"Will God Forgive Us?" @rockini - Tumblr Blog

can you please write something hurt/comfort or fluff with Habit? your writing is great!! it would be interesting to see how you'd write him in a more comforting scenarios :3c

࣪ ִֶָ☾. - [|✧ Cry Me a River Part 2✧|] (HABIT x Reader)

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┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Word Count : 3.1K // Summary: Habit was acting off, zoning out and staring into space. For some odd reason, he decides to use you like a makeshift plushie and you start to realize that maybe he’s keeping you here to be a bit more than just his plaything.

┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | A/N: I’m glad you enjoyed my writing!! I hope this reads well, I haven't had the chance to write hurt/comfort for Habit before, but I was eager to try! The only time Habit ever canonically “comforts” someone is when he comforts Vinny in Lexi, but even then it didn't read entirely genuine, more like he was trying to manipulate Vinny into action. But I tried to emulate it a little. I don't mind taking requests, they actually give me a lot of motivation to write. So, thank you so much for sending one Anon!!! I might be writing another fluffy prompt for him soon in a different context. This still feels a bit too angsty, but it’s good buildup for something sweeter.

┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Rating: SFW // Content Warnings: N/A

┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Tags: Oneshot, Hurt/Comfort, AFAB Reader, Toxic Relationship, HABIT Is His Own Warning & No Beta We Die Like Jeff.

── .✦ | Cry Me a River Part 1 - This can also be read as a standalone.

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── .✦ 🐇

You had been curled up on the couch for most of the time Habit had been gone, your head pressed against the armrest and your body curled in on itself, your arms wrapped around your chest. You could feel the frame of the couch underneath the ratty cushions, and it smelled musty and untouched, almost like cardboard, even though you had been curled up here for what you could only assume was for a few days.

You hadn't thought about much in a while now; your mind had been blissfully silent for the last few days, save for a few brief passing thoughts during the few hours you willed yourself to stay awake. Most of the time, you just stared at the scratch marks on the armrests or traced the holes in the woven fabric cushions with the tip of your finger absentmindedly. It still hurt to swallow, but the bruising around your neck had faded at least, yet there was still a sickly lavender color indented into your skin in the shape of his hand. A scathing reminder of your last breakdown. But compared to the almost inky black color it had been, you were healing.

Habit had completely ignored everything that had transpired between the two of you; you couldn't even be exact on how long it had been. Maybe he just didn't care; maybe it had meant nothing to him at all, and you were the only idiot worrying about it. That was what you had assumed, anyway.

Either way, you had spent your time curled up here, listening to the vague, eerie silence of what was his home. Odd creaks from the floorboards, metal popping in the distance anytime there was a small shift. When Habit was gone, it was like the house curled around you, with the absence of its owner, it clung to the one living thing inside of it. Sometimes it was comforting, but on days like this, it was simply unnerving, like it was suffocating you within its peeling wallpaper walls.

Most days, Habit ignored you, went about doing whatever it is that he does- you never asked, you didn’t want to know, in any case. Other days, he would poke at you like you were roadkill, like he was testing to see if you were still alive or trying to rouse a reaction out of you with his prodding. Some days, he would drag you around by your wrist or the collar of your shirt, ranting and raving about whatever was in his ‘grand plan’, something you couldn’t understand and weren’t exactly privy to. Sometimes he treated you like a doll, manhandled you, and pretended to be more human than he really was, playing pretend with you to try and elicit some sort of empathetic response from you in turn. Sometimes you felt like he just wanted an audience, a conspirator, a witness to see everything he was doing and nod along like a puppet on strings.

But today was different; things had been eerily quiet until Habit materialized seemingly out of thin air. He plopped down on the couch unceremoniously, staring straight ahead at the wall behind the television as he flopped against the cushions. You startled in response, almost letting out a yelp, your breath hitching and your body tensing sharply. You really did hate it when he did that, just materialized out of nowhere with almost no warning, you were positive he did it on purpose, or at the very least, he didn’t care. You were already paranoid enough without having to wonder when he was going to pop out at seemingly any given time; you could only sigh, releasing the tension in your heart. You swore you were going to have a heart attack because of it one of these days.

You chanced a glance over to him, still lying on your side. He was sitting next to your feet, uncomfortably close with his thigh pressing against them. Despite how much he despised when people touched him, he still had no qualms about invading your personal space at any given time, like he owned it. You didn't think you had ever seen him so... lifeless. Usually, he was energetic, playful, sarcastic above all-- but right now, he seemed about as listless as you were. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end; you could only wonder if this listlessness was an accumulation of anger or something else. The only other time you had ever seen him be this quiet and still before was when he was completely and utterly pissed off at someone or something. It made you brace yourself for the inevitable point that he would snap and either take it out on you or everything around him, dragging you into it.

