis, amusement shone in his eyes. “You really don’t know who I am.”

“Am I supposed to know?” Michelle asked, staring at the computer set up that she had only seen examples of on Tik Tok or Instagram. It was extensive and expensive. It showed off Corpse’s wealth in a subtle way, one Michelle found difficult to ignore. “I mean, this set-up tells me that you game but a lot of people do these days. Covid really brought out the gamer in a lot of people. Even I played Genshin Impact for a while.”

Corpse laughed this time, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. Michelle liked it when he laughed because it felt like she was winning something when he did. She could almost see the +1 friendship appear above his head, an indication of something growing, flourishing.

“I am a gamer, yeah,” he said and something about the tone in which he spoke those words, told Michelle that there was more behind it. “You’re very observant.”

“Many people have told me that, yes,” she mumbled, letting her finger trace over the black keyboard and down onto the knife scratches into the desk. It looked like someone had dropped a knife there multiple times and not for the first time did Michelle wonder if it had been a good idea to follow a random man home. The answer was no, in all honesty, but what did she have to lose? Corpse has had a dozen chances already to do something to her if he wanted to and he had never taken it. Michelle doubted that he ever would.

“It’s what I’m proudest of.”

“That’s a start.”

Michelle turned to face Corpse again, looking him up and down as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of each other to show off biceps that Michelle hadn’t even noticed before. The mask was still on but Michelle felt too awkward to ask why. Something about it made her wonder if she should cover herself up too.

“The start of what?”

“Loving yourself.”

Michelle let out a shrill laugh, shrinking on herself. She landed on the surprisingly comfortable gaming chair and curled in on herself. “It’s not about loving myself,” she said and her words rang true. “Do you think that is the reason I want to die, Corpse? Because I don’t love myself? I’m intelligent and I have a great sense of humour. I’m pretty, that is a fact that I accepted right after high school when I decided that I would stop being insecure. I like myself, Corpse. I don’t like the world around me.

“Every day is a disappointment — I cannot live one day without being put down and broken like I’m just a porcelain doll to play with. I’m thrown around like I’m nothing, like a replacement will come soon anyways. What is the point in living if I know I will have to go through another heartbreak? Are the happy moments really worth it if they are ripped away from me in the next breath? I can’t trust anyone, I have lost all hope, I won’t allow myself to feel, to attach myself to anything because I know that there will be a moment when I’m comfortable and happy and I allow the walls to lower themselves and that is when it’s taken from me again.”

Michelle was sobbing again, fat tears rolling over her cheeks as she tried not to scream. She held it in instead, only soft, helpless sounds escaping her throat. A wicked headache formed all around her head, radiating down the rest of her body until it felt like she was being poked with needles all over.

“How is someone supposed to recover from so much hurt?” she whispered, curling in on herself more until she was rolled up in the chair, unable to look at Corpse and see the disappointment she put there.

Corpse stepped closer, a hesitant hand hovering above her shoulder. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “But maybe you can try.”

“I did,” Michelle replied. Her voice was different this time — more hollow, lacking the emotion that used to always be present. “I tried over and over again. I gave so many chances to so many people and do you know how they used those chances? By breaking me more, over and over again. They probably found joy in doing so. They ruined me, Corpse. I will never trust again nor will I dare to become attached to someone or something ever again.” “I tried and people failed me. I am done with physically feeling the cracks they put there.”

It stayed quiet then.

Michelle could hear the soft buzzing of the monitor in front of her, a screensaver bouncing from corner to corner, always hitting it perfectly. It felt like mockery. Look at this, it can be perfect, life can be perfect. Just not yours.

“Do you wanna know what I did when I felt the same way that you did?” Corpse asked and leaned over Michelle to turn on the desktop. Something popped up that Michelle didn’t recognise. It was an editing software of sorts, bits and pieces of video littering the strip below.

Michelle tilted her head. “You became a music video editor?” This time, Corpse’s laugh rumbled in her ear, low and utterly present — a storm waiting to roll over the population, taking everything it wanted in its wake. “I became Corpse Husband.” “Like… Corpse Bride? I love that movie.”

Corpse looked sideways at her, amusement shining in his eyes at her unknowing. Michelle didn’t feel mocked — funnily enough. It felt like she was in on the joke despite not understanding what was going on.

“I became a streamer.”

Michelle’s mouth opened and closed and when she looked more closely at the software in front of her, she could distinguish the familiar colours of Among Us. She hadn’t watched someone stream this game but back when she still had friends on Discord, before they stabbed her in the back, she had played a couple of rounds with them.

Michelle wasn’t too shabby at the game. She had learned how to lie quite early on because of overprotective parents and she was smart, that was one thing she prided herself for — her intellect.

“I don’t watch streamers,” Michelle said apologetically. “I watched Jacksepticeye for a while through high school and college. I had less time to watch YouTube when I enrolled into University but I kept watching him from time to time when games seemed interesting but… That’s all, I guess.” “You sound like you’re sorry,” Corpse replied, twirling the chair Michelle was sitting in around so she could look at him. “Don’t be.”

“I’m not watching you. Isn’t that something that you want as a streamer?”

Corpse shook his head. “I’m relieved that you don’t watch me, that you’re not a fan. Do you know how hard it is to walk around and have the voice that I have?”

“Obviously not,” Michelle retorted with a smirk, her lips pulling up even more until her front teeth were showing when Corpse’s eyes crinkled into a smile.

“It’s hard because I am faceless, on YouTube, I mean. I like my privacy and talking in real life… I don’t want to be recognised.”

Michelle nodded in understanding. She figured that if she would ever do something like this then she would want to remain faceless too. Too many famous people could barely go out to eat without being stopped by fans or paparazzi if they were really famous. Besides, Corpse is an intriguing person with his voice and his vibe. There were probably a lot of people who would pay a lot of money to see what Corpse looks like and she had the privilege to do so without her even knowing or truly appreciating it.

But Corpse liked that about her, didn’t he? That she didn’t see it as a privilege to be able to look him in the eyes and know who he is. Rather, he was glad, happy even. Just how many screaming fans did Corpse have? How many… probably women… were after him that someone treating him like any other person was rare to him.

“Is that the only reason that you’re faceless?” Michelle asked and the room fell quiet for a moment. Perhaps she had asked the wrong thing. It sounded like an interview, she only became aware of that when the words seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls with every second that passed.

Corpse pulled out his phone and clicked a few times before turning it around so it faced her.

“A bunny mask?” was the first thing that Michelle asked.

“It’s my brand,” Corpse said with a shrug, motioning for her to keep looking.

Various art pieces dedicated to Corpse were gathered together in one single file on his phone. ‘CORPSE ART’ it was called but it seemed more like a collection of images Corpse wished he looked like with the way the many versions of him were drawn. All of the drawn Corpses were defined by huge, inhuman, muscles and a bone structure that would make Jesus weep. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t something that would ever be achievable by a human being, but with the way Corpse couldn’t look her in the eyes after she had scrolled through it, she couldn’t help but feel like Corpse didn’t realise it himself just yet.

“You’re afraid they will be disappointed because you don’t look like a Greek God,” Michelle said knowingly, pressing the phone back into Corpse’s hands, the screen locked and black for his benefit. “Corpse, nobody looks like this. I don’t know why you put so much pressure on yourself.”

Corpse stepped away, his jaw moving under his mask. “My life, my… everything, it rests on my fans. It’s dependent on whether my fans will forget about me or not. You wouldn’t understand but-”

“I don’t understand, no,” Michelle said, her voice biting. It was always too hostile, too rude, too accusatory. It was always just one word away from driving people off. It was her fatal flaw, it was how her parents fought, it was the only way she knew how to react. “But you don’t even give me a chance to. You pulled me off the edge, congrats, why can’t you let me try to do the same for you.”

“I never asked to be saved,” Corpse mumbled and held the door in a clear sign that Michelle should leave his recording room.

Michelle huffed as she walked past him. “Neither did I.”

A door slammed.

•─────✦─────•

It took a while for Corpse to return to the living room where Michelle had curled up with a blanket wrapped around her as if it was a shield that she could use to protect herself from the world, from Corpse’s anger.

She felt ungrateful to pick a fight with him or to resist in any way when he saved her life but something in her told her that he hadn’t been met with much resistance lately. With the way Corpse was drawn by his fans, Michelle recognised what happened with a lot of famous people and their fans, something she had seen over and over again on Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram. Fans idolised their favourite celebrity and saw them as people without flaws. They couldn’t do wrong in their eyes. It was a dangerous game that Corpse was placed in as well and now it was impossible to break out of it without revealing what he looked like. His fans thought the best of him so they would also think the best of his appearance, unknowingly putting pressure on him to fit the description in their heads.

It was inhumane and while Michelle didn’t know, Corpse was wrong, she did understand. She had the same picture of herself in her own head too. An impeccable person, flawless, faultless, unbroken. It wasn’t the real her, it wasn’t something anyone could be, but she held herself to those standards all the same.

“Pizza for dinner sounds good?” Corpse asked when he stepped back into the living room. His shoulders hung lower than before and his breathing had eased again.

He had calmed down.

Michelle nodded wordlessly.

Corpse let himself fall onto the couch next to her. “That wasn’t fair of me, was it?”

“No,” Michelle said honestly before reaching out to lay a tentative hand on Corpse’s arm. “But it wasn’t very fair of me either. I can’t imagine the kind of pressure you’re under. I have high expectations of myself, too high, an unreachable high — and I already feel like I’m crumbling. You have this but ten times worse.”

Her parents had high standards for her too — her father mostly. And yet, no matter how hard she tried, she never seemed to do enough, to be enough. It hurt, it always will.

Michelle didn’t mention her parents.

Not yet.

•─────✦─────•

Michelle didn’t even taste the pizza when it finally came but she pretended that she liked it anyways. Why would she worry Corpse even more, if she worried him at all? If anything, she tried not to be a big nuisance to him since he did take her in and they did have that argument.

She even pushed away the one person who tried to save her.

Corpse had seemed happy that she opened the door for the pizza guy and hidden himself in the kitchen to ‘pour drinks’ despite them having ordered some with the pizza. It was a deal, and a good one too. Michelle tried to understand why Corpse was this skittish but she had too much of everything filling her own head to try and pry inside the mind of another person. It was more than she could bear — maybe even more than she could ever bear again. And yet she tried and did what she thought was right.

Michelle wasn’t Michelle if she didn’t put everyone else before herself.

Ever the selfless, never the selfish.

It was how she lived, or how she thought she lived. Everything is warped when you’re mentally ill. Sometimes you’re selfish without even realising that you are manipulating people into doing what you want them to do and sometimes you’re selfless without even considering that people are using it to manipulate you right back until you lose all sense of self.

“Do you hate me?” A sentence uttered so often that Michelle was surprised that it didn’t become the opening sentence to every conversation she initiated. It was the anxiety talking, it was always the anxiety talking. At some point, Michelle and her anxiety had formed into one, so intertwined with each other that there was no separating the two. Michelle wondered often who she was without it and if people would like her more or finally hate her the way she hated herself. “I understand if you do.”

Corpse turned to her with a raised eyebrow, his mask back in place.

Michelle had politely turned away when they started eating and Corpse had stared at her, wordlessly for a moment. She hadn’t seen it but she felt his eyes burning into her side, searching for something that Michelle couldn’t give him. Corpse obviously didn’t want people to see his face, otherwise he would have taken off his mask the moment they stepped into his messy yet cosy apartment. Michelle had merely observed this and acted accordingly but Corpse made it into something bigger, more meaningful than it was.

