flowersandcorpse

[flowersandcorpse]

She’s Optimistic (Not Me) Ch.3

This is a Corpse Husband fic. Chapter Three actually. If you missed chapter one or two, don’t fret. I’ll leave the links below :) Feel free to comment, share, and send me questions. I love hearing from you all.

Genre: Slowburn, friends to lovers, angst, pining

TW: abuse, mental and health complications

Chapter One 

Chapter Two

The room was dark and cold as Corpse stepped aside for her. She walked in, albeit slowly at first as she glanced around the gloomy apartment. The lights were off and with the exception of the moon, the only light present was being poured in through the crack in the front door. Nevertheless, Alice carried on inside, noting how nice his furniture looked and how much bigger his apartment space was from her own.

“H-how many rooms?” She questioned, her mouth agape as she looked down Corpse’s narrow hallway.

“Just four.” He responded curtly. Corpse knew it was odd that amongst all the studio and two bedroom apartments in this complex, he was only renter with four bedrooms on a top floor. He wasn’t blind to how suspicious it made him, he just didn’t care.

But it was obvious Alice did.

“Do you have roomates? Or a dog or something.” She mused whipping her head around before focusing in on Corpse. “This place is wild.”

In his husky voice, drained of all emotion, he nodded back. “I live alone… I like it that way.”

Alice sighed, long and winded at his response. She was quite sure he wasn’t as hollow and void of personality as he wanted to come off. She didn’t know how exactly, but she was going to crack his shell, maybe even pry it off him. If it meant she could learn more about her hidden away neighbor who lived in the mysteriously nice apartment.

Corpse moved to close the door behind them before guiding Alice to his living room. It was nothing special. Just a long black couch, a book shelf adjacent, and a nice tv mounted on the wall. But once again, Alice was entranced in the wonder of it all. Corpse noticed how wide her eyes were, how interested she seemed to be in his little world. When was the last time he had company over? Fuck. He didn’t know and frankly he didn’t care to remember. He was stuck in this moment, feeling himself being drawn towards her.

“So,” he brightened. “Do you usually invite yourself into people’s apartments?” He phrased it as a lighthearted question, but he genuinely wanted to know. He hoped the answer would be no, that she chose him because she thought he was interesting and different, and not because this is simply how she makes friends.

“Not particularly.”

Corpse smiled at that and Alice noticed, throwing herself against the slender couch.

“How do you do that?” She asked; face soft and understanding.

“Do what?” Corpse frowned.

“Act so cold and alone.” She sighed. “And then smile like that... I want to know how you do it?”

“Fuck.” Corpse dragged out sitting opposite of her on the couch. “You’re really trying to call me out, huh?”

“No!” Alice laughed. It was a bright and soft sound. Corpse felt himself grow elated because of it. “I just noticed it.”

“Well Alice, I don’t know.” He smiled more. Corpse was never the type of person to open up or let go. He never had deep conversations with strangers or even friends. He didn’t want to be a loner, but the truth is… he didnt have a choice. His walls towered miles above the average person’s. His thoughts, every thought, repeated itself over and over and over again, crashing inside his head.

But even so, for whatever reason, Corpse felt… comfortable around Alice. He didn’t particularly understand why or how, but he knew that in this moment, she could ask him anything and he wouldn’t have the willpower to turn her down.

He must’ve been staring because Alice had stopped laughing and instead was zeroing in on the rips on Corpse’s thigh; her face red and hot. She moved to brush a streak of silver hair behind her ear, when the faintest of lights beamed on a sliver of skin, just below her chin.

It was dark and neither of the two were entirely of sound mind, but even in the quiet buzz of it all, Corpse could make out faded marks stretched against Alice’s neck. Without hesitation, he straightened his posture and demanded.

“How’d you get those?”

Well, Alice was focused now.

“Get what?”

“The marks on your throat,” he scoffed. He didn’t want to come off rude or even bothered, but by the tone of his voice, how it deepend and cut through the thick air between them, it was obvious the lighthearted conversation they had earlier had dissipated.

Alice tried laughing it off.

“Sex,” she whispered.

Oh fuck, duh, He thought. Makes sense.

