#visitor reader

I like to think you show up on one of the early days, like day two or three. At this point you’ll most likely be the strangest person to show up at the protagonists door. 

Unlike other residents, you’re covered from head to toe. Since reader is based on an oc of mine, you wear a gimp hood with a zipper over its mouth and eyes, a leather straitjacket, leather pants and boots. Only one of the zippers over the eye is zipped open. 

At this point it’ll already be obvious you aren’t completely normal. You're a bit too tall, maybe your legs are too long, or it’s the fact that your eye is visibly bloodshot and your pupil is rolling around like a marble. 

Had this been in the game, I feel reader would be a character you only allowed inside for a specific ending, items or lore. But this is a fun story, so :3c 

The protagonist wouldn’t know all the signs of a visitor yet, and for some reason, he lets you inside. 

The room you decide to take place in, will be his bedroom, sitting at the edge of his bed. If the seductive woman shows up at the door the protag can’t let her in, since you won’t leave his bed. 

You don’t speak much, just hover, staring. Sometimes he’ll hear you growl or gurgle behind the door when he walks past his bedroom.  

And other times he can hear you whispering to yourself. The words are gibberish, or at least a language he doesn’t understand. 

You also won’t leave his room even when he sleeps. The first night the protag tried to stay awake, but at some point you turn, pull your arms from the straitjacket, and start massaging his ankles and whispering to yourself. 

It should be really off-putting, and it is, but it’s like a lullaby. Whatever language you’re speaking is like a warm loving hand on his bruised and hurt soul. 

After you show up, the cashier girl, if she’s been allowed in, will start to get very scared of you and paranoid. If the protag talks to her, she’ll comment about you opening the door to the storage room and just staring at her, for hours, during the night. 

She's the only visitor you don’t kill because she realizes what she is, loses it, and is killed by the protag. After this happens, the protag notices that you start rumbling at the foot of his bed. It's not really a cat-like purr, but something wet and guttural, like boiling mud. 

It's clear to the protagonist and other residents that you aren’t human, especially when you start bleeding from the mouth, which leaks through the zipper of your hood. 

Or when the protagonist sees your hands and finds dirt under your fingernails. For one reason or another, the protagonist, who’s ended up finding a weird comfort in your silent creepy presence, just comments about you being dirty. 

When he takes an aura photo of you, the shape is barely human, it’s like you aren’t even trying. It feels more like something out of a medieval painting of the devil. 

Some residents will comment about you not breathing, not eating or drinking, or even blinking. Multiple of them will be creeped out by you. Confirmed visitors will say you’re dangerous and try to talk the protagonist into making you leave. 

But to the protagonist you feel kinda like a big misshapen and gross dog, in a way. After a night or two you start curling up at the foot of his bed, limbs cracking and twisting to curl up in a small ball. 

He's heard you growling at the door once or twice too, the noise something disgusting, foul and off-putting. It makes the hairs on his skin stand up and his heart race, like his body knows you’re not meant to exist. 

Your worth becomes very clear the first night there are three visitors in the home. Since the rule is two visitors, but you don’t kill, then it’s three. 

Everyone will hear a terrifying noise, imagine the shy guy from scp, then a wet tearing and then a thud. Obviously no one dares to move, even the normal humans who just saw you kill a visitor. 

Then there’s a wet dragging noise, the front door opens, you throw something, and the door closes again. They hear running water, as you clean the blood off your leather, and then you crawl back into bed. 

The protagonist will see the blood dragged on the floor, and when he’s told by whoever was in the room that you killed the visitor, protag will pat you on the head. 

He doesn’t say anything, but you start doing that gurgling rumble again, your pupil blowing so large it almost swallows up the entire visible eye.  

The protagonist jokingly offers you a treat, something random he finds in a cupboard like a cracker. The zipper on your hood pulls open on its own, and you take it, your tooth as white as chalk and your gums bright red with blood. 

Other human residents will be terrified of your presence, some will want you gone, others will see the appeal of a visitor that only kills other visitors. 

They learn quick enough that you’ll kill humans though, when the suit guy tries to pull a gun on him. None of them actually see what happens because you move so fast, but suddenly suit guy is missing his head, and you’re coated in blood. 

Protag finds himself starting to care about you, not as a lover, at least not yet, but you’ve dug your way into his chest somehow. With all your weird inhuman shapes and sounds. 

He isn’t actually sure how strong you truly are, until you chase off the pale visitor. When he shows up at the door, you fly at him like a feral mutt, your body twisting and turning like rubber. 

They can only really see you guys fly off into the dark, letting out the most terrifying noises as you rip into one another.  

It's only next morning when you show up just before the sun goes up, carrying the arm of the pale visitor, like some weird copy of a cat bringing a dead bird to it’s owner. 

What the protagonist doesn’t know, is that you’ve strung everything else up around the property, as a warning to FEMA and other visitors. 