“Why would I hate you?”

“Because I’m awful?”

Corpse sighed and Michelle felt even more awful.

See? She told herself, mentally hurting every inch of skin because she couldn’t do it physically right now. Not yet, anyways. See? He does find you awful and annoying and appalling. You should leave, it’s what is best.

“I can go, it’s no big de-”

“No!” Corpse interrupted her so suddenly that Michelle was still hovering above the couch, a half-eaten pizza slice in hand. Corpse rubbed his forehead and stood too, taking the pizza slice to throw it back into the box. Michelle wanted to comment about hygiene but she thought better of it and just listened.

“You don’t have to go and I don’t think you’re awful,” Corpse said firmly, trying to get through to her but the wall that she had carefully built around her mind, her heart, it didn’t just keep things in, it also kept things out. “I don’t hate you. I hate how much I recognise myself in you. It’s… It’s like you’re holding up a mirror to who I was, who I still am sometimes and it’s hard to see but… I guess that it’s necessary too.

“I was wrong,” he admitted then, deflating right in front of her. Michelle nearly rushed forward to wrap her arms around him with how sad he looked. “I think I do need saving. Maybe we can save each other this way.”

Michelle shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m capable of saving anyone. I can’t even hold on myself. Everybody is alive so easily, you know? Well, maybe not everybody but the majority. They don’t have to consciously fight to not kill themselves every day and I wish I was like them too. Because I have to tell myself ‘don’t do it!’ and I still lose that battle sometimes.”

“Let me fight the battle with you then,” Corpse said and held out his hand. In the soft mood lighting of the living room, Michelle could distinguish his rings more clearly. They were big and bulky, even scary looking and for some reason, it fit him perfectly.

For a second, Michelle felt like she was back on the railing and perhaps, in a more metaphorical way, she was. This was the point where she made the real decision. Back then, with the sea sloshing in her ears, the wind howling restlessly, she made the decision not to kill herself that night. Now, she had to make the decision to actually fight to live, not just for a day, but until nature took her out.

“Corpse...” she whispered, looking down at his hand with tears in her eyes. It remained outstretched, never wavering. It looked safe and secure but Michelle knew better than to hope that she could depend on others, that she could let go and let someone take care of her.

And yet the hand remained even though the seconds ticked by.

“Michelle,” Corpse replied, voice grown softer, more sympathetic. “I’ve got you.”

It was something she had never heard, not without pleading, begging for it. These words were what she dreamt of hearing, what she tried to manifest into the world without much luck. Someone who willfully fought for her, that was what she needed before she stepped on the plane with death clouding her mind. That was what could have saved her before she made the conscious decision to end it all in the first place.

“I can’t trust you,” she uttered back, voice thick with tears. “So many have let me down before. How do I know you won’t do the same?”

Corpse wavered for the first time. “You don’t, you won’t. But, if you promise the same, that you’ve got me, then how can I break it?”

Michelle squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and when she opened them again, Corpse was standing even closer. “Take the jump with me,” he whispered and through her tears, Michelle laughed and laughed, then cried with Corpse’s hand in her own, a deal made.

#corpse husband fic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse #corpse fandom #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fanfic #corpse fanfic #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagines #corpse fanfiction #corpse fic #corpse husband fic recommendations #corpse husband x oc #corpse x oc #corpse x you #corpse husband x you #corpse x fem reader #mine #wtpino

[cathedreal]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭? (𝐢'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲) [ 𝐜.𝐡. ]

───

𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝

“Corpse,” the man replied and this time it was Michelle’s turn to laugh. The laughter that spilled from her throat sounded slightly hysterical still and hoarse, as if she had been screaming for hours.

Tears gathered in her eyes and Michelle didn’t know if they were purely tears from laughter or if some sorrow was mixed within them too. She had once read about how the structure of tears reflected emotions; tears of joy and tears of sadness looked different under a microscope. It was painfully human and Michelle crumbled a little again.

“That is a very ironic name given the situation.”

The world wasn't made for everyone.

Michelle realised quite early on that she was one of those people who couldn't bear the weight of it - who were too soft, too fragile, too easily broken.

And then, when she finally thought she could escape it, a mysterious man pulled her right back into the world and begged her to stay.

This is their story. A story about breaking, a story about healing, a story about living.

A story about love.

─── corpse x oc

─── multi-chapter

─── tw: mentions of su*cide, mentions of s*lfharm, mentions of various mental health issues including but not limited to: anx*ety, d*pression, p*nic attacks. please, proceed with caution.

─── like with all my fics: yes, there will be a happy ending!

─── 3.3k

─── taglist is open.

author's note: this might be the most personal story i have ever written. i include things about my own life through my oc 'michelle' and while i hope that i write things accurately, i sincerely hope you won't relate to this. if you do; remember that you are loved, that you are desired, that you are perfect the way that you are.

The wind rang in her ears as she hooked one leg over the railing, then the other.

The sea below her sang alluring, water sloshing against the edges of the ocean banks.

The moon shone down on her, presenting a spotlight just for her, a guide to where she could jump.

Michelle never thought she would make it past eighteen years old and here she was at twenty-two, finally giving up.

It wasn’t so much that her life had changed enormously in the last couple of years. From beginning to end, her life had been one cluster-fuck of trauma and bad memories that overshadowed the good.

When she was younger, she had been hopeful. Michelle figured that even though life was not the best for her at the moment, it would become better if she just kept going, kept pushing through the hurdles and hardships, kept her head up even though exhaustion was settling into her bones like a bug she could never quite shake, no matter how much she tried to rest.

Yet, there comes a time where everything is too much or too little, too overwhelming or too quiet, too violent or too boring. When balance is lost and you don’t find a way out of the messes you have created for yourself, there is one permanent solution, the only one you can think of.

It doesn’t work like that, of course it doesn’t. There are a million things you can do except taking permanent measures. Unfortunately, that is the thing about mental illness, when it hits hard, you forget about the other options, you forget about the people you leave behind. It makes you selfish and selfless all the same. You want to die and forget how much you break others and you want to die because you know how much you have already been breaking them by being alive.

And here you are, bending over the railing of a bridge with an ocean beneath you — dangerous and wild, yet calming too. It rouses above the noise in your head, makes you temporarily forget that what you’re doing is something irreversible. It calls to you like a flame calls to a moth, dangerous and deadly but freeing as well.

Michelle leaned further, feeling a lurch in her stomach as she did. She briefly wondered why she was here. Michelle had been scared of heights since she was little and yet here she was, ready to jump from the greatest height that she could find without leaving behind a mess for others to clean up. She had done that enough already, leaving messes behind for people to fix for her.

In a moment of complete silence, Michelle leaned her head back, feeling the world around her for the last time. For a second she thought she could feel the world spin slowly on its axis; the wind picking up strands of hair to get her attention, the railing prickling cold beneath her hands, the light of the moon shining down on her closed eyelids, turning the world into shades of grey instead of black.

Thank you, she sent off into the universe.

Thank you for every opportunity she got but never took, thank you for everyone who ever loved her even when she didn’t deserve it, thank you for the memories that outshone the worst on the best days.

Thank you for giving her the choice to not continue, thank you for allowing her to put an end to the pain and misery that she couldn’t escape, thank you for allowing her to feel once more when she had lived most of her days in complete numbness.

Thank you for it all.

Michelle let go of the railing, her heartbeat picking up as she leaned forward, and then she was falling.

Two arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her back harshly, up over the railing, until she was sprawled over another body and rough asphalt that was not meant to be touched by skin. Michelle quickly sat up but the man, she thought that it was a man at least, caught her arms tightly.

Michelle could tell that he wasn’t doing it to hurt her but it made her panic anyways.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

Goosebumps rose on her skin as the man spoke, his voice rumbling through her body. Michelle felt dazed, empty almost. It was a familiar feeling but she hadn’t expected to feel like that now. She thought she would be upset that he would prevent her from doing this, she thought that she would scream and cry and try to hurl herself over the edge again but instead, she sat there, staring at the man with glassy eyes.

The man shook her a little and that seemed to snap Michelle out of it completely.

She broke down crying.

The man held on even tighter.

“Just let me go,” she pleaded because letting go was the only thing she knew how to do. And wasn’t it her right to choose not to go on? Wasn’t it up to her to decide whether she continued to live or not? Life isn’t meant for everybody, she knew that by now. There was so much hurt and pain in her life that it wasn’t living anymore — it was surviving. It was going from day to day and hoping it would get better but it never did. It was being disappointed by the world around you over and over again.

The man shook his head — she could feel the movement brush against her coat and everything felt agonisingly real. “Is this the answer?”

Michelle registered his voice now. It wasn’t a familiar one but it was different from any voice she had ever heard before. It was low, lower than she thought possible, and gruff to the point where Michelle felt like goosebumps were taking permanent residence on her skin. It sounded painful — the way he spoke, and something in her told her that she owed it to him to listen.

“Is there another answer?” Michelle asked, her own voice soft and childishly high-pitched compared to his. “I’ve tried, okay? I tried looking for another answer and I have done a million different things but there is nothing left. I don’t have it in me to keep going.”

Silence. Complete and utter silence. It was as if the man understood what she was going through, that he had found himself in a similar position once; broken and alone, ready to take the only way out at that time without even considering that he hadn’t truly done everything he could to stay alive.

Michelle swayed but the man caught her again and again, pressing her close to his warm chest with shaking hands of his own. He kept her there — caged, but Michelle didn’t feel caged at all. She felt held.

Maybe that is why she slumped in his arms after taking another breath, shivering from the cold. Maybe that is why the hands that had once curled into fists, unwound themselves and laid there, open and bleeding from the nails that had been dug into them. Maybe that is why, when she stood with the man’s help, she didn’t hurl herself over the edge again.

No, Michelle turned, looking up at the man that had saved her life, and smiled.

“You must think I’m insane,” she said as the situation was dawning on her. The thought of her slamming against the waves, lying there with her eyes open yet unseeing drove her to hysterics. It was the adrenaline crashing down, she was sure of that, but she must have looked wild, erratic. She wondered why the man hadn’t started to run yet but she was grateful that he still stood there, watching, waiting.

The man shook his head. “I don’t,” he said.

She believed him.

Headlights suddenly illuminated the man’s face. Brown eyes that nearly glowed in the flash of the lights, a black curl that hung uselessly over his forehead, a mask that covered most but not all of his face. There was a scar on his cheek — Michelle wondered where it came from.

The man stumbled back and Michelle felt guilty immediately. It felt as though she had seen something that she wasn’t meant to see. As if the man’s face was a well-kept secret even though it was the most public thing about you.

“Do you live closeby?” the man asked and Michelle answered ‘no’ bashfully. He looked at her for a moment — she couldn’t see it in the now darkness but she felt it burning into her.

“I’m not saying this just because you’re a strange man and I don’t want a stalker, I truly don’t live closeby.”

Michelle had taken the measures of informing the friends and family she had left that she was going on a trip abroad for a while to find herself. It was just believable enough for her to go without too many questions. Perhaps her being lost to the strangeness of the world was better than them knowing she took her own life. It was, somehow, less embarrassing to be killed by someone than to kill yourself.

This way, they wouldn’t have to bear the guilt that they didn’t see anything wrong about her despite her being an amazing actress after years of practise. They wouldn’t have to think about what they could have done differently to save her. They wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that they could have actually saved her, but didn’t.

This way they could blame something else, someone else even — an invisible scapegoat in the form of an angry man or dangerous animals.

It was better that way.

