#habit fluff

The thing was scary; horrifying frankly. Warm, fleshy breath fanning over your face, daybreak blinding you from behind your curtains. You were in shock, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare into the deep sockets it had in place of eyes. It was so fast, so quick on its spindly legs. One second it was pushing open your door, and before you had a moment to acknowledge its presence in the room, its boney hands were pressing into your chest.

It was some sort of creature, certainly not human. There was no describing it, not really. It was human in silhouette. A person, up until it wasn’t. The skin was pale except for where it was sunken and shadowed, it had hands with claws attached. Though, it didn’t quite matter what it looked like, what it was, after its blood was dripping onto the floor through a slice straight through its neck. Limp body draped over your boyfriend’s arm, dead weight picked up like it was nothing.

Boyfriend may have been a strong word. Captor may have been better, considering it was technically your house that you were sitting in, which he had taken over. He looked after you, though. A keeper- guard. No matter how you described it, you were something with him. With it, the Habit. Enough of something that he felt the need to keep you from dying. He sprinted down the hall, and found himself lunging at the thing, pinning it to your bedroom floor. Right at your feet, jumping to your protection.

Within five minutes the body was disposed of, thrown somewhere in the backyard, as far away from you as it could be. The large machete used to deal the killing blow still sat on the ground, blood congealing to the wood floor beneath it. Was it even blood, the substance oozing into your belongings? Where was Habit now, what was he doing? Why did he seem so nonchalant about handling such a thing? Your brain was running a million miles a minute, a hundred questions passing through faster than you could get answers.

Your heart hit your ribcage so hard you were sure it would leave bruises. Your blood, slowly warming from the ice cold it had run to. It was far too much to process in such a short period of time. Safe and sound in sleep, but faced with what seemed like certain death upon waking. One of the scariest moments of your life, there was no way you were winning against that thing, no matter how hard you struggled. Your fight would have fallen on deaf ears, and the thought made you shiver.

You knew you weren’t getting back to sleep, not with your room a mess. Not with Habit out of sight. The thing was dead, that was clear, but a part of you still worried. It’s large claws and unnatural gurgled hisses indicated zero chance of survival if you tried to fight it yourself. You wanted- simply needed -to know where he was. Just in case there were more, in case the death of one invited others. Just in case, of course.

“Habit?” You called out with a shaky tone, your words falling into the warm walls of the house. Now sitting atop the sheets, no desire to step down for fear of anything getting you. Afraid of anything getting on you, for that matter. Touching that stuff was the last thing on your mind.

There was no response, just heavy boot clunks from downstairs that didn’t seem to get any closer or further. The sound of running water, small clangs and locks being latched. Rustling on the floor below, he was dealing with the aftermath which had splattered onto himself. He was inside, that was a comfort to cling to if nothing else.

“Habit, what are you doing?” You called again, louder this time. Using all the energy you had through the spike of horribly sharp adrenaline that still sat in your chest. You didn’t realize how panicked you still were until you heard your own voice, unsteady. Your hands gripping your sheets like you would be taken away if you didn’t

“Hold your damn horses, I’ll be up!” Habit’s usual low, gravely voice hit your ears and you instantly felt so much more secure. Sat back on your heels, still not quite able to get comfortable in your own bedroom. Still processing what you had just seen, what you had narrowly escaped.

You weren’t unaware of the existence of these things. Of course you knew, there was no avoiding it when you’re tangled up with who you found yourself involved with. You knew of them. They had never made it inside, however, you didnt know they were even getting on your property. It was always something he dealt with on his own, away from your eyes and ears. You could only know as much as he told you, and when it came to this topic, he rarely said much.

He could only do so much to shelter your eyes from such grotesque sights when they brought themselves to you. Breaking into your room, threatening your life. He felt lucky he got to it before you could even get a good look at it. He could smell the creature. He just assumed it was in the woods, off on the outskirts of the property. It wasn’t until he heard its claws on the wood that he realized it had made its way inside.

It didn’t take much effort to get rid of, the cleanup would be worse than the murder. All the same, you were grateful to him, he was always getting you out of the situations you were too weak to get out of on your own. Always stepping between you and danger, even if he reiterated that he was only doing so for his own amusements, that he was keeping you around for his entertainment.