“Oh-”

A wave of embarrassment rushed over Corpse. It had been a while since he got laid sure, but… to forget about… that. Yeah, he felt out of touch.

“I’m joking!” She half yelled, hesitantly scooting closer to him. “It’s a long story, but sorry for freaking you out.” The blush on her neck had blossomed onto her collarbones, making her skin look more blushed than tan. Corpse felt his mouth go dry.

“It’s fine,” he replied.

Alice lowered her voice again, eyes sparkling and locked on Corpse.

“Stop worrying….”

Jest was laced throughout her words as her eyes darted from Corpse’s to his snakebites and back to the bushy mess of hair that shaded his eyes. She mockingly lifted her hand up to him; her slender fingers curved and aimed at him.

“It’s not like I’m gonna choke you”

Fuck me... This chick is crazy.

There was no question how Corpse would respond to Alice’s bold and frankly questionable behavior. Energy matched Energy.

“Go ahead,” he teased, lowering his voice for effect. “It’s not like you would actually fucking dare.”

Alice froze and Corpse mentally patted himself on the back for getting such a strong reaction from her. His tongue darted from his lips and toyed with one of his snakebites before he leaned forward, his eyes piercing the stunned woman before him. He was putting his throat on display, showing off his pronounced collarbones that peeked from his loose shirt. The pale light illuminated the red on his lips and the tan of his neck. If she wanted a show, he was going to make it clear that she was the entertainment, not him.

Her hand hadn’t moved since he prompted her to choke him. Alice had turned into a mess of heavy breathing and hesitant glances. Every time she dared to stare back, her chest would tighten and the butterflies in her stomach would dance violently against her ribs. She was shyer than she let on.

Alice stuttered out a breathy “I… I would dare,” before slowly unstiffening her fingers. She wanted to dare to be bold and courageous and reach for the dark stranger’s throat, but her arms felt like jelly and as she got closer to Corpse, she felt her wrist go lower and lower and lower.

But before her hand could fall flaccid against her lap, she felt a firm grasp on her shaking wrist.

Corpse.

Holy mother of god, she panted internally. Five gentle fingers wrapped delicately around her wrist, cold and stern. Her hand was shaking but she hoped her heart wouldn’t give out as she glanced down to see the fingers wrapped firmly against her skin. His hands were hard with broad fingers, but his grasp was gentle, his thumb brushing comfortingly against her hot skin. Or maybe it was his touch that burned.

Beautiful veins threaded themselves underneath the warmth of his skin and as she locked eyes with the man just inches away, silver streaks of hair untangled themself from behind her ear.

Alice felt like puddy in Corpse’s touch. His hands were cold and rough like the ones she was used to, but his touch… Corpse’s touch was gentle, soft, almost excruciatingly perfect as he pulled her closer, his lips parting to form a cocking half smile.

Almost as if this were her first time being this close to anyone, Corpse firmly guided her hand to his throat, eyes as unbothered and stoic as ever.

“There, you go.” He whispered, letting out a low hum of satisfaction. He positioned each slender finger around the base of his throat, running the the tip of Alice’s shaky pointer finger along his adam's apple before flattening her palm around the base of his neck. He hummed letting the vibration course through her already shaking hand.

Alice’s eyes widened, but she didn’t dare move. It felt dangerous, exciting even. She opened her mouth to speak, but once again, Corpse cut her off, lowering his face to hers and smirking as the cool skin of his lips brushed lightly against the hot tip of her right ear.

The lights outside dimmed and Alice felt her eyes flutter shut as Corpse lowly hummed into her ear, hand still unsurely resting against his throat as he teasingly muttered. The room was dead quiet with the exception of the dull thud of Alice’s heartbeat and the unmistakably deep and sultry words…

“Very good.”

[flowersandcorpse]

bare with me!!! ive gotten some sweet messages. here’s a hand to keep you happy :)

[flowersandcorpse]

sorry for my haitus! chapter up tonight. until then. enjoy this photo my male friend who i like to call mini corpse took. pleaseeee let me know what you think ;)

[flowersandcorpse]

Hey peeps! Chapter three will be up tomorrow! I don’t have a beta/editor to help with editing and plot stuff so it’s taking longer. Anyways I loveee the sweet messages ive been getting. The support is crazy <3

[flowersandcorpse]

She’s Optimistic (Not Me) Ch.2

This is a Corpse Husband fic. Chapter Two actually. If you missed chapter one, don’t fret. I’ll leave the link below :) Feel free to comment, share, and send me questions. I love hearing from you all. 

