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ellecdc · 1 month

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pls tell me u will write a part 2 for not alone?🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

took me a while to get this to feel cohesive (also couldn't decide for the longest time what I wanted the outcome to be for a few people so that took a while to figure out) and I'm still not 100% sure it reads cohesively but I hope you all like it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who they are 'worried' about...whatever that means [2.2k words]

part 1 | part 2

CW: hostage situation, attempted overtaking of camp, brief and hardly noticeable implied suggestion of SA, death of minor and unnamed character, blood, injury, Sirius being an arrogant son of a bitch even when his life is at risk

You have quickly come to realise why the boys chose this location to set up camp since agreeing to stay with them.

It was in a rural, secluded area with a small population prior to the End Of The World As You Knew It which left it almost next to empty now, but it was still in walking distance of a small town with various shops that they could pilfer when they began running low on supplies.

There was a creek about half a kilometre behind the barn that they could use to collect drinking water and also to bathe and wash their clothes.

And need to bathe and wash your clothes did you ever.

So, whilst “keeping an eye on the encampment” (which was really just a polite translation of none of the boys trusting you enough with their safety to bring you along on a run into town), you opted to head down to the creek to clean up.

The water was freezing, but you breathed through the pain in your toes and fingers as you waded into the water, reminding yourself that feeling pain meant you were alive - that you were still here.

You used to fear pain - before - but now you almost craved it; now you found comfort in the discomfort, knowing that it meant you had survived another day.

Soon enough your body acclimated to the cool, running water and you submerged yourself into the deepest part to let the steady flow wash away the layers of grime, dirt, and sweat that you were likely covered in.

There was a time in your life you probably would have felt rather horrified that three very attractive men had seen you in such a state - but it seemed that there was no room for vanity or ego in an apocalypse.

Once you were cold enough that you were sure you had squiggle lines surrounding your being like an old cartoon character, you used a rock to scrub at your clothes, feeling (though cold) quite peaceful as you listened to the trickling water and various birds singing around you.

You laid your soaked clothes on a boulder in the sun to dry and pulled on a second set of clothes - or rather, your only other set of clothes. You wondered for a moment if you should have more - how many sets of clothes should one have in an apocalypse? You couldn’t bear the thought of having to carry around a third change of clothes, so came to the conclusion that you were fine with just the two.

You were interrupted in your musings when you heard your name being shouted.

“James?” You called back, hastily finishing tying your shoes before grabbing your gun.

But it was Sirius you saw first, sprinting through the bushes and staring at you with a mixture of dread and outrage.

“Is everything okay?” You asked him as he stalked towards you.

“Where the fuck were you?!” He barked instead of answering, looking like he was just itching to grab you roughly by your shoulders.

“I- what? I was here? What happened? Is everything okay?” You continued, not moving your eyes from the fuming man in front of you as you heard James and Remus step through the bushes Sirius had just come bursting through.

“No, everything is not okay; the fuck were you thinking just taking off and not saying anything!?” He berated you.

“Pads.” Remus warned carefully; slightly breathless from chasing the long-haired man over to you.

“You’re a fucking piece of work.” Sirius spat with finality before turning and shouldering his way past Remus and James, disappearing through the bushes on his way towards the barn.

“Was the trip not successful?” You asked quietly once you could no longer hear Sirius storming away.

“No… it was.” James offered cautiously.

“He was just… worried about you, dove.” Remus placated.

You shot him an unimpressed glare. “He was worried about me, not about me.” You muttered back, shoving your gun back into your bag and running your fingers through your wet hair that was leaving damp patches on your shirt. “If you guys don’t want me here, just say so, but if you’re going to keep me around you’re going to have to start trusting me.”

“We do trust you.” James argued, causing you to scoff derisively as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Not enough to join anyone on excursions! And not enough to take a night-watch shift alone; but sure, add taking a fucking bath to the list of things you definitely trust me to do.”