You heard his boots on the stairs- one stomp after another. After all these years of taking human bodies, he never seemed to learn how to maneuver them quite right. Maybe he didn’t care to, the uncanny nature of his movement wasn’t his problem to worry about, after all. He paid it no mind, and he knew what to do with those who pointed it out. 

Upon walking up to your doorway, he scowled at the sight at the foot of your bed. No corpse but there was no question that there had been one there at one point in time. Staining the nice rug, the wood furniture, the substance thickening and becoming hard. It didn’t smell like blood, whatever it was. Did Habit even know what it was?

“What’s wrong?” He asked blankly, looking at your shaken state with confusion. Not intentional condescension, genuine confusion. He didn’t see the problem, there was no reason for you to be scared. “It’s gone, pinky promise. Beheaded the bitch and everything. Just didn’t wanna do that in here, too much of a mess.”

“That thing could have killed me.” You reminded him, finally coming down from your balled up posture. Relaxing to the best of your ability now that Habit was in the room, giving you a visual sign of safety. A bulky, loud, persistent visual.

“And so could I? Don’t know what your point is.” Habit shrugged, a laugh behind his words. He wasn’t trying to belittle you, really he wasn’t, he just genuinely couldn’t see the problem. The threat was gone, what was the issue? It was over, you knew you were okay. You knew he wouldn’t let you die at the hands of another, that was for him only. What was there to worry about now?

“You wouldn’t, though. That thing wanted my blood.” You glanced at the puddles lining your floor, eyes wide. Processing in real time as you spoke. “Do you even know what it’s like to feel scared to die?” The question wasn’t accusatory, no, it was entirely genuine. You weren’t sure if he had experienced fear- let alone that sort of earth shattering existential terror. 

“You were scared to die back there? Ah, fuck, I get it.” He sighed, readjusting his cap. Facial features softening like they always did when he was doing his absolute hardest to try and understand the human experience. Which was a lot, he did his very best to understand personhood. Though, it was more for his sake than the worlds. “The adrenaline gives ‘ya anxiety, huh. Shakes ‘ya up like a soda pop!”

For once, he wasn’t making fun of you. He wasn’t trying to be mean, or annoying, or controlling. Truly doing his best just to put the pieces together. Whether it was for you, or to better know how to manipulate for the future, was unclear. It wasn’t something you were quite used to, Habit attempting to understand before reacting. Most times, he jumped before he ever looked down.

Without a word, he maneuvered his way over to your bedside. Stepping over the blood on the floor, doing his best not to get it on his shoes. You watched him closely. There was no way of telling what his next move was, but his big hand on your shoulder felt comforting and it quickly slid down your arm. “Here we go!” He said, more to himself than to you. Tone far too proud of himself for the situation you were in and what he was planning on doing. 

Hooking his hands under your knees and behind your back, he picked you up with ease, carrying you over the muck. He walked you into what he had designated as “his” bedroom, where he carelessly dropped you onto the bed. The give of the mattress made you bounce, and you couldn't help but laugh. You could have died moments ago, but here you were being put on a bed you weren't usually allowed to be in the same room as. Like a kid who had a nightmare being permitted to sleep in their parents room.

You werent entirely sure why Habit was showing you such grace. Most times, your human emotions and reactions were a burden to him. Something he put up with, helped you get through if it came down to it, but he was never affectionate as a response to pain. That was always reserved for if and when he felt like it, not when it suited you best.

Truth was, when he saw you so shaken, he thought about you dying. He imagined your insides spraying the walls, and your blood soaking through his ill-fitting jeans. It didnt excite him, however. It didnt give him the temptation to jump you in the way it did for others. He could not figure it out, but the mental image made him uneasy, wrong. Something about that angered him, the fact that he had an opinion on whether you lived.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that, it was so rarely that he felt anything but  blood lust for a person. Why were you any different? It pained him trying to figure it out, so he instead focused on you and ignored whatever that feeling was. ‘This would look good to them’ he thought. That was all, just another tactic of getting into your head.

Realizing that he’d made even more mess with his grand gesture, he removed his now soaked-through shoes, as well as his cap for . He hopped into the bed next to you, he did not get under the covers, instead he opted to lay on top of them. Did he usually lay in bed this way? It wouldnt have surprised you, he always seemed to have his own quirks about these sorts of things.