He was zoning out, staring into the distance with a blank expression as if there wasn’t a thought in his mind at all. In another short moment, the television turned on without him even looking at it, startling you yet again as a muted laugh track from an old sitcom television show you could barely recognize, something that had come out a bit before your time. You squinted your eyes, your attention drawn to the soft glow of it; at least this one was in fuzzy colors, usually all he put on were black and white horror movies that you couldn’t recognize, with less dialogue and more screams than anything.

He didn’t say much to you for a while, his arms crossed over his chest and his body completely still, like a corpse. For a moment, you wondered if he was even breathing at all, if his heart was even beating. You weren’t daring enough to poke at his shoulder and see, even if it would only be fair with the ridiculous number of times that he had done the same to you.

"You have got to be the most miserable creature I have ever met," He finally muttered, breaking the tense silence. His voice was almost a low growl, but he definitely sounded exasperated. Tired, you realized. You didn't think you would ever see the day when Habit would look or sound even remotely exhausted, considering he never slept, at least to your knowledge. You had only ever seen him eat, nothing more. If he still had to eat periodically, surely he had to sleep at some point, right?

“Do you always just look like a kicked puppy?” He asked sarcastically, not even bothering to look over to you. The soft glow of the television was bathing him in a warm light; his eyes almost glowed a sickly violet color in the dark of the room. Shadow settled over his face with the way his head was tilted downward ever so slightly. You could only glance down at the floor, focusing on his scuffed-up, dirty boots. For the most part, you just tried to block out his comments now; the less you listened to his mocking words, the better off you were in most cases, even if he would berate you for being 'brainless' when you disconnected yourself from whatever cheap shots he was taking at you for his own amusement.

When you didn’t reply to his comment, he got visibly irritated. You thought he was just going to keep berating you, but instead, he growled in annoyance, snatching your ankle, his nails digging into your skin. With a sharp tug, he dragged you towards him, making you yelp and sharply roll onto your back. It didn’t deter him, of course; nothing ever seemed to deter him when it came to you, not crying, not screaming, and definitely not fighting. But you just didn't have the energy to fight him much anymore; it was futile, and you just didn't have a reason to anymore.

He yanked you onto his lap, adjusting you so you were sitting on top of his muscular thighs, facing him directly with your own thighs pressed against his sides and your legs folded. He tightened his grip on your ankle, his grip shifting down until he had his thumb pressed against the arch of your foot, massaging the center of it. Like how someone would play with a pet’s paw pads, maybe. Your toes couldn’t help but curl at the sensation, and you couldn’t fight the flush that rose to your face, a mix of being sat on his lap so casually and his teasing. You were much too easy to fluster.

You could only dryly swallow as he pressed you to his chest, settling you on his lap. Your face was buried in the layers of clothes he wore, from his dirty, stained, and ripped flannel to the black, faded horror movie t-shirt underneath. He was constantly wearing so many layers. Was he cold? You wondered. Could he even feel temperature? When had you even started worrying about him like that? You tensed almost immediately as his arms wrapped around you, his chin settling in your hair. You could still smell the faint scent of iron clinging to him and something foreign to you, akin to ozone. At least it was mostly familiar now, with the amount of time you had spent around him, it wasn’t as off-putting anymore.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you hate my guts and all- “ He huffed in irritation, a bit theatrically, in your opinion. Sometimes it was hard to tell with how quickly his moods switched back and forth, but for now, it read as relatively playful. “But just sit tight and shut up, ‘kay?” He finished, a bit of his weight pressing into you now like he was trying to subdue you, forcing you to sit still. You could only relent.

He leaned back into the ratty couch cushions and propped his feet up on the dusty, scratched-up wood coffee table, crossing his legs. He wasn't tense anymore; instead, he was rather languid in his movements, his shoulders untensed. Was his relaxed demeanor supposed to make you feel calmer too? Or was he just luring you into a false sense of security?

You were still wary enough that you trembled at first; you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the way your head felt fuzzy as adrenaline rushed through your veins, screaming at you to struggle and run. But he held you firmly in place, and you couldn’t run even if you wanted to; your legs would give out on you because of your nerves. It was strange, feeling like you were in the sharp-toothed jaws of a wolf when he only had his arms wrapped around you. But you knew better than to ever underestimate him and what he could do in the blink of an eye. He had too much power here, more than you could even fathom yourself.

You didn’t move for a while, hoping not to provoke him. He muttered nonsensically into your hair, about things you couldn’t understand and things you could barely hear, that was probably for the best. After a while, his low rambling just turned into background noise too. Your thoughts wandered a bit, back and forth between his intentions and your regular overthinking. You could only cringe internally when you realized you couldn’t remember the last time you had let someone cuddle you, let alone use you like a plush toy to hug and rant to. After a while in his firm hold, you didn’t move at all; you just listened to the background noise of the television running. You could hear the laugh track every so often, muffled by Habit’s chest.

Against yourself, you sort of relaxed, as long as he would just stay like this, you didn’t mind it as much as you thought you did. Yet again, the rational part of your mind was hitting you over the head with a rolled-up newspaper, chiding you for letting something like this happen all over again. But the stupid, mushy part of your heart liked it, liked the attention, liked being held and cuddled, even if he was just using you as a makeshift stuffed animal. You didn’t think you would ever stop feeling conflicted about it all, not as long as the rational part of your mind still persisted.

