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nsharks · 6 months

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twelve —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: *hint at sexual assault. please be cautious!* death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Dense mud packs onto the soles of your boots. You shift the near-empty backpack on your shoulder and slip back a few sweat-laced strands of hair from your face. Never before were you a morning person. In fact, you used to purposely sign up for all the afternoon lectures in uni. But now, time and sunlight are precious. You set out to search for the camp this morning with only a sliver of sunrise as your companion.

You hope Ghost was right.

He suspected that their camp would be situated in a location with easy access to the military base, river, and nearby village so they could draw resources from all three. So that's the direction you're headed in, squinting at nearby landmarks and interstate signs to help guide you. It's quite the hike: grueling, hilly terrain and moist air that you can't distinguish from your own sweat. You've stepped over some interesting sights along the way. An old forest station with CAMP FEES and LEAVE NO TRACE posters still outside. A small skeleton tucked in a bush with only child-sized rainboots left on it. For a moment, you saw Joseph. Toddling around in the puddles outside your sister’s house. You had to force yourself not to look at it for too long; you wiped your eyes, gritted your teeth, and prayed it had been painless for them.

You come to a narrow creek, crossing over a stone bridge that spits you out among dense evergreens. Finally, a faint column of smoke comes into view just above the forest's canopy.

That must be it.

It's certainly a sign, so you suck in a shaky breath, ignore the rush of blood in your veins, and do what Ghost suggested: climb a tree to get a better look.

There was a time not long ago when climbing trees was your only means of survival. This time, it feels so much easier to hoist yourself up and grip the bark as your muscles flex to steady yourself on a high branch. Luckily, there wasn't much to bring in the backpack Ghost gave you. For now, there's nothing in it other than your lighter, a roll of gauze, that romance book, and a small piece of dry wood.

Squinting your gaze, you make out the silhouette of triangular, orange tents and uneven fencing. Definitely a camp. The fence doesn't appear barbed from here, but it's at least a meter higher than the one that surrounds Ghost's place. You're close enough to see a few blue crates in the center that look like those ones from the military medical site. Is that what they're keeping the supplies in? It seems like the only obvious place based on the layout.

What you really want to know is how many people. Soundlessly, you shift your boots to get a different angle and finally spot movement coming out of one of the tents— a sizeable male wearing a leather jacket.

One.

Is that it?

Your eyes stay locked on the stranger for a minute, tracking his movement as he cooks something over the fire. He gives out a long whistle, the high-pitched sound audible even from where you stand nestled in the treetop. Panic seizes your breath: did he somehow see you and is alerting someone else? But no— you're much too far, and his eyes never shifted in your direction.

Instead, there's more movement, the faint shuffling of paws on the ground, and then a large dog appears at the man's side. He tosses something in front of it, what must be a slab of meat, because the dog is quick to start chowing down with the enthusiasm of a mindless Grey.

"Fuck me," you whisper to yourself, fingertips splintering against the bark. "Couldn't prepare me for that, huh, Ghost?"

The plan he instructed you with is fairly simple and straightforward— you'll just have to stick to it and be mindful of the additional obstacle. You've survived much worse even just a few days ago, so with that in mind, you slip down the column of the tree and purposefully backtrack your steps, gaining a bit more distance between you and the camp.

You need a ruse, something to draw the man out for enough time for you to grab the ammo. Ghost told you to bring the book to help get a fire started since the twigs and leaves here are damp after the storm, so you find a good spot and start ripping out the pages, crumpling them up. You arrange the piece of wood and paper in such a way that you have a minute or two before the smoke really gets going. You pull out your lighter from the pocket of your jeans, start it, and then head back towards the camp, this time going around so you can approach it from the side.

You keep your footsteps as light as possible while moving quickly. Once the man notices the smoke and leaves to scout it out, your timer starts. There's another whistle followed by a gravelly bark from the dog. You sneak close to the side of the fence, pausing behind a tree, just when you catch a glance of the stranger shucking a rifle over his shoulder and exiting out the gate. He shuts it behind him with a series of padlocks.