Genre: Slowburn, friends to lovers, angst, pining

TW: abuse, mental and health complications 

Chapter One

Alice.

It was a name Corpse just couldn’t shake. It had been a couple of days since he’d last seen her. Her warm skin pale and her shoulders hunched over. It wasn’t like they were close or anything. Corpse spent his days alone, fingers slaving away at his keyboard as he scrolled through his hundreds of emails. It was his job, he knew that, to read them all; every fake horror story or regurgitated creepy pasta someone thought they could pass off as their own. But everytime he he started to scan an email, his mind wandered back to that morning.

To the girl in the baggy clothes and smeared mascara. There was something about her that was almost… familiar?

Fuck. Corpse winced at the thoughts coursing through his head. They were clouded, no muddled with images of Alice. Her eyes were swollen, red and bruised like her knees. It was obvious she had been crying, obvious there was something fucking wrong. And Corpse just stood there like a dumbass.

I could’ve said anything. Could’ve done anything, but instead I just…

Corpse clenched his fist and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to finish that thought. Didn’t want to admit that he was… attracted to the crying girl; baggy clothes and all. If he wasn’t sure before, he was definitely aware of how fucked up his mind was. There Alice stood. Messy hair, bruised skin, and wet eyes, and all Corpse could do is wonder if she was just as screwed up. She reminded him of him, but smaller, maybe a bit stronger. Perhaps a bit sweeter. Definitely smoother… and warmer.

God, he breathed in sharply, just how warm are you, Alice?

He knew it was wrong, but in the moment he just felt so goddamn lonely. Corpse shut his eyes and let his imagination run rampant. Thoughts of him. Thoughts of Alice. Thought of them together. His body trembled under his touch and he found himself a shuddering mess; his hair curling against his forehead.

Corpse’s voice was laced with rasp. He hadn’t talked much to anyone today and for that his voice was deeper, darker; it had more bite. There was moment, just a couple of seconds, right before Corpse rolled over to his side, where he forgot he was alone. The feeling of hopelessness dissipated leaving only Corpse with a tender feeling in his chest. He thought back to a year ago. He laid in the same place, but that time around he wasn’t alone. She was there. Soft Emerald eyes, and red hair.

“Stop,” Corpse gritted out. He couldn’t think of her while he was doing this.

But it was too late. He threw his head back as he imagined her blushed cheeks.

“Fuck,” he whispered a little quieter. “What is this shit?”

It was almost cruel how suddenly it had all happened. Corpse lived his life in constant search for any distraction away from… her. And yet she managed to find him. Every goddamned time. It was her. Always her, bargarging into his head just when he thought he had gotten enough of her twisted grasp on him.

“God,” He cried out, dropping his hand. “I’m a joke.”

A joke.

A freakshow.

That’s how he felt. Completely wrong. His breath hitched and his chest tightened, but this time he wasn’t focused on how he was feeling or why he was feeling that way. He was just thinking of Her, his ex. If I can even call her that. If I… could even call her anything.

And he began to cry. Low and guttural, his sobs shook throughout his body leaving him cold and weak. He flung his hands into his hair and tugged at his roots. It didn’t hurt. Not the way he wished it did, but there wasn’t much he could do. It took everything in him not to scream.

In the coldness of his apartment, Corpse shuddered to the sounds of his own breath. In. Out. In. Out. In… Hold.

When he held his breath he could almost fade into a different reality. His brain would cloud with fog and he could drift off to where he wanted. Like lucid dreaming, but instead of sleeping he was shutting himself off. Letting his body enter into panic mode as it scrambled to send oxygen to his brain. If he was focused enough he could stop breathing entirely, he was sure of it. All it would take is one breath, one minute of him allowing himself to slip, and he would drift into the cold numbness he had grown accustomed to.

It was 9pm now. The sun had set and he was surprisingly alert. His stomach grumbled to the ticking of his clock.

“Great.” He mumbled to himself.

