valkyri - Tumblr blog

valkyri · 19 hours ago

Text

i’d rather be lonely

tags: poly 141 x reader, 28 days later au, noncon, hurt/no comfort, the boys aren’t nice in this just like in the movie

day 8

it had spread quicker than anyone realised it would. the virus. the rage.

an ill-timed visit to your friends’ new house left you trapped away from home and surrounded in the busy southern city when attacks on the streets began to be reported ever closer to the area.

trains to and from london were cancelled and taxi stands were left empty of cars while slowly, bit by bit, surrounding counties were locked down and then left to bedlam as police lost control.

it spread so quickly.

—

day 14

you’d lost june.

she’d tried to leave the house to find some help. you’d watched from her loft window as she barely made it to the end of the street before she was tackled to the ground, her face beaten to a pulp as her arms scrabbled to push her assailant away.

you’d watched as she’d fallen limp beneath it, face bloody and skin torn, until it got bored of her. she’d gotten up again a few minutes later and stalked off with a obvious limp, mindless to the direction she’d been heading in originally.

you’d sat with your back to the wall as you tried to smother your sobs, tears streaming over your fingers pressed tightly against your trembling lips.

you hated that you thought it as you sat there mourning, but one less person meant the food might last longer until help did arrive. with only three of you now it meant the small amount of groceries in the cupboards and fridge would spread just that little bit further.

you knew the others would be thinking it too even if they couldn’t admit it.

—

day 16

trish and charley convinced you to leave when one of the infected got too close to finding you inside.

if they hadn’t managed to hide you all so quickly in the bathroom, you’d be dead or one of those things.

the back door had been kicked in and none of you felt safe anymore, even upstairs. you had to get moving, it was clear now that no one else was coming to save you.

you packed light, shared the food between you all, and set off that same afternoon.

you thought about your mum and dad back home and hoped they were safe, thought that maybe there had been some sort of safe zone successfully set up quicker in the less populated area. the realist in you whispered that they’d be dead already.

sometimes it felt easier to avoid thinking about them at all.

—

day 20

don’t travel at night.

they don’t sleep, they don’t eat, they don’t seem to need it like you do.

travelling at night only makes it more dangerous because you’re more likely to make a mistake.

there were only two of you now.

—

day 21

you’d found a cricket bat and charley kept a machete in their hand at all times as you travelled. desperately seeking uninfected food and water to keep you going day to day.

it was scarce to find despite the lack of survivors you came across. you wondered if maybe the infected did still eat after all, but with how often you came across one - well practiced now in swinging your bat with all your might until you heard a resounding crack - you’d never seen one eating. they bit and they tore, at both flesh and clothes, but they didn’t eat.

—

day 24

you’d found more survivors.

only two, a father and daughter that had managed to last in their little flat on the third floor by barricading themselves in, but it was two more to be added to your pitiful group.

you’d had to hold back tears stood next to charley in their cosy flat. it felt so normal, so untouched by everything outside.

it almost felt like you’d not realised just how much you’d lost, and how quickly it’d all fallen, until you saw it laid out in front of you.

you were given the daughter’s room to sleep in while she shared with her dad, but despite the privacy and lockable door, the pair of you were already settled into safe habits and took turns to sleep while the other watched the door.

—

day 25

the dad, roger, had a long range radio that had been picking up the crackling transmission of a rescue team.

“it’s on repeat,” you’d pointed out with withering hope. “they could be gone by now, or in just as shitty a position as us. maybe even dead.”

“we can’t stay here,” roger argued. “we’re running low on food and water. the other flats have been rummaged to high heaven and you know what the streets are like.”

“the shops aren’t worth the danger you put yourself in,” charley agreed. sighing when you frowned at them.

“how long have you been hearing this?” you asked, pointing to the radio.

“a week,” he said. “might’ve been on for longer but i only caught it last thursday.”

the gruff voice was still playing, decidedly southern but not posh. firm and commanding in its instructions on how to reach them. it would be so nice to have someone else take charge, to have someone else protect you and feed you, even if only for a little while.

you rubbed at your eyes tiredly.

“ok, let’s go,” you agreed. roger turned off the radio and nodded, his gratitude and relief palpable.

“i’ll go tell katie to pack. we’ll set off immediately, make use of the daylight.”

you and charley nodded.

“manchester isn’t too long a drive,” charley tried to reassure you. “four hours, four an’ half, tops. we’ll be safe in no time.”

you were unconvinced.

—

you had to stop to siphon gas more than once, none of the cars you’d stopped to take from having had full enough tanks to get you to your destination in one go.

you’d ended up pulling over at a petrol station later in the journey, hoping to find that one of the abandoned cars or tanks had enough to fill roger’s car as well as the portable gas can he’d shoved into the boot with your stuff. better to be safe than sorry in case you needed more and there were no decent stops further along the way.

you’d been lucky so far.

while you stopped, katie took the opportunity to use the toilet inside while charley helped roger with the petrol. you’d stood near by, keeping an eye out for anything heading your way along the flat road, not wanting to be taken by surprise while they were vulnerable.

katie’s scream had you whipping back towards the gas station’s building, your heart pounding and bile rising in your throat as she stumbled out of the front door coughing up blood, her eyes red rimmed. you sprinted forward, moving past her when she fell to the gravel, and hit the young woman that was chasing her over the head, then struck again in her ribs so she fell low enough for you to give the final blow.

your cricket bat was discoloured from all of the blood and gore and viscera you never cleaned off well enough and the handle tape was peeling beneath your sweaty grip. you’d need to replace that soon, maybe sand the wood a little if you got the chance. keep it in good nick.

roger was knelt by katie’s side already when you turned, your thoughts reeling and distracted, on the edge of hysterical as you tried to compartmentalise; but you could see he was unwilling to accept what you already knew.

she was jerking in his hold as he brushed back her matted hair, fruitlessly trying to wipe away the blood from her mouth and eyes with his sleeve. he whimpered and held her close, promises and apologies falling from his lips as you slowly walked away from him, heading towards the car.