It won't take him long to find the source of the smoke and realize it's nothing, so you muster all your strength and begin climbing the fence, rusty links digging into your palms. You try to do it without making much noise, but the moment you jump down with a thud, the dog's head snaps in your direction. It begins to growl, flashing thick canines under its bloodied muzzle. You break out into a sprint toward the blue crates, but it crosses the span of the camp in mere seconds, clamping down on your forearm before you can even begin to look for the ammo.

The pain is white hot. You silently cry out as the dog shakes its head, tearing through the fabric of your coat and the tissue of your muscle.

"Fuck."

You tug at your arm, but it doesn't let go. Remembering the piece of squirrel meat you brought as a snack, you dig it from your pocket and wag it in front of the dog's face.

"Come on, let go— please."

It's enough to catch his attention, the bite on your arm loosening once you toss the meat a few meters away and he follows it. You clutch your arm with a ragged breath, ignoring the blood and pain that radiates from it.

The squirrel can only distract him for so long, so you urgently flip open the lid of the first crate. Staring back at you is a mix of what appears to be severed limbs and various animal parts. The pungent smell floods up your nose. You instantly clamp the lid back down, fighting the urge to vomit, and move on to the next one.

Ammo.

Plenty of it.

Without a second to waste, you sling off the backpack and begin stuffing it with the cardboard packs of cartridges, hoping it's the kind Ghost needs. When you tug the zipper closed, a decision pops into your brain: to keep looking through the other crates for medicine, or to get the fuck out of there. You take a millisecond too long to think about it because suddenly, you notice the dog from the corner of your eye, done with the meat and moving towards you with another throaty growl.

You tug the heavy backpack on and make a beeline for the closest side of the fence. In the panic, you fail to notice the creak of the gate opening until you are stumbling into a hard chest. A strong hand wraps around your bicep.

Fuck.

He's back.

This is it, then.

"Rocky— sit."

The growling behind you ceases. A whole new fear washes over you as you blink up at a rugged face. The stranger uses his other hand to take hold of your jaw, hard enough that your teeth are forced to grind together. In a heart-pounding silence, he inspects you, bluntly looking you up and down. Then, he takes out a knife and presses it to your neck. Your throat bobs against the icy metal.

"Fucking bitch," he mutters. "Start a fire to try and steal from me?"

"N-no!" Your brain reels for a lie. "No— I don't know what you're talking about. I-I came here looking for help."

"Try a better lie, sweetheart."

"I mean it," you stammer, holding onto the fact that he hasn't slit your throat yet. Raw desperation speaks for you. "My… my friends are gone. Someone attacked us a few days ago and killed them. I've been alone ever since and then I found your camp, hoping someone would be here to help me."

This seems to grab his attention. Dark eyes narrow. It's now you realize he's quite young, maybe in his thirties.

"Someone attacked you, huh? Who?"

"Um, some guy. I don't know. I didn't get a good look at him because he was… he was wearing a mask."

"So some guy killed all your friends by himself?" When you slowly nod, cringing at your terrible story, his jaw flexes. "I've lost my friends, too. They went out on a hunting trip three days ago and haven't come back."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you lie, swallowing. "So you… so you believe me?"

"I believe your friends are dead. I don't believe you didn't start that fire to distract me."

His words make your heart race. Again, his eyes trail down, and the knife follows, lowering to the floral fabric of your blouse and popping open one of the buttons.

"Take it off," he suddenly orders.

"W-what?"

"The shirt. Take it off. Let me decide if I should kill you or keep you."

You put on a brave face and do as he says, not given much room to protest despite the sick feeling that twists your gut. You drop the backpack, half-inclined to swing it at him, but then what? There is no way you can take him in a fight, especially since he's armed with a knife and gun, and there is no Grey this time to help you out.

The coat falls to the ground at your feet before you shakily undo the buttons of your blouse, wincing from the movement of your bitten arm. Crisp air greets your bare skin. Your nipples tighten uncomfortably and his gaze darts right to them, intensifying the churn in your stomach.

He gives a low whistle. "Lucky me."

Your nails jab crescents into the palms of your hands. "Am I… am I worth keeping, then?"