You didn’t wait for a response before you were stalking back to the barn, leaving your clothes behind to dry for the rest of the afternoon.

You were just about to push through the slightly open door (none too gently, either, mind you) when you heard Sirius’ voice.

“There’s no one else; I’m alone.”

Ice cold dread seeped into your bones as you held your breath in wait for a response.

“Are ya now?” A cocky voice taunted. “This seems like quite the setup for one bloke.”

You crept along the edge of the barn until you found a hole you could peek through.

Sirius was kneeling with his hands up in surrender whilst three men stood before him - one man loomed over him and the other two formed a blockade between him and the barn door as well as the stairs to the loft.

“What can I say?” Sirius countered. “I’m quite the bloke.”

The man currently interrogating Sirius was apparently not interested in his haughty quips and slammed the butt of his rifle into Sirius’ jaw, causing him to fall over.

You quickly looked over your shoulder, ears straining to see if you could hear Remus or James following you back, and you prayed to a God that you weren’t even sure you believed in anymore that they had decided to stay at the creek to give the two of you a chance to cool down.

You crept back along the side of the building slowly before pulling yourself up the ladder to the hay hood that Remus had put up as an emergency exit.

You could kiss that brilliant, brilliant man right on the mouth for it now.

You crouched low and snuck over to look beyond the edge of the loft; the man with the rifle was the only one with a firearm from what you could see, the other two men holding only a crowbar and machete.

You silently opened your rucksack, pulled your gun out and put a knife between your teeth as you edged closer to the beams so you were effectively standing directly atop of the man currently looming over top of Sirius.

“I’m not gonna ask you again, where the fuck are the others?” He spat at him.

“We heard the lot of you arguing - we could just finish you off and go looking for them, if that’s what you prefer.” One of the cronies added tauntingly.

“You’d be looking for an awful long time.” Sirius grunted as he spat blood out from his mouth. “Seeing as I’m alone.”

“Stop fucking lying.” The interrogator barked as he landed a kick to Sirius’ ribs. “Pretentious or not, one bloke doesn’t need four sleeping bags.”

“How do you know I, hmph, didn’t find it like this?” Sirius choked out as he rolled onto his back where he spotted you in the rafters.

You brought your finger to your lips, and Sirius let his head roll back towards the guy so as to not alert him to your presence.

You watched as one of the guys - the one with the machete - started poking around the makeshift kitchen area, and the other moved towards the door to keep watch.

Taking the split attention of the group to your advantage, you waited for Sirius to look back up at you before you jumped from the rafters.

Sirius rolled out of the way just before you landed on the interrogator, the two of you crashing to the ground - though you were the only one prepared for the impact - causing the rifle to slip out of his grasp which you kicked towards Sirius.

You slipped the knife from between your teeth and held it against the interrogators throat and pointed your gun at the machete wielding man, firing a shot which hit him in the right shoulder.

The man with the crowbar who had been stationed near the door made for you when Sirius shot the rifle, the bullet grazing the man's thigh and bringing him to his knees.

Your ears rang when an elbow met your temple right before a fist connected with your mouth as the interrogator forced you off of him.

“Is this why you were lying?” The man spat as he stood above you. “Trying to keep this thing all to yourse-”

Sirius shot the rifle again, silencing the interrogator for good as he fell to the ground with a thud.

Apparently, the machete wielding man didn’t deign to wait around and see how things played out after you’d shot him in the shoulder and had fucked back off from whence he came, so you and Sirius pointed your firearms at the last man still standing (or… you know, breathing at least) who seemed to have the sense to raise his hands in surrender.

Remus and James appeared at the barn door, then - both winded from clearly having run at the sound of shots being fired - to find the two of you holding the remaining captor captive.

“Nice of you to come by, boys.” Sirius joked as he lowered the rifle with a pained groan now that Remus and James each had a weapon pointed at the attempted usurper.

“What the fuck just happened?” Remus barked as he took in the body on the ground and the state of each of you at the same time James murmured “we thought you were firing at each other”.

