So this was a drabble i came up with when i was listening to a podcast;
Price x Younger! Assistant! reader
Price had his wife die over 10 years ago and isn't wanting to remove his wedding ring.
Reader being perfectly fine with it (goes to her grave with Price on her birthday and goes alone during christmas and leaves flowers once a month and updates her about him...) and keeps her old photos looking nice in Prices office.
When Price and reader get more serious with them talking about moving in while she's staying the night, reader finally says she's uncomfortable with him still wearing his wedding ring (people keep assuming they're married and she's having to explain that they're not...) and clearly states that she's more than happy to have him still wear it (like get it resized for a different finger, or put on a necklace, etc..) and Price loses it at her.
They've been seeing each other for almost 3 years at that point, and he cusses reader out to the point where she's crying (which she never does!) and says some awful awful things.
She leaves and ends up staying with Soap (Who she's friends with since she was a teenager) who just happened to be housemates with Simon.
Turns out they were having a game night with Kyle as well, so all three of them got to witness the more severe breakdown they think they've ever seen.
The boys are torn between the two. The end up coming to the consensus that she was completely justified to ask him to not wear the ring on his ring finger and to wear it somewhere else, and that Price was an asshole for how he handled her one request about it when they've seen how she amazing she's treated his wife since she knew about her death after she started.
They also slowly start picking apart the relationship with reader to help her realize he wasn't the greatest guy to begin with. (Despite the fact it was marked in his calendar, Price only remembered her birthday on the actual day once and could never seem to find time to spend with her.)
This turns into reader asking to be reassigned and Ghost ends up taking her on as his personal assistant while the boys are completely indifferent about Price.
Everything is kept cordial with Price for the next six months, with Gaz grabbing all of her things that were left at Price's (not much...Price also may have destroyed some of her things...)
Eventually Price gets fed up when her, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap are all talking after a meeting about doing something together they normally would include Price.
He lets some heated words out about how she's 'stolen' his soldiers and isn't worth anything now that she's not with him.
Soap and Gaz get a few choice words out before Ghost steps up and chews him completely out.
"She's been visting her grave with you the last five fuckin' years! Before you two even became something! She even goes on Christmas! Did you know that? She brings her grave fuckin' flowers once a month to catch her up on YOU! And when she finally asks for something that you can make a compromise on you made her cry! We've only ever seen her cry twice! Once when she hit a deer coming back from a mission and the only other fuckin' time was when you called her worthless! How DARE YOU be upset that we are taking care of her when you obviously weren't!"
They all leave the room, reader leaving last and giving him a cold, dead stare and states "I'll be putting in my two weeks."
Almost a year later
The boys (Soap, Gaz, and Ghost) and her got a really nice house off of base.
Soap had to medically retire due to a severe injury from an op, Gaz and Ghost end up training new recruits and giving up long missions for her. (Well, for all of them really.)
Overall.... it's nice. Really nice, with reader working at a small job (Librarian, or barista or something) and both her and Soap still getting checks (from their time in the Military) and will be probably until they're over 60.
Lots of small group dates and diy home projects, Gaz ends up getting a bucket of paint all over him at one point, Ghost accidently locks himself in the bathroom and resorts to kicking the door open and then having to repair said door, Soap ends up restoring a old car and almost lights himself on fire several times during it, Reader ends up getting a major hair change and they all absolutely love it, and everything is going amazing until...
Price knocks on their door one evening.
He's ringless, visibly distraught, and it's been clear he hasn't really been taking good care of himself recently with how much his hair and beard have grown out.
He's finally ready to admit he fucked up.
He steps into their kitchen to see reader leaning against the counter, holding a mug that used to be Ghost's, wearing one of Gaz's old sweatshirts and a pair of Soap's sweats.
Gaz, Ghost, and Soap are all there, waiting for him to speak.
He doesn't even get to open his mouth as he watches you take a long sip of tea, and more importantly, see the fact that you've clearly got a ring on your finger.
He looks at the boy's hands then, noticing that they all are wearing rings on their ring fingers as well.
He leaves quietly, with Ghost walking him to the door, and as Price glances back, clearly expecting him to try and give him some sort of positive feedback, all Ghost says is,
They are assigned to be temporary boydguards of a famous family (major connections to the middle east, but also some favors were pulled) for a bit due to death threats and rising concerns of the family's only child, their daughter, being kidnapped and held for ransom.
Reader specifically was chosen to be the main 'guard' due to her being a woman (so she'd be trusted more easily) and has been with them for several weeks at that point.
One night a gala is hosted in honor of something, and all the boys are there- lingering around the edges and keeping an eye on all the comings and goings of everyone. Everyone is dressed nice, tuxedos, ties, hair done up- you though, are in a dress and tall-as-fuck heels.
You group together temporarily with some newly reviewed and revealed information of a possible kidnapping going to happen tonight, still keeping an eye on the family who is across the room.