He bears a sick, toothy smile. "Pretty for a thief," he confirms. "Haven't seen someone so pretty in a few years now." His eyes flash to your arm and he reaches to grab it, making you choke. "Hell, Rocky. You gave her an ugly bite, though. Might get in the way of what I have in mind for you."

Half-naked, you are dragged by the arm to one of the blue crates. He slips the knife into his pocket in order to search through it. You notice pills, liquids, and a single glass bottle of what appears to be clear alcohol, which he pulls out along with a cloth.

"Tell me your name," he says, forcing you to sit down on a folding chair. "Before I enjoy you.”

You tell him quietly.

With an eery gentleness, he sits across from you and dabs the bite with some alcohol. The sting is immeasurable, but you roll your eyes to the sky and silence yourself. The feel of his cold, calloused fingers makes you imagine how they would feel touching other parts of your body. You need to think of something quick before he gets the chance to. He still has the gun on him, and the only knife you brought is in the jacket on the ground. Your eyes flicker to the bottle, which he set down by the leg of his chair.

"What's your name?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Leo."

"So, um, Leo— how did you end up here?"

"I was a new recruit in the military when shit started five years ago," he explains idly, fixated on your arm. "Stationed at the base nearby."

"I saw medical tents there," you mutter, clearing your throat. "Did you help with that?"

He chuckles. "For all of a day until some buddies and I decided to take what we could and leave. There was no point in trying to help people. We figured that out pretty quick."

"Oh. Were those the buddies who haven't come back?"

He nods. "I'm sure they're dead by now. But, one good thing is," he reaches for the gauze, sniggering lowly, "—that means I don't have to share you."

As he begins to unwrap the gauze, you decide he’s distracted enough. It happens in one, urgent motion. You clasp the alcohol bottle by the neck, arch it above his head, and thrust it down. The glass shatters, drenching him with alcohol and blood as a piece slices open his forehead. He immediately drops the gauze and hisses in pain.

"Bitch," he snarls. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"

He leaps to his feet and pulls the knife out again. As he does, you dig the lighter out of your pocket and ignite a flame, bringing it to his soaked shoulder. Instantly, fire flashes up his neck and face in hues of orange and blue, even catching your wet fingertips. It renders him blind as he howls and tries to swing at you, but you immediately run away, rubbing your burned hand against your jeans.

You grab your discarded clothes and backpack before flinging open the crate with medicine in it. You begin stuffing as many bottles into the side pockets of the backpack as you can, breathing frantically.

"I'm going to kill you," he seethes again, and the firing of a bullet somewhere behind you means he must have grabbed his rifle.

But he still can't see, his eyes blistered by the flames that continue to lick his face. Each shot bites the ground as you heave the backpack on your shoulders and take off toward the fence.

The dog barks, louder and louder as he runs after you. You don't look back. You wad your clothes up in a ball and toss them over the fence to free up your hands. Then, you quickly climb up, the muscles in your face tightly clenched as the full backpack weighs you down.

You're too slow.

Teeth grab hold of your boot.

You're pulled back down, hands spreading out to break the fall.

In the mud, you wrestle beneath a snarling jaw, dirtying up your hair and exposed skin. This time, you don't hesitate to hurt the animal. You grab your lighter again and thrust the flame into the dog's eye, making it leap back with a pained squeal.

Freed, you scramble back up the fence.

You leap down. Grab your clothes

You can still hear him shouting as you run away, weaving through the thicket of trees. Only when the sound fades do you stop to catch your breath, sinking down against a tree and putting your clothes back on.

"Here."

A moan of relief escapes your lips the moment you shrug off the backpack and drop it at Ghost's feet. He crouches down, swearing under his breath when he unzips it and the ammo practically spills out. He grabs a few boxes, opening and inspecting them under the violet light of sunset. The walk back took you hours longer. You were almost tempted to sleep in a tree for the night, but the threat of Greys or any more strangers kept you going.

"Good. This is good, Twix." There's a hint of disbelief in his voice before he clears it away, zipping the backpack up. He stands and offers a lengthy look from your head to your boots. "How many were there?"

