Do you think you could do a post-apocalypse AU with platonic yandere taskforce 141 who finds reader scrounging around for scraps? I'm thinking reader is quite young and doing their best but is obviously struggling a bit based on how thin they are not to mention how raggedy their clothes are. Maybe reader's hunting skills only even go as far as what they can catch with a hook and bug since they haven't quite figured out how to make traps or just don't have the heart to kill anything more complex than a fish so scavenging buildings and fishing it is.
Platonic Yandere 141 Apocalypse Au
Living life in the aftermath of an apocalypse is difficult to say the least. Most of the zombies are slow husks, having mostly reached over the past couple of years.
It was frustrating teaching yourself survival skills, but you got the hang of it. Kind of. You were still a little rusty but you got the gist of it.
You know what berries were poisonous and which were edible, perks of living in the area. You knew how to jam everything to preserve them for the winter, and you knew how to pickle any veggies you found.
Getting protein was a lot harder. You couldn’t kill a deer or a bunny. They were to cute for you to kill. The only thing you settled on was fish. You felt a little less bad about eating fish for every meal, it was easy to cook and it didn’t taste that bad.
You were terrible at catching the fish, often being reduced to tears because of how frustrated you were.
You did everything correctly, you even used real bugs as bait, you waited for a couple of tugs before you reeled in your line. You caught a minnow. Fuck your life. But at least the Minnie would be good bait for you.
You hook the minnow onto your room and it makes a sickening pop that almost make you gag. The minnow is so small and cute, you can’t believe you’re having it as bait to catch your next meal.
“I’m sorry, fishy..” you mumble a simple apology as you cast your line back out. You wait for what feels like forever until you get a strong tug on your line, you wait to see if it will tug again. When you feel a pull, you reel in your line.
Your heart is beating out of your chest with anticipation, you want a big fish to last you the rest of the day. You reel it in, you pull so hard that the fish flies out of the water and smacks you right in the face. It feels slimy and gross against your skin, the slap momentarily stunning you.
You caught a decently sized fish, you grin in triumph. The fish is wriggling wildly, you lose your grip on it as you unhook its mouth.
“No!” The fish bounces off of the rock you’re standing on and it slides back into the water. Gone.
You throw your makeshift fishing rod as hard as you can, it clacks against the rocks as you clench your fists at your sides. You are so angry with yourself, how could you let your dinner get away from you. You feel tears well up in your eyes.
You storm over to your fishing rod, which you threw farther up the rocky shore, you angrily swipe it off of the ground and you begin to track back to your little base.
“Poor thing.” Johnny mumbles, looking at you through his binoculars from across the lake. They were too far away for them for you to even see them. They are all also in their camo gear, so it's really difficult to spot them.
He pulls the binoculars from his eyes, turning to his Captain, handing him the binoculars so he can take a look at you as well before you disappear into the tree line.
“Skinny fucker.” Simon mumbles, using his own pair of binoculars to watch you wander up the shore.
Price let’s put a grunt of agreement as he sets his sights on you through Johnny's binoculars. He lets out a sigh, handing them back to Johnny.
“Let’s start making our way over there, lads.” Price speaks up, Simon puts down his binoculars to look at his Captain as he walks past him. It’ll take maybe an hour to walk around the lake to where they spotted you.
Meanwhile, you’ve made it back to your little treehouse. It used to be a spot that you and your friends would play in for hours before the apocalypse, now, it’s just you left.
You set the fishing rod against the tree underneath the tree house so that it won’t get rained on. You climb up the ladder, still angry, accepting that you will go another night without something substantial in your stomach.
You curl up on your sleeping bag, leaning against the wooden wall as you bury your head in your knees, you're so upset with the situation you’re in. Why did you have to be that last one alive?
You sit there for a while, eating some of the picked wild carrots you foraged about two months ago, they are sour and they hit the spot, slightly cheering you up. Your tummy rumbles uncomfortably, you’re not going to sleep very well tonight.
The sun is starting to set, the trees casting long shadows over the forest floor as the world begins to get quiet. The zombies don’t really come around here that often, the last time you saw one was about two weeks ago, it had fallen in a ditch, you dropped a rock on its head before it had the chance to even climb out.they usually come out at night, they can’t reach you up in the tree house, they are to dumb to climb ladders anyway.
You even set up little noise traps, bells attached to strings that completely surround the tree house, you have a security system. You’re smart, you’re just not good at being a survivor.
Your eyes are in the process of fluttering closed, sleep is about to claim you. Your eyes snap open and your body tenses up as you hear a sound that you dread hearing. One of the bells has been triggered. The one closest to the shore. You quietly shuffle off of your sleeping bag, you peek out the window, there’s a zombie, but there is also a man.
You watch with wide eyes as the man uses a tactical knife, stabbing the zombie in the skull. It’s silent and efficient, they don’t want you to hear them coming. But it’s too late, the bell is triggered again as the man walks closer to the treehouse, almost tripping over the string that’s lower to the ground, about mid shin.
