#- Apocalypse - story - | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marvelcriminalhoe · 2 years ago

Text

The Great War

Chapter One: Pirates

Steve Rogers x Reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

My knuckles were bruised like violets • Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked • Spineless in my tomb of silence • Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

TGW Masterlist

AN: Slow updates for this but here is chapter one. I have been writing A LOT over on wattpad (Have three stories going. Yeesh.) right now there’s a lot of personal stuff going on so all my stories are slow updates. This has been in my drafts for awhile though so thought I would finally get it posted.

Word Count: 2,316

Story Warnings: Zombies. Blood. Gore. What do you expect in a dystopian world. Strong language. Eventual smut. Could contain heavy content or topics, read at your own caution.

Summary: Some called it the end of time, others the zombie apocalypse, but most people called it The Great War— the living vs the dead. At first, that’s how it was split, only two sides fighting. But as the years drew on, the lines began to blur and the world became even more dangerous. When a new group makes itself known in your area, it’s your job to decide if they can be trusted or not. Especially when tragedy seems to strike and a fight against more than just the walkers is on the horizon.

The sound of dripping water echos through the destroyed pharmacy. It’s the only sound outside the quiet shuffle through the practically barren shelves of your search team. This is the only pharmacy within fifteen miles of your camp, and you know this is the last run you’ll be able to make here, having to go farther out the next time. The thought sets you on edge. The farther the runs the riskier they are. But you do what you have to do.

Your camp has rules, especially on runs, only take what you need, don’t horde, and don’t make noise unless absolutely necessary, the walkers are attracted to the noise. You know most people, especially now, take everything and anything they can. But your camp still believes in the laws of humanity. The laws set in place during the beginning of the pandemic.

1. Water and shelter should be your main priority.

2. Don’t horde supplies, everyone needs something.

3. Don’t fight them unless absolutely necessary.

And the last one, maybe the most important, 4. Do what you need to survive.

The world changed a lot in the beginning. Food, water, and medicine flying off the the shelves faster than demand warranted. This led to the rise of outbreaks as more and more people went looking for supplies, it also led to the start of fights against each other. As time went on, the pandemic turning into an apocalyptic situation, the Great War started and it only got more out of control. Places that were meant to be safe zones got ransacked by pirates, men that wanted to horde and control everything. More and more places became unlivable, making more and more people victims to the walkers.

Splitting up into smaller groups seemed to be the best option, not trusting outsiders. Your camp was more likely to survive that way. But small numbers could lead to dangerous situations if a walker pack found you. Advantage in numbers always meant more in the end.

Your camp is fairly decent in size. Stationed at an old school, it has plenty of room, buildings, and space. A nice twelve foot fence sits around it, and multiple wooden towers were built for look outs. You have great room for a garden during the spring and summer months. Even growing a few veggies during the fall to stalk up for winter. The school had some Ag barns available too, giving you place for a few cows and goats. You have a couple horses to help around camp too. It’s a nice camp, probably one of the nicest, not that you have a lot to compare it to though.

Your family was one of the first with the camp, helping build it to what it is now only a year into the war. Though just a year later, you were overrun by pirates and almost lost the whole thing. They had disguised themselves as refugees claiming to need safety, to want a home. They used the woman and children within their group to their advantage, but just as you all had let your guard down, letting them into your camp, trusting them, treating them as friends and comrades, they turned on you.

You lost a lot of good people that night, your father included. He was the only family you had, surviving for that long, only to die at the hands of greedy men. It sickened you. Most of the people left were in the same boat as you, losing family, friends. Left broken by the devastation of not only what life is now, but the grief of never getting it back. When you were able to banned together again, start rebuilding, most turned too you for direction, which lead to you taking on more and more responsibility as time went on. You were able to build up the school again, and now, two years after the initial mutiny you suffered, the basecamp is better than before.

Peter, the other lookout partner in front of the pharmacy, turns to look at you, whispering out and drawing you from your mind, “Do you see that?”

You look out the windows, following his gaze, and see a small movement of a shadow across the way. “Guys let’s hurry it up, we could have company.” You tell the two in the back going through the aisles looking for supplies.

“Friendlies?” One calls back, making you whisper under your breath as you see more movement, “they’re never friendly.”

You make sure your gun is loaded before bringing the butt of it up to your shoulder, looking through the scope with your right eye. You can tell immediately that they aren’t walkers, just by how they carry themselves. But there are at least 4 that you can see, all together, which puts you on edge.

“Alex, hurry it up.” You yell when you see where they’re direction is headed, “We got maybe four minutes before they come in here.”

It takes two more minutes before Alex and Miles finish grabbing the supplies they can find, coming to stand by you and Peter.