“I rode the train here and I didn’t book a hostel or hotel or anything… I didn’t think I would need it.”

Michelle turned her head again, her hair flying flat against her face, her neck, dancing in the wind to an invisible tune. She watched the sea ebb and flow. If she concentrated hard enough, she could taste the saltiness of the water, feel it fill up her lungs to drown out her breathing and take what was left of her down as a sacrifice to the sea.

“Do you know me?” the man asked and Michelle’s head whipped around at the silly question to focus back on him. He had a hand outstretched as even he was preparing for her to jump again but that idea had long passed, for now at least.

Michelle stepped forward to show him that it was okay, that she wasn’t going to jump and for some reason, the man looked even more skittish as she did. Michelle stopped again. “Should I?”

The man shrugged, Michelle followed with the same movement of her shoulders.

“I don’t recognise your face.”

The man laughed then. There was something hard in his laugh, bitter almost, yet the sound was higher, more light. Maybe laughter was a way for the man to let go of his own sorrows for just a mere couple of seconds.

“It’s not my face people recognise,” the man said and finally stepped forward to her, towering over her just slightly. “It’s my voice.”

Michelle shook her head, her eyes transfixed on how the man’s eyes danced with amusement in the light of the moon. “I don’t recognise your voice either. Are you famous?”

The man’s cheeks pushed up as if he was smiling. Perhaps he was but Michelle couldn’t see it, not with the mask in place.

“To some,” he answered simply and stuck out his hand.

The man’s hand was clad in rings and slightly below the edge of his palm hung a bracelet with ‘bad bitch’ on it.

Michelle stretched out her own hand and let the warm hand of the mysterious man that saved her engulf her own. “I’m Michelle,” she said.

Her parents had warned her against sharing personal information with strangers but she felt like she owed it to this man to tell him who she was. He saved her after all — it was worth something.

“Corpse,” the man replied and this time it was Michelle’s turn to laugh. The laughter that spilled from her throat sounded slightly hysterical still and hoarse, as if she had been screaming for hours.

Tears gathered in her eyes and Michelle didn’t know if they were purely tears from laughter or if some sorrow was mixed within them too. She had once read about how the structure of tears reflected emotions; tears of joy and tears of sadness looked different under a microscope. It was painfully human and Michelle crumbled a little again.

“That is a very ironic name given the situation.”

Corpse, apparently, was laughing now too and despite the coldness of the night and the rain that was starting to pour down onto them, Michelle felt warm.

“Did your parents hate you?” she asked with laughter in her voice, leaning against the railing this time instead of falling from it. There was probably something metaphoric about her using the last safety measurement before the drop to hold her steady and there was probably something poetic about her turning her back to the way of committing suicide she had carefully chosen, but she was too focused on Corpse to notice any of that despite the English degree behind her name.

“Yes,” Corpse replied plainly before laughing again.

Michelle pulled a face and nodded. “I feel you on that one,” she shrugged and tilted her head back to feel the rain hitting her face. “Well, they don’t hate me, I think but…” Michelle turned to Corpse, looking at him intently. “Sometimes parents don’t love you in the way you need to be loved even though they try.”

Corpse nodded and stuck out his hand again even though they had done this meeting thing already. His intention was different, though, because this time when Michelle laid her hand in his, he didn’t let go. He tugged her forward instead, off the bridge, and down an unfamiliar road.

Hand-holding was something Michelle had always seen as a romantic action, a public display of devout love, but Corpse holding her hand felt more as a safety measurement, a way for him to know that she was alive and breathing next to him.

Alarm bells should have been going off at this point. A strange man with an even stranger name was leading her to what she presumed to be his house but Michelle didn’t care enough about her life to rip herself away and besides, this was the safest person to her that she had ever met. Maybe that said something about the people she allowed into her life, but Michelle truly didn’t feel as though he had something sinister in mind. If he had wanted to do something, he would have already. Save from the one car that they had encountered, nobody had been there.

Michelle followed Corpse blindly. There was too much trust put into this action, she knew that herself as well. And yet, Michelle had trusted people easily all her life, only to be met by disappointment, even with the people who promised her the world. The thought sat heavy in her stomach and for a second, she thought she couldn’t keep walking.

“My place is not much further,” Corpse said, looking back hesitantly. “We should get you out of the cold first, we can get you a hotel after.”

Michelle shook her head. “I don’t have money.”

“I do.”

Michelle’s eyebrows rose immediately. Who was this man exactly? He had money to pay for someone’s hotel room in LA? Michelle couldn’t even pay for her own hotel room despite having worked full-time before coming here. Well, maybe she could avoid it but even close to death her student debt still haunted her.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, regardless,” Michelle said softly, staring down at the way Corpse’s ring-clad fingers are still curled in her sleeve. His nails were painted black and chipping at the edges, she only saw that now underneath the pale light of the streetlamps they passed.

“Wh-” Corpse snapped his mouth shut again, stopping in the middle of the street. “Stupid question.”

Michelle shook her head. “You not being in the mindset of someone who wants to end their life is not a stupid or bad thing. It really isn’t.”

“I just…” Michelle let her eyes rake along the buildings, sometimes interrupted by palm trees that moved with the wind. “I don’t trust myself around myself and the best thing would be to return home but… Have you ever had the feeling that you didn’t have a home to return to? Nobody would understand that I have this urge. ‘But you had a good life, good parents who bought things for you and friends who love you,’, they will say. ‘Other people have it much worse.’ They don’t understand that this is not something I control, that it’s not because of something, it just is.”

Corpse nodded, following Michelle’s eyes to the palm trees and above. The stars were barely visible tonight.

“I understand, more than you think I do,” he said, his voice gravelly as it was before but it didn’t sound so harsh anymore. It was becoming a familiarity, the only one Michelle had. “I had suicidal urgencies as well, I still do sometimes but I’m doing better than before.”

“I’m proud of you,” Michelle whispered sincerely.

Corpse smiled underneath his mask — Michelle could tell now in the way his eyes crinkled. It was a lovely sight. She wondered what the rest of his smile looked like.

Corpse continued, his voice sounding a little more sure, as if Michelle’s words had given him the confidence and strength to continue. “I didn’t think I would make it past eighteen.”

“Me neither.”

“And yet I did, and so did you.”

Corpse stared at her intensely then, trying to get her to understand something but Michelle was too exhausted to figure out what it was. As much as she liked to play detective, she didn’t have the strength for it anymore. Corpse seemed to notice it too.

“If I take you home with me, and let you stay instead of looking for a hotel, will you try to live for me?”

Michelle laughed softly, the melody getting lost in the wind. She imagined the sound travelling upwards, flying across the ocean so her family and friends back in the country she left behind could hear the desperation in it.

“It would be a shame to have the hard work you did to keep me alive be undone by me killing myself anyways,” she joked but Corpse shook his head and Michelle felt utterly lost again.

Corpse pulled her forward a little, tilting her chin with one finger so she had no choice but to look up at him. His eyes were dark yet warm, intensity and vibrancy mixing into one. Michelle felt lost for a different reason now, one she didn’t mind for once.

“That’s not what I’m asking of you,” Corpse mumbled. Michelle shook her head, not understanding. There was a flash in Corpse’s eyes, one of determination. “I’m not asking you to stay alive, I’m asking you to live.”

Michelle swallowed hard, her throat still dry after a couple of tries. Corpse hadn’t pulled away yet and Michelle secretly prayed that he never would. She wished that she could stay here forever, trapped in Corpse’s eyes, in the grip that was comforting and warm on her skin.

“Okay,” she finally rasped. “Okay.”

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[cathedreal]

𝟑:𝟒𝟖 𝐚𝐦. [ 𝐜.𝐡. ]

Conversations at night carry more weight and yet we hold them anyways. We ignore sleep to grow closer to the people we care about and risk it all for those we love.

Corpse and Y/N have a habit of talking over Discord when the night falls because everything is easier said in the dark.

─── corpse x gen!reader

─── falling in love, friends to lovers, no tw

─── 2.5k words

author's note: i adore this fic so much and i hope you do too

“Talk to me.”

The clock hit 3:48 am.

The outside world had been doused into hues of black, a lone star twinkling at you teasingly from above. You should be in bed right now, you should be asleep, you should be doing anything but talking to the person who had occupied the late hours of the night since you met.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you laughed, rolling your desk chair back and forth a little bit. The soft creaking sounds were probably not audible over the voice call in Discord and yet you still wondered if Corpse was imagining you sitting at your desk, curled up in your chair with one leg sticking out to move yourself around, a blanket tightly wound around your body to protect yourself from the biting cold of the night.

You were imagining Corpse. Not exactly what he looked like, you had never cared about that. Why would you? Whether you were able to put a face to the name that haunted you even in your dreams, didn’t matter. You cared about this; long night calls, the slightly nauseous feeling in your stomach from the lack of sleep, the peaceful quiet of the night.

No, you were imagining Corpse. You pictured how he would tap his fingers restlessly against his own desk as he waited for you to talk him through the night, how he would take a sip of tea as he hummed at your story when you finally did talk, how he was pressing his earbuds deeper into his ear to hear your voice more clearly.

Corpse sighed for the umpteenth time and you would have felt like you were disappointing him if it wasn’t for the teasing tone it held. Even his sighs sounded teasing, never mean or angry. You felt as though Corpse was softer around the edges around this time of the night, like he had been stripped bare of the barbed wire he had wrapped around his skin.

“Something,” he mumbled. “Anything.”

His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been screaming all day and you almost wanted to ask if he had been screaming all day. You often nagged about him screaming for songs and not taking care of his throat after.

But tonight was not meant for those conversations.

Everything was quiet, peaceful. Goosebumps rose on your arms when a gust of wind travelled into the room but it woke you up a little as well so you welcomed it.

Tonight was a night for secrets.

“I’m afraid,” you whispered, wondering if it was loud enough to be picked up over Discord. Corpse made a questioning sound. You got your answer.

Corpse paused then before speaking carefully, as if he could cut you with every wrong syllable he uttered out. “Everyone is afraid of something.”

“Not everyone lives the life we live,” you answered and there it was, the root of the problem, the thing that has been on your mind since the moment you started streaming.

“Relevancy?” Corpse guessed and yes, it was part of that. You could lose your job and income within seconds. One bug that deleted your account, one mishap of yourself, one split-second, and your livelihood would be gone.

Relevancy, though, didn’t cut it exactly, not the way it did for Corpse. You knew how much importance he lied on relevancy, how convinced he was that he wouldn’t be loved anymore by the end of the year no matter how much you tried to tell him that the world was at his feet.

“Entertainment.”

“Ah...”

You sighed and twirled the cord of your headphones around your finger, watching it slide off again when you tilt your finger down and repeat the same action again until you felt like you could move the conversation forward again.

Silences with Corpse were never awkward, never uncomfortable. Neither of you ever felt the need to keep talking just for the sake of making sounds. Every word meant something, every sentence was uttered because you wanted to, not because you felt the need to.

“Among Us is getting old, Corpse,” you said, clicking onto your YouTube channel to mentally count the parts you have made. You get to twenty then stop. There is more when you scroll down. “Fans are getting bored.”

“Then we find something else to play,” Corpse said simply as if it’s easy as that. Just a new game to play until it’s streamed one too many times, and then you do it all over again. “There’s always a new game, a new-”

“We?” you suddenly asked, interrupting Corpse mid-sentence. You would apologise later, but you needed an answer now.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and wondered how the heart and ears were connected. Maybe you were making it up in your mind or maybe every body part reacted to Corpse’s hoarse laugh, a quiet and fleeting thing.