"Just one."

"Just one," he repeats, brow lifting. "And you look this roughed up. What happened?"

"There was a dog," you say dully, lifting your arm up to show him the bitemark in your sleeve. Beneath it, you already bandaged the wound, not wanting to draw attention to its scent. “Just a dog and a cannibal rapist guy."

"What?"

You shake your head. "Nothing. I'm going to sleep."

Before you can take a step past him, warm fingers latch onto your wrist. So warm. You inhale a breath, a burn of moisture lining your eyes.

“Please don’t touch me," you request in a harsher whisper than you intend.

You can no longer see the details of him with how bleary your eyes are, but you feel his touch disappear.

"What happened?" he asks again, voice lowering.

"Nothing. I got your ammo and I handled it. When can we leave?"

There is a pause before he responds as if he is debating whether or not to drop the subject. For now, he does.

"Tomorrow, hopefully."

"Good." The back of your hand smooths over your eyes. "Don't— don't forget our deal, Ghost. Promise me."

A firm nod. "I don't back out on my word."

As if to prove it, he shucks off the jacket and hands it over.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #cod

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dinodorks · 7 months

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[ The skull is mounted on a custom steel armature, which allows for it to be seen all the way around. ]

"After seven years of work, the best preserved and most complete triceratops skull coming from Canada — also known as the "Calli" specimen — is on display for the first time since being found in 2014 at the Royal Tyrrell Museum in Drumheller, Alta. A museum news release calls the specimen "unique" because of where it was discovered, the age of the rock around it, and how well it was preserved. Following the floods that tore through Alberta about 10 years ago, the Royal Tyrrell staff were engaged in flood mitigation paleontology work when the triceratops skull was discovered in 2014. Triceratops fossils are rare in Canada. This skull was found in the foothills of southwestern Alberta — an area where dinosaur fossils in general are uncommon — and nicknamed "Calli" after Callum Creek, the stream where it was discovered. Transported via helicopter in giant, heavy chunks, the skull and most of the jaw pieces were extracted over the course of a month in 2015. The rest of the triceratops' skeleton was not found. Roaming the earth roughly 68 to 69 million years ago, the museum says this skull was buried in stages, evident by the fossilization process. "Paleontologists know this because the specimen was found in different rock layers, and the poorly preserved horn tips suggest they were exposed to additional weathering and erosion," reads a museum blog about the triceratops skull. "The rest of the skeleton likely washed away," noting that the lower jaws were found downstream. From 2016 to 2023, Royal Tyrrell technician Ian Macdonald spent over 6,500 hours preparing this fossil, removing over 815 kilograms of rock that encased the skull. This triceratops skull is the largest skull ever prepared at the museum and its third largest on display."

Read more: "Canada's biggest and best triceratops skull on display in Alberta" by Lily Dupuis.

#palaeoblr #Palaeontology #Paleontology #Dinosaur #Triceratops #Fossil #Cretaceous #Mesozoic #Ceratopsian #Extinct #Prehistoric #Photo #Article #Information #Museum #Royal Tyrrell Museum

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annaandmiah · 2 months

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ED MEDIA

MOVIES

★ little miss perfect ★

an overambitious high school freshman tries to control her life by controlling her weight.

➜ watch on soap2day

★ starving in suburbia ★

17-year-old Hannah joins a dangerous “thinspiration” online community where users treat anorexia as a lifestyle rather than a disorder.

➜ Watch on Vimeo

★ sharing the secret ★

beth turns to binging and purging as a way to control one aspect of her life, but her habits quickly spiral out of control and force her to seek treatment.

➜ Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/hmujb3ndoo0

★ for the love of nancy★

follows the main character as she starts college, becomes more and more withdrawn, starts a regimented exercise routine, stops eating, and begins losing an unhealthy amount of weight.

➜ Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/cgvxvq33swy

★ a secret between friends ★

when two teenage girls become fast friends and decide to diet together, things go from bad to worse, ultimately leading to the near death of one of the girls.

➜ Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/vmf4cd1fxge

★ dying to dance ★

➜ a young woman succumbs to pressure at ballet school and develops anorexia nervosa.