“get in,” you hissed to charley as you passed. you rounded to the other side and felt relief when you opened the drivers side and saw the keys still dangling in the ignition. “get in,” you repeated when they continued to stare at the grieving man and his dead child. “he won’t leave her and i doubt he’ll let us kill—“

you cut yourself off then. suddenly the things you’d hurt - disposed of - so far felt too human and your actions for survival too brutal, even if necessary. you clenched your eyes shut for a moment and willed the thoughts away; you weren’t going to die here. not today, not by the hand of one of those things.

charley turned to you once you’d stopped, horrified equally at your train of thought and shook their head in disgust.

“we can’t leave him, this is his car,” they argued.

your eyes darted between charley and roger and you saw when they realised you were considering leaving without them too. their shoulders tensed and their fist clenched around the handle of their machete; you knew you needed to act fast, you’d both grown unpredictable through strife and desperation and you had no doubt they’d swing at you if they thought they had no choice. it’s what you’d do.

you stepped back from the door and held up both hands, cricket bat leant in the car doorway.

“you’re right,” you blurted out. “ok, ok, help me get them inside then. we’ll need to find the safe zone soon to help her.”

you took a second step back from the driver’s door and charley’s shoulders relaxed as you pasted on a shaky smile. it felt so brittle, so obviously fake, but charley smiled back and their body language gentled as they turned to head towards roger and katie.

without hesitation you threw your cricket bat across to the passenger seat and launched yourself into the driver’s, peeling off with a choking rev of the engine as the car struggled to climb to the sudden speed in first gear before you could even get the door properly closed behind you. you moved on autopilot as you ground the gears into climbing higher. charley didn’t have a chance to shout or chase the car before you were spitting gravel in your wake.

as you drove you couldn’t bring yourself to look back in the mirror and see the little girl wake back up and try to take a chunk out of her father, try to pry his teary eyes out with her scrawny fingers as charley - your friend of twelve years you thought with a sob - realised what a mistake they’d made. you heard the screams echo down the flat road well enough to know what fate befell them all.

—

day 26

you’d slept in the car, not willing to risk continuing to drive in the dark. rules were rules and you stuck to them, it’s how you’d stayed alive this long.

you’d gotten back to it as soon as the sun rose; you barely had 3 miles left to the meeting spot they’d repeated on the radio, a twenty minute drive at most just off the motorway. but before you could get there your tires were blown out and the back window shattered in a cacophony of glass when it was shot out - a warning to stop immediately or else.

the car skidded a little before you pulled the hand break on, jerking in your seat as you skidded to a stop. you kept your unsteady hands in the air as a pair of armed men slinked out from the surrounding bushes, moving in synchronicity.

you shook in your seat, your breath coming in short when your door was yanked open. a stern faced soldier ducked down with his gun levelled at you until he saw your scared face.

he broke out into a smile and let the barrel drop to point down and away from your centre. “hello. don’t look so worried,” he said brightly before standing back up straight. he stepped far back enough to let you climb out when he gestured and you noticed the second soldier peeking into the back seat from the other side of the car. “yer uninfected?”

you nodded jerkily and he hummed happily. he leant into the car and pressed the button that popped the boot.

“gaz, check the back seat, i’ll get the boot,” he suggested to the other soldier and left you to stand alone and shaken by the hood of the car. they were moving so quickly, having shot at you in one moment and now leaving you to hug yourself tightly in the next, no introductions or polite apologies for the cautious though extreme behaviour.

you sucked in a rough breath. losing charley was taking its toll on you now that you’d slept through the adrenaline crash, the reality of your actions hitting you square in the chest. you blinked back tears.

gaz sent a soft smile your way before he dug through the car, pulling out your cricket bat with a low whistle. when he got to the back seat he had roger’s golf club and katie’s school rounders bat hanging from his other hand. you remembered telling her to take it with her to the bathroom when you’d pulled over, not that it mattered now.

he moved to stand near you, rounding the car to the other side.

“take a look at these, soap,” he said and the first man popped up like an eager puppy as he left the boot with your bags in his hands. he dumped them down unceremoniously before snickering at the weapons. you stared at charley’s backpack and its broken front pocket zip.

“had to defend ye’self much?” soap asked sarcastically, breaking your staring competition with the bag.

“plenty,” you answered a touch sharply.

“right,” soap said, sobering a little when you didn’t play along nicely with his teasing. “well, price will be happy t’see ye. simon i’m not so sure of, hard man to please.”

gaz snorted and mumbled under his breath something you didn’t catch.

“all of these yours?” he asked after, gesturing to the bags. you shook your head and grabbed the backpack you’d been using for the last three weeks, hesitating over charley’s, before leaving it behind and grabbing your bat instead. you followed behind the pair as they led you through a cluster of trees to their hidden truck just off the road.

you climbed in before johnny and sat next to gaz on the long front bench seat. he rested his gun down by his side when he settled in the driver’s seat while johnny kept his in his grasp as he looked out of the window. the scotsman eyed the bat between your knees but didn’t comment.

the pair of them had blocked you in and, purposely or not, it felt stifling.