“Oh, take a wild guess.” Sirius muttered bitterly, hissing in pain as he lowered himself into a chair.

“How many were you?” Remus barked at the man, sounding so unlike himself that it actually made you flinch.

“Fo-four, four of us and a 12 year-old. Us…three and then a woman and the child stayed back.” He responded quickly.

“From around here?” James continued.

“No…passing through.”

Remus looked up from him to share a look with Sirius; a well practiced silent conversation passing between the two of them.

“Keep fucking moving then.” Remus gruffed as he grabbed the bloke by the collar of his shirt and threw him out the door.

Your - for all intents and purposes - home fell eerily silent then, save the sound of your attempted assailant’s leg dragging along the gravel road as he stumbled away from the barn.

“You alright?” Remus asked finally as he let out a breath.

“Fine, moons. Never better.” Sirius muttered.

You were too busy watching the blood pooling around the interrogators body to realise your companions were waiting for your response.

You looked up at the lingering silence to see all of their eyes on you.

“M’fine.” You offered.

James hummed in acknowledgement, though you could sense disbelief in his tone. “Rem and I will get rid of him, okay? Please try not to get into any more altercations whilst we’re gone?” He tried to joke, but there was a lingering anxiety in his voice as he and Remus began wrapping the body up in a blue tarp.

“Do not go to sleep until we’re back; either of you.” Remus added before muttering something under his breath about concussions and how someone not concussed ought to be on watch in case they come back, except “they” was replaced with “those” and then some Welsh word that you were sure was simply very unflattering.

Once they had left, you and Sirius sat in silence as you both grappled with what had just happened, and alternatively, what had just almost happened.

You weren’t sure what you might have looked like - though the metallic taste of your teeth let you know that you at the very least had a busted lip - but Sirius’ jaw where the rifle had hit him was already turning a purple colour, his chin was scraped and bleeding from hitting the concrete flooring, and he had a protective hand placed over the ribs that were kicked.

You wordlessly placed a bowl of water in front of Sirius before moving to your seat with your own bowl to clean the blood from your persons.

You could feel his eyes trained on you as you wiped away blood that was staining your face; likely equal parts your own and someone else's.

“Don’t go down to the river alone… please.” You heard him say quietly suddenly, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head as you let your two arms fall from their tasks.

“Are you still on this? Haven’t I proven my trustworthiness yet? Honestly, I-”

“It’s not safe.” Sirius interrupted; a strange look crossing his face as his brows furrowed at you. “It’s not safe.” He repeated, quieter this time.

He stood abruptly then; abandoning his bowl of water and grabbing a pack of cigarettes before disappearing around the side of the barn for a smoke.

Oh.

So apparently he had been worried about you, not about you.

And though you really wanted to feel embarrassed that they had picked anything like that out for you, you also couldn’t help but notice that a new jumper, trousers, and some knickers had been folded and placed on your sleeping bag for you.

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ellecdc · 2 months

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Not Alone

Marauders x fem!reader who is looking for somewhere safe during a zombie apocalypse [no pronouns are used, but gendered monikers are attributed to the reader!] - 1.8k words

part 1 | part 2

CW: mention of losing loved one's/friends in a violent way but not described, reader has injuries, mentions of hopelessness and violence, hurt/comfort

A/N: honestly, I'm not even sure where this idea came from but I needed to write it down lol, so hopefully someone out there enjoys it too!

It felt like the majority of your brain was focused on keeping your breathing even (and more importantly, quiet) than it was at actually finding you somewhere safe to hide.

You cradled your - now useless - arm to your chest protectively as you fought to keep the disturbing image of your friend being swallowed up by the horde as she told you to run.

You couldn’t think about that now - couldn’t afford to think about the fact that you had now officially lost everyone who ever meant anything to you, and were completely and utterly alone in this world.

You couldn’t think about any of that now; you simply had to run.