➜ Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/hi5ww4z-rx8

★ girl, interrupted★

based on writer susanna kaysen's account of her 18-month stay at a mental hospital in the late 1960s.

➜ Watch on Netflix

★ Kate's secret ★

a beautiful woman married to a successful lawyer and the perfect suburban mother who turns out to be a closeted bulimic.

➜ Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/zpchtd3xw4q

★ the best little girl in the world ★

a young girl develops an eating disorder, alternately starving herself or throwing up food. her parents, angry and desperate, send her to a hospital. unfortunately, she befriends a patient who convinces her to hide her illness.

➜ Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/oy7gj99pt_a

★ thirteen ★

an innocent seventh grader undergoes an abrupt personality change when she begins hanging out with a wild classmate

➜ Watch on Disney Plus

★ to the bone ★

ellen is an unruly 20-year-old anorexic girl who spent the better part of her teenage years being shepherded through various recovery programmes, only to find herself several pounds lighter every time.

➜ Watch on Netflix

TV SHOWS

★ Skins ★

lives of a group of teenagers in Bristol, England, are followed through two years of sixth form, with the story line of this critically acclaimed series delving into such controversial subjects as substance abuse, sexuality, teenage pregnancy, personality and eating disorders, and mental illness

➜ Watch on Stan

★ Red band society ★

a group of teenagers live together as patients at a hospital's pediatric ward and learn how to deal with their illnesses, the experiences that they have, and the people that they meet.

➜ Watch on Disney Plus

★ Insatiable ★

For years Patty was overweight, which caused her to be bullied, ignored and underestimated by the people around her. But she is now thin and seeking revenge against those who ever made her feel bad about herself through fat-shaming.

➜ Watch on Netflix

DOCUMENTRYS

★ Thin ★

this documentary follows four women receiving eating disorder treatment at the renfrew center in coconut creek, florida. while each woman has their own “final straw” that brought them to renfrew, they all suffer from eating disorders that profoundly affect their lives to the point of near-death, in some cases.

➜ Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/gsqwhmesizq

★ Dana the 8-year-old anorexic ★

Little Dana became a walking skeleton after suffering from anorexia - at EIGHT. She told her distraught parents she would rather DIE than eat. And she even hid in a laundry basket at meal times to avoid having food.

➜ Watch on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKSwPBUhCBo&list=PLfjwnsEd5VNYTtPpke17nY2AHRNNpcWIK&index=3

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saintels · 10 months

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✿ ༉‧₊ — 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. ellie williams

very random things i associate with ellie/think ellie would love in a non-apocalyptic world (hc’s). [ contains: femme reader mentioned, nsfw, sfw, mentions of drugs. ]

MUSEUMS AND AQUARIUM DATES — nerd alert! we all know ellie loves space and dinosaurs and things like that. her heart feels so full when you’re gripping her hand tightly as you both take your time strolling to each exhibition and display. she’s too engrossed in the small info boards to notice your eyes glimmering and softening as you take in the smile she fails to hide as she gets excited. even at 19 years old, as you spend your one year anniversary at the history museum, she still wows in awe as you walk into the room that contains the massive brachiosaurus skeleton.

JAW KISSES — ellie’s great at hiding how she feels most of the time. apart from when you kiss her jaw. the moment she feels your lips press to the soft skin that clings to the sharp bone of her jaw, she melts. her hands sneak around your waist as you nestle into her neck and pepper kisses all over her jaw, burning deep crimson on her freckled cheeks. “mm baby” she’ll mumble if you nip the skin lightly, causing her to let out the sweetest, soft little breaths.

HOUSE PLANTS — they’re an absolute nightmare for her to take care of at first but after a while, she grows emotionally attached to them. she specifically loves monsteras and ferns, even going as far to name them. she has a small smile on her lips as she reaches the part of her morning routine where she provides them with their extra delicate care. you can’t help but giggle from the kitchen as you hear her mumble “good morning fernado, you’re extra bright this morning” to her favorite fern.

RECORD STORES — she loves bobbing her head to the music and weirdly enough, the smell. it’s nostalgic somehow.