“We.”

“So you’d follow me to another game?” you asked, a smile permanently painted on your lips.

Corpse cleared his throat softly. You could hear hair swishing against the earbuds he must be wearing, almost as if he was shaking his head ‘no’.

“I’d follow you anywhere.”

──────────

“I don’t deserve it,” Corpse said, his voice small and defeated as if he carried the world on his shoulders and crumbled under the weight of it at the same time. “The fame and attention and money. I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”

It was late, or early, you couldn’t quite distinguish the difference during these hours.

The hours past 1 am were cast into nothingness. Time wasn’t real at 4:16 am. You were small and big all the same, the only person in the world and one of billions, tired and sated. You could do everything you wanted to do at this time, the possibilities seemed endless. You wondered why you always felt the need to go out and scream up at the sky at 4 am, you wondered why you felt like you were magical when you looked at yourself in the black screen of your second monitor, you wondered why everything felt possible.

“You deserve the world, Corpse,” you replied, voice tired and soft. The words sounded slurred but it somehow made everything easier. Sounds formed sentences and they slipped out of your mouth easier at night.

Corpse was silent for a moment, but you didn’t feel afraid. You knew that this was okay, you knew that you could speak freely tonight.

“Stop,” Corpse finally whispered, almost pleadingly. “Stop, before I fall in love with you.”

All boundaries gone, no hesitation.

4 am was for recklessness.

“Would that be so bad?”

──────────

“Y/N?” Corpse asked, the sudden sound of his voice forcing your eyes open. You had been dozing off as a lull in the conversation stretched on for a little too long. Even after all these late-night talks with Corpse, you could never quite manage to stay up for the entirety of it. You always dozed off at some point. Sometimes Corpse woke you, sometimes you woke up yourself hours later, still on the call with him.

Recklessness and adrenaline and the need to explore had been replaced with drowsiness, drooping eyelids, your body feeling heavier and slower than before. You curled up under your blanket, tucking yourself in to stay in the cocoon of warmth that you had created.

“You woke me up,” you mumbled, your head falling to the side a little as you squinted at the screen in front of you that lit up with a new message.

Corpse laughed softly, his laugh nearly carrying you back into sleep. Corpse’s voice was comfortable to you after so many nights of accidentally falling asleep in the middle of conversations with Corpse, him still rambling in your ear about everything and nothing. His voice brought you back, though, because you wanted to hear what he had to say, a habit you couldn’t quite shake, even during streams where you were mostly focused on him.

“I’m sorry but this was important.”

You huffed and waited for your computer screen to unlock again.

“What is more important than sleep?”

“A lot of things,” Corpse replied cheekily. He didn’t even sound tired yet. Maybe it was true when he told you in a mischievous voice that he was a creature of the night. “But most of all… Cats.”

“Fair enough,” you laughed and clicked on the video, sent at 5:21 am. You giggled when a kitten was gently lifted. The owner shook the kitten back and forth a little and its eyes closed happily. You could hear soft sloshing of what you assumed to be milk.

“Apparently,” Corpse said, watching the video alongside you probably. You could hear him laughing too. “Apparently, if a kitten drinks too much milk, it sloshes in their stomach.”

You cooed softly and then you watched it again, laughing softly to the rhythm of Corpse laughing in your ear.

You felt delirious, you probably both did. You laughed and talked and laughed more. The room was spinning off its hinges and you were just along for the ride as tiredness set deep in your bones but you weren’t ready to give over to it.

You only had Corpse like this in the privacy of the night. Leaving now wasn’t an option.

It never had been.

──────────

“People wake up at this hour,” you said, watching your phone with small eyes as it sprung to 6 am on the dot.

“Crazy people wake up at this hour,” Corpse mumbled back and you just knew that he was exhausted. You had tried coaxing him into bed when he called you around 2 am and here you were, 4 hours later, feeling like you might succeed this time.

“Corpse?” you asked carefully and smiled at the groan you heard on the other side. A petulant child, you once called him and it was no less true weeks later. “You already know what I’m gonna say.”

“I’ll miss you too much.”

If only he knew what it did to you to hear that. Maybe he did know and maybe he used it against you to trick you into staying. Or maybe it was the truth and Corpse felt as vulnerable as you did.

You said nothing for a moment and watched as the sky lit up instead, casting the night into blues and oranges. You both felt ready to redo your entire life and bone-tired at the same time. There was something about mornings that represented new beginnings and maybe this could be the start of one.

“Come on now,” you said with a soft laugh but Corpse must have known what it meant.

“I mean it,” he replied. His once soft voice turned serious, undeniable. He formed a brick wall with this statement, not letting you get around it but trapping you in until you couldn’t do anything but surrender.

“Corpse…” you whispered softly this time. “Go to bed.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and looked at the early morning sky again, silently apologising to it for being a coward.

Every night ended this way.

Though both you and Corpse let words fall that nobody else would hear and even though both you and Corpse always hung up with a bittersweet feeling that followed you into your sleep, neither of you was willing to take the step.

Too much was on the line. The year of friendship you carried with you, the comfort between the two of you that was visible even for the audience, the risks that would make all of the safety you had built between the two of you come undone.

This night was different.

Corpse took the step.

“I wish you were here,” he mumbled, this time he sounded hollower, though it could also be because he switched to the voice call on his phone. You could hear bed sheets rustling after all.

You closed your eyes and imagined what it would be like to slide in next to him. To sink into the warmth he had created with his own body and add more of your own, to feel the planes of his skin against yours as you tumbled into sleep.

You laughed but it came out choked. “Tell me again in the morning.”

When you’re not on the brink of sleep and gripped by the feeling of hope that new mornings bring. When you’re not high on sleep deprivation and your brain doesn’t tell you that it’s okay to confess your love to your friend because sleep is there to catch you when that same friendship is ripped away from you. When you’re not making rash decisions just to keep me even though you know I will stay if you ask me to.

“If you tell me tomorrow I’ll be there, I promise.”

“Okay, I will,” Corpse said and it took one, two lingering seconds, and then the call was ended.

You wondered if you could ever fall asleep now but you still stood, shaking out your legs as they had fallen asleep long ago and somehow made it to your bed. You slipped in and hugged your pillow to your chest, picturing Corpse was wrapping his arms around your waist as you drifted into sleep.

──────────

It was 10:57 am and a message on Discord was already waiting for you when you opened your phone, squinting against the sudden light.

I kept my promise

It read and below it was Corpse’s address.

You held your phone to your chest even though you were the only person living in this small apartment covered in plants and books and art and new hobbies that were only half-finished.

There was too much power given to you in that single message and for a moment, you questioned your own sanity. Perhaps you were dreaming and Corpse hadn’t sent this message to you after all, but after pinching your arm, leaving behind the faint ghost of your own fingers, you realised how much Corpse must have trusted you to hand you this.

The trust that he had in you, visible in every typed out letter of his address, brought tears to your eyes and then you were typing back as quickly as your fingers would let you.

And I will keep mine

You smiled, already walking to your bathroom to get yourself ready for the new beginning you wished upon when the day broke in.

I’ll be right there.

#self reblog because that's okay #i put a lot of effort into this #and i love this fic so #go read it <3 #it wont disappoint i promise

[cathedreal]

𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬. | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜.𝐡.

⤷ corpse x oc!fem (she/her pronouns)

⤷ length: multi-chapter

⤷ word count: 3k

⤷ genre: enemies to friends to lovers

⤷ tw for this chapter: none

⤷ a/n: i posted this on my other account first but i wanted to have all my writing in one place so here we are lmao enjoy!

When Corpse gets recognised during his, what should have been, peaceful vacation in another country, an ex-fan saves him from being recognised and posted online. After a rocky start, and a lot of arguments, the pair crosses paths again and again until it becomes undeniable that they should be in each other's lives.

𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

“CORPSE?!” Oh, you must be fucking kidding me. Michelle swivelled around immediately, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did. Michelle’s eyes honed in on a taller man with curly hair and a face mask covering half of his face and someone she recognised from when she was still on that part of Twitter. “THE CORPSE HUSBAND? OH MY GOD, IT’S SO NICE TO MEET YOU!” Michelle winced a little and looked down as if on instinct, knowing what kind of jewellery the real Corpse sometimes wore from the photos that he posted online. The rings were not the same but the ‘bad bitch’ bracelet was half-covered by the sleeve of his jacket. Shit. What were the fucking odds of him being there and getting caught? The man’s, Corpse apparently, eyes were comically wide, staring down at the girl who was still grinning up at him, pointing her manicured finger at his chest as if her loud screaming hadn’t been violating enough. Michelle couldn’t really make out what had happened until a coffee cup came rolling her way, still spewing out coffee, the otherwise pristine floor stained with watered down coffee and vanilla ice cream. The cup was forgotten quickly enough as Michelle’s eyes rose back to the pair; one triumphant, the other scared to death. They must have bumped into each other, there was no other possible explanation for the insanity that was happening right now. Maybe Corpse apologised, briefly having forgotten that his voice was some sort of light beacon for people to instantly recognise him. Michelle felt for him. She couldn’t imagine how terrifying this must be, she just had no clue how to help. Causing a bigger commotion by yelling at the girl for being such an airhead and yelling out his name wasn’t really the way to go, especially not with how easily this could be put online. That was the biggest worry right now, that Corpse’s actual appearance could be made public.

In a way, Michelle still couldn’t believe that Corpse was standing right behind her. While she wasn’t a big fan, not anymore at least, she did feel something. It wasn’t the need to take stupid selfies with celebrities like a lot of people did, but maybe that was her own insecurities playing up, or the need to tell him how much he changed her life, even though he had for a little while.

It was more a sense of wonder that he was here, in The Netherlands, a few steps away from her.

They were standing in a small café in Amsterdam, a place Michelle would have never guessed that Corpse would be at the same time that she was there. Sometimes life really worked in odd ways and Michelle wondered what the significance of this moment was, if there was a lesson to be learned. Maybe, do not cross people’s boundaries, famous people are people too? Nah, that couldn’t be it.

She figured that more people were starting to think like her, that this was a once in a lifetime thing, because more heads were starting to turn towards Corpse and the Twitter girl. Michelle couldn’t recall her name, only a faint memory of what her username had been lingered in her brain, though they had all looked similar, even hers.

Though the café was a small one without any room for seating arrangements, the people that were watching the girl babble to Corpse about how much she loved him carried recognition in their eyes which led Michelle to do the most impulsive thing she had ever done in her entire life.

She moved forward, quickly grabbed his arm, and dragged him out of the café.

It could only have been seconds between the girl crying out Corpse’s name and Michelle dragging him out but it felt like forever.

“Wait!” he said and god, it really was him.

What a fucking idiot.

Michelle turned on him quickly, staring at him with a displeased expression on her face. “Do you not think that after what just happened it’s in your best interest to shut up? I’m taking you somewhere safe, unless you want to be thrusted back into the hell-hole that is the café right now.”

Michelle pointed back at the people knocking on the windows, pointing their way with their mouths open. She could hear the screaming from halfway across the street.

That, thankfully, shut Corpse up and she could finally drag him off to the one location close by that she figured would be safe enough to keep him until the excitement of ‘Corpse being a real person walking around’ had died down again.

The sun was hot on her skin as she manoeuvred Corpse through tiny streets and alleyways that would hopefully cover their tracks. She hoped that some of the people in the café had been tourists who didn’t know that these streets even existed but she knew better than to take the risk so she kept her pace up instead, forcing Corpse to walk fast as well.