—

the tall gates of the stately home the soldiers had taken over loomed when you drove through. johnny had jumped out to unlock them and then closed them again behind you, quick and clearly practiced. you felt your heart in your throat as you watched the padlock and chain get locked tight in the wing mirror. it should’ve felt secure, but it only brought you anxiety.

a man with a heavy presence waited for you on the steps of the home so you climbed out when gaz did and smiled hesitantly.

“sir, we found a survivor just off the motorway,” gaz informed him as if he couldn’t see you stood before him. soap came to stand at your other side.

“good job, lads. what’s your name, sweetheart?”

you bristled but kept your tone polite as you introduced yourself, recognising the voice from the broadcast. he hummed and looked at you from head to toe.

“i’m captain john price. i’m in charge of this unit,” he said, his chin held high. “why don’t you let me give you a tour of the place, eh? by time we’re finished dinner should be ready and then you can have a proper rest.”

“sure, thank you,” you agreed and moved to follow him in. you felt your bat slip from your fingers and tensed, turning to look for the thief, but johnny was already walking away with it hooked over his shoulder.

“you won’t be needing that anymore, love,” gaz said with a patronising smile when he caught your lingering gaze.

“it’s mine. i’d like it back.” your hands twitched nervously without it, and you almost took a step to follow after him.

“later,” price cut in. “we can get it for you later, can’t we, sergeant?”

kyle nodded once.

your shoulders eased momentarily and you turned to follow price inside once more.

he showed you the library, seemingly untouched; the unofficial infirmary they’d set up in the lounge; the billiards room with half a game of snooker left unfinished on the table; and he showed you the door to the kitchen but made it clear you were not to disturb simon while he was cooking; and then finally took you upstairs to the bedrooms.

“this one will be yours,” he said and led you in. you took a moment to look around. the furniture and decoration simple, if not a little dated. “did you have anyone else with you? any other survivors we might find out there?”

you didn’t know if it was the unexpected softness to his voice or the memory of charley’s trusting, tried smile, but you felt tears falling down your cheeks suddenly as you thought of charley and roger and katie.

you shook your head and wiped at your cheeks roughly. you blinked hard and bit your cheek until the tears stopped. bit harder to keep them from starting again.

“hey, hey, you’re ok now,” john promised, placing a large, warm hand on your shoulder and squeezing. “just relax, we’ve got you now.”

it didn’t bring you the relief and comfort you had hoped for, but you smiled at him all the same.

“thanks,” you whispered, still choked up.

“take your time to settle in,” price ordered. “we finished the tour a little early, but i’ll send one of the lads to come and get you when the food is ready. alright?”

you nodded again and he was gone, door shut behind him.

—

you hadn’t unpacked your bag, hadn’t done much more than check the room was empty before finding a corner to quietly break down in.

you didn’t know how long you had before price would come back for you, so you made it quick; wiped your face clean of tears when you finally felt like you could push the guilt and the dread down far enough, and sniffled roughly to clear the snot. you waited on the bed for the next half an hour, staring forward at the chest of drawers opposite in silence until the steady knock came.

“come in,” you called out, voice scratchy. the door opened and you rose to meet them at the door, finding gaz with that soft smile of his.

“ready for dinner?” he asked and when you nodded he led the way back down the stairs to the dining hall.

the room was huge, the long extravagant table in the centre of the room felt ridiculous and overkill considering there were only five of you sat at one end.

you ate happily, not having had warm, freshly made food in weeks. the eggs tasted off, but it was nothing a little salt couldn’t cover as you scarfed them down alongside the baked beans and tinned mixed vegetables simon had steamed.

the chef in question stared at you from across the table, eyes blank but intense as they never left your form while you ate.

“how’s your room?” price asked once you were halfway through your meal.

“it’s good, thank you,” you muttered, nodding in appreciation at him when the four of them turned to you.

“good,” he said and poked irritatedly at the eggs on his plate but didn’t comment on them. “you’re close to all of our rooms, so we can keep an eye on ya. make sure you’re safe.”

you nodded tersely, that uneasy feeling coming back and making it difficult to swallow down your food.

“first night with us,” johnny jeered, grinning too wide at your side before realisation wiped his smile off his face. “ah fucking shite luck, ah’m on perimeter check tonight.” his eyes flashed and he turned to simon with pleading eyes. “go’awn an’ do me a solid si, swap with me and i’ll owe ye one?”

before simon could reply, price cut in firmly. “you’re not swapping. tonight’s your shift, johnny. we’re not changing that just because there’s a bit of excitement.”

johnny huffed, but acquiesced with a nod down at his food. “yes’sir.”

john looked to you and smiled placidly, before making eye contact with the small group of soldiers one by one.

“we’ve got to have rules and obey them,” he started smugly. “after all we’re not savages.”

“lord of the flies,” you said automatically, the quote standing out.

price tilted his head, impressed. “you’re a fan of reading the classics?”

“just ones they teach you in school,” you said with a flat smile.