You were sure you were only imagining it but you swore your socks felt squishy with the amount of blood accumulating there from the various blisters adorning your feet; you and…. you had been walking for days now in search of anything - any store, any shelter, any body of water - that wasn’t crawling with zombies or hostile survivor encampments.

It had been one bloody thing after another; setting off some security alarm in a pharmacy and having to outrun a horde, having to avoid a camp of survivors who were out for blood, and dislocating your sodding arm simply trying to hop a fence.

And your luck didn’t seem to be coming up any better; the vast abandoned fields ahead of you smelling like nothing but trouble.

You didn’t want to walk through the unmanned fields, not knowing what could be lurking out of sight in wait for you.

The only other option was the gravel road, which while leaving you completely vulnerable was undeniably the safer of two options.

You tried to compartmentalise; you needed water, but to drink water, you needed to take your rucksack off. Taking your rucksack off sounded like a painful endeavour at the moment, so you would need a secure place to do so. If you could find a secure place, you needed to rest.

You needed to pop your bloody shoulder back into its socket.

You needed to take your sodding shoes off.

You needed to sleep.

You wanted to cry.

You needed to cry.

You’re not sure how long you had been spiralling or how long you had been walking without direction when the blazing sun finally started to set and allowed you some reprieve from its scorching heat.

And suddenly, you saw it.

A rather dilapidated barn could be seen just peeking through various overgrown shrubs behind a barbed wire fence a mere kilometre or two ahead.

You had no time (nor the wherewithal) to consider whether the building was safe as your feet seemed to head in that direction of their own volition.

You needed water, you needed rest, you needed to take your shoes off.

You needed to get to that barn.

On autopilot, you crouched behind the rickety fence and listened for any movement.

You creeped forward and pushed the barn door open, listening once again for any movement. You picked up a stick and lobbed it into the darkness of the barn - still nothing.

Rather desperate at this point, you pushed your way into the barn and took in the space.

While there was evidence of people having camped out here before - a few sleeping bags, an empty can or two of food, and other survival paraphernalia - there was no way to conclude how long those individuals had been gone for, or if they planned on returning.

But you couldn’t think about that right now.

You turned and shut the doors behind you, using your good arm to pull a bail of hay in front of it as a poor means of blocking the door.

You fell atop of one of the sleeping bags; your knees screaming in agony at the impact and crying in joy at the relief as you manoeuvred your rucksack off of your good shoulder and sucked in a pained breath as you removed it from the other.

You pulled out your flask of water; the last remaining bit you had on your person since the other two bottles were with…

This was the last remaining bit of water you had.

You took a tentative sip; knowing you’d love nothing more than to down the rest and then some, opting to ration for now until you were able to get your hands on more.

You kicked your boots off and were happy to see that your socks weren’t as drenched in blood as they certainly felt when you were walking.

You needed water - check.

You needed to take your boots off - check.

You had an obvious issue with your shoulder, but when you went to try to reposition it, you felt bile rise to your throat and hastily pulled your hand away.

You’d worry about that later.

You needed to rest.

You couldn’t worry about the fact that you couldn’t worry about your arm later, seeing as you had no one here to reset it for you.

You had no one here.

You had no one.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, as the adrenaline of the day seeped from your body and exhaustion pulled you further into a strangers sleeping bag where you finally fell unconscious.

You found that you suddenly missed camping, which was odd seeing as your entire life now could be considered various forms of camping. You missed the bonfires that weren’t merely a form of survival, you missed the light conversation and inside jokes, and you missed the easy laughter one only ever heard in the company of trusted friends.

You could almost hear it from your curled up position in a sleeping bag; the sound of a gentle fire crackling, gentle whispers and subsequent chuckles.

You almost smiled to yourself, that is, until you realised you really could hear those things.

You could smell it, too; the smell of fire, the telltale scent of pine trees from where a door must be propped open.

And you could feel the heat of the fire, and the familiar weight of company.