She felt guilty.

In her time as a Corpse-fan, she had, of course, learned about his physical conditions but she needed to get him out of here so she could only hope that he wasn’t in too much pain.

Michelle may have not liked him anymore, but she did still care, deeply as she did for everybody in her life, no matter how insignificant the role they played was.

“In here,” Michelle said, pushing Corpse into a tall building that stood hidden partly from view by big trees covering the bottom layer. The building was big enough to hold a few thousand people so they should be safe there. Michelle confidently walked up to the front desk, showing her student ID that was no longer in use given that she graduated a few months before but that is the thing about expiration dates; if there was none on the card, she could pretend to be a student forever.

“Hi, I’m interviewing my friend for my project on doctor-patient interactions in the English language,” she bullshitted, twirling a finger around a lock of hair innocently. “He is not a student here but I am and I figured that such a sensitive topic should be discussed in one of the silent cubicles we have here?”

They let her through after asking questions about the project she didn’t even have. Michelle could sense that it wasn’t to test her, just the sweet curiosity of someone who genuinely liked working with students and helping them. At any other time, she would have loved this interaction but now it only made her anxious, especially because Corpse was tapping his heavy boot right behind her.

Michelle glared at him for it when they stepped into the elevator.

They still hadn’t exchanged a word until they were in the cubicle, mostly made of glass with some stronger walls to keep the room soundproof. It wasn’t entirely silent. If someone were to talk loud enough, others could hear it too, but for the most part, everything was muffled. It wasn’t perfect but it was all that she could offer him right now.

“It’s sorta soundproof,” she said, motioning around a little. “There’s glass, of course, because otherwise people can and will have sex in here but it’s the best I can do for you.”

Michelle tried to not look at Corpse too much and instead set her tote bag on the ugly gray table in front of her. There was a book in there that she was planning on reading in the park with a cold beverage, aka the coffee that she had to leave behind, and Michelle felt a sudden urge to just run away and leave Corpse to it. But she couldn’t do that, her conscience would berate her for it if she did.

“Are you a fan?” Corpse asked, finally looking up at her. His eyes were dark and calculating almost. It wasn’t what Michelle expected but to be fair, she never thought much about what he would look like. That wasn’t the part of him that she was interested in when she got more into his content. It was his personality that mattered to her so the man in front of her could have been anyone to her. Corpse, on the other hand, tried to hide himself as much as possible by hunching forward as if Michelle would now take a photo of him to spread it around. She had left a perfectly good iced coffee behind to save him, why would she take a photo now?

Michelle laughed, a hoarse thing as she planted her palms on top of the table. She felt the cooling effect of it run up her arms immediately and it took everything for her not to sigh in relief.

“Not anymore.”

That got Corpse’s attention.

“What do you mean ‘not anymore’?”

Michelle shrugged and traded pacing in front of him restlessly for sitting down in the chair opposite of him instead. There was only a table dividing them and Michelle was gripped by reality once again. Other people would kill for this and I want to run far away.

“I mean that I was a fan of you once and then I stopped being a fan.”

Corpse wore a complicated expression, turning his ring around his finger rhythmically. Michelle wondered if that was a nervous habit that she would see more often during this not so pleasant conversation.

“When did you stop?” Corpse asked after taking some time to search for words. Michelle wasn’t the patient type but she did understand how weird this must be for him so she gave him some time to think.

Michelle didn’t quite remember when she stopped being a fan. She only knew why she stopped, why she had pulled away from the fandom almost as quickly as she got into it.

“End of February maybe?” she asked rather than told him. “Does it matter?”

“I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

It was a bunch of things that kept adding up to the pile of little annoyances that one day broke the dam. Michelle wondered if she could tell it all to Corpse, if she could do it to him to tell him right in his face what happened, why she moved away from it all.

Corpse was looking at her almost pleadingly. He really didn’t know. It made her feel for him a little bit more than she had in the past months. Michelle had no clue how hard it must have been to suddenly have the spotlight on you. To suddenly have people following your every move on social media, expecting more than any person could give. To suddenly have to know how to deal with it all. Michelle understood, but it didn’t make things right, not entirely.

“I can tell you,” she said after a few moments of silence. Michelle looked away from Corpse and outside of the glass window, watching as people perused the bookshelves, feeling an intense need to do the same instead of sitting here and talking to the Corpse Husband about why she thought he was an asshole and why she didn’t even follow him on any social media anymore when she had religiously watched all of his streams, liked all of his tweets, watched every Instagram story before.

“Please,” Corpse said and her attention was back on him.

Michelle sat back in her chair and fished a water bottle out of her bag. It had bees all over the bottle, happily flying around while Michelle was praying that she could gain their wings to remove herself from this entire conversation. She took a sip to try and ease the sudden dryness of her throat but it didn’t work as well as she had hoped.

“I think…” Michelle started before shaking her head slightly. God, how was she going to start this? “I watched the stream in which you were introduced by Jack and I immediately got intrigued so to say. Not really because of your voice, though I did realise it’s a unique one. It was more your personality and…” Michelle didn’t exactly want to give him a huge ego so she stopped herself. “Whatever. I became a part of ‘Corpse Twitter’,” she physically made the quotation signs with her hands. It was a stupid name after all. Why didn’t they ever come up with a nickname? “And it kinda went down after that, I guess…”

“Why?” Corpse asked, his voice even more gravelly than before. Michelle wondered if he hadn’t drunk in some time, which would be logical given that he couldn’t order his coffee at the café or that he was actually sad about the fact that she left the fandom behind.

“The people there were like 50% of it,” Michelle admitted with a shrug. “The other 50% was you and your behaviour.”

Corpse merely raised an eyebrow, silently telling her to go on. Michelle’s heart was pounding in her throat, feeling like she was going to pass out any second. Why the fuck had she ever started this conversation? She should have just lied, told him that she didn’t know him but that she put two and two together and helped him to be kind.

“You play favourites, for one,” she said finally after struggling for a bit to actually get the words out of her throat.

“I do not play favourites.”

Corpse’s voice was hard and biting.

Michelle stood immediately, not breaking eye contact with Corpse as she did. He should see the anger in her eyes, he should realise how shittily he was behaving.

Her hands were shaking with anger. Of course, he would deny it. Why wouldn’t he deny it? Why had she thought that he would actually listen to what she had to say about the whole situation?

“I’m going to go out, look for some books to bring with me. I’ll come to pick you up in ten since you can’t leave without me easily, you need a student card. Don’t leave and you’ll be fine.”

Her voice had been neutral, calm almost but her face was hot with anger, her hands shaking even harder as she grabbed her tote bag, her heels coming down hard onto the floor as she stepped away from him.

Michelle could hear Corpse’s voice behind her as she asked her to stay but she had shut the door to the cubicle and it was silent again. She couldn’t even look back at him so she wandered off, looking through books she wasn’t really seeing as she waited for the ten minutes to be over.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice soft and timid as she opened the door again, waiting for Corpse to stand. They didn’t say anything for the time that it took to go from the fourth floor to the main entrance again but once they were outside, Michelle turned to him again.

“You probably already know this, given that I hid you and everything but I won’t tell the internet what you look like nor have I taken photos or will I share your location.”

Corpse nodded and it looked like he was about to say something but something bitter had already formed in Michelle’s throat and she couldn’t help but step away and interrupt him.

“It was nice meeting you,” Michelle said, though her voice sounded anything but pleasant. The sound was made of cut glass and she hoped it would sting, just a little bit. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

Michelle walked away then, hopping onto the first tram that stopped near her without even looking at what number it carried and where she was going to.

Tears were prickling in her eyes. Once upon a time she had turned to Corpse when she was feeling anxious, watching his stream to soothe her mind. It had worked for a long time until it had all broken down for her and she lost what she once thought was her comfort space and her comfort streamer.

It had been a while since she watched a stream and yet Michelle felt nauseous as she somehow made it back home. This wasn’t the meeting she had dreamt of when she was at her lowest. Michelle had hoped he would have at least listened instead of immediately defending himself without giving her the chance of showing examples.

Despite herself, when Michelle came home, she turned on one of his streams as she sat curled up in bed, trying to return to a time when everything was simpler and she was still fully convinced that he could never do something wrong. However, the past weighed down too hard on her and she had to close off her laptop again halfway through because she couldn’t see the game they were playing anymore through her tears.

Michelle contemplated what would be the right move. Try to contact him on Twitter to tell her story, go back to Amsterdam now in the hopes to find him? No, she couldn’t. He fucked up, he should be the one putting in the effort but he never would, she already knew that he never would.

Instead of taking any form of action and despite the fact that it was only late in the afternoon, Michelle closed her eyes after burying herself into comfortable blankets, and slept her sorrows away.

#im a dumb dumb who forgot the title #im sorry im trying to get back into posting #and clearly idk how anymore #anyways new multi chap maybe if it does okay #otherwise i might do a different idea that ive been thinking about #self reblog #bc of stupidity

[cathedreal]

𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬. | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜.𝐡.

⤷ corpse x oc!fem (she/her pronouns)

⤷ length: multi-chapter

⤷ word count: 3k

⤷ genre: enemies to friends to lovers

⤷ tw for this chapter: none

⤷ a/n: i posted this on my other account first but i wanted to have all my writing in one place so here we are lmao enjoy!

When Corpse gets recognised during his, what should have been, peaceful vacation in another country, an ex-fan saves him from being recognised and posted online. After a rocky start, and a lot of arguments, the pair crosses paths again and again until it becomes undeniable that they should be in each other's lives.

𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

“CORPSE?!” Oh, you must be fucking kidding me. Michelle swivelled around immediately, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did. Michelle’s eyes honed in on a taller man with curly hair and a face mask covering half of his face and someone she recognised from when she was still on that part of Twitter. “THE CORPSE HUSBAND? OH MY GOD, IT’S SO NICE TO MEET YOU!” Michelle winced a little and looked down as if on instinct, knowing what kind of jewellery the real Corpse sometimes wore from the photos that he posted online. The rings were not the same but the ‘bad bitch’ bracelet was half-covered by the sleeve of his jacket. Shit. What were the fucking odds of him being there and getting caught? The man’s, Corpse apparently, eyes were comically wide, staring down at the girl who was still grinning up at him, pointing her manicured finger at his chest as if her loud screaming hadn’t been violating enough. Michelle couldn’t really make out what had happened until a coffee cup came rolling her way, still spewing out coffee, the otherwise pristine floor stained with watered down coffee and vanilla ice cream. The cup was forgotten quickly enough as Michelle’s eyes rose back to the pair; one triumphant, the other scared to death. They must have bumped into each other, there was no other possible explanation for the insanity that was happening right now. Maybe Corpse apologised, briefly having forgotten that his voice was some sort of light beacon for people to instantly recognise him. Michelle felt for him. She couldn’t imagine how terrifying this must be, she just had no clue how to help. Causing a bigger commotion by yelling at the girl for being such an airhead and yelling out his name wasn’t really the way to go, especially not with how easily this could be put online. That was the biggest worry right now, that Corpse’s actual appearance could be made public.

In a way, Michelle still couldn’t believe that Corpse was standing right behind her. While she wasn’t a big fan, not anymore at least, she did feel something. It wasn’t the need to take stupid selfies with celebrities like a lot of people did, but maybe that was her own insecurities playing up, or the need to tell him how much he changed her life, even though he had for a little while.

It was more a sense of wonder that he was here, in The Netherlands, a few steps away from her.