“ah, well,” he laughed. “maybe you can pick it up again now that you’ve got the time and a safe place.”

you hummed noncommittally and forced yourself to finish the food. if nothing else, you weren’t going to waste the meal, even if it did feel heavy in your stomach; unsure as to how long this sort of luxury would last.

dinner passed awkwardly, but as soon as you were excused to leave you took your plate to the kitchen and then left for your bedroom.

you locked the door, but the little flimsy latch didn’t give you much reassurance. you were tempted to jam the door with a chair, but there wasn’t one in the room. a job for tomorrow maybe.

you sat awake the whole night, your eyes flickering between the window and the door at every small sound, not trusting the men that were apparently just down the hall. old habits died hard and without charley beside you on watch, you found sleep to be elusive.

you sat next to the mattress, back against the wall and hidden from the door, the same place you’d sat to cry when you first arrived, and wished you still had your cricket bat. that was another thing you’d need to rectify tomorrow, finding or making a weapon if they continued to refuse to give you yours.

you shuffled in place, your legs and butt numb from staying in the same position for too long on the hard wood flooring. it felt like the house creaked with your every movement, but you knew you were being paranoid.

in the silence of the night, when your eyes had grown heavy, only staying open through pure determination and self preservation, you heard a soft repetitive groaning from the room next to yours. you hadn’t realised your room was so close to another’s, thinking price had meant they were staying further down the hall when he mentioned being close by. as you listened you recognised the sound of grunting and moaning and flushed hot, embarrassed and uncomfortable to be an unwilling voyeur to this man’s attempt at relaxing when no one should have been awake. you tried to block it out, but if you hummed or whistled it’d only make it all the more obvious that you were awake and aware of what was going on, and going by the rough, low tone, it was simon in the room over and you didn’t need a reason to make conversation any more stilted with him.

you covered your ears and tried to focus on the creaking of the old house, the rustle of the trees in the wind outside, but ultimately it didn’t help.

—

day 27

you were stiff the next morning, puffy bags pronounced beneath your tired eyes as you joined two of the men for breakfast.

“sleep well?” simon asked pointedly as he reached for the cereal and milk at the same time as you.

you pursed your lips and let him take them. “as well as could be expected,” you said vaguely.

he hummed, clearly amused.

“cap is on patrol this morning, but he said to let you know that you can have a wander of the place, get to know the layout and everything on your own,” gaz said as he ate a slice of dry toast.

“sounds goo—“

“y’just cant leave the gates,” he interrupted, smile turning sharp. “they’re locked for a reason, yeah?”

“…yeah, sure. no climbing over the extremely tall, iron gates,” you promised with a forced-joking tone. when gaz didn’t laugh you continued appeasingly, “i’m sure i’ll have enough to look at inside that i’ll be too busy to think about the gardens anyway.”

“exactly,” gaz agreed.

—

you didn’t cross johnny until a couple of hours later. he’d slept in after being on guard duty for most of the night, but his countenance brightened when he saw you down the same hallway as him.

he shifted to the centre of the narrow walkway so you’d be blocked to pass by.

“how’re you settlin’ in?” he asked, his grin a little too unsettling to be casual.

“fine, thanks. just having a look around, trying to find price,” you said. he nodded, dragged his eyes over you slow enough to feel like he was physically touching you. you withheld the urge to cross your arms over your chest and instead glared up at him stonily. “any idea where he is?”

“not a clue,” he shrugged. his hand reached out to squeeze your hip and you froze. “but if ah see him, i’ll tell him yer looking for him.”

you nodded on autopilot and he slipped past you, patting your arse twice, firmly, before heading on his way. you stayed still in shock for a minute before the racing of your heart and the panicked sweat at your temples registered.

you needed a weapon and you needed to find price.

—

john was irritable when you found him, hangry you’d be willing to bet given his absence at breakfast; he’d ended his shift on the patrol and had swapped with simon.

you hesitated to interrupt him on his way to the kitchen, but the slimy feeling of unease still crawled in your stomach and chest, so you pushed forward.

“price?” you called out. he lifted his head with a raised brow as he turned the kettle on.

“hm?”

“i was wondering what i can do to help around here?” you started. maybe if he gave you a job, it’d be easier to argue the necessity for a weapon while you did it. “maybe i could take a shift for look out, or i could—“

he interrupted you with a deep laugh. “no, sweetheart, i don’t think so.”

you felt your blood run cold.

“i don’t want to sit about all day,” you argued. “i can be useful.”

john looked you over quickly before turning back to his tea and pouring the boiling water over the bag. “i’m sure you will be,” he muttered. he heaved a heavy sigh. “if you want to help, you could start by giving simon a hand in the kitchen, relieve him of some of the stress, give him more time for other duties.”

“you want me to cook?”

“if you’ve got spare time on top of that, you could keep the place tidy,” john suggested further with a pleased little smile. “god knows four men living in one house, we— it could use a woman’s touch, liven up the place again. might feel less like a bloody university flat at least.”

you stared at him silently. he wanted you to cook and clean for them. you seethed.

“i’m not sure about that, john, i was thinking more along the lines of—“

“you asked what you could do to help,” he said firmly, all pleasantries gone. “none of us exactly enjoy the jobs we’ve been given right now, sweetheart. but in order to get through this we’ve got to muck in and do them, haven’t we?”

you clenched your jaw and reluctantly nodded.

“this is how you pull your weight,” he decided and took a sip of his drink.

“fine.”

he smiled. “i’ll get simon to show you the ropes later tonight for dinner then, yeah?”

you nodded.

“good chat,” he said with a wink. when you didn’t turn to leave he continued, “was there anything else?”

you hesitated, thinking about the cricket bat, before shaking your head with a forced smile. “no. that was it.”