“Is there a back way out of this place?” Miles questions, and you have to sigh, knowing there is, but it’s a longer stretch to get back to the bikes, “Alright, stick close, we don’t need anything to draw attention to our location. I don’t think they know we’re here. Let’s keep it that way.”

You receive three nods from the teenage boys. They might still be young, but they’re the best when it comes to runs, fast and efficient. All of them alone like you after the betrayal.

At first, when they sort of stuck to you like small ducklings, you found them extremely annoying. Especially when they would beg day after day to get to go on runs and be part of the scout teams. Some days you still find them annoying, but they’ve turned into little brothers to you, and they’ve proven themselves ten fold in their duties.

The three of you sneak out the back way through the broken door, trying not to step on all the glass and debris around. Going this way, your forced to walk two extra blocks to make it back to the bikes, but when you get into view of them, your happy you had to go this way, as there’s extra coverage than the front offered.

You put your hand up, stopping the boys behind you as you spot the two men at your bikes. Their weapons are by their sides, hanging off their shoulders as the look the bikes over. You put your finger to your lips before gesturing with your hands how you want the boys to approach, lifting up your gun as they do the same. You flip the safety off.

“On your knees.” You make your presence known with a gun to the blonde mans back. He puts his hands up, as the other man reaches for his gun, being stopped by Peter, “Don’t even think about it.”

“We don’t want any trouble.” The blond man says as he slowly turns around to face you, you take a step back in case he makes a move for your gun. He’s a lot bigger than you, probably stronger. He stands at at-least 6’5, arms and legs fully muscled. His broad shoulders are strained as he understands him and his buddy are out numbered when Alex and Miles make their appearance. He’s more of a dirty blonde now that you can see him closer, face full of a beard. He has small scars on his face, as most people do now a days from such harsh living, and his eyes are blue, dark like the night sky.

“So you’ll have no problem getting on your knees then.” Your shrug nonchalantly, face stoic as you keep your gun trained on him, target locked right where his heart should be. You aren't taking any chances, you don't know these strangers. You don’t trust them.

“Okay.” He gestures with one hand for his buddy to follow his lead, getting on his knees. His friend follows him down, but with a dirty glare on his face.

“You bandits?” The black haired man spits out, and you roll your eyes at his accusation, considering they were the ones looking at your bikes, “No, just people that don't like strangers touching their bikes.” You gesture with your chin for Alex and Miles to get on one of the bikes, waiting until Peter gets on the other one before climbing on behind him, gun still pointed just in case.

“We didn’t know they were anyones.” The blonde man reasons as he starts to put his hands down. He watches the four of you curiously and you don’t like that he's studying you. “We wouldn't have come near them if we knew they were someones.” “Right.” Miles scoffs, and you send him a look. Don’t antagonize the very big men, Miles. The teenager just starts up the bike, Peter doing the same. you don’t lower your gun until Peter starts to drive away, trowing it over your shoulders as your arms move wrap around his waist.

Looking back over your shoulder, you make out that the two men are no longer alone, four new bodies beside theirs, all watching the bikes drive away. You recognize one of them, the short blonde girl, and you realize she was one of the people you saw in the scope back at the pharmacy.

You face forward again, an uneasy feeling in your stomach that you were never really outnumbering the men. Your stomach churns more at the thought that this might not be the last time you see them.

“How’d you do?” Jean, one of the nurses at the compound, ask as you and the boys place the medical supplies on the table in the lab room. Alex starts to fill her in on what items you were able to acquire as you instruct Peter and Miles to take the food bags to the cafeteria for distribution.

You don’t usually make it a habit to do consecutive runs together— food, pharmacy, and base supplies— but you knew this could very well be the last run in that area and wanted to take advantage of it.

“Any problems?” Logan questions you as you put the gun over your shoulder on the table beside him. Logan is fairly older than you, having been in his forties when the outbreak started. He lost his wife and daughter in the beginning before making his way north, running into you and your dad. You traveled to the school together, making it what it is now. He was there for you when your dad passed. You don’t trust anyone as much as you trust Logan.

Logan was in the army before the world ended, having knowledge of tactics and weaponry and all the scars to prove it. His wisdom is beneficial and he's usually the one to train the recruits and over see scouting duty stations and scheduling.

“Yeah.” You shrug, but he can see your jaw clenched, rising a brow and waiting for you to explain whatever it is that’s plaguing your mind, “We had a small run in with some others but nothing serious.” “But you’re worried.” He summarizes, being able to read you like a book after all these years, “You think they’re pirates?”

“Dont know.” You shake your head, running a hand over your forehead, “But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them.” “I don’t know of another camp this far North.”