They were standing in a small café in Amsterdam, a place Michelle would have never guessed that Corpse would be at the same time that she was there. Sometimes life really worked in odd ways and Michelle wondered what the significance of this moment was, if there was a lesson to be learned. Maybe, do not cross people’s boundaries, famous people are people too? Nah, that couldn’t be it.

She figured that more people were starting to think like her, that this was a once in a lifetime thing, because more heads were starting to turn towards Corpse and the Twitter girl. Michelle couldn’t recall her name, only a faint memory of what her username had been lingered in her brain, though they had all looked similar, even hers.

Though the café was a small one without any room for seating arrangements, the people that were watching the girl babble to Corpse about how much she loved him carried recognition in their eyes which led Michelle to do the most impulsive thing she had ever done in her entire life.

She moved forward, quickly grabbed his arm, and dragged him out of the café.

It could only have been seconds between the girl crying out Corpse’s name and Michelle dragging him out but it felt like forever.

“Wait!” he said and god, it really was him.

What a fucking idiot.

Michelle turned on him quickly, staring at him with a displeased expression on her face. “Do you not think that after what just happened it’s in your best interest to shut up? I’m taking you somewhere safe, unless you want to be thrusted back into the hell-hole that is the café right now.”

Michelle pointed back at the people knocking on the windows, pointing their way with their mouths open. She could hear the screaming from halfway across the street.

That, thankfully, shut Corpse up and she could finally drag him off to the one location close by that she figured would be safe enough to keep him until the excitement of ‘Corpse being a real person walking around’ had died down again.

The sun was hot on her skin as she manoeuvred Corpse through tiny streets and alleyways that would hopefully cover their tracks. She hoped that some of the people in the café had been tourists who didn’t know that these streets even existed but she knew better than to take the risk so she kept her pace up instead, forcing Corpse to walk fast as well.

She felt guilty.

In her time as a Corpse-fan, she had, of course, learned about his physical conditions but she needed to get him out of here so she could only hope that he wasn’t in too much pain.

Michelle may have not liked him anymore, but she did still care, deeply as she did for everybody in her life, no matter how insignificant the role they played was.

“In here,” Michelle said, pushing Corpse into a tall building that stood hidden partly from view by big trees covering the bottom layer. The building was big enough to hold a few thousand people so they should be safe there. Michelle confidently walked up to the front desk, showing her student ID that was no longer in use given that she graduated a few months before but that is the thing about expiration dates; if there was none on the card, she could pretend to be a student forever.

“Hi, I’m interviewing my friend for my project on doctor-patient interactions in the English language,” she bullshitted, twirling a finger around a lock of hair innocently. “He is not a student here but I am and I figured that such a sensitive topic should be discussed in one of the silent cubicles we have here?”

They let her through after asking questions about the project she didn’t even have. Michelle could sense that it wasn’t to test her, just the sweet curiosity of someone who genuinely liked working with students and helping them. At any other time, she would have loved this interaction but now it only made her anxious, especially because Corpse was tapping his heavy boot right behind her.

Michelle glared at him for it when they stepped into the elevator.

They still hadn’t exchanged a word until they were in the cubicle, mostly made of glass with some stronger walls to keep the room soundproof. It wasn’t entirely silent. If someone were to talk loud enough, others could hear it too, but for the most part, everything was muffled. It wasn’t perfect but it was all that she could offer him right now.

“It’s sorta soundproof,” she said, motioning around a little. “There’s glass, of course, because otherwise people can and will have sex in here but it’s the best I can do for you.”

Michelle tried to not look at Corpse too much and instead set her tote bag on the ugly gray table in front of her. There was a book in there that she was planning on reading in the park with a cold beverage, aka the coffee that she had to leave behind, and Michelle felt a sudden urge to just run away and leave Corpse to it. But she couldn’t do that, her conscience would berate her for it if she did.

“Are you a fan?” Corpse asked, finally looking up at her. His eyes were dark and calculating almost. It wasn’t what Michelle expected but to be fair, she never thought much about what he would look like. That wasn’t the part of him that she was interested in when she got more into his content. It was his personality that mattered to her so the man in front of her could have been anyone to her. Corpse, on the other hand, tried to hide himself as much as possible by hunching forward as if Michelle would now take a photo of him to spread it around. She had left a perfectly good iced coffee behind to save him, why would she take a photo now?

Michelle laughed, a hoarse thing as she planted her palms on top of the table. She felt the cooling effect of it run up her arms immediately and it took everything for her not to sigh in relief.

“Not anymore.”

That got Corpse’s attention.

“What do you mean ‘not anymore’?”

Michelle shrugged and traded pacing in front of him restlessly for sitting down in the chair opposite of him instead. There was only a table dividing them and Michelle was gripped by reality once again. Other people would kill for this and I want to run far away.

“I mean that I was a fan of you once and then I stopped being a fan.”

Corpse wore a complicated expression, turning his ring around his finger rhythmically. Michelle wondered if that was a nervous habit that she would see more often during this not so pleasant conversation.

“When did you stop?” Corpse asked after taking some time to search for words. Michelle wasn’t the patient type but she did understand how weird this must be for him so she gave him some time to think.

Michelle didn’t quite remember when she stopped being a fan. She only knew why she stopped, why she had pulled away from the fandom almost as quickly as she got into it.

“End of February maybe?” she asked rather than told him. “Does it matter?”

“I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

It was a bunch of things that kept adding up to the pile of little annoyances that one day broke the dam. Michelle wondered if she could tell it all to Corpse, if she could do it to him to tell him right in his face what happened, why she moved away from it all.

Corpse was looking at her almost pleadingly. He really didn’t know. It made her feel for him a little bit more than she had in the past months. Michelle had no clue how hard it must have been to suddenly have the spotlight on you. To suddenly have people following your every move on social media, expecting more than any person could give. To suddenly have to know how to deal with it all. Michelle understood, but it didn’t make things right, not entirely.

“I can tell you,” she said after a few moments of silence. Michelle looked away from Corpse and outside of the glass window, watching as people perused the bookshelves, feeling an intense need to do the same instead of sitting here and talking to the Corpse Husband about why she thought he was an asshole and why she didn’t even follow him on any social media anymore when she had religiously watched all of his streams, liked all of his tweets, watched every Instagram story before.

“Please,” Corpse said and her attention was back on him.

Michelle sat back in her chair and fished a water bottle out of her bag. It had bees all over the bottle, happily flying around while Michelle was praying that she could gain their wings to remove herself from this entire conversation. She took a sip to try and ease the sudden dryness of her throat but it didn’t work as well as she had hoped.

“I think…” Michelle started before shaking her head slightly. God, how was she going to start this? “I watched the stream in which you were introduced by Jack and I immediately got intrigued so to say. Not really because of your voice, though I did realise it’s a unique one. It was more your personality and…” Michelle didn’t exactly want to give him a huge ego so she stopped herself. “Whatever. I became a part of ‘Corpse Twitter’,” she physically made the quotation signs with her hands. It was a stupid name after all. Why didn’t they ever come up with a nickname? “And it kinda went down after that, I guess…”

“Why?” Corpse asked, his voice even more gravelly than before. Michelle wondered if he hadn’t drunk in some time, which would be logical given that he couldn’t order his coffee at the café or that he was actually sad about the fact that she left the fandom behind.

“The people there were like 50% of it,” Michelle admitted with a shrug. “The other 50% was you and your behaviour.”

Corpse merely raised an eyebrow, silently telling her to go on. Michelle’s heart was pounding in her throat, feeling like she was going to pass out any second. Why the fuck had she ever started this conversation? She should have just lied, told him that she didn’t know him but that she put two and two together and helped him to be kind.

“You play favourites, for one,” she said finally after struggling for a bit to actually get the words out of her throat.

“I do not play favourites.”

Corpse’s voice was hard and biting.

Michelle stood immediately, not breaking eye contact with Corpse as she did. He should see the anger in her eyes, he should realise how shittily he was behaving.

Her hands were shaking with anger. Of course, he would deny it. Why wouldn’t he deny it? Why had she thought that he would actually listen to what she had to say about the whole situation?

“I’m going to go out, look for some books to bring with me. I’ll come to pick you up in ten since you can’t leave without me easily, you need a student card. Don’t leave and you’ll be fine.”

Her voice had been neutral, calm almost but her face was hot with anger, her hands shaking even harder as she grabbed her tote bag, her heels coming down hard onto the floor as she stepped away from him.

Michelle could hear Corpse’s voice behind her as she asked her to stay but she had shut the door to the cubicle and it was silent again. She couldn’t even look back at him so she wandered off, looking through books she wasn’t really seeing as she waited for the ten minutes to be over.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice soft and timid as she opened the door again, waiting for Corpse to stand. They didn’t say anything for the time that it took to go from the fourth floor to the main entrance again but once they were outside, Michelle turned to him again.

“You probably already know this, given that I hid you and everything but I won’t tell the internet what you look like nor have I taken photos or will I share your location.”

Corpse nodded and it looked like he was about to say something but something bitter had already formed in Michelle’s throat and she couldn’t help but step away and interrupt him.

“It was nice meeting you,” Michelle said, though her voice sounded anything but pleasant. The sound was made of cut glass and she hoped it would sting, just a little bit. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

Michelle walked away then, hopping onto the first tram that stopped near her without even looking at what number it carried and where she was going to.

Tears were prickling in her eyes. Once upon a time she had turned to Corpse when she was feeling anxious, watching his stream to soothe her mind. It had worked for a long time until it had all broken down for her and she lost what she once thought was her comfort space and her comfort streamer.

It had been a while since she watched a stream and yet Michelle felt nauseous as she somehow made it back home. This wasn’t the meeting she had dreamt of when she was at her lowest. Michelle had hoped he would have at least listened instead of immediately defending himself without giving her the chance of showing examples.

Despite herself, when Michelle came home, she turned on one of his streams as she sat curled up in bed, trying to return to a time when everything was simpler and she was still fully convinced that he could never do something wrong. However, the past weighed down too hard on her and she had to close off her laptop again halfway through because she couldn’t see the game they were playing anymore through her tears.

Michelle contemplated what would be the right move. Try to contact him on Twitter to tell her story, go back to Amsterdam now in the hopes to find him? No, she couldn’t. He fucked up, he should be the one putting in the effort but he never would, she already knew that he never would.

Instead of taking any form of action and despite the fact that it was only late in the afternoon, Michelle closed her eyes after burying herself into comfortable blankets, and slept her sorrows away.

#corpse husband #corpse x oc #corpse x fem oc #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband fanfic #corpse fanfiction #corpse husband fic #corpse fic recommendations #corpse fanfic #corpse fandom #corpse simp #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband fic recommendations #corpse fluff #corpse husband fluff #corpse husband scenarios #mine

[cathedreal]

𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔽𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙 ℂ.ℍ

ೄྀ࿐Corpse x Female Reader ೄྀ࿐Genre: Dark Academia ೄྀ࿐Warnings: Mention of: blood, knife + small wounds inflicted, alcohol, smoking/cigarettes, a toxic relationship (not with Corpse) ೄྀ࿐Word count: 3.1K+  ೄྀ࿐Summary: Willow Creek Academy is full of mysteries, or so you find out when you are unwillingly iniated into a secret society with none other than your boyfriend’s best friend, Corpse. Secrets are kept, tensions rise high, and you are in the middle of it all. Together with Corpse, you have to find a way to leave the society and make it out alive while staying under the radar when you find yourselves the primary suspects in a murder case.