“alright then.” he smiled back. it puffed out his cheeks in a way that would have had you snickering usually, but his condescension smothered any possible endearing feelings that hadn’t already been lost over the last few weeks of trauma. “off you pop.”

you felt your budding anxiety buzz under your skin for the rest of the day, the feeling that something was going to happen never leaving you. it was like waiting for the other shoe to drop, but everyone was telling you there was nothing to be worried about despite the last three weeks you’d lived through.

you’d grabbed a chair from a random room and brought it to your bedroom without being noticed, thankful for the lack of chaperone and eyes on your back.

the anticipation was slowly driving you mad and the urge to make an escape plan - just in case the worst came to the worst - was growing ever more difficult to ignore. if you thought you could get away with it, you’d take another chair and break the leg off, sharpen it up so you had something to use as a weapon, but you didn’t want to push your luck. one chair in the corner of the room was dismissible, but two? and you’d realised the lads liked to haunt your doorway given the multiple visits you’d had so far.

instead you decided to look around for something you could keep hidden in plain sight, something that wouldn’t be noticed if it went missing, as you walked a lap around the property again.

a candle stick had been your best option, and despite it feeling very clue-esq, it felt like a decent enough weapon to get you started, board game or no. certainly better than nothing either way.

you’d managed to avoid soap and his wandering hands for the rest of the day, gaz had been outside for most of it, but finally it was reaching dinner time so you headed to the kitchen to meet up with simon.

you knocked hesitantly on the half-open door to announce yourself, echoes of price’s warning to leave simon alone from the tour on your first night prevalent in your mind, and stepped inside when simon looked over his shoulder and didn’t immediately tell you to fuck off.

“you know how to make dumplings?” he asked gruffly. you nodded. “packets there, just needs water. found a couple��a tins of stew at the back of the food cupboard, so we’re ‘avin’ that.”

“great.” you found a bowl in the second cupboard you opened and started on with the dumplings, mixing the packet together with the water and moulding the sticky dough into small balls. you checked the timer sat above the oven and saw there wasn’t too long left and placed the balls on top of the bubbling stew. you weren’t sure how simon was working out the timings given it was tinned stew, and not from scratch, but you just hoped it had long enough in the oven to turn the dough crispy on top. once you’d pushed the oven closed again, you turned to see simon had already set out some potatoes for you to peel and chop.

half way through the pile, you spoke again, not daring to look at him as you did.

“so where’s the rest of your team? surely they didn’t just send four of you out here to help survivors,” you asked. “and why isn’t there anyone else here but me? has no one else managed to—“

“y’should be grateful we’re even still here to feed ya,” he snapped, glaring you down from the other side of the kitchen as he mashed the pot of potatoes he’d already finished. “worry less about who’s not here anymore and think about doing as you’re told.”

he pointed back to the potatoes and you bit your cheek to keep from saying something you’d regret.

“right.”

you helped him set out the stew - watered down to spread across five with stale dumplings floating atop - and mash on the table twenty minutes later and continued to bite your tongue when john spoke with an appreciative hum, “looks like we’ve found the right place for you after all, eh, love?”

johnny squeezed the back of your thigh just above the knee when you leant over the table next to him and you flinched at the sickly warmth of his palm that seeped through your jeans at the invasive touch.

breathing in deeply, you stepped back out of his reach and took a seat next to kyle further up the table. you tried to eat quickly, keeping your replies short when they tried to pull you in to conversation, hoping to escape once you were done. your lack of sleep the night before had caught up to you, leaving you exhausted with an oncoming headache pounding behind your eyes.

john tutted when you excused yourself, standing from your seat while the others were only half finished.

“jobs not done, love. still got the washing up to do,” he said with a disarming smile.

part of you wanted to joke that back home whoever cooked didn’t clean, but you could tell from john’s eyes that he wasn’t going to back down on this and you’d seen how he reacted to his men back talking. it seemed he was determined to put you into some sort of mothering role, or housemaid at least.

with a flat smile, you shrugged.

“of course, how silly of me to forget.” never mind that simon hadn’t cleaned the night before and this was only your second meal with all four of them.

“no harm done. you’ll get the hang of it soon enough,” johnny commented. “your place here, that is.”

the clarification left a stone in your stomach and you didn’t have the strength to pull your fake smile back to your lips again. instead you turned to the kitchen to get started on the pile of dirty dishes.

you heard simon snort as you left and kyle snicker, teasing his friend none too quietly, “oh she can’t fucking stand you, mate.”

you clenched your jaw at the gossiping and rubbed your eyes tiredly when you got to the sink and saw the mess.

at least it was away from them, out of sight and out of reach.

—

your headache had set in fully by time you got to your bedroom that evening, having to carefully decline their offer to join them for a game of pool when you passed by for the staircase with pruny fingers, and sleep was eluding you again despite your best efforts.

finally, once several hours had passed staring at the ceiling, you decided to head down to the infirmary and see if they had any paracetamol stocked.

you grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen on the way so you could take the tablet as soon as you found it and yawned as you made your way down the cold, bare halls towards the other side of the stately home.

the sound of shuffling and grunting had you freezing and you turned slowly to the hall to your left and squinted, your heart beating out of your chest while your eyes slowly adjusted to the low lighting.

when you realised what you’d walked in on, your eyes widened and you took a stumbling step back, your water almost slipping from your trembling fingers.

gaz, fully dressed, and johnny, in a shirt and boxers, were making out heavily while leant against the wall. johnny licked eagerly into gaz’s mouth and your eyes drifted down to their rutting hips and your breath hitched when you saw their cocks pulled free of their flies, kyle’s long fingers keeping them held together between them as they pressed into each other for friction.

you couldn’t hear the sticky rub of their slick skin over their panting moans and the rustle of their clothes, but you could imagine it.

you heard a deep chuckle and your eyes darted up to see kyle had caught you. he was pinned against the wall as johnny kissed down his neck and tugged his collar into a misshapen mess, but his head was rolled towards you.

“wanna join?” he gasped out, mouth twitching up into a teasing smile.

you shook your head dazedly as you scrambled back to your room, pain tablets forgotten about as you heard their laughter interspersed with moans echo behind you.

you barely slept as the memory played on a loop behind your closed eyes.