STICKERS AND CUSTOMIZATION DOODLES — pretty self explanatory. ellie loves to cover her shit in random stickers and doodles. her laptop, her water bottle, her sketchbook, her guitar. she has the same design as her tattoo painted on her guitar (it took her forever to do and she did it instead of completing an overdue assignment).

SHOWER SEX — it started with the soft, butterfly kisses you’d splurge across ellie’s freckled shoulder blades before you grabbed the soap to scrub her back. eventually she began to press you against the wall, kissing you deeply as the warm water hits you, hands exploring your bare, wet body. (100% is obsessed with soapy boobies too)

POST SWIM NAPS — summer on the farm means sweltering heat. nearly everyday you and ellie trek across the fields and spend all day swimming in the creek by the woods. sun kissed and hot, the both of you collapse in bed in nothing but a tshirt and your underwear, cuddled and falling into a slumber until later that evening when it’s cooler.

GRAPHIC TEES — it’s a strange obsession and she’ll hardly know what’s on the shirt but she accumulates a massive collection.

ESSENTIAL OILS — she thought they were tacky and useless at first until she got a diffuser as a birthday gift and was knocked straight into such a peaceful slumber by her soothing lavender oil.

FOLLOWING YOU INTO FITTING ROOMS — again, self-explanatory. we all know she’s awkward and very much the loser-lesbian girlfriend. so the first time you take her shopping with you, she moves to sit on the provided seats outside the fitting rooms. she’s just as confused as you are as you stand with the door half open and your collection of clothes in your arm. you tilt your head “are you not coming in?”. she fumbles to get up and rushes in. at first she was awkward, head down at the very second you’d take your tshirt off and mentally cursing herself as she peaks at you in the mirror from the corner of her eye. now, your full-fledged girlfriend, she’s got her hands grabbing at every sliver of bare skin she can see before you annoyedly swat her hands away.

LATE NIGHT SESH — it’s usually when she’s feeling anxious, escaping to the roof to smoke a little and talk to the stars. most of the time she goes alone but sometimes you go with her. you usually sit in comfortable silence, pressed against eachother as she smokes and you try your best to keep your eyes awake at 3am because even though she assures “go back to bed, sweetheart. i’ll be okay,” you don’t want her to be alone.

part 2? abby version?

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #reader insert #wlw #wlw smut #smut #fluff #headcannons #queued

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trulyumai · 1 month

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Oh, Mr mosses (Series!) V

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Now, his Mimic has taken a liking to you too.

Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? Only time will tell.

Author Note: Hello everyone, a bit longer of a chapter but thats okay! After Thursday I will be final free! Which means I'll have more time for writing and answering requests, thank you for your patience! <3

Warnings: Blood, Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Stalking, Talk about Death, Mutilation.

Also available on AO3!

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy @skully-skeleton-bone0106 @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-tiger-lover78 @itoshilvr @wilddreamer98 (Let me know if you want to be added!)

God, even the way she laid there, limp against the office wall was everything to him.

Biting down on 28 only crunches and squelches echoed through the room, the said man laid in pieces by his feet.

He casually sat there in her squeaky chair, munching on a limb like it was normal; an everyday hobby.

Humming a familiar tune he threw the rest of the arm past him, somewhere towards the cabinets, he had to guess.

With his feet on the desk he sighed.

Soon the D.D.D would learn of his presence, his safety would be at risk and his little toy would be in even more danger than she already was.

Maybe he would take her, hide her away to be his little wife. That is what they’re called, aren’t they?

First things first; he had to dispose of the replica.

Clicking his teeth he scratched his nails on the wood beside him.

That fucking fool. A useless mirror image he copied.

He had to learn everything about the man before taking his face; starting with his job, his hobbies, his routes, down to the fucking shampoo he preferred. Until it got to his favorite area, the most recent addition in his life; the pretty receptionist.

He knew it would be so easy to manipulate the woman. Her mind was so weak compared to him, with just a tad bit of bending (Mentally and a bit physically), he molded her perfectly for him.

Enough to not only get access to the building, but to her as well.