“Fuck.” You man mumbles, having heard the bell ring as well. You grab your slingshot, loading it with a pebble and you aim it out the window at the man.
“OW!” You hit the man in the side of the head, he looks up to the window, rubbing the side of his head with a gloved hand. He has on a baseball cap with the Union Jack on it in faded grey.
He is heavily armed. Tactical vest, pistol, rifle, you name it, he has it. You load up another pebble, defending your only home from this strange man with a British accent.
“No nonono..!” He tries to dodge the second pebble, but you have impressive aim, even on a moving target. He uses his arms to shield his head.
You get him on the forearm, and it hurts through his jacket.
“Shit! Stop it! I’m not here to-“ he is cut off by another pebble, you have plenty of ammo, you have a bucket full of them right beside you.
Your eyes catch some movement behind him, a man in a Tilly hat. He has a rifle pointed right at you. Before you can react and hit the floor, he fires it right at you. It was a dart gun, you soon find out as a dart pierces the skin on your shoulder.
You drop the sling shot, acting on instinct, you pull the dart from your skin before it can deliver the full dose of whatever sedative it’s filled with.
“Hey! I was dealing with it!” The first man tells the other man, a little frustrated that he used the dart gun so fast before he could begin to reason with you.
“You absolutely were not.” The older man huffs, stepping over the dead zombie, his shoes crunching the dry sticks and leaves in the forest floor.
You are starting to get dizzy, you sink to your knees, heart rate is faster than it should be. You gasp down air as you hear them get closer to the ladder of your tree house.
You hear the wooden rings of the ladder creak as someone ascends towards the trap door, they push on it, it’s heavier than it looks. The trap door opens, slamming against the wood on the floor as someone peeks their head in.
It’s the man with the Union Jack on his hat, he spots the bucket of pebbles by the window, scoffing a little bit as he climbs in the rest of the way.
“Little shite, how many fucking rocks do you got up here?” He murmurs, his pride a little wounded. This little kid was prepared to pelt him with pebbles for as long as possible. He watches you battle with the sedative as he stands to his feet, he leaves the trap door open.
You stare up at him with wide eyes as you enter an altered state of mind due to the drug. You get dizzy and tired really fast, your energy being sapped from your body in an unnatural way.
Gaz looks you over, your hair is a little dirty and your clothes are clearly very well used. There are some rips and tears, he can tell that you’ve stitched them up before. You have seen better days.
“It’s ok, kid.” He mumble, he picks up the discarded dart, looking to see how much of a dose you got. You wouldn’t fall asleep if you didn’t get a full dose. He purses his lips, you got about half of a dose before you pulled it out of your shoulder.
“Alright.. let’s get you down.” He puts the dart on one of your many shelves where it won’t be a danger to anyone else if it’s stepped on or used as a weapon. He carefully approaches you, making sure you won’t make any sudden movements as he gets closer.
He gently hauls you up by your arms, making sure you won’t fall over. He narrows his eyes as he feels how skinny your arms are. He’s seen a lot of things that he doesn’t even flinch at anymore, but a starving kid always tugs at his heartstrings.
“You got 'em?” Price calls up, he can’t really see anything that’s going on in the tree house, he slings the dart gun over his shoulder as he walks closer to the ladder. He peers up through the trap door from the ground, hands on his hips.
“All good, Captain.” Gaz comes into view through the trap door, already lowering you down. Price reaches up and carefully brings you down to the ground.
Gaz climbs back down the ladder once Price has a grip on you holding you upright. Gaz gets back onto the ground, turning to Price.
“We gonna set up a fire?” He asks, watching as his Captain adjusts his hold on you. You are half conscious, still able to move. You groan a little bit as he manhandles you slightly.
“Johnny and Simon are on it already.” Price grunts out, Johnny and Simon have helped themselves to your fire pit and your fire wood. You put a lot of labour into chopping that wood, if you were in the right state of mind, you would be very angry with them.
Simon has already started on some dinner, five MREs in one of your bigger pots over the fire. Johnny is helping himself to your axe, chopping fire wood with ease. He is like what? Three times the size of you, not including muscle mass?
You are sat in one of the camping chairs by the fire, a blanket tucked around you.
“There we go..” Price mumbles, stepping back to look you over. You look sleepy and precious, tucked in a blanket up to your chin.
“A meal will do you some good, huh? Strays always like food.” Price huffs out as he sits down in another one of your camping chairs beside you, he sinks into it, resting his weary feet. He stretches out his legs as he takes off his Tilly hat.
Simon grunts, but doesn’t say anything as he watches the water boil, he then stirs it around with one of his many knives so that all cook evenly.
Johnny leans the axe against a large stump, wiping sweat from his brow as he walks over to the fire where everyone has gathered.
He plops down on a log by the fire, letting out a big tired sigh. Gaz took the last camper's chair, so everyone else has to sit on the logs.
