#captainjohnpricexreader

A bit of angst

   Summary: Reader has been a member of the 141 for so long, long enough that she's loved her Captain for more than 2 years. But is she allowed to be with someone in the military, let alone her own Captain?

A/N: Reader's nickname is Lass. It's not reader's real name.

    "Mornin', Lass." Gaz yawned, reaching for a glass cup before putting it on the coffee dispenser. "How'd your sleep go?"

    "Fine, I guess," You sighed before giving him a small smile. "Ay, what's with the sad face?" Gaz raised his eyebrows, looking directly at you while grabbing his cup of coffee before wincing and letting go of the cup onto the table immediately.

    "Ow! Why's it hot?!" You watched as he shook his hand a few times to loosen the pain. "Of course it is; you didn't use the holder to grab the cup!" You chuckled slowly, watching Gaz's movements.

  "Lass?" While you were having fun watching Gaz, a voice calling your name from behind made you freeze. You knew who that voice belonged to all too well. Turning around, you saw Price watching your movements intently. "My office, please." He ordered–pleaded, you fought with your own thoughts. His voice sounded too soft—unusually soft—for it to not be a plea.

    You turned around again to look at Gaz, giving him one last smile before standing up from your seat and following Price to his office. Upon arriving, you took a small, deep breath before entering his office with him as he closed the door behind you and walked in front of you.

    "...Why'd you wanna see me?" You spoke first. Price stood a few meters away from you, but not too far away for you to not be able to reach him with your hands.

    "...I realized you've been acting a little... off lately. Your performances have dropped both in training and on missions. I rarely even see you eating, as if you're in distress. Mind to share it with me?" Price spoke softly, his gaze searching yours.

    You gave him a tired smile before replying. "I'm okay." You reassured him. "I guess I'm just stressed with work."

    "Stressed with work to the point you've not eaten anything for two days?" Price exclaimed. "Don't act like I don't know. I've been watching your movements these past few days, and I noticed all of the untouched food on your plate. You didn't even drink a single drop of water!"

    "I know work can be tiring, but that's no excuse for you to neglect yourself. And I know you've been skipping sleep, too." Price said, his voice full of worry and concern. "Please, tell me what's wrong." He begged.

    "...what are we?" You muttered quietly, looking down to the floor. "What?" Price breathed, his eyes searching yours. "What are we, Captain John Price?" You spoke, calling him by his full name.

    "Are we really just "superiors" and "comrades"? Do you really not have any feelings for me?" You said it, your voice trembling with emotion. "I've been acting like this because of you, Captain. You're the reason for my behavior right now." You confessed.

    "..." Price looked at you before giving you a small smile. "...I do feel the same way, Lass. But you do know it's not allowed for us to be in a relationship here in the milita–"

    "Then why did you kiss me that day? To give me false hope?" You interrupted, looking up at him intently. "To play with my feelings and then break my heart? Is that it?"

    "Lass, please—don't go there." Price warned softly. "Go where? I'm right, aren't I? You only kissed me to play with my feelings. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here today."

    "I know it's wrong, Captain, but if you really do feel the same way about me, then you would try. But I'm not seeing your efforts." You sobbed. "I've loved you for so long, and when you kissed me that day, I thought my dreams were finally coming true. That I could finally be with you. Yet I was wrong." You avoided his gaze, turning around before twisting the door handle and opening the door.

    "I hope you know that what you did really broke me." You said this before walking out of his office and closing the door to his face before he could run after you.

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“What?” you turn over your shoulder, “John, years of your life have been dedicated to this' ' John continued to scrub the dishes as if commenting on the weather, and not leaving a career he’s been in for over 20 years.

“It’s all going to be alright, I’ve got savings, Love” He said crossing the kitchen to hold your hands, “we’ll be alright.”

“You love your job” you urge squeezing his hands, “I don’t understand”

He dropped his hold on you, wringing his hands ``I- I’ve done a lot of things. Unforgivable things. But the bullshit orders they’ve been passing out lately, I just can’t justify it.” He steps forward again, slipping his hands into the soft plushes of your hips, your hands trail up his arms finding his neck, “I just rationalise the orders”

You shift your hands to cup his face, leaning back allowing him to curve himself over you, leaning in you ask “can you tell me?” He slowly shakes his head, “okay” you stand back up, clapping your hands together “Now, what about our boys?”

Leaning back with an appreciative chuckle tightening his grip on you, “My lads will follow me wherever I go”

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Preface:

My zombies are not dead, they are infected with a disease which makes them hungry, they are not decomposing or mindless, they are driven insane by the pain of hunger and the things they’ve done so in a sense they die. They are loosely based on a book called ashes by Ilsa J. Bick, a very good angsty zombie book with very little romance.

This fic is set in the north west of England, to make it plausible for the MC to stumble upon the 141. Being Scottish myself I would love to make the MC Scottish and move the fic to the highlands, but I want some feedback on that.

TW: Death of a friend/sister, skinny reader (she fattens up), a lot of gross descriptions of zombies and death, angst lots, smut in later chapters.

