Step Brother ®

🦋☆. Tʜᴀɪ .☆🦋

༺𓆩snake𓆪༻

The sun's barely up, and already I'm awake, a fucking habit I can't shake off. Without thinking, I head for the shower, letting the scalding water hit me hard, but it does jack shit to scrub away the shitshow from last night.

Steam fills the space, and my mind's dragging me back to that moment that fucking girl comes in there. A fucking demon in the night. My uninvited guest—storming into my zone, bold as hell, messing with my head. My little bunny had no right to be there, but she just waltzed in. She had the guts to challenge me, something no one's got the balls to do. Damn, she's got nerve. It's a rare fucking thing—nerve.

My world? It's full of spineless cowards. But Y/n? She's a fucking wildfire, chucking that bloody carcass at me like she's throwing down the gauntlet. Her honey-colored eyes burned in mine. I had my finger on the trigger. Ballsy move considering I could have killed her on the spot.

The water's hammering down, but it's her fucking defiance that's crawling under my skin. She's stuck in my head, and I can't shake her out. I got this image of her, with the steam clinging to her, and I can't help but crack a wicked grin.

I want her to be mine, my little bunny. But I can't do that to her right now. She has to go. And one day, I would chase her, keep her forever. Except Y/n might hold her fucking ground. She's the kind of fire that could burn me if I let it.

I've seen all sorts, but she's a different breed and doesn't seem to give two shits about fearing me, and that alone gets me going.

I step out, the air biting my hot skin. The mirror's all fogged up, my own image a blur. I swipe it clean, seeing my eyes—dark, wild, just like the emotion she's stirring up inside me.

My body's a roadmap of scars, each one a tale of survival, a badge I wear with a kind of twisted pride. It's weird, this reflection staring back at me. I let my fingers trail over the jagged lines, the skin rough beneath my touch, a reminder of life's ruthless lessons.

The pain doesn't bother me; it hasn't in a long time. It's the emotions that mess me up, the ones I can't figure out for the life of me. Like now, I've got this feeling clawing at my insides, and I can't even put a name to it.

All my life, I've been shutting down any shit that could make me weak, that could be used against me. Kill or be killed—that's the world I know, where pleasure is found in the finality of a bullet's path.

But here I am, taking a hard look at this guy before me, and I can't shake the fact that something's changed. Emotions—those fucking things I thought I had on lockdown—they're there, lurking, making me question shit I never used to. I've lived by the thrill of the hunt. When I kill, it's the rush that gets me, that high of having the power of life and death in my hands.

Yet now, in the silence of my own bathroom, I'm feeling something else. Something that doesn't fit into the boxes I've built to keep myself safe and sane. And I don't like it. Not one bit.

It's like a foreign invader, and I'm standing here trying to identify the emotion that's got no place in my life. Is it fear? Hell no, I don't do fear. Is it doubt? I've never doubted myself before.

But right now, with the mark of my life's battles on display, I'm confronted with the undeniable truth that I might just be human after all. And I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with what that means.