And you sigh, because you haven't either, “Thats what I’m afraid off. They're either new, which is entirely plausible, or they’re travelers.”

“Either one could be a problem.” Logan nods, his mindset the same as yours.

Whoever they are, you hope they stay far away.

“You boys alright?” Nat questions Steve and Bucky as her, Yelena, Sam, and Clint make their way over to the two men.

Bucky scoffs, “You could have come out, what if they had shot us?”

“If they knew they were outnumbered it could have spooked them.” Nat rolls her eyes at the man, “We don’t want unnecessary fights, remember?”

Steve nods to the girl, “You did the right thing.” “Who do you think they were?” Yelena questions as she watches the bikes disappear.

“Pirates.” Bucky spits out, venom lacing his voice, but Steve shakes his head, hands on his hips as he watches the now empty street where the bikes once were, “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, they were too clean to be pirates. Young too.” Sam agrees.

Bucky frowns, “The girl was older though, at least in her 20s.”

“Think they have a camp here? Or it’s just them?” Nat asks.

“Did you see their bags? They were gathering supplies. This was a run for them. They’re probably part of a camp.”

“I didn’t know there was a safe zone this far north?” Yelena’s eyebrows furrow as she tries to think, “I thought the closest one was like 200 klicks from here?”

“Maybe it’s not a safe zone.” Nat remarks, “Just a small camp.”

Clint nods, before tilting his head, “Maybe. But the stores were basically wiped clean, we got a few things but not much. Wonder how they did.”

“They didn't take everything? They had to have been in there before you guys.” Bucky observes.

Clint shrugs, “If they were, they didn’t take all that was left.”

Steve turns over to his best friend, giving him a pointed look, “Doesn’t seem like pirate behavior to me.”

Sam sighs, “Whoever they were, they’re gone now. And we should get going too. It’ll be dark soon, we need to get back to the others.”

Steve nods as the six of them start making it back to they’re set up for the night, his mind set on the woman with the gun pointed at him, wondering who she is, and how she's managed to survive this long with three teenagers.

Maybe they're wrong and there is a safe haven near by. Maybe they don’t have to try and travel another 130 miles before reaching a proper shelter.

Its a dream, Steve knows that. The likelihood of that being true is slim. But the longer they're traveling, the harder its becoming, and the more restless they all become, especially the kids. He just wants his people, his family, to be safe.

As safe as they can be that is.

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x reader au #steve rogers au #steve rogers #aaron hotchner fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #Steve Rogers angst #apocalypse #apocalypse story #apocalypse au #zombie au

43 notes · View notes

all-purpose-dish-soap · 10 months ago

Text

1.5k / 20 / post-apocalypse au, part 1

...

You're injured but moving as fast as you can with your bow slung over your back. Soap is close behind you, giving chase, shouting your name as he does. Doesn't he learn? Doesn't he know you'll pull your bow on him again if he corners you?

He must know, but he's too stubborn to give up the chase. You don’t understand it.

He pushes on, just as graceful and twice as effective as you. You slip through the thick trees and their branches trailing whips of brambles. He shoves past them. You’re injured. He’s not. He's gaining, boots heavy in the soil.

"Watch yourself--!"

Your boot lands on leaf litter that falls out from under you--a pit trap. You’re moving barely fast enough for your momentum to save you from falling in. Your waist hits the edge of the pit. You brace yourself by your elbows, fingers digging into the dirt. The soft underside of your arms drag against something sharp underneath.

Soap grabs you by your coat and pulls you up out of the trap and to your feet before you can scramble out yourself. You're neither surprised nor mollified by his careful handling of you.

"Let me go!"

"Na. You're hurt. Stay still."

"Soap, I swear to God--"

"Shut up. I'm taking a look."

He holds your arm firmly with one large hand and, with the other, pulls your sleeve away from the bleeding gash. You grab his wrist with a pained curse. Whatever caught your arms—the rough wood and metal at the trap's edge—tore you bloody. Soap glares at the gash and then at you. He's close.

You could reach for your bow or for the dagger on your hip. But you know for a fact he's armed. With guns. A sniper rifle on his back and two sidearms at his belt. He knows how to use them, too. If you fight, he wins. But you know better than to back down quickly. The world is crueler than it used to be ever since things went to shit. People who show weakness don’t survive.

"Why are you following me?" you growl, your grip on his wrist tightening.

His grip on you loosens in turn when you speak. "You know why. I'm lookin' out for ya."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"Aye, but you still needed it."

"You're not a soldier anymore, Soap," you retort, trying to pull your wrist away. "It's every person for themselves. Stop following me."

"That's no way to live. The world may be a shithole, but there are still folk around who'll lend you a hand even though they don't need to. Soldier or no'."