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AUTUMN, SEMESTER 1

 “Where the fuck am I?” you mumble, your voice loud in the silence of the room. Warm skin brushes against your own. It makes you shiver. A blindfold is tightly wound around your eyes and your arms are restrained in front of you, trying to move doesn’t help so you stay seated on your knees. 

 The air is stifling and you wonder if it’s because of your panicked state or because of the dustiness of the room itself. It smells like spilled wine, cigarette smoke, books collecting dust on the shelves. You wonder if you’re in the academy’s library but you doubt it. The librarian would have never agreed to holding hostages in there, the books were too precious to risk ruination.

 Your boyfriend, James, had invited you to meet him under the big oak tree on the campus’ edge in the late evening. You often study there, a red pen between your teeth for taking notes, the grass pricking into your thighs familiarly. James rarely sits with you there to study; he finds the grass stains not worth the peacefulness of the rustling of the wind through the leaves, the birds happily chirping in the background to keep you company. He rather studies elsewhere and you wonder if this was the place he frequents.

 You should have realised that when James asked you to meet him there, it was suspicious behaviour. But you had trusted him wholly and now you’re here, on your knees, another person next to you in probably the same position. You wonder if James had something to do with this. You don’t have to wonder for long. The blindfold is ripped away from your eyes and you blink rapidly to get rid of the spots that float in front of them. You don’t see much but hooded figures looming over you dangerously, objects in hand that you can’t quite make out. You glance to the side then and make out curly hair, a collared shirt with a chain dangling against the brown sweater layered above. It glints in the light of the candles surrounding you. 

 “Sol Omnia Regit.”

 “What is happening?” you ask, thrashing around a little in your restraints. A hooded figure suddenly leans close and shushes you. There is a split second where you think you recognise the figure’s eyes but then the person is moving away again, leaving you with a pounding heart.

 Someone leans forward again, sticking out a hand behind themselves to signal something. An object is pressed into their hand and then held out to you. For second, you think it’s a knife or a gun, something to kill you with. There was no other explanation for why you were here but some crazy ritual that you fell victim to. But then...

 "Drink," the person tells you and a crystal glass filled with a dark liquid is pressed to your lips. Blood? you think but when it’s finally pushed past your lips and tilted so you can’t do anything but drink, it proves to be wine. The bitter taste doesn’t leave your mouth even though the glass does.

Another figure crouches down in front of you then, something long glinting in the candlelight. It takes you a few seconds to recognise the object but it’s unmistakably a knife and it’s inching closer to your bound hands. You look up to the hooded figure in panic and the familiar eyes are back, this time they’re closer than before and you can place them easily. “James?” you whisper, your voice hoarse and shaking. James would never hurt you, right? He is your boyfriend, he loves you… 

 Does he? 

 Did he ever? 

 Your mind races as your hands are tugged up so your wrists can rest in the familiar hand which you hold daily. It usually doesn’t feel quite as malicious, sometimes it does, never with other people around.

The person next to you, Corpse, you’re guessing, is holding his breath when you hold it. He can probably see the knife too, twisting expertly in James’ hand. Without deigning you with a response, James cuts into the palm of your hand and you hiss at the sting, You want to say that it is stupid to cut someone there, the palm of a hand has too many nerve endings and you could do a lot of damage but the deed has already been done. 

 Your palm is pressed against a sheet of paper with writing that you can’t quite make out and you realise that it is a contract. It’s unethical, you try to protest, you can’t make someone sign something they haven’t read, but you’re pushed back again and Corpse sucks in his breath next to you.

 "Welcome to Sol Regnum, Y/N and Corpse. You have completed your initiation."

 The lights are turned on and you squint against the sudden brightness blinding you. It takes you a few moments before you can finally look around again, the figures clad fully in black with golden threads running through the mantels they’re wearing finally take off their hoods and James is smirking down at you both.

 “My girlfriend and best friend, finally initiated,” he says, opening his arms as if he has just won the greatest victory. It feels nothing like that. 

 You exchange a look with Corpse, one filled with confusion and worry, before you let your eyes wander around the room. Heavy curtains hang in front of the tall windows, blocking out every possible source of light from the outside. Even the moon can’t shine through. The room is cast in shadows from the now dulled lighting. Your eyes are used to the light again and it is not as bright as it was when someone had snapped them on. The lights have a yellow cast over them, making everyone look just a little bit sick. There are books strewn around the room, the bookcases, which run along one big wall, are all stuffed full so the makeshift piles of books in the corners are there not for aesthetic purposes, but for necessity. Broken busts sit on the floor sadly, some missing a nose, other half of their head. You wonder if it’s a metaphor for something, if the busts represent the brokenness of the secret society you were now initiated in. 

 Everything is starting to make sense now. How James had often disappeared at night, leaving you alone in his bed, wondering if he was with another girl. How there were whispers in the hallway wherever you went as of late, something you had blamed on your own insecurities haunting you rather than real people doing so. How James had looked at you in a way that sent shivers down your spine and not in a good way. It had felt malicious, like there was something waiting for you that you didn’t know anything about. But he did, he probably planned the whole thing.

 Corpse is back up on his feet before you are and he rounds up on James, pulling him into a corner of the room with a firm hand. You blindly follow, avoiding the glances that the other members of this society throw you. It feels like they’re evaluating you even past your initiation. You want to scream at them that you never asked for this, that you didn’t even want to be initiated in a society that you know nothing about. You were forced here but you doubt they would care.

 “No warning, nothing,” you hear from the corner. Corpse’s hand is still pressing into James’ shoulder, his other hand drumming restlessly on his thigh. There is a lone cigarette sticking out from Corpse’s curly hair, balancing dangerously on his ear. You step closer, take your place next to Corpse where it usually was next to James. You’re on Corpse’s side in this matter, though, and James can know that, no matter what the repercussions were.

 You shake your head at James as he laughs good-naturedly. He is the star of the university, the golden boy, the popular guy everyone wants to either have or be friends with. After a year or so of being in a relationship with him, however, you know better than to trust his charismatic laugh, the crinkle in the skin next to his eyes that solidifies his position as the good guy. There was danger in his smile, a certain sense of disingenuousness in the sound of his laughter. 

 You step closer to Corpse.

 “I agree, James. What were you thinking? You never even ask-”

 “Why would I?” James asks and steps closer to you, the shadows casting over his face are making him look like he is the villain of a big play, ready to kill the main character.

 Corpse, cast as the hero, places himself in front of you, half-shielding you with his body. Corpse’s hands are shaking next to his sides but he’s still there, back straight, shoulders down, his head raised which gives him the advantage of a few inches over James.

 “She’s right, you should have asked if we even wanted this.”

 “It’s the opportunity of a life-time! This society will ensure that you will have a good future, something to pass down to your children.”

 You let a hollow laugh escape and the both of them turn to you. “We’re rich, James. All of us are. There was no need for a fucking society, we’re ensured a good future whether we even graduate or not.”

 James shrugs and your hands clench into fists at his nonchalance. You gasp softly when you feel the wound in the palm of your hand. When you open it again, blood rolls from your fingers and drips onto the carpet, just barely missing your shoes. “I’m going back to the dorms,” you say, desperate to get away from the claustrophobic feeling this room gives you. James shakes his head, though, and you stay in place, waiting for him to come up with one good reason for you to stay.

“The party is just getting started,” he says and music begins playing. It sounds as if it is played from an old record, the scratchiness that you would appreciate in other situations doing nothing but grating your ears. James pushes past you and Corpse both and returns with three glasses of the same wine you were forced to drink just minutes ago. It’s pushed into your hands before you can protest. The other members raise their glasses, their eyes on you and Corpse who twitches uncomfortably next to you. It’s a toast but it feels more like a warning of what is to come.

 “Come on, Y/N,” James says and wraps an arm around your waist. You shy away from the touch a little but his grip is hard, his fingertips possibly pressing bruises into your skin. “Corpse?” he adds, waiting for Corpse to hesitantly fall in line next to him. You briefly wish he was on your side instead of James’ but shake it off again. There were more important things to focus on.

 James insists that they meet the others but every person you meet is not the type of person you would want to be friends with. Arrogance and coldness roll off of them in waves, sending you the clear message that you’re not wanted here. From the way Corpse barely answers the few questions they have for you both, you realise that he feels the same. 

 You met Corpse when you started dating James. He is James’ best friend after all, or was, depending on how Corpse feels about this all. He was a little shy when you met him, didn’t say a lot but when he opened up a little, he was charming, funny. Most notably, his voice is low, something that is whispered about in the hallways of Willow Creek Academy. Despite what others say about his voice, to you it’s not weird or unusual, it’s soothing, like melted chocolate. A balm for the soul.

 Minutes pass by and as the alcohol flows freely, the inhibitions of people are lowered. There is a couple making out on the couch next to you, hands roaming each other’s body in a way that seems too private to be doing in front of a room full of people but nobody even bats an eye.

 Corpse is nowhere to be found for a little while but eventually comes back to the loveseat you’re sitting on, pointedly taking James’s place next to you. “When can we leave?” he asks, sipping his wine. You wonder how many he had but you can’t fault him for drinking. You wish you could stomach it yourself.

 “I don’t know, soon, I hope,” you answer and look around. There are people dancing to imaginary music that doesn’t match the one playing, people laughing in corners, hands pulling others behind furniture so they are just barely out of sight.

 You hear Corpse curse and when your eyes meet his again, they look slightly panicked. There are manicured hands roaming down his chest for a second before Corpse is standing again, holding out his hand to you in a clear message that you happily read correctly.

 Corpse helps you up and let’s go right away, something you unconsciously mourn. You would have liked to have Corpse’s hand in your own for a little bit longer. The touch of someone semi-familiar in a room filled with strange people would keep you from freaking out as you wade through the partying people.

 Something in this all reminds you of a bacchanal; wine, freedom, ecstasy. It seems to live in the various people here, even James isn’t untouched as his tie is halfway down his chest when you find him, his body moving close with someone else. 

 You rarely get jealous but something about this leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

 “We’re going,” Corpse announces and tries to pull away when James reaches out to catch his arm, he’s too slow. James whispers something to Corpse and you watch as his expression changes. You don’t dare to ask when you are led back outside. Corpse’s expression is thunderous and it only relaxes when he pulls out his cigarette from behind his ear with shaky fingers and lits it.

 You watch as the smoke bellows and floats up to the sky in figures you try to form recognisable shapes out of. Corpse passes his cigarette to you and you happily take it, feeling the pressure of an impending migraine disappear a little.

 “That was… Something,” you say for a lack of better words. Corpse nods but doesn’t say more. He doesn’t need to. You both know that it was insane what happened, you’re both scared for what this secret society will bring in the future, you both worry about the contract you couldn’t read in the privacy of your own minds.

 Corpse passes the house which holds the male dorms and keeps walking next to you to the other end of the campus. You thank him softly, he nods in recognition. No place is safe for a woman to walk alone and with Corpse you feel strangely safe.

 The early autumn leaves crunch under your shoes when you walk, your footsteps loud in the quiet of the evening. Your pace matches Corpse’s, though you feel like he’s letting you set the pace so you can keep up with each other.

 The building of the women’s dorm is becoming more and more visible the further you walk down the path. It’s sitting stately behind a lush garden you often tend to in your free time, as do the other girls in the building. It brings liveliness into the place which is made solely out of brick outside of it. It’s an old building, you don’t know for sure what it was before it became a campus but you think it must have been a guest house on the castle grounds. 

 Corpse walks you to the door and takes a step back when you retrieve your key. You almost invite him up to take care of his hand. Instead you make him promise to take care of it himself.

