Actually posting this on tumblr now
It was a little rushed when i wrote it before but after rereading it ts eats so enjoy!!!
CW: Pregnancy, brief birth (not graphic), canon typical gore and violence (also not graphic), its cutie patootie
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It's been a few weeks since the apocalypse began, though you aren't sure. The weird mix of Pregnancy brain, paranoia, and survival instincts is overwhelming. The shotgun your boyfriend left behind is your lifeline, you distrust even the few people you allow inside. FEMA takes more people with every visit. You haven't thought of your boyfriend since everything started burning and the "visitors" appeared. He was trash, and you don't care where he is unless it's on your doorstep.
Thundering knocks on your front door jolt you from your thoughts, it's almost as if the world around you goes quiet as the knocking stills. Sock clad feet pad against the floor as you quietly shuffle towards the door, shotgun clutched between shaking hands like a lifeline. You stand on the tips of your toes, straining to peer through the peephole, a gentle hand bracing itself against the door. You stagger backwards with a soft gasp, internally cursing yourself for making noise, now the visitor actually knows you're there. You swallow the lump in your throat before mustering up the courage to look again, throat going dry as the impossibly large smile widens and the visitor's eyes roll back.
“Howdy!” You feel your knees buckle in fear, your head suddenly feeling too big for your body as your heart pounds in your chest. You swear you see the visitor's smile widen as you rest a hand on the soft swell of your baby bump hidden under your shirt.
“I-I’m not letting you in,” You stammer, hand shaking as you clutch the shotgun so hard your knuckles turn white.
“Is your door nice and sturdy?” The visitors' faces drop, and a chill runs down your spine,vone you haven’t felt since the apocalypse began and your boyfriend left. If you hadn’t just used the bathroom, you would have peed yourself in fear. When you don’t answer, the visitor's grin returns.
“Never know what might happen to it,” As the visitor hears your breathing quicken, he nods imperceptibly. “You understand.”
“I’ve got a gun!” You answer a little too quickly and mouse-like to be considered a real threat.
“Delicious! Despair gives courage to the coward, yes?” The visitor leans closer, looking almost comical in the fish-eye lens if it weren't for the current situation.
“Soooo… You alone?” Never before have you been more grateful for that miserable tall man moping in your office, like a self-loathing angel.
“N-no, I’m not alone,” You wonder how you’ve been able to hold the conversation for this long. Your cowardice towards visitors has driven them away from your door before, why listen to the paranoid girl behind the door cry when you can go to the easier target next door? The pale man's face drops once more.
“Today is your lucky day. I can hear someone whispering inside.” The pale visitor turns to leave, pausing before turning his head back to the door over his shoulder. “But who knows where they’ll be in a few days?” You feel your stomach drop at the implication, the very real possibility that FEMA could take your last real company and leave you all alone with... that...that thing out there.
You do not sleep that night.
The weeks had blurred long before the apocalypse began, the only constant being your growing belly, the pale man's visits, and never truly being off survival mode. FEMA took the tall man a while ago, though you were fortunate enough to get a few more wayward souls seeking shelter at your door, however you're unsure if being taken by FEMA is better than burning up outside… You haven't gotten back anyone they've taken, and it seems like they come every day now. Or maybe you're just crazy, but who is sane in this crazy world anymore?
Your hand runs over your swollen belly. You're unsure how far along you are by now, but you're sure you will pop sooner rather than later. The thought worries you. What will you do? And of course, FEMA had just taken your last lifeline, the supportive stoner that was strangely purple. As the scorching days blur and the arctic nights fade, the pale man's visits have become less... dreaded. You find yourself looking forward to them from time to time, his earlier feral animosity instead turning into a “playful” game of cat and mouse, though in the back of your head, you know that game can only last for so long.
A sharp knock echoes through the empty and eerily quiet house, and you sigh. A hand rests on your belly while the other braces itself on the armrest of the couch. You know who it is, and you know the drill, the only difference this time is that you are finally alone... and that means this little game the visitor has been playing is now over. What will he do now? Surely eat you, maybe change your baby into one of them. And yet as your thoughts race, you don't have that pit of dread in your stomach anymore... actually, the more you focus on it, a sharp cramp becomes more apparent in your right abdomen, you can't dwell on the dull pain any longer as you lean up to the peephole, and sure enough he's there.
“Howdy! You alone, dear homeowner?” The pale man’s grin is wide, like he knows the answer to the doomed question. You notice his nose twitch slightly, and his smile falls a little as if he can sense something you cannot.