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If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from living 6 years in a zombie apocalypse it’s “waste not, want not.” That was the thought that kept me from gagging at the smell of the jacket that I shook rotten skin off of. Rising I looked down at the skinny, pale ‘woman’ I’d pried it from. had she done the same? How many people have died in this jacket? Would I die in the cold, spend years wandering, Killing others, feeling a deep painful unending hunger?

I looked down at her failing body, before the fall of humanity these jeans would have been 2 sizes too small, the shirt about 3 or 4. I’d lost all shape, hadn’t had a period in years, my skin looked a shade darker thanks to the many layers of dirt that clung to me. I once took pride in my appearance, now my crowning achievement was surviving for this long by myself.

Taking one last sweep of the shop I found a grey eyed boy, looked about 19, his cheeks sagged and the bags under his eyes were bulging, purply red. His pale cheeks were littered with peach fuzz and tear stained, his nose a pudgy red from his quiet sobs. He groaned in pain as he pulled a skinny rat apart, sucking on the small bones. He looked up at me from his crouched position and growled, his primitive brain deciding if he should run with his meal or if he could take me. He twitched his way to his feet dropping the rat at his feet.

Before his skinny legs could take him to me I’d pulled the gun from my waistband and shot a few small holes through his chest. He let out some muffled whimpers as he crumpled to the floor, I followed him to the floor. I had grown to feel very little but when they looked so young it hurt. I stroked his thinning hair and shushed him whilst he hacked up blood and shook.

The trek back to base was long but quiet, the marshy ground of the north west sucked my feet deep into the ground, the ‘suctiony’ sound that emitted from dragging my feet drowned out my own thoughts. As the base came into view my steps hurried, eager to get inside, it was tuesday (possibly) which meant it was my allotted bath day, due to the difficulty of moving the water from the various rain collectors and the calories it cost, I allowed myself a bath every two weeks. 

The hard metal door bit at my reddening fingers as I fumbled with the keys, reminding me I needed to organise them somehow. I huffed at the effort it took to pull the second interior door open and closed, it had been ripped off its hinges and now scratched across the cold linoleum as I dragged it about. When I finally got inside I relocked every door I walked through to get to the innermost rooms of the base. Whilst people were rare- some zombies in the early stages retained the ability to open and close doors. 

I went to the woodburner and warmed the deer from the outdoor freezer. Most livestock like cattle and sheep were almost hunted to extinction by the zombies but some animals like deer and rabbits remained too fast for zombies. But not me and my gun. I cooked the whole leg, I’d refreeze the tougher bits and keep them for on the go.

Whilst the deer cooked I used my pot to boil some water for my bath. It was more of a sponge bath really, getting fully naked and into a slippery tub was inviting trouble. I used some watered down fairy liquid and an old PT (psychical training, yeah I did cadets so I’m qualified to tell you all about it) shirt to scrub at my skin, one limb at a time.

I pulled one leg out of my jeans leaving the boot and jeans scrunched so I could haul them back up if I needed to. And it was a good thing I did as I was picking dirt out of my scabby skinned knee, I heard a scrapping. My blood ran cold and I almost wept at the sound. 

Scrambling to put my jeans and boots back on. With each creak of a door opening and closing and the low raspy voices of men my hands shook more. 

And when I heard the noise that I knew to be the particularly squeezy door to the room I’d claimed as my own, I almost turned the gun on myself. There were at least 2 men and they knew there was a woman living here.

Steeling myself and setting my footing I readied myself in the middle of the room, no hiding the only power I have is I am pointing my gun at the single door to this room.

The kitchen door moved to open easily and a silhouetted figure pulled every shadow from the room and they pooled at this man's feet, he stood easily a foot taller than myself. The imposing figure took up almost the entire doorway. Although there were no shadows, it was only him, he dressed all in black, tactical gear and a dark balaclava covered his entire being. This man may be death itself.

“Fuck off.” A man wriggled around ‘death’ “Nae way!” barreling towards me a man not as tall as ‘Death’ but just as large wrapped strong arms around me.

My plans crumbled and I lost any ability to remain calm or strong were lost to me. “Please! Please there are guns, ammo, food! If you leave me alone I- I’ll tell you where” the words were choked out of me and my sweaty hands shook looking for my gun. 

The man pulled back but I couldn’t see through the tears that blinded me “It’s- It’s me Johnny” the voice and name were familiar. Strong hands snaked up my arms and held me at my shoulders “oh, darlin’ we’d never hurt you” he put a hand on my cheek and slowly brought my eyes to him. I almost gagged on my tears looking at him, my best friend's older brother, I looked at him and saw her. Alex, my other half, our whole lives attached at the hip, her death had hurt more than any of the rest. 

“Oh Johnny, I’m so sorry” his excitement at seeing me faded to the most hollow I’d ever seen a man. We sank to our knees together, forgetting the man in the doorway. I pushed our brows together “It was quick, I did it” I whispered to him, as I saw the small tears slip down his cheek. 

xx

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