 “What do we do about the society thing?” you ask, stalling a little. You’re scared to be left alone with your thoughts right now. Corpse seems to guess it and leans against the pillar that holds up the front of the house, making no movement to leave.

 He shrugs a little and looks off into the distance. You follow his gaze but there is nothing there. “Not much we can do. The contract, though… We need to know what was on there. Maybe we can get out of it.” “I doubt it,” you laugh humourlessly but you nod anyways. “I’d rather see it first than give up immediately. I’m just not sure how to get to it.”

 “We could ditch class,” Corpse suggests, a smirk now growing on his face. You know already that Corpse didn’t attend half of the classes that he should but you laugh a little anyways, this time it’s genuine.

 “You’re an idiot,” you mumble and Corpse’s smirk grows wider, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A smart one, though. I don’t think any of them will skip classes, even after a party like tonight.”

 “What can I say? I’m a mastermind,” Corpse jokes and pulls out his phone, handing it to you demonstratively. You put in your number on automatic pilot. “Text me when you wake up, we’ll decide on a class together then.”

 You accidentally leave a smear of blood behind on Corpse’s phone but he either hasn’t seen it or doesn’t care enough to mention it. “I’ll text you,” you promise and open the door fully now.

 There is still laughter in the hallways, soft voices that make you relax a little. You suddenly feel bone tired now that you’re in a place that signifies comfort and rest. Corpse notices and waves you inside.

 “Goodnight, Y/N. Take care of your wound.”

 You watch Corpse walk away and become one with the darkness before you finally step inside. You sluggishly climb the stairs and make your way to your dorm room, an action that takes longer than it should have. You shrug off your coat and drop it somewhere, you’d care about the crinkles you put in it in the morning. You find your first aid kit in the bathroom and pour some alcohol on the wound. It makes tears spring in your eyes but it’s necessary so you get through it on pure willpower alone. After bandaging the wound, you shed most of your clothes and finally climb into bed. You don’t even have the energy to put out the light before you fall asleep, nightmares dragging you down with them.

𝕋𝔸𝔾𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋  𝕆ℙ𝔼ℕ: 

@headcannonsforlife @katyasrussianaccent @boiled-onionrings @satanhauntedourcats​ @ravennightingaleandavatempus​

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[cathedreal]

ℂ𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕤𝕖 ℍ𝕦𝕤𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Forbidden Fruit - A Corpse Husband Dark Academia AU

✧.* playlist *.✧

“Where the fuck am I?” you mumble, your voice loud in the silence of the room. A warm arm brushes against your own. It makes you shiver. A blindfold is tightly wound around your eyes and your arms are restrained in front of you, trying to move doesn’t help so you stay seated on your knees.

The air is stifling and you wonder if it’s because of your panicked state or because of the dustiness of the room itself. It smelled like spilled wine, cigarette smoke, books collecting dust on the shelves. You wonder if you’re in the academy’s library but you doubt it. The librarian would have never agreed with holding hostages in there, the books were too precious to risk ruination. 

The blindfold is ripped away from your eyes and you blink rapidly to get rid of the spots that float in front of them. You don’t see much but hooded figures looming over you dangerously, objects in hand that you can’t quite make out. You glance to the side then and make out curly hair, a collared shirt with a chain dangling against the brown sweater layered above. It glints in the light of the candles surrounding you.  

“Sol Omnia Regit.”

Genre: Dark Academia, Angst with a happy ending

Pronouns: She/her

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smoking, cheating (not y/n and Corpse!), abusive relationships (not y/n and Corpse!), death (not y/n or Corpse!)

Status: Ongoing!

Taglist: Open! Please, shoot me a dm or ask if you want to be tagged in updates!

Selene’s little note: Hi! So I’m currently writing a Dark Academia novel (it’s outlined on @honeywisteria​ which is my writing blog and I figured, why not write one with Corpse! This fic has been completely outlined and planned for a while now and I have about 20K words already so we’re in it for the long haul!

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse fic #corpse fanfic #corpse husband fic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband au #corpse husband fic recommendations #corpse husband fanfic #corpse au #corpse scenarios #youtube #youtubers x reader #youtubers fanfic #mine

[cathedreal]

en pointe. [Corpse x Female Reader]

・❥・Corpse x Female Reader ・❥・Genre: Fluff, hurt comfort ・❥・Word count: 1.5K+ words! ・❥・Requested: Yes! By the incredible 🩰 anon! Thank you so so much for putting in this request! I was thrilled to receive it! I was a dancer for about 14 years (including ballet) and this fic made me remember how much I love being on stage. I really miss it now.  ・❥・The request: hello again! could you write something about and the reader, who’s a ballet dancer, arguing because he’s been promising to go see her perform but the show is running it’s last performance? Cheers! ~ 🩰 Request a fic/hc | Request List | Join my Discord server | Buy me a Ko-Fi

“You promised!”

 “And I’m keeping to that promise,” Corpse replies, wrapping his arms around your frame. “Things have just been insane lately, that doesn’t mean that I forgot.”

 You sigh softly in response, your shoulders dropping. Corpse pulls you closer and you lean against his chest, your fingers tangling in his shirt to absentmindedly play with the edges of it.

 “I know, I don’t blame you,” you finally say, your lips finding his easily. “But the show is running its last performance…”

 You bite your lip, trying to hide the disappointment that wraps around your heart in thorns, squeezing enough to make it bleed. Corpse notices immediately.

 You like that he knows you so well, that you have fallen into such an easy rhythm in your relationship that gauging each other’s mood has become second nature. There is comfort in knowing that someone understands you so fully that you often don’t feel the need to explain yourself because the other already knows.

 But, in times like these, you really wish that Corpse wasn’t able to read every single expression that crosses your face, that you couldn’t see the guilt in his.

 “I haven’t forgotten,” Corpse assures you and drops a kiss on your forehead. It’s sweet yet fleeting and he soon pulls away again. 

 “You have to go,” you fill in for him and he nods, brushing through your hair one more time before moving to his office, closing the door behind him to shield you from the noise.

 You sulk for the remainder of the day and it doesn’t slip by Corpse who watches helplessly as you frown, more to yourself than to him.

 “I’m trying, Y/N,” Corpse says, reaching out to take your hand. “You don’t know how much it fucking pains me that I can’t easily go.”

 “You don’t know how much it pains me that my boyfriend can’t even come to my performances that have been going on for a damn long time even though I always support said boyfriend in everything he does.”

 It’s a low blow, you immediately want to apologise but instead you clench your teeth and breathe in and out deeply.

 “Don’t,” Corpse says when you open your mouth to apologise and you snap it shut again, guilt filling your body until you feel like you’re going to choke on it. “I deserved it.”

 “You didn’t!” you immediately protest but Corpse shakes his head again. 

 Corpse takes out his phone then and you watch incredulously as he types something, wondering what could be so much more important right now.

 You wonder if he’s on Twitter, liking some tweets of fans which he seems to prioritise more than your relationship. It’s a nasty thought but you still have it. You never claimed to be perfect.

 “What are you-“ you finally ask, needing Corpse to say something, do something to fix this mess. You want to shake him hard, urge him to finally choose you when he holds his phone up.

 Thank you for your purchase.

 “You… Oh.”

 “Yes, oh,” Corpse replies and the corner of his mouth quirks into a small smirk of self-satisfaction. You don’t know if you want to kiss it off his face or whack it with a pillow. Maybe both.

 “You have a stream that day,” you say stupidly and you wish that for once in your life you would just shut up already. Now you’ve planted that seed in his mind and he will cancel the performance. Again.

 “I know, I’m cancelling it,” Corpse says and watches with wide eyes as your bottom lip curls outwards. “The stream,” he says quickly, wrapping you back up in a hug.

 You both move back until you’re half sitting, half lying on the couch, Corpse’s cheek lying on your chest. “I’m sorry for being such a dick sometimes.”

 “You’re not-“

 “I am,” he says and looks up at you with sad eyes. “I should have come earlier but work always had my priority and I fucking regret it so much. I’m scared of suddenly becoming irrelevant and losing everything I built.”

 “I know, I know you are,” you whisper and brush through his hair reverently. “I understand, I always have.”

 Corpse shakes his head. “I’m more scared of losing you,” he finishes as if he hasn’t heard you. He takes your hand in his own, kissing your fingertips softly. Corpse takes his time and you let him, trying to keep the tears at bay. “You don’t have to understand anything. I should have been there and I wasn’t and now I’m making up for it.”

 “Thank you,” you can only croak out and lose yourself in the kiss Corpse presses to your lips.

 You don’t see Corpse before your last performance. It’s the early morning when you walk into the theatre, greeting some of your friends before you fling your stuff somewhere and put your earbuds in. You spend longer on stretches that morning, wanting your body to be loose as you go through some of the more difficult parts of your choreography meticulously. There is much more pressure now that you know Corpse is going to be in the audience and you want to impress him. You want him to be as proud of you as you are of him.

 Hair and makeup are next and you strum your fingers against your leg impatiently as you move your brush with the other hand.

 “Nervous?” Rose, one of your best friends in the company, asks. She puts her hands on your shoulders, rubbing the tension out of them sweetly. 

 “My boyfriend is coming so now I feel like more is at stake,” you reply honestly, relaxing back a little in your seat when you realise just how much you have been clenching your body because of the stress.

 Rose smiles at you through the mirror and wraps you in a hug from behind. “You’re going to do great. You’re always great. Don’t worry too much and have some fun.”

 You hold onto those words until you’re in the side wings, hopping en pointe, lowering yourself down slowly to keep your feet warm and flexible. Nervousness is clawing at your throat now, your stomach rumbling with nauseousness. 

 This is your job and yet… It always feels like so much more. It’s your passion, the one craft you have worked your ass off to master, it’s the ambition you now get to share with Corpse.

 The moment you walk on stage, every bit of nervousness washes away when you fall in fifth position easily. You are aware of the eyes on you, the lights shining just a little too brightly into your eyes and Corpse sitting somewhere in the crowd.

 Your movements are fluid, you almost feel like you’re dancing on air and you know that you look like it too from the applause when the first scene ends. Your confidence spikes and you’re no longer worried that Corpse won’t like what he sees, that he is not as impressed with you as you are with him. You know he loves it because you dance like you’re born to do only that.

 The audience is too dark to see everyone clearly with the lights blinding you but when the lights dim for a moment you catch a glimpse of curly brown hair, a mask covering half of the man’s face, and you know it’s Corpse watching you.

 Nothing else matters anymore at that moment, just the glance you share. You perform then like it’s just for Corpse, as if he’s the only person in the audience, silently cheering you on.

 When the curtain finally falls and the applause dies out, you want to run to Corpse immediately but it’s not that simple. Costumes are to be returned and there is one bobby pin poking you in the head that you crave to take out of your complicated up-do.

 It takes a while but once you can finally go, you almost fall in your haste to get outside. You take a big gulp of the cool night air and then you spot Corpse, waiting for you with a big bouquet of flowers, waving at you sheepishly.

 “I won’t be such an idiot next time,” Corpse mumbles into your ear when you finally fall into his arms, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “I can’t believe I could have seen you do this more than once and I didn’t take that change. I feel so stupid now.” “You’re not,” you tell him, leaving a smear of red lipstick where you brush your lips against his cheek. “I can do this at home too.”

 Corpse looks at you and you can finally see his eyes up close, the awe and the yearning for more clearly written in his gaze.

 “You’ll do that?” he asks, cupping your cheek to graze his thumb over your cheekbone.

 “If you keep looking at me like that, I will.”

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