“Yes... I am alone,” You wince and make a small noise, looking confusedly at your stomach as sharper, harder to ignore cramps tear through your hips.
“You... smell different...” The confused visitor scritches at the door. “Something is wrong... homeowner, let me in.” Your hand catches you as you stumble, unbearable throbbing taking over your lower body. As a rush of liquid splatters across the floor, no, no, no, not now, you can't be serious. A pained yelp escapes your lips as you slide down the wall, the apparently concerned visitor now banging on the door so hard it shakes the house.
“You smell of death. Whatever is happening will kill you, homeowner! Let me in, she has said it is not your time!” The doorknob jiggles, the visitor becoming antsy as the stench of death surrounds your little home.
With a pained groan, your amniotic fluid-covered hand slips over the doorknob a few times before it finally opens enough for the pale man to take action and step inside the isolated home. Is this what he expected when he first started courting you? Showing off his strength and capabilities like a cat leaving presents at the door, no, but he certainly isn't complaining. After all, he is in the house now. He crouches, the impossibly long legs folding in on themselves as he gently tries to manhandle you into a position that looks most comfortable. He isn't entirely sure what he is doing, but he trusts his animal-like instincts more than anything else with your life on the line. He didn't spend this much time courting you just for you to die when he’s this close. While you scream and cry in pain, his eyes rake over your body, taking note of the unusually large swell of your stomach, something he hasn’t seen on any of the human females that still wander around. Long fingers attached to a large, pale hand ghost over the large baby bump, marveling at it briefly before crashing back to reality with another pained scream and a different smell assaulting his nostrils. He tilts his head curiously, peering up the skirt of your dress before looking back at your sweaty and scrunched face.
“Is this thing a parasite? Does it need exterminated?” His hand trails toward your thighs as your eyes widen.
“No! It’s- ah! A baby-” A sob can be heard as you shake, slightly scared and comforted at his presence, sure he could kill you, but you aren’t alone.
“I-i need to push it out- or else we will both die- and it needs to stay alive!” You add in a panic, your rambling getting interrupted as you feel another intense need to push, scared the visitor will immediately kill and discard the life you’ve worked so hard for this whole time.
Your eyes are squeezed shut, face slick from sweat, rosy lips parted as you cry out. For a moment, you forget where you are, your brain tricking you into believing you are in a hospital, not the dingy foyer of your isolated home with a visitor between your legs trying to deliver your baby. Your vision is blurry when you open your eyes. The dull throbbing and sharp cramps are now gone and replaced with a warm, floating feeling. The last thing you can register before you pass out is the wet, crying bundle placed in your arms and your limp body being picked up.
You awake with a startled gasp, jolting up and immediately regretting it as your stomach and hips are assaulted with pain. A shaky hand makes its way towards your belly, a silent sob getting caught in your throat as the once taught bump now feels deflated and empty. You bite your cheek as you stand, biting through the pain as you shuffle out of the bedroom and through your house, ignoring the little blood drips that follow in your wake from the traumatic and strenuous birth. When you make it to the living room, you gasp in surprise, and the visitor does the same as he looks up at you. In his awkwardly long arms lies your little baby, neatly swaddled and content. An empty baby bottle lies next to the pale man.
“What are you doing?” You ask suddenly, cutting him off and surprising even yourself as your eyes dart between him and your very fragile newborn in his arms. The sight is a little jarring, the very threat that has been plastered in everyone's minds seemingly taking care of your baby.
“I threatened your neighbors until they told me the basics of keeping him alive.” The pale man states simply, seeing no need to lie. It's kind of impressive, actually, risking his life to keep alive an insignificant infant he shouldn’t even care about. The pale man glances at the baby, then back at you.
“He is a he, by the way.” The pale man adds before his uncanny facial expression shifts to one of concern.
“You need to lie back down...” Before you can protest or even scream, the pale man rises, guiding you back to your room with seemingly infinite patience and laying the sleeping bundle in your arms once you are safely settled. The pale man stares at you and the bundle for a moment, what little is left of his previous humanity drinking in the intimate scene.
“I will stay until you are safe and better,” The pale man states before walking out of your room, not listening to your stammered protests.
You sigh, turning back to the bundle in your arms. If he wanted to kill you, he could've... You were so vulnerable, passed out for days on end... and yet he didn't. As you stare at the sleeping bundle, you doubt you’ll be getting rid of the pale man, and your chest flutters.
