⊹ฺ Contains: Angst; A part two of this; One (1) mention of blood (word only, no description); GN! Reader; Second POV; Reader loved Evan so bad; Every use of Evan is 100% intentional; Making out?; Reader being delusional from grief; Use of Rabbit (1), Bug (1) and Bun (2) as pet names; SFW; 1,573 words
⊹ฺ Note: I don't even really know what to say. I hope you guys enjoy, though! Mwah! ♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱
—
You hear the front door close, but you can't bring yourself to move from your spot on the bed.
You shouldn't have laid there for so long, letting yourself sit with your feelings. The vulnerability settled over your body like a weight, barely able to do so much as blink through your lashes that had clumped together from your tears, a sharp ache behind your forehead. Despite yourself, you can't help your thoughts drifting from the slam of the door downstairs back to Evan. Your eyes close, and it's like you can feel his arms around you, feel the warmth radiating from him. You would be secure and warm, and the swipe of his thumbs underneath your eyes that you would just barely feel.
The bedroom door opens, and you don't even flinch. You know who it is, despite not hearing any footsteps coming up the stairs and not having a clear view of the door. Your eyes can't seem to drag themselves away from the screen that had gone black from lack of activity ages ago. You were getting yourself in trouble with Him, you could feel it, but you didn't even have the energy to cry, despite the sting against your eyes and the air in your lungs preparing for the next loud, heartbroken sob you might release.
"Not even gonna greet me? What a rude little rabbit." HABIT taunts you with the usual bite to His words, but you're so low the threat doesn't even register. If you were more present, you likely would have rolled your eyes.
HABIT scoffs at your lack of response, and before you know it, you feel His hand grip the front of the shirt you're wearing and pull you towards Him. You weakly glare, ignoring the way that your skin crawls at the feeling of HABIT taking in every detail and analyzing your appearance. "What's with you?" There isn't any concern, only judgment, and you let your eyes drift to the side. You have never once cared about how HABIT felt about you, knowing you were mainly alive to keep Vinny in place as His little errand boy. Despite that lack of care, though, you hated the way you felt and knew that you looked pathetic. Not just to HABIT, but to yourself. You broke the mirror in your room months ago for that exact reason.
The silence between the two of you is tense. Cautiously, you look back at Him and feel the tears finally well up again. Gods, you missed Evan.
A smirk lifts the corners of HABIT's mouth as He pieces things together. The tears and the puppy-like wideness to your eyes aren't fear this time. It's multiple negative emotions, all heavy enough to crush you any second. "Aw, bunny." He's obviously teasing you, but there's something about how He says it that sounds exactly the same way Evan would, and if you ignore the pet name, maybe you could convince yourself that it was him instead. "Poor thing, c'mere."
It feels like your body goes limp at his words as HABIT lifts you completely off the bed and takes your place, sitting you on His lap. Nothing behind His actions feels salacious as you curl into Him against your better judgment. Your body seeks out the comfort HABIT seems to be providing as one of His hands slips behind your neck and the other beneath your knees, pulling you closer to His body. There's a shocking gentleness that you know better than to trust, but He looks and feels just like Evan. He's not covered in blood for once; the deeper edge and rasp that His voice usually carries are softer now, almost like they never existed. Your arms tentatively move from being curled against your chest, unfurling to drape over his shoulders, and tilting your head up to look at him.
As though HABIT didn't already feel like Evan through your grief-blurred brain, the smirk that had been on His lips looked more like a soft grin, formed from sympathy and adoration. You know HABIT can't feel either of those things, at least not properly, but your brain is trying to tell you that it's not Him who's holding you. It's not Mankind's Bad HABIT, it's Evan Myers. The man you met when you were both teenagers, the one who never failed to make you laugh or look after you, and always made sure you knew how loved you were.
Your arms bend before you can register your own movement, back straightening as you push yourself closer to Him, staring into his pretty eyes, knowing they're full of nothing but love before you bring your lips to his.
The kiss starts out as a soft little peck. One to test the waters of the delusional haze your brain created to bring you comfort. A negative response doesn't follow, so you go in again, longer this time, giving Him the chance to kiss back. Your lips move together in a way that manages to stay soft, despite all of the emotions swimming behind your ribcage. Your arms are fully pulling Him against you now, a hand moving to softly thread into His hair that manages to remain silky, even with all of the things he gets up to.
His hands shift ever so slightly to keep you upright. The hand on the back of your neck moves slightly to support your head, and the other presses further into the back of your knees like He was trying to get closer to you, too. The way He kisses you back slowly begins to carry more weight, hunger emerging from behind the veil of comfort it had been hiding in. His lips pressed harder against yours, teeth sliding against your lip, almost like a threat, but you didn't care. You were getting what you wanted, what you needed, and there was no way you wanted Evan's lips anywhere other than against yours.
The hand underneath your knees slides out from underneath them, moving to settle on top of the one furthest away from Him, thumb gliding against your bare thigh in a barely-there way. The one on the back of your neck stays where it is, but you don't miss the subtle way His fingers twitch in a way that almost feels like He's grabbing you to hold you in place. You find comfort in the almost possessive feeling it has. You always told Evan that you were his from the moment you met, even if it might have sounded obsessive and creepy. Similar to the sudden, gentle grip at the back of your neck, the hand on your thigh slides higher, thumb digging into the fat of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lungs.
"Ev—" Your voice can only be described as feeble. You can barely hear it over your own heartbeat and breaths, His name catching in your throat, which makes it almost come out as a weak little croak.
A deep rumbling chuckle comes from His throat, your eyes practically having to pry themselves open to look at Him, brain still in a love and grief-infused haze. "Ev?" He mocks, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach, suddenly remembering where you are, whose lap you're on. "Oh, bun, you're really thinking of someone else right now?" You can feel the way your body freezes in his hold, the way your lungs refuse to take in any air. "I'm hurt, bug." The way He tells you He's hurt is a perfect impression of Evan, and any feeling of love and comfort seeps from your body.
"No, no, no…" Your panicked mumbling brings out His usual sadistic grin.
He lets you pull your arms back into your chest before you shake yourself away from the instinct to shut down, pressing your hands to HABIT's chest to push yourself away from Him. HABIT's laughing now as you push yourself away from Him so hard that you fall to the ground, scrambling to get any kind of distance. You try, at least. As soon as you start to push yourself into something close to a sitting position, HABIT's boot comes up to kick you onto your back. "Oh, no, bun, you know what you said. You know what you did."
HABIT's boot presses into your chest as He rises from the bed, coming to crouch next to your body, looking down at you the way He always does; a predator who caught its prey. A clicky growl lowly creeps its way past His throat as He casually rests His arms against His knees. "You're just a dumb little thing, huh?" Heat floods your cheeks as you grab at HABIT's ankle, trying to claw and shove Him off of you, but He doesn't budge. He never does. "So sad that you didn't even know who you were with?" HABIT pouts mockingly down at you, and you can hear it in His voice as you continue to struggle underneath Him. You watch with nearly watering eyes as HABIT moves one of His hands from His knee to grab the knife from its sheath that's almost always strapped to His side, sharply inhaling as He pulls it out. "Let's see if we can get you to cry for me the way you cry for him, huh, bun? Let me give you somethin' to cry about."
Drew my two slenderverse faves because they have a lot more in common than you’d think! God made them in separate universes because he knew they’d kick too much ass as siblings.
Evan Myers wearing this. But it's his like mid series (?) Haircut where it's all flowy and long. Perfect fucking summer boy - I'm gonna ride him down to a nub.
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