He knew for a fact there was no food in his fridge, with the exception of a half drunken health shake and maybe some cheap wine coolers. It dawned on him he would have to leave his home to get something. And even though his stomach sunk to his feet as he threw on his heavy outside jacket, he knew he couldn’t put it off. Not for another night.

Corpse made his way to his apartment door and just as he swung open the creaky wood, a small figure stumbled back, knocking into his door frame.

Alice.

Corpse stared at her, lanky limbs and daring stare. He noticed how she held his gaze. Almost as if she was searching for something, anything, in his soft eyes. Corpse’s cheeks held the faintest of blush from earlier. His eyes were no longer wet, but as Alice scanned his face, it was obvious there was pain hidden behind his nonchalant demeanor.

It was the only obvious thing about him actually.

There he stood, she mused to herself. Talk, dark, and mysterious. Corpse felt the tips of his ears burn the longer they stood that way.

“Hey.” He gritted out. “Is everything okay?”

“With me? Yeah…”

Corpse cocked his head at her response. It was in his nature to be apprehensive, and the longer she peered into him, the more he felt like slamming the door in her face and retreating. But he didn’t. He didn’t realize it at first, but he had something to prove. Not to Alice, but to himself.

“So what?” he smiled. “You just here to say ‘hi’”

“Something like that.”

“Well,” he laughed lowly. “Hey”

“Hey-”

“Invite me inside.” She rushed out. Her voice grew louder as she said it, eyes locked with his. The words were enough to send Corpse into a fit of laughter. The noise booming through the apartment hallway.

“What? I don’t even fucking know you?

“So?”

“So.” Corpse was taken aback. Was this girl completely off her rocker. “I- I don’t think that’s a good idea?”

Alice sighed quietly to herself. She looked nervously at him; a strange urgency in her eyes.

“For some reason you don’t strike me as someone who’s scared of bad ideas?”

“I’m not.”

She stepped closer and this time Corpse really got a good look at her. Her cheeks weren’t blushed and her eyes weren’t wet and puffy from tears. She looked effortlessly neat. Almost untouchable. Corpse looked away as if he was some reckless child and she was made of porcelain. It was clear to him now. She made him nervous, uncomfortable, restless. He hadn’t felt that way in what felt like forever. 

In all honesty, he had forgotten what that feeling felt like. But as she took another step closer, her stare facing his chest, he decided he wanted to explore the feeling. Porcelain girl be damned. He looked down at her, his face inches away from hers.“You can come in.” he whispered lowly. “If you want.”

Seconds felt like hours. The air was thick, the weight of Corpse’s words resting heavily on Alice’s shoulders. She took a step closer, her breath hitching to match his.

She did.

[flowersandcorpse]

I just started writing the second chapter and it’s almost finished! Thank you all for your amazing support of this fic, it really warms my heart :) I appreciate every single like, reblog, and comment. <3

[flowersandcorpse]

She’s Optimistic  (Not Me)

This is a Corpse Husband fic. I haven’t noticed any that weren’t x readers, so here you go! Feel free to comment, share, and send me questions. 

Genre: Slowburn, friends to lovers, angst, pining

TW: abuse, mental and health complications 

(This is the first chapter of many. I hope you enjoy!)

Corpse was never a very open person. He had a rough childhood and an ever rougher time living alone. There was always someone entering his life, breaking down his walls, and then giving him a million reasons to build them back up again. It was a cycle so constant and vicious, in a sick and sadistic way, he depended on it.

He hated how pathetic it made him feel. How fucking stupid he looked crying over someone he knew would leave him. But he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. He was broken and that’s all he would ever be.

The ground around him stood still as he slipped out of bed and fumbled his way to the bathroom. It was an average wednesday morning. He woke up around 11am, drained from the 3 hour stream from last night. His vision was blurred and his arms felt like lead as he bent down to pick up a teeshirt next to the sink. It was just a plain white tee, not flashy, no character, just average. Like today. He threw it on and looked at himself in the clouded mirror.

“Fuck,” he mumbled dryly. “Just… fuck.”

Do I actually look like this, he thought. So fucking thrown away? How the fuck did i wake up and look this shit? That’s damn impressive.