Your eyes shot open then as you tried to control your breathing.

You could hear someone - multiple someone’s. Maybe two? Three?

“Good morning.” A deep voice greeted you from near your feet.

You scrambled to a sitting position - painfully ignoring the screaming of your shoulder - and pushed yourself flush against the wall behind you.

The voice was a man - possibly around your age - dark haired, tattooed, and intimidating as he watched you warily with narrowed silver eyes, opening and closing a switchblade in his hand as if he was having trouble sitting still while he watched you sleep.

You turned to grab for your gun only to notice that your rucksack was gone - the only one of your possessions that you still had was the flask that you fell asleep cradling in your arms.

“Easy doll.” The bloke said with a smirk. “Your stuff is safe - it was just a precaution, yeah?” He offered as he motioned towards another member of his group who was holding your bag up for your view.

“You’ll get it all back once we know you’re not here to off us.” A man with glasses and hair that appeared to be a level of wild that could only be natural attempted to placate you.

“And you?” You finally asked; eyes darting between the three men (that you could see) frantically. “Are you lot here to off me?”

The dark-haired man scoffed. “Don’t you think we would have done that already?”

“You’re sleeping in our bed, princess.” The bespectacled bloke added.

You felt horribly like the Brothers Grimm version of goldilocks - sleeping soundly in a bear's home only to be mauled to death upon their return.

“Where are your people?” The man holding your rucksack who had been silent up until this point asked you then, moving to stand beside the dark-haired man as he considered you.

He was tall, looking far more like he’d been living through an apocalypse than his two counterparts did with the various scars adorning his face and hands.

You simply shook your head in response to his question.

His lips pulled together slightly before he looked down at your rucksack. “You don’t have much here.”

You shook your head again.

One of them sighed as the tattooed man continued to scrutinise you.

“Do… do you want something to eat?” The scarred man asked then.

You quickly shook your head and made to stand, catching yourself awkwardly with your elbow as you teetered into the wall behind you, one arm useless and the other holding it protectively. “Sorry, no. I- thank you, but I’ll leave, I swear it.”

“What’s wrong with your arm?” The tattooed man asked as he stood from his crouched position.

You let out a shuddering sigh. “I…I don’t- I think it’s dislocated.”

He let out a chuckle through his nose. “You’re not going to get very far like that, dollface.”

“Do you really have no one?” The man with the glasses asked then as he moved to join the three of you.

“No one.” You whispered, fighting back the violent image of the last person who meant anything to you being ripped from your grasp.

The three men shared a look; the scarred man shaking his head and walking back towards the fire with your bag still in his hand.

“My name is James.” The bespectacled man announced. “This is Sirius,” He continued, nodding towards the tattooed man, "and Remus over there will help you with your shoulder.”

“And then we’ll get some food in you.” Remus added.

“I…I don’t-”

But the tattooed man - Sirius - scoffed derisively at you. “You are not going back out there.”

“Not alone.” James corrected.

The two men went and joined Remus at a makeshift camp stove where he was warming up some sort of canned soup, and James pulled up another lawn chair making four seats around their designated kitchen area.

You didn’t know these men - although they didn’t know you either - but it had been so long.

So long since you met kind strangers, so long since you smelled food that wasn’t preserved fruit or pickled vegetables, and so long since you felt any inkling of hope since the world went to shit before your eyes.

But you couldn’t think about that right now.

All you could think about was how Remus gently patted your new spot at their table as he explained how he was going to pop your shoulder back into place, watching as James spooned some soup into a bowl for you and Sirius grabbed a brand new bottle of water that you could have cried over and set it on the table in front of you.

So, perhaps against your better judgement, you took a seat and allowed Remus to shove your shoulder back into its rightful place before securing it to your side with what looked to be an old lace curtain, and told them your name.

You didn’t know what might come of this little foursome you suddenly found yourself in - you couldn’t think about that right now - but at least, for now, you wouldn’t have to be alone.

continue to part two here

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