—

day 28

you tried not to act any different at breakfast the next morning, but you knew from their shared knowing looks that they could tell you were still flustered from the unexpected show.

it had caught you off guard, seeing them so intimately entwined. sex hadn’t even crossed your mind since the first week of the outbreak, so tied up and focused on just surviving. it had been a blunt reminder.

price laughed when you refused to make eye contact with any of them as you made yourself a bowl of cereal - plain weetabix like the morning before.

“don’t worry, pet, you’ll get used to it,” he said calmly.

your eyes flickered up at that, unsure what exactly he meant or how comforting it was intended to be.

maybe they were all just pent up, stuck in close quarters together and eager for a soft touch from someone familiar. you nodded and looked back down to your food as an awkward silence spread.

“i’ll show you the food store at lunch,” simon said, breaking the tense quiet. “leave y’to dinner on your own, see how you cope.”

you felt a rush of nerves at being left alone to cook despite having made dinner for family and friends plenty of times before. the unspoken don’t fuck it up in simon’s eyes had you hesitant to agree despite not wanting his forced company that evening either.

“sounds good,” you agreed.

the pantry wasn’t nearly as full as you’d expected when simon showed you inside a few hours later.

“me ‘n’ johnny are goin’ on a supply run soon, but cant promise we’ll find anything,” he said as he started to head out, leaving you to organise dinner on your own. “best if you start rationing now, plan ahead a week or so for the meals so you know what’s left. don’t starve us last minute.”

you nodded, his suggestion making sense. you didn’t dare ask what they’d do if they ran out of food; you’d not seen the gardens so you had no idea if they’d started growing any veg or not - it was doubtful considering simon hadn’t mentioned it.

you spent the rest of the day organising; noting the food amounts down on a spare pad of paper simon had given you and figuring out the meals you could make from them. once you were done, it was already time to start making dinner for the boys.

—

that evening you set out the food for them all, taking the seat they’d left empty within their circle at the top of the table. you’d managed to eat half of your meal before the proverbial rug was pulled from beneath your feet.

you felt your ears buzz as you struggled to find a hidden meaning in what price had just told you, the hand holding your fork went slack and you dropped it to your plate with a clatter. blinking rapidly to clear your vision, as you stared across the table at the captain.

“what..?” your voice was barely a croak as you internally repeated a begging wish for you to have misheard him.

he sighed and leant back in his chair, lips thinning as he watched you closely. simon’s proximity to your left suddenly felt suffocating, and despite the table separating you a little better from johnny and kyle their stares felt just as oppressive.

“we’ll make it good for you, sweetheart. we can be gentle when needs be,” john said, though his eyes held a mean tint that betrayed his promise. “but it’s been a while since any of us had a good woman, and you can’t deny that you stumbling onto our doorstep was perfect timing.”

you shook your head.

although you’d recognised the lecherous stares you’d been getting from them since you’d first arrived - hell johnny hadn’t even tried to be subtle once you were locked behind their gates - you’d not expected them to sit you down on your third night and tell you that they’d decided they’d earned the right to start fucking you. and sooner rather than later at that.

“this is how you pull your weight,” john said and you felt anger claw at your throat at the repeated words. you dropped your eyes to your plate as you tried to gather your wits desperately; tried not to outwardly panic as they continued to watch you with eager eyes and growing smirks. sharks sensing blood in the water.

lashing out now would do you no good; kicking and screaming and telling them no, it would only get you locked away under careful supervision until they decided it was time to spread your legs. no, you needed to escape, and you’d have to be smart about it to manage that.

“i need to— can i think about it?” you asked desperately, blinking rapidly as you swallowed back bitter fear. you rephrased the question when you felt simon stiffen next to you. “you surprised me,” you clarified, looking to john. “i think i just need an evening to… to accept my new role.”

you tried to play coy, as though the thought of being fucked by any of them didn’t send a rush of disgust through you. that instead you just felt overwhelmed and needed time to calm down, alone, before willingly spreading your legs.

“‘course, poppet,” john agreed benevolently. you caught the hungry looks that were being shared around you at the table but kept your head low.

you struggled to finish your dinner, feeling their gazes pawing at you and the hidden skin beneath your clothes, keeping a steady presence of bile at the back of your throat no matter how many times you seemed to swallow it back.

you tidied up after them as normal, freezing when simon squeezed your hip in a silent thanks, and hesitating when gaz came to watch you in the kitchen; paying extra attention when you handled the sharper knives. he stayed silent but you could feel his body heat soak through your layers of your clothes as he stepped close to peer over your shoulder as you scrubbed at a stubborn stain in a pan.

he walked you to your room once you were done, continuing to keep his hands to himself, but you felt his breath on the back of your neck again. slow and steady.

it made it difficult to concentrate and try to pull a plan together last minute to leave. you couldn’t keep your thoughts straight, couldn’t map out the exits and remember what doors would be locked and where the keys might be when his hot breath tickled your ears and caused you to flinch and stumble on the stairs.

once your bedroom door was closed behind you, you waited an hour before moving the chair beneath the handle, doing your best to jam it in without making too much suspicious noise.

you spent the hour trying to put a plan into place, but no amount of thinking got you past the desperate hindbrain yearning to just run, and so that was all your plan consisted of. you knew you didn’t want to risk getting caught taking food tonight before you left, even if it would mean going hungry on the road; and you knew you didn’t want to risk waiting too long and getting pushed face down arse up over the table at breakfast in the morning either, so you weren’t left with many options. you’d need to leave tonight with no provisions and no clue what direction you were headed in. you just had to climb out of the bedroom window and wing it until you were far, far away.