His lips parted, chapped and red. He had bitten them one too many times, the area around his mouth was a bit blushed and bruised. Corpse winced at the way his tongue darted out to glide against one of his snakebites. The piercings were a year old, but they tugged against his dry skin of his lips.1 Honestly, his appearance was something else. His hair was a mess of dark curls that spilt across his forehead and fell into his eyes. His lips were battered, his skin bruised, but his eyes… those were the worst. He had deep bags settled into his smooth skin. So dark and grotesque, they almost passed for bruises. He lifted a finger to touch the discolored flesh and smiled.

“Bastard. All you have to do is sleep and you can’t even do that.”

He splashed some water on his face and went to grab his phone when he heard a slam… from the other side of his bathroom wall. Of course he understood his apartment walls were thin, but he had never heard a thud so loud and violent coming from that apartment.

Actually, he’d never heard anything come from that apartment. When did he get neighbors? And why in the hell are they so loud.

Corpse clenched his fist to the sound. He could hear yelling, crying, and for the first time in awhile, he was actually tearing apart inside. It was unnatural and completely unwarranted.  But the more Corpse listened to the screaming, the pounding, the absolute terror in that muffled voice, his blood boiled. The anger came out of nowhere; red and burning. He was so used to feeling numb and angry at himself, but all of his self-doubt vanished. He was just ticked the fuck off.

The screaming continued and so did the crying, but it was the last blow to the wall that set him off. The room grew quiet but only for a second. A loud thud rang through his ears as he watched his mirror rattle from another impact. And another. Then he heard it. Corpse’s chest tightened and his nails dug into his palm so roughly he could feel his skin give way. It was a sob so disheartening, so shrill, he couldn’t help but growl at it.

That’s fucking it.

Corpse slammed his bathroom door close and stomped out of the apartment; face red and hot. It was too fucking early for this and he was not the one they wanted to piss off. His white tee clung to the perspiration on his chest and he left so abruptly, he didn’t have a chance to change out the loose black sweatpants he wore to bed. They drooped on his sunken frame, leaving part of his abdomen and hip bone exposed.

The next door apartment had grown quiet since Corpse slammed his bathroom door. He considered walking away and leaving whatever the fuck happened for his new disgruntled neighbors to handle. But then he thought back to the screaming, the pounding… that sob, and it took everything in him not to kick the door down and beat up whoever the fuck was behind it. Corpse lifted his knuckles to the wood of the door and pounded.

There was no response. Well, it’s too fucking late to quiet down now, bud, he snarked. He pounded harder this time not letting up. There was a rustle on the other side of the door and before long there stood a sunken frame in front of his own. Head down and sniffling, Corpse’s eyes widened at the girl standing in front of him.

“What do you want?” She snarled.

Corpse couldn’t bring himself to respond. She wore a baggy black sweatshirt and even baggier shorts. Corpse watched as she tugged on them and his eyes drew across her red thighs and bruised knees. His eyes skated across the rest of her body as if he was scanning every inch of skin, taking in every bruise, every cut, every mark. She snapped impatiently.

“Are you deaf, dumb, or both? Who are you?” This time Corpse did respond. His eyes dragged back to hers and he sighed.

“I heard screaming… and a lot of fucking noise.” He studied her face this time, taking in the puffy eyes and wet nose. Her skin was a warm tan color, young and smooth. With an exception of her swollen eyes and red cheeks, he almost thought she could be pretty. Her eyes widened when he spoke and she quickly looked away. Corpse wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure she winced. It made him feel guilty, as if his voice had shaken her in some way. But then she flashed a crooked smile and shook her head.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Well.” He gestured to her sunken form. “You alright?”

She looked at Corpse, dragging her eyes over his chest and up to his face. This time, it was her turn to study him. It wasn’t a challenging gaze, but it made him uncomfortable nonetheless.

“You never answered my question,” she pounced. Her dark hair fell flatly into eyes the way Corpse’s did. “Who are you?”

“Oh.. I’m,” he debated telling her his real name. She was just a neighbor. If she had really recognized his voice, she wouldn’t ask who he was. But, there was always the chance that she would know who he was if he told her his stage name as well.

“Yeah?” she questioned.

“Corpse. You can call me corpse.”

“Alice.”