With you present, there would be another ending, if the relationship between the protagonist and you deepens. At some point he notices that he can be alone, with just you, and nothing happens. 

FEMA might try to come knocking, but even they are scared away by ‘that thing he keeps in his house’, but the protag doesn’t care. 

He's comfortable, his house and property being left untouched by whatever chaos goes on outside, hell, it’s even like the heat of the sun won’t touch it. 

As the world burns, the protagonist sits on his porch, with you draped over his lap like a weird cat, drinking a cup of coffee, because somehow you can leave and return with all kinds of things. 

All in all, he’s living a great life, a nice isolated life, just you two. And if the world around the borders of his property starts blurring, and then disappearing, well, why should he care. 

--------------------

The Gravedigger:

The Gravedigger hums quietly as his slightly rusted shovel turns over the excess dirt. He enjoyed the tranquility of it all. No people to entertain and talk to, no overbearing co workers or bosses, nothing. Just him, the bodies of the dead, and nature. He truly won the working class jackpot.

But, he knew this would be his last. Once the visitors began to rise from the ground, bodies piled up. The ground would break at the sheer force of each visitor clawing their way to the surface. It made no sense to keep burying what wouldn't stay. And so, as he patted the last of the dirt in, he discarded his shovel, staring down at the freshly patched hole.

"Must be an honor to be my last, huh? This visitor stuff just isn't for me..." he quietly says at the slightly disturbed pile of dirt. It was bittersweet in a way, but he didn't mind. His mind then focused on a small box at his side. A smile creeps onto his face as he crouched down to open it. When he does, he's met with a rather pretty sight. Diamond rings, pocket watches, shiny bracelets, and more. Looting had been his guilty pleasure from the start. It was an accident at first, finding a priceless bracelet that fell off a body somewhere, but is now an unhealthy habit.

His eyes scan over the shiny objects, a faint smile on his face. However, the sound a branch breaking directly behind him throws him for a loop. He freezes, fear engulfing his figure. Was this it? His punishment for disrespecting the dead? A visitor sent to remind him of his horrible deeds of greed. But, it felt sooner than it should have. What could he possibly do now?

His thoughts abruptly stop as he feels cold hands snake around his torso. He looks down, noticing the familiar hands. Then, he hears a sniff. A long, drawn out sniff.

"Y/N..." he mumbles softly, shoulders relaxing into your touch. You smile and nuzzle yourself into his back. You catch his familiar scent.

"Mmm... you smell like dirt." You hum. He shudders. He won't lie, the moment he realized you were a visitor, he was terrified. He thought your were going to tear him limb from limb. However, you seemed more interested in his physique, his life style, and for some reason, how he smelled. Sure, the urge to kill was strong, but curiosity rules over everyone at some point.

"You scared me... how long have you been standing there?" He sighs, shifting slightly to loosen your grip. You don't budge and move a hand up to feel the texture of his hair. Your other hand moving to hold one of his hands.

"Not too long. You should keep your hair this way. It also smells like dirt." You say, raising the end of his hair up to your nose. His nose scrunches up at your comment. It's not that he found it gross, just odd how you just had to sniff him every chance you got.

Your hands roam, gliding up to his shoulders. He sits down fully, allowing you to continue. He loved when you did this. Explore his body like an open book. You were just so fascinated by everything he had to offer.

He reaches towards the box with the loot of the deceased. You groan and burry your face into his nape.

"I wish I were like you. Allowed to survive off of plants and dead animals, soft, smelling of dirt and human skin..." You mutter, leaning further into his back. Your last 'human observation' sent a shiver up his back.

"We aren't that simple..." he says, trying to focus on the set of rings he found on a rich married couple. You shrug and continue to map his shoulders.

As you do, you notice his hands covered in dirt. A smile plasters on your face as you grab his wrist, catching him off guard. You press the back of his hand to your nose and inhale deeply. He sighs again and lets you continue. He couldn't stop you, even if he wanted to. Just what was he going to do with you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bar Guy:

"Your pulse sounds so nice." You say, face buried into his nape. Bar Guy feels your hand trail down to grab his wrist. Your thumb rubs against his pulse point. "You have nice veins too."

Bar Guy merely grunts and turns away, taking a sip of his half drunken beer. He's used to your random moments of physical affections and your odd habit of pointing out things about his body. He stopped caring how uncomfortable it felt at first. But, most of all, he found it endearing how you seemed to handle him gently and enjoyed everything about him.

"You also smell like that drink. Can I try it?" You point to the can in his hand. He pulls it away from you and shakes his head. The last thing he'd want is for you to be drunk.

"You wouldn't like this stuff. And I dunno how it'd affect you." He calmly grunts, a hand moving to your lower back. You frown.

"Okay, what about that thing you always light? Cigarettes, right? You smell like those too." You suggest. He makes another grunt, but sighs reluctantly.

"Fine... just one. But, don't get upset if it's too much to handle." He says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a box of cigarettes. He slips one out and grabs a nearby lighter. You tilt your head curiously. It looked easy enough, you just breathe in and the funny smoke comes out.