you grabbed your backpack and the candle stick from the dresser, wishing once more for your cricket bat. hooking the bag over both shoulders, you held the thinner centre of the gold stick between your teeth as you slowly tried to open your window quietly. you lifted it enough to be able to slip through, wincing at the height of the drop below.

you braced yourself and sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening for a bit of luck. you hung over the window ledge, legs first, your arms shaking as you tried to control the speed of your descent before you were hanging limp, toes nowhere near the ground. with one last breath in, you summoned all of your bravery and let go.

you fell back, landing harshly on the messy lawn below with a smothered grunt and a hiss of pain as your ankle twisted. you were grateful you didn’t have any rose bushes beneath your room, but you’d wished you’d been next to the porch or the extension if only to have something a little lower to climb down from.

you gave yourself five seconds of grace curled on the floor in pain before telling yourself to suck it up and get moving. you picked up the candlestick and held it tightly in your fist.

sticking to the shadows, you limped as quickly as you could to the tall front gate and started climbing. the flood lights that had been set up were unnerving, but the lack of shouting and shooting had you feeling confident that they were otherwise preoccupied and not waiting for you at the front door.

you were over the other side, had just dropped to the ground in fact with your heart beating fast and premature hope flooding your vision with tears, when their alarm set off.

you flinched at the loud droning and darted your head around to see if any of them were close, if any of the infected just happened to have tried to get in at the same time you were leaving. you’d take them over the soldiers, you thought.

with your path clear, you started to run and didn’t turn back even when you heard john and the others shouting, following. you could lose them in the forest on the stately home’s grounds, find a place to hide out until they had to head back and then figure out the best route out of there. find a new safe place a long way away, maybe the other side of the country even.

your run was more of a jog with the injured ankle, but you didn’t dare slow even as it twinged with each step.

the idea of being alone scared you and as you thought of what route to take once you weren’t being chased you thought back to the petrol station. maybe you could go back down the road and see if charley was still—

you slammed to the ground and felt dirt catch in your throat when you heaved in an open mouthed breath. the wind was knocked from you and the heavy weight on your back made catching your breath even harder.

“where the fuck d’you think you’re going?” simon hissed, his knee pressed harshly into the bottom of your spine as he leant over you. you clawed at the floor and struggled to cough and heave beneath him. “she’s over ‘ere!” he shouted, and suddenly your strength renewed.

the idea of getting caught had you reaching for the candle stick a few feet away and you twisted and wriggled until you felt his knee dig painfully into your ribs and swung it up at his chin, feeling the edge catch and knock him off kilter enough that his weight leant onto the knee not pinning you.

you scrambled up from beneath him, seeing a flash of red gush from his face before you turned to run away. you felt a hand grip at the back of your jumper, tugging the collar taught against your throat as it yanked you backwards and back down to the floor.

you wheezed and spluttered, the wind knocked thoroughly from your chest once more as you gasped and rolled in pain.

“that wasn’t very nice,” john tutted as he stood over you. “we were going to be sweet about it tomorrow but it looks like that’s not what you want. just had to try and run, didn’t you?” john sniffed, irritation bleeding from his pores. you rolled onto your front to hide from his intense blue gaze and john’s anger grew at your lack of response. he looked up at the men slowly surrounding you, landing on johnny, and flexed his fists by his sides as he made a rash decision. “soap gets first go.”

gaz huffed a laugh, surprise clear in his eyes. “there’ll be nothing left of her after he’s had his fill, sir.”

john shrugged, looking back at you as you tried to push up shakily onto your knees with a cruel smile. “it’s her punishment,” he decided and pushed you down flat with a heavy boot to your shoulders. “i prefer a docile woman anyway, let johnny run her ragged.”

johnny didn’t wait for price to change his mind and didn’t need further instruction, beginning to undo his belt and freeing his cock before he’d even managed to kneel either side of your hips.

you tried to crawl away but he had you pinned with a hand fisted in the back of your jumper, pushing you firmly against the ground until he could squeeze his knees around you to keep you in place. with a fumbling difficulty, johnny managed to tug at your trousers, fighting with your flailing hands until kyle took the initiative and knelt at your head to hold them still. with both hands now free, johnny freely tugged your jeans and panties down until you were bare before them.

“stop! stop it, get off of me!” you yelled, fear colouring your voice and brining it to a higher pitch. “get the fuck off!”

“i’m tryin’,” johnny laughed at the mean pun, and spat on his hand, slicking up his ruddy cock just barely.

he tapped the spongy head against your core and smiled when you flinched, pushing in a second later. no prep, no warning, and he made no move to muffle your scream at the dry drag and stretch.

you gritted your teeth as he set into a rough rhythm, his hands heavy on your hips as he held you up on your knees. your face was still in the dirt, spit and tears causing it to stick uncomfortably to your face as you hid against the cold hard ground.

you clawed at the forest floor, desperate to get away even with kyle settled in front of you, his grip on your wrists harsh where he pressed them flat and unmoving. after a moment, he gathered them in one hand and used his other to tilt your head up. his eyes sparkled and he loosened his hold on your wrists slightly.