She groaned as she laid there, she must be having a nightmare. He hoped it involved him, with some image of the mimic biting chunks out or flesh, kissing them as he went on. Holding back a grin he decided to move her, before someone else were to poke their nose in the already bloodied business of theirs. He pulled her up until she reached his chest and eyed the old corroded clipboard by the door.

Going down the list of names he got to her; room 24 Level 2.

Stepping through the red he rubbed his feet on 28’s corpse, letting the leftover blood dry on his once white, button up. We wouldn’t want a little trail now would we?

Clicking the green button he passed 28 once more, whistling lowly as the elevator pushed its doors open with a groan.

Stepping in his clawed finger pressed the second button on the wall, watched as the doors came together with a satisfying thunk.

Belly satiated and full, he looked down at the woman in his arms, her head was lolled to the side, leaning firmly on his chest. Grinning wide he bent towards her, pressing a sloppy, bloody kiss to her forehead, cheek and nose.

The box dinged once again, the doors slid open loudly to indicate their arrival to her floor.

Walking through the corridor, he read the numbers idly

10, 12, 14,

A turn left

16, 18, 20-

A creek escaped, some neighbor had opened their door, just up ahead.

It was that rich suited prick.

“Ah! Francis, lovely to- is that the receptionist?” His grin was hesitant, eying the girl with bloody marks on her face.

He could kill him now, but it would be more of a mess to deal with, he doubted he could hide another body from the D.D.D.

Mustering up a smile, his sharp teeth gritted together.

“She’s ah, not feeling well,” attempting to move past the pompous man and walk towards her door just steps away, the man stopped them once more and put a hand out for extra measure.

Growling he slowly turned, met the eyes of the man once more.

“Do we have a problem,” he gritted, claws digging into the poor girl below him.

“Well- ah, tell her to visit me when she feels up to it,”

He put his hand back at his side, rubbing his fingers idly.

“I have a job opportunity for her, you see!”

Not bothering to waste anymore time, he pressed on to her room. Ignoring the suited man's stares as he clicked her key into place, shoving them both inside before slamming the door.

“Fucking prick.” He muttered.

But now he was all alone, could touch and prod at the girl with no interruptions.

Looking around he noticed the apartment was tidy; everything had a place, plants sat by the darkened windowsill and beside them, a full bookcase was laid about. Her kitchen was spotless, only a few decorative items littered the counters while the sink was, of course, empty.

Holding her up with one hand he scratched at his gums, pieces of bone were starting to prod against his teeth, becoming more annoying than painful.

Looking for her bedroom he propped open a door with his shoulder, and with a thump, dumped her unceremoniously on the mattress.

It was then, he realized.

“Oh fuck.”

Bolting angrily back towards the door, the hallway and elevator as fast as he could, he bit down on his annoyingly human cheek; hard.

He left the elevator unlocked.

Any other mimic could come through freely and he really couldn’t have that.

Another competition for his food? Yeah no, fuck that. He hated how territorial his kind was, made everything a pain in the ass to retrieve and made survival even more strenuous.

It’s why he found himself here; In this little rundown apartment, with surprisingly good security.

Being denied and caught over and over made everything so much more satisfying, because he knew that if he waited- stuck around for the right moment, he’d get in.

Watched plenty of his kind die too, before deciding to take a shape of his own, and finally, making his way to the pretty and gullible receptionist.

Mashing the first floor button he clawed at his face, light red marks dented down with each press of his fingers.

Ironically enough, he’s the one that has to distinguish between what’s real and fake now.

Waiting for the elevator he growled.

“What a pain in the ass.”

——

The milkman was tired. Getting in, absolutely no one was there to check his ID, and he wondered if the receptionist was okay (Yet again). It seemed that lately, that’s all he could think about. Her health, the way she smiled, her pretty hands.

Not once had she missed any of her shifts, and although he had only been there for a short time, he would always hear from the neighbors how dutiful she was.

Come sickness, fatigue, anything, she would be there.

Walking past the office, his fingers shook cautiously by his sides.

Enough was enough, he would talk to her, he couldn’t avoid her forever and his little, “crush,” wasn’t going away anytime soon.