Your eyes watered a little; you were still scared, but some part of you just wanted to revel in the comfort of being held, even if it seemed to be more for his benefit than yours. You were touch-starved, even if you tended to avoid the subject entirely, but it was hard to deny it when he just did things like this, dragging you into his lap or getting touchy with you. It made you feel a little sick, but you still couldn’t shake the guilt. Even if Evan was gone, it still felt wrong to feel this way about Habit. He had killed Evan, in essence, killed your friends. You had to keep reminding yourself of that, had to keep as much distance as you could emotionally.

“…Why are you keeping me around?” You whispered into his chest, your voice a little choked up, you weren’t even sure if he could hear you like this. But it was the first time you had ever dared to ask the question that had been weighing on you since the beginning, threatening to be your undoing. Why you? Why you out of everyone else? There was nothing special about you, nothing particularly intriguing, but out of everyone, you were the only one still alive, still breathing.

He didn’t answer for a long time, but you felt his grip on you tighten as he pondered an answer. He was taking his time thinking of a response, and it only made you feel dread at what his answer could be.

“You make pretty decent eye candy when you’re bawling your eyes out, but maybe you’d look prettier if you weren’t sulking all the time.” He drawled, sarcasm dripping through like usual, as he began to drum his fingers against your hip, he was back to fidgeting. “It’s kinda funny how you look at me, like you’re starving for scraps and I’m the only one offering. At least, when you look at me and don’t see Evan,” He scrunched his nose at his own words, his fingers stilling, like he had said something too honest, too loosely. He only shook his head, like he was waving something off.

“But let’s be real, babydoll, without you, I don’t have anyone else worth tormenting right now,” Habit amended, backtracking almost defensively. There might’ve been a bit of truth to it. You were the only one left, and you weren’t sure what else he was even doing right now with everyone else dead and gone. Something correlating to his ‘plan’ again, you had to guess.

“But don’t think about it too hard, I’ll get rid of you when you’re not much fun to play with anymore,” He hummed, settling with his normal mocking and a vague threat, his hand coming up and giving you a patronizing pat on the back of your head. His hand drifted back down your spine, tracing each individual vertebrae until finally he just dropped back down to your foot, making you squirm on impulse again. He started to rub the sole of your foot again, pressing his fingertips in deep to work out the kinks you hadn’t even known were there. You winced, the nerves spasming, and slowly but surely, it didn’t hurt as much anymore. Maybe you really did need to start getting up more; you were stiff, yet you hadn’t paid any attention to it until now, too caught up in your own thoughts and whatever antics he dragged you into.

As he continued, his other hand rubbing at your hip bone in deep circles, he wasn’t holding you down anymore, and for once, he wasn’t completely harassing you. It felt nice, and you felt your body get warm all over again. You had a feeling he was just trying to get you to shut up again; it was clear he didn’t want to speak on the subject any longer, and you weren’t in any position to push it.

When the tension was eased out of you again, the knots worked out of both of your feet, he wrapped his arms around your torso again, but his holder was looser this time, less all consuming and forceful. He started to rock you both back and forth gently, cradling you against his chest.

Your breathing evened out a bit, your eyes and limbs beginning to feel heavy as your head lolled against his chest. You couldn't stay awake forever. It was the only need you still seemed to have; you hadn't eaten, hadn't drunk any water, but you were alive. And somehow, sleep was the only thing your body still forced you into. Sleep was the only thing that cleared your head long enough for you to get your mind off of everything, to stop you from overthinking and thinking too much about your doomed future.

Just as you finally closed your eyes, you heard Habit’s subtle whisper against your hair, his confession quiet and subtle. "I figure if I keep you around long enough, maybe… maybe you'll learn to love me, instead of him." He finally admitted into the static of the room, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, but it was the clearest you had ever heard his real voice. Not the odd mish-mash of Evan’s voice and his rasp, his real voice, something otherworldly, deep and echoing. He might’ve never done it if he didn’t think you were asleep. You might’ve never heard it if you had been any closer to unconsciousness.

Maybe this was what he was like when he didn’t think he had an audience, when he wasn’t putting on an act for anyone, maybe not even for himself.

But there was something distinctly hollow in him, something insatiable.

You’d seen it in small moments, his blank stares, the way he viewed humans in general, like lesser beings, like animals, with the way he hunted them down like deer. And when he rambled about change, it slowly made you realize that his world must feel stagnant to him. You didn’t know much, but you knew for sure that he had been around for a very, very long time. Eternity was a lonely existence, an empty one if nothing ever changed.

You knew this could only be the calm before the storm; this peace could never last, especially not with him. But you still slipped into a warm, dreamless sleep, static filling your ears and your mind finally shutting down as you drifted off with thoughts of what living in this tentative peace could look like.

── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ back to masterlist. ✦ .ᐟ

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