“Get comfortable! You’re staying here for the night.” Habit reassured, tone almost vulgar despite nothing out of line being said. He knew he was going to leave the moment you fell asleep, so he didn’t shed any unnecessary clothing, nor did he get too used to the luxuries, but you didnt need to know that yet. 

He was here to watch, to check in. Not unlike most nights, standing in your doorway, admiring the way you breathe. Tonight he was watching over you. Giving you that extra bar of security that may help you drift off, standing guard like a dog. He had to do something with himself, give himself a task. It was not often that he felt any sort of way about a person, he was nearly angry at you for it but he wasnt acknowledging that either.

“I’m sleeping in your bed?” You asked, flabbergasted, almost teasing in your tone. You didn’t mean for it to come off that way, but you were in disbelief. Most of the time you weren’t permitted into this room, let alone in his bed. You weren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought you in here but it wasn’t that. The big scary Habit cared, your heart was simply melting.

“No shit, what else would I drag you in here for!” He was offended, at what he saw as your stupidity or his own vulnerabilities that were coming through was unknown. The deep growl to his voice only gained volume. “Your room is all fucked up, and you’re all fucked up. Common sense.”

“Habit, I’m not quite sure what you’re ever doing. How was I supposed to know that was the intention?” You chuckled, looking away from him, you knew youd start laughing if you saw his pissed off face and you knew that would only piss him off more. You allowed yourself to hop under the covers, finding them surprisingly fresh. There was nothing saying Habit knew how to do his own laundry as you did all of your own. He seemed to like a clean and organized space, that evidently included his bed.

“Alright, cool guy. I’m doing you a favor here, watchin’ over you and shit. Don’t get smart with me.” The words were brash, but he was smiling. He’d never admit it, but he loved when you returned his bite. You were the only one who did, the only one who dared to talk back to him. It was all part of the game he was always enjoying.

“Once you’re out, I’m cleaning up that mess so I don’t have’ta look at it. You’re on your own after that, got it?” He said it like a threat, a retort to the annoyance of your previous jab. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, he hoped you’d take the affection and be asleep before you knew it. With his other hand, he picked up a book that you hadn’t even noticed on his nightstand.

You savored that feeling. His unnatural muscles holding you so tightly, knowing that whatever threat entered those walls could be taken care of by him. Total safety. Something unfamiliar to feel from him- such a creature. You fell into the trap so easily and willingly, he would have thought it was pathetic had it not been for the circumstances.

The night's debacles had you exhausted. Even more so than you were when you’d originally gotten to sleep in the hours earlier. The exceptionally warm body next to you was tempting you into sleep like nothing else. You weren’t paying attention to anything he was saying anyway.

When Habit isn’t torturing or killing people he’ll often lounge around his little cabin trying to find things to pass the time.

Most often that would be you, but he’ll eventually get tired of the way you reject his advances and will find himself retiring to the couch instead.

So when he’s laying there feeling a little pitiful and you’re suddenly on top of him, he couldn’t be more overjoyed.

Now, the chance of you actually getting to do this is slim, especially since he keeps you tied up all the time because he’s scared you’ll try and escape. 

But there are few moments where he lets you free, mostly when he knows you won’t try and do anything too mischievous. 

When you do slide on top of him, mumbling about how you just need a little warmth he’ll immediately take the opportunity to tease.

“Is the little rabbit cold?” he’ll chuckle, holding a firm grip on your hips so you’d have no way of leaving him.

He’s definitely not a very attentive cuddler, so he won’t play with your hair or anything but he will definitely always have at least one hand on you at all times. 

He doesn’t really sleep either so if you end up dozing off in his arms, he will just..watch you.  

Creep. 

He only ever sleeps when Evan’s body begins to give out from the exhaustion and even then he’s very hesitant because he doesn’t like acting so human. 

But on very rare occasions you might wake up to a sleeping Habit beneath you.

And he does in fact purr. 

Afterwards you will be forced to start actually sleeping with him, (mostly you sleeping and him watching) because now that you did it once, you’re obviously gonna have to do it every night from then on.

© starrydoll don’t steal, copy or translate any of my work to any other platform.