So with a long intake of air. He pressed her floor number.

It was now or never.

The doors closed, and the travel up began.

Floor1

Ding!

Floor 2

Ding!

With his head pointed downwards he heard the doors sliding open before walking forward, passing a quick figure to his left. Not bothering to greet them he kept his head down.

The anxiety was getting to him and wait- he didn’t even know what room she was in!

Head up, he turned back toward the figure that passed him.

They obviously resided on this floor, maybe he could attempt to ask them about her room without completely looking like a creep.

But what he saw he just couldn’t explain- rationally describe.

His face stared back at him, it was set in a scowl while he noticed vast amounts of blood adorned his usually crisp white shirt. The doors were on their way to closing, and this version of him reached out to stop it.

He was too late, the metal doors crashed together and Francis could feel his heart jumping out of his chest.

What the actual fuck was going on.

Was he that tired?

Grabbing his face he turned back, mumbling incessant comforts to stop the beats of his heart from getting any faster.

He needed to find her room, and fast.

The first thing she noticed was her head. It boomed with an unfathomable amount of pressure, and she was hesitant to open her eyes.

She felt around, immediately recognizing the comfort of her own duvet, the silkiness of her pillows, the faint wafts of the candle she lit the night prior. It calmed the tenseness found between her shoulders, instantly relaxing against the cushioned material.

With a muffled groan she allowed her eyelids to slink up, her messy room greeted her vision.

Not remembering the trip up, she laid there, stretched out and confused.

Craning her head just off the side of the bed, the receptionist glanced towards the hallway; to her front door that was wide open.

Jerking up, her feet collided with one another, and looking more like a newborn calf than human she attempted her way to the front of the room.

Never before had a fatigue caused this much confusion; chaos to her mind.

Something had to be wrong.

She remembered clocking in, idly sitting by as the clock ticked and ticked. After that it was all blank- it startled her to no end.

With a hand on the door frame her figure leaned on the wall, just outside her abode.

Biting her lip she held back a whimper, the bright lights of the hall burned her eyes, she tried to go off of memory, closing her eyes as she felt for every familiar bump and groove of the space.

Turning to where she remembered the elevator was, someone bumped into her- hard.

“My goodness!” That voice… could it really be?

“Francis?” Squinting her eyes she blinked repeatedly, trying to get the figure to focus in her vision.

“H-Hey,” the deep voice answered back, smiling, as she knew it was the tired mailman. Only he could have such a serious yet flustered sounding voice.

“I've been looking for you,”

The man gripped the girl's shoulders, light yet firm and bent down just to meet her gaze.

“Some… things have been happening, I wanted to see if you were okay.” Flustered, the girl forced out a laugh, taking a hand off her shoulder she gripped it softly.

“I'm okay, you look more disheveled than me, big guy, what's up?” Kneading the flesh around his knuckles the man couldn't help but relax.

She smelled so good- of lilac and vanilla, it invaded his senses and corrupted his mind. He couldn't even remember the duplicate until it was shoved back by his consciousness.

Letting out a low moan he shook his head. ‘Focus Francis, god-’

“I have to talk to you,” he blurted out, face getting warmer as she paused her movement, and looked right at him.

Letting out a giggle she rested her arm, just so it leaned comfortably in the crook of his elbow.

“Okay? My rooms around the corner, if you wanna talk there?”

Not relying on his words he nodded his head, letting the girl lightly pull his arm to her apartment.

Now, he just had to figure out how to explain his bloody twin.

Should be easy!

And if she calls him crazy, and ultimately pushes him out of the apartment- possibly building, at least he got to get this close to her.

Smelling her, touching her, it was better than living alone with his thoughts- tormenting him every hour of the week that he lazily spent thinking about her anyway.

Inhaling her flowery scent once more he shuddered, he hoped the pretty girl would believe him, so he could once more bask in her presence and ignore every little thing around.

#francis mosses x reader #horror #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #francis mosses x you #game x reader #horror game #x reader #fanfiction #romance #Mimic #Thank you Caseoh for showing me this game ILY

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