Once the cigarette is lit, he sticks it into your mouth. Before you instinctively try to chew on it, he briefly caresses your cheek and lets out a small "don't bite, just hold it." You nod and watch as he lights one of his own.

"Now, breathe in slowly. Just until the end starts glowing.." he instructs before demonstrating. "When it does, hold the smoke in for a second, then breathe it out.." He breaths out a puff of smoke, allowing your eyes to follow the white gas.

You try your best to do as he said. You breathe in slowly, and hold it for a moment. However, your throat felt a bit scratchy and you began to cough. Bar Guy takes the cigarette from you and rubs your back in small circles.

"How- *cough cough* do you- *wheeze* do this every- *large inhale* every day?!" You hack out, eyes watering slightly. He laughs slightly, the sound low and rumbling.

"You just have to practice. Don't think too hard about it." He reassures, hand still on your back. "I warned you, though" You clear your throat and frown at him again.

"Don't be mean..." you say, nuzzling back into the nape of his neck. "I think I'll stick to smelling you. I like your smells." Your hands intertwine with his. He grunts and drinks the rest of his beer.

"I like the sound your throat makes when you're drinking and eating..." you mumble. He sighs and closes his eyes, shaking his head. What was he going to do with you?

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Ahhhh it's done! It might be worse than I thought, but here's to hoping! Don't worry I'm also trying to get the 50 follower milestone post ready, I just don't know what kind of fic it'll be!

Also how embarrassing that I had to google "How to smoke for beginners." 😭

It would be interesting if reader was what you mention, which I’m pretty sure is called The body eater. It’s also why that one guy blinded himself. 

Let's say reader is the body eater, and the ‘completely black body’ is really just his leather and gimp stuff. It also means he’s larger than the pale visitor and stronger. 

It does mean that if the blinded guy shows up he’s gonna freak. He will claim he can feel ‘ITs’ presence, even if he can’t see you. He would only join the house if you were sent away, if it were gameplay. 

Being the body eater does give you new urges though, meaning you’ll leave the house at times. Nobody is really sure what you do, but Protag as heard you regurgitating and chewing stuff, so he can only assume you are eating. 

It does make you stink, when you return from these ‘trips’. The trips can last hours, and sometimes days. Sometimes you bring stuff back with you, like energy drinks, alcohol, even a new gun or clothes. Stuff like that, 

You've also unzipped the mouth of your gimp hood, to cough up a ball of... something fleshy, at Protags feet, like some big nasty cat. 

It smells like burnt pork and theres tufts of hair and bone in it. At the same time you’re just purring that nasty gurgling noise that sounds like boiling mud and sludge. 

He turns down your gift, which means you’ll just eat it, which is very foul to look at. 

It does mean that Protag is gonna need to clean you up, since you always wanna sit at the foot of his bed even when Protag tries to kick you off. 

The least he can do is clean you up so you don’t stink up his entire room or stain his only bed. You're just rumbling like a big happy bear, boar, human, hybrid. 

He's gonna have to shoo out whoever is staying in the bathroom, so he can order you into the tub. It's way too small for you, but your bones do that uncomfortable popping and twisting so you’ll fit.  

Your knees are touching your chin as you look up at him with your one visible eye. Protag will see that light doesn’t seem to reflect off your eyes, they’re flat like fish or doll eyes. Your pupils also don’t readjust to the light.’ 

Protag ends up just turning on the water and letting it run, there’s no need to wait for it to warm up since you don’t care. 

You’re just busy staring up at him, eyes wide and unblinking. Your teeth are grinding under your hood, your jaw moving from side to side in a very animalistic display. 

It’s not a threat, as much as it looks like it. Instead, it’s your weird non-human way of showing care. It's like a cat kneading its paws. 

Protag has to roll up his sleeves, grab one of those floor scrubbing brushes, and get to work with some brown soap and vinegar. Maybe some bleach, if there’s a Russian version. 

 Water gets everywhere from having you move around, so he can scrub you easier. Theres a bit of hesitance before he tells you to pull your gloves off. 

Seeing your skin is kind of erotic, in a way, especially touching your hands and scrubbing them clean. He's a lot more careful with your skin than your leather, even though it doesn’t matter. 

Your skin is cold and strange. It seems smooth, without the usual pores and imperfections of human skin, and it’s stretchy like rubber. He tries digging his nails in, just to see what happens, and it just leaves dents that fill back out. 

You purr at him when he does this, drool dripping from the mouth zipper of your hood, your visible eye drooping as you lean towards him.  

Protag is sure he’s gone insane after all this time, because his heart races. He’s not a guy to jump others, for the most part, so Protag pulls back, makes you stand, and wipes you down. 

He doesn’t fully wipe you down, just takes the worst, and then throws the towel at you to do the rest before stomping off to wave off the heat that’s gathered in his face.