Carefully and quietly, you wandered around the house. You were restless and didn't know what else you could possibly do to make the feeling go away. It almost felt like you had eyes on you, which only proved your long held belief that HABIT had guard dogs around. Each of your steps had a slight slide to them from the socks you were wearing and you couldn't help but smile. There were certain little joys you could still feel and acknowledge and you were so grateful for that.

Your steps were aimless. You weren't really thinking of anything as you walked, rounding into the dining room. If you could really call it that. It was closer to the living room than the kitchen in your opinion. HABIT's weird little house/pocket dimension wasn't your business, though. Primarily because you knew you couldn't fully understand how any of it worked. There were also just things you were too scared to ask about - you didn't like not knowing things and you were scared of any answers he could give you. He was so unpredictable.

A phone ringing breaks you out of your thoughts. Last you knew, there wasn't a phone in this house, cell or landline. You look around you for a moment, knowing that it had to be close by based on the ringing. You found a white, slightly blocky house phone sitting on the kitchen table. You had no idea where it came from or why it was one of the bricks from decades ago, but that was the least of your worries. A mystery phone was ringing in a house your demonic captor/partner had taken ownership of. You take a deep breath and answer it before you get the opportunity to really think about whether or not you should.

You hold the phone up to your ear, listening for anything on the other line - breathing, static, a dial tone. There's nothing, though. It's oddly silent as though it were dead. "Hello?" Your voice is low and you wonder if you sound nervous. You tried not to. It was a strange and slightly scary situation you found yourself in.

"Hello?" The person on the other line repeated. You weren't sure if you knew the voice or not. It was distorted and everything that could have made the voice familiar to you wasn't.

"Who is this?" You ask, an almost confrontational edge to your voice. There was panic in it, but you were still trying to be brave. If anything happened to you, HABIT would be pissed. The thought was almost amusing somehow.

"Who do you think it is?" They question unhelpfully. Despite your initial worries, you were quickly becoming annoyed. You had been so restless that you were hoping for something interesting and so far it wasn't.

"I don't know." You huff. To your knowledge, this was a stranger. Whether you had an attitude of not was unimportant.

The other line was silent again for a moment and you briefly wondered if you should hang up. You weren't going to, though. There was still the tiniest bit of curiosity within the annoyance that kept you there. "Tell me," the voice starts. "What's your favorite scary movie, bunny?"

You feel like your body freezes up, despite the excitement bubbling in your stomach. That was a voice you recognized. You bite the inside of your bottom lip softly, fighting a smile. "I think you already know, Mr. Ghostface." You coyly play along, hopping up to sit on the kitchen table.

HABIT's gravelly chuckle sounds from the other line and you swear you feel your face heat up. "Alright then, bunny. If you don't want to answer my question, how about we play a game?"

Now that you knew that it was HABIT, you were intrigued. You couldn't help it. "What kinda game?" Somehow, you were feeling shy. It was the same way you felt when you first met Evan. It was love at first sight with him and you had to push back the feeling that you were evil for forming some kind of connection to HABIT when he wasn't technically around. You could hate yourself later. Right now, you just wanted to be present for something you were hoping would bring you joy.

"Hide and seek." He answers. "But you've gotta do better, you're in plain sight." You look up and around yourself immediately, not seeing HABIT anywhere and you can't help the grin that breaks out on your face. You all but drop the phone on the table and push yourself off of the table, breaking into a run.

You're not sure when the footsteps appeared behind you, but you couldn't help but laugh when you realized you weren't just hearing your own anymore. If anything, the excitement grew. You were loudly giggling at this point and could practically feel HABIT getting closer.

"I thought I told you to hide, bunny!" HABIT teased, as though he even gave you a moment to even think of a place to do so.

Before you knew it, you were pulled into his chest, one of his hunting knives at the base of your throat. Your eyes were pulled down to where the knife was, before looking up. In front of the two of you was a mirror and you had no idea whether or not it had been there before, your head too empty as you stared at your reflection. The ghostly white mask with its hollow eyes and gaping mouth, the arm secured around your waist. "Caught you, didn't I, bun?"

You kept staring at him before looking down at the knife again. "Uh-huh." Your voice was barely audible.