You can't get out of his grip when he's determined to keep you there, and he is. As much as you'd like to give him a matching wound for being so goddamn stubborn, the rational part of your brain--the part that makes sure you survive--knows better than to expend energy struggling when it's not strictly necessary.

"Nobody lends a hand unless they want something in return," you mutter, glaring down at your wound as he bandages it. "Even if they're pretending otherwise."

He knows you speak from experience. You're a woman, and that means you're nothing but a resource to the worst of whoever’s left. He can't blame you for being guarded. Then again, you wouldn't be making such heated statements to his face if you really thought he intended to hurt you. You're just... defensive. Hiding under all that anger. That's what he tells himself. So he ignores your grumbled protests.

"That's how you'd look at it," he finally replies as he finishes dressing the wound. "Seein' as you've not met the right people. But some of us don't expect anything back."

"You don't expect it because you think you're better than asking. But you still want it."

"Might be so." His voice is soft, gravelly, but you can hear the steel in it. "But am not asking, now am I? So stop your fussin'. You're safe. Nae need to worry." He releases your bandaged arm.

"You run your hand along the wrapping, checking it. "Fine. But I'm... I'm not coming back with you."

"Can't promise you'll be safe out there. Where do ye plan to go?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't tell you if I did."

"Aye." He rubs his jaw, examining you with flint in his blue eyes. Pressing you for an answer would be pointless. Not that you seem to be lying—but you're not telling the whole truth. The short history you share with him is just enough that he can tell. But he also knows trying to change your mind would be pointless. If you won't listen, he'd have better luck bashing his head against one of these huge, mutated oaks.

"Am nae stoppin' ya. But these woods are full of treacherous paths. If ye run into trouble—when ye run into trouble--my boys and I, we know these woods well enough to dust you off and send you in the right direction. Cannae promise to find you before somethin’ else does, though."

You're fairly sure he's not lying. His boys, as he calls them—his old squad, you think—they've made their home in these woods. It's perilous living—bears, wolves, muties, and terrain just as hazardous as the wildlife. And still those men are the most dangerous things in here.

The offer is tempting. You consider it for longer than you should, looking down at your bandaged arm again. But then you step back, shaking your head slowly. "No, thanks. I have to get going."

It tears him up inside. You're making the wrong choice. If he lets you walk away, he's letting you walk to your death.

He looks at you for a moment. You can tell he's got something more to say. But he changes his mind, stepping back as well. He pulls something from his belt and holds it out. A handgun, scuffed and black, grip held toward you. You stare at it for a second before looking back up at him. He's serious?

"I'm not gonna take that--"

"You're damn well gonna take it." His voice is low and insistent. "You think I don't know you'll run into trouble out here? Don't be a fool. I have spare. Take it."

Your one rule is don't owe anybody anything. How the fuck are you about to owe this man twice?

Fine. Whatever. It's not like you have to use it. Could just barter it. Not like you’re going to see him again. You take the gun, biting back a retort.

He nods his approval. The steely look in his eyes softens, though he still looks dismayed. "Mind where you point that. And when you pull it. Biters'll hear it for a mile and come running. Survivors, too. The curious ones." He glances at your bandaged arm one more time. Then he adjusts the bag over his shoulder and turns his back, walking away from you. Back to camp. "Am expectin' you to keep yourself alive with that," he growls. "Or else it's a lot of good time and material I wasted on ya."

"I didn't ask you to waste your breath," you retort, practically snarling at his retreating back in your irritation. You watch him go until he's disappeared into the trees. You need to make sure he doesn't plan on doubling back and following you.

Then you set off on your own. You take a winding path to throw off any trackers. Never can be too cautious. The gun in your pocket is heavy against your thigh, and you try not to think of it as a comforting security.

You came here to get Roach back, and you don’t care how long you have to wander this Godforsaken forest. You’re not leaving without him.

…

Soap feels your eyes on him until you disappear.

He wants to divorce himself from this, but he’s on edge. People who strike out on their own here come to a nasty end. But he’s not going to take away your agency by deciding what's best for you. You were right about him not being a soldier, after all. He doesn’t have the authority to herd you back to his squad’s campsite. Your life is in your own hands.

He just hopes you live to do better than he believes you will.

That night, he sleeps restlessly. Which is why, when he hears a cluster of gunshots in the distance, he wakes up instantly. It's you. In trouble.

The night watch—Gaz tonight—is already there, tossing Soap's gun to him. "You were right," Gaz says.

"Course I was," Soap says with a lopsided grin. "Owe me a ten-piece in the next poker game, aye?"

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

more Soap / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

718 notes · View notes