“are you going to be good?” he asked pointedly. you snarled and then yipped, ducking your head when fresh tears fell caused by the sudden uneven rhythm johnny had swapped to. the scotsman laughed breathlessly behind you. cunt.

kyle lifted your chin once more, his grip tight and expression impatient. you stared him down until he decided to just test you. letting you go he pulled out a knife from his thigh holster and held it between his teeth while he pulled his cock from his trousers.

he pulled you up onto your hands and squeezed your cheeks harshly until your jaw loosened under the pressure. before he slipped his cock inside he took his knife in hand and pressed the tip against your cheek. “bite and i take an eye,” he said seriously.

you nodded and opened your mouth wider when his cock caught on your lower teeth.

you sobbed around his thick cock while johnny hunched and jack rabbitted against you, hips slapping loudly against your arse in the quiet of the forest.

you felt overwhelmed and like you couldn’t catch a breath with gaz pushing in deeper and deeper until he had you gagging and retching around the head of his cock.

you were careful of your teeth still.

gagging for another reason, you heard johnny spit behind you, flinching and clenching down at the feeling of the warm saliva landing on your arse and nowhere near close enough to where he was tearing you in two. blood had eased the drag slightly, but the ache only grew with each thrust.

he didn’t make a move to drag the saliva lower, just watched it make its slow path from your right cheek towards your puckered hole with a deep focus. it cooled in the bitter northern air too quick and the feeling of it leaving its trail across your skin had you cringing.

a sudden feeling of dizziness had your eyes fluttering, your vision blurring and your arms going week. gaz laughed down at you.

“making her cock drunk already,” he bragged, his brows pulling down in pleasure when your tongue pressed up against the underside of his cock.

you could tell he was close and you clenched your eyes closed, sniffling pitifully before focusing your tongue on his head pointedly when he pulled back far enough. kyle moaned and tilted his head back. you heard simon laugh.

“she that good, garrick? or is johnny just that shit at blow jobs?”

“she’s putting a bit of effort in finally,” kyle groaned.

a sudden slap to your arse had you tensing and clenching down unexpectedly, the ache in your pussy flooding your system and pushing you towards kyle. you gagged as you took too much in at once and he moaned as he came, flooding your throat and keeping you held close until you swallowed with difficulty. he patted your cheek dismissively as he pulled out and huffed a laugh at your dishevelled state.

johnny slapped your arse again and you whimpered. “keep clenching down on me like that, hen. fucking hell, that’s good,” he hummed, his thrusts becoming even more erratic and short, a sign he was nearing his end too.

he slipped a hand under your jumper and squeezed one of your tits, moaning when you hissed. you felt a hot flood and you bit at your cheek until you tasted blood. johnny slammed his hips against you twice more before stilling.

he squeezed your hips appreciatively before pulling out and standing up. you curled up into a ball, grazed knees tucked under you and arms cradling your head as you sobbed quietly; your trousers still around your ankles.

a crushing weight settled over you and you felt your breath be pushed out from the heft.

“my turn,” simon whispered in your ear, leant over your back, his arms caging you in at the front.

he tugged your thighs apart enough to see your puffy slit and pushed in with a heady groan, nuzzling back into your neck.

it was claustrophobic.

the blood from the cut on his chin seeped into the collar of your jumper and you cringed at the sticky feel and smell.

“nicked me good,” he said, his tone proud as he trailed his lips along your jaw, unbothered by you flinching away. “don’t want me this close? maybe if you’d not hit me in the ‘ead i could’ve given ya some space,” he cooed. “but i’m so dizzy now, it’s better for us both if i stay low and close. hm?”

he panted heavy and wet against your ear and neck as he carefully thrusted, almost lovingly. but you knew he was doing it because of his size, making you feel every inch settle inside and barely pull out to give you space to breathe. he kept his thrusts shallow and deep, revelling in your whimpers. johnny had been rough, but this was a different sort of pain; lingering and consuming.

the parody of intimacy simon insisted on almost made it worse than what johnny and kyle had done.

he pulled one of your hands free from beneath you to link them together and laughed at your feeble attempts to escape his grip. the other came up to slip two fingers into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue so you couldn’t bite back your guttural moans and whines.

“lift her up f’me, simon,” john said after watching simon have his fun for a minute more.

simon dragged his wet fingers down to your neck, cupped just beneath your jaw and tilted your face up towards john. it was an uncomfortable stretch at the angle he had you pressed down in, but it wasn’t like you had any wriggle room to ease the bend of your spine.

john crouched down before you so he could make eye contact, and once he’d caught your teary gaze he smiled placidly. “this is your place from now on. and you’re going to play along nicely, isn’t that right?”

he didn’t wait for an answer, instead his gaze flickered up to simon where the big man was trailing wet kisses at your bloody collar. he nodded once and simon let your head go to move his hand down to your clit.

you scratched at his arm to try and get him to stop as he rubbed quick and hard at the bundle of nerves, your hips twitching involuntarily at the rough ministrations. you scrambled to get him to stop, blabbering pleas and demands until suddenly you were cumming on his cock, john still knelt watching closely as your lashes fluttered and your mouth dropped open.

“fucking wringing me dry,” simon grunted, keeping his pace slow and steady.

he dropped his fingers to where you were connected and gathered some of your leaking gush, bringing it around to your arsehole and pressing insistently at the right furl.

you clenched tighter in fear and he moaned, clenching your hand in his tight enough you’d worry he’d break it. but he didn’t stop the steady pressure until one finger had slipped inside to the first knuckle with great difficulty.

“please don’t, please don’t, stop, st— please…”

he pulled it back out and sucked his fingers until they were wet and tried again, this time pushing in further.

“there ya go…” he thrusted it inside twice before moving to add a second.

you whimpered and gasped at the stretch, the unwanted intrusion, and he laughed.

“need to get y’ready for cap,” simon said. “don’t reckon he’ll have the patience to do it ‘imself.”

you felt yourself go lightheaded and your vision swam as you felt simon’s fingers spread and curl. your last thought before you passed out was that you wished you’d stayed behind to help katie and roger.

#knocked it outta the park with this one stelle #crikey #tf141 x reader #John Price #Soap MacTavish #Kyle Gaz Garrick #Simon Ghost Riley #CoD

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