Corpse Husband One-shots

The Ruins We Call Homes ⨀

Author: https://thefanficmonster.tumblr.com/

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Panic Attack, Swearing, Domestic Violence, Alcohol Abuse, Drug Abuse (Mentioned)

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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I put down the phone after hanging up the frustrating fifteen minute call I just had with my brother Miles. The fucker is five years older than me and yet I still have to sort out the messes he creates. I have moved out of my parents' house already, but it was foolish of me to think that the shitty place would release all hold of me once packed my stuff and abandoned ship. It's like the problems are magnets and I'm a piece of metal, just constantly getting pulled towards them with nothing to grab onto to prevent getting sucked back in.

Well, at least not until I met Corpse.

He was the one who grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out of reach. He pulled me out of the toxic magnetic field that is my parents' household. Maybe not permanently - blood is thicker than water after all - but even the shortest moments of unlimited freedom, the moments where I allowed myself to forget what kind of ruin I come from made a big difference in me. Without those moments, I would've snapped long ago.

Without Corpse I would've turned into a ruin myself.

"What did he say?" Corpse asks from the other side of the kitchen island. A beep distracts him and he turns around, poring coffee in a mug which he hands to me. The warm scent has a calming effect on me, not as much as it usually does - it's second to none at the moment, actually - but I appreciate the gesture.

Corpse is that helping hand I've needed all my life. Even when he can't pull me out of reach of the shadows of my past, he's there to make sure they don't harm me. Not too badly, at least. He's there for me to share my low moments with him, to be my pillar of strength and hope because it's really easy for me to lose those two things when things like this happen. I try not to allow myself to crumble nor rely too much on Corpse, but my legs aren't strong enough to carry me sometimes; my brain doesn't have the capacity to endure so many poisonous thoughts and detoxify them - turn them into something that will move me forward. No person is strong enough, though I wish I was.

"Dad gave him two hours to pack his shit and bail or he'd 'hurl him out of the house with his own two hands'. And mom was backing him up on top of all! It's a real shit-show back there, Corpse!" I take a sip of the black, slightly sweetened liquid in the mug he handed me. "That's not all, however...." I trail off as chills start running up and down my limbs, "Miles said dad was...drinking again. God forbid the fucker actually gets to the point of hurling my dumbass brother out."

My hands go unsteady at the thought - more at the memory of that time dad broke Miles' nose while drunk out of his mind. I shake my head and set the mug on the island, grabbing the edge of the counter firmly as though it will help me steady my jittering.

Corpse reaches over the island, taking my hands in his in a gentle, reassuring hold. "I'm telling you, he can move in with us on unlimited time. I wouldn't mind it whatsoever. He's a nice dude, or at least he seemed that way when I met him. Doesn't even matter - he is important to you and that's what matters to me. Call him and tell him to pack his stuff and come live here." His gaze locks mine in place, his words so convincing and genuine, I almost give in.

Almost

"No, no way. Not only does he need to learn to stand on his own two feet, but he'll also bring all his baggage with him. And I'm not talking material stuff - he doesn't have a lot of that - I mean all the shady things he does. I don't want us getting involved with that. I'm not risking you getting hurt, Corpse." I say, feeling all the frustration I have pent up bubbling in my chest.