Suddenly there's commotion as a loud Bang! erupts across the room.
You don't even think before you're sprinting across the room. In heels.
Fasted than Gaz, who was already walking towards them.
Faster than Soap, who can run a mile in under 7 minutes.
Faster than Price, who starts running before the sound goes off.
And faster than Ghost, who starts sprinting with you.
You get there first and are immediately relived to see that someone just popped a bottle of champagne.
No guns, no bad guys, no weapons, just an idiot who didn't know how to use a bottle opener so he smacked the bottle on the side of a table. (Admittedly, it did work. He got covered in it though)
Months later, as you're talking to Laswell during a seperate op briefing with the boys about something, she makes a comment about how "I don't know how to you can manage to even walk in those heels" only for the boys to all chime in with "Walk? She fuckin' ran in them!"
Tall reader who's at minimum Soap's height but closer to Gaz's (5'7"?)
Has a Belgian Maliagator named either something cute like "bubbles" or scary like "hellion"
Either way, dog is only there for her. Has a pretty pink bow on its collar and gets pampered.
Then proceeds to go and bite a guy's dick off on their next op just because he pointed a gun at reader.
Reader who doesn't take any shit from the boys and ends up scaring them slightly because of it.
"Oi, Lassie, it's jus your pup that does all the work for ye'' comes from Soap as she finally agrees to spar with him.
She proceeds to break his nose and sprain his wrist. Mightve bruised a rib or two.
He didn't even touch her.
Ghost ends up helping him to the medbay, and when the medic asks what exactly happened he just tells them
"oh, he thought he could take on a woman who trains highly aggressive dogs for a living was a good idea."
Just overall love the idea of a woman who tames these naturally highly energetic and aggressive dogs and they're all puddles in her hands but will fuck someone up badly if you dare even look at their mom wrong.
They're intertwined, connected, on a deeper instinctual level that no one besides them understands.
So when Soap is nearly killed by Markov, and Laswell is demanding blood but can't send her boys out since they're so injured and way too bloodthristy to make sure they get the information from him before they'd kill him, she sends the medic.
No one knows what happened to you-
One day you're visiting Soap in the hospital wing and laughing at his stupid jokes, and the next, you're gone.
Dissappeared.
They ask Laswell and she just tells them it's personal issues and not to worry, that you're doing just fine.
What they don't know is that you've currently got a blade against the throat of one of Markov's lackeys and are slowly pressing it harder into his carotid artery.
"If I cut right here, you'll bleed out in less than thirty seconds, without treatment. Maybe twenty if you scream."
See, when Laswell read your file when it initially crossed her desk, she failed to realize that when it said you were "Loyal and willing to go above and beyond for teammates" it meant that. Even if it meant getting your hands dirty.
Because now you've got intel on where Markov's latest hideout is, and you're approaching it ever so closely.
It's been almost three months since they've seen or heard from you when Laswell gets a call during a briefing that stops everyone - even the three star generals as they see the glint is her eyes as she nods along to whatever the other person on the phone is telling her. She hangs up and sighs deeply, almost as if something got lifted off her chest.
"Gather at the airfield in eight hours."
No explanation, just an order. Plain and clear with no room for negotiation.
As the aircraft lands and slows to a stop, the team gather around the back of it, awaiting whatever Laswell said was important enough to get them up as the sun was rising.
The door opens and they don't know what to expect.
New recruits? New vechicals? Weapons?
What they don't expect to see is you.
Covered in dried blood, holding something in your hand as you walk down the ramp and as they realize what it is, they stare open mouthed at you.
Markov's decapitated head.
You're holding it by his hair, walking towards Kate and her gaggle of generals that accompanied her. One of them turns away as you approach, barely concealing his gag.
You lift the head up towards Laswell as she nods at you.
"Well done, medic."
The boys never thought that their little medic could turn out to be as bloodthirsty as they were....or much worse.
They approach you with much more respect after that. And you've earned a new nickname: Valkyrie.
Hi lovely, I adore your writing and was just reading the Task Force 141 Dad Podcast. Is there anyway we could do a continuation where graves is starting to become abusive? Completely understandable if you aren’t comfortable but I think it would be interesting to see the guys reactions to her pulling away some.
Howdy and welcome to my offical masterlist! Here is where I will link all of the fanfictions I have written as well as any other posts I have made.
You are more than welcome to send me requests, I cannot promise I will get to them quickly, but I will get to them as soon as I can!
Fandoms I write for:
The Arcana
Call of Duty (Specifically Task Force 141 and a few others)
The Ultimate Spider-Verse
Transformers Bayverse
Transformers Prime
Marvel of all sorts
Arcane
I do occasionally write full fanfictions, but mostly I write small bits that come into my head.
Speaking of which, some of my older series are being completely rehauled! I will be editing them and rewriting them, so they are more cohesive as well as follow an actual plot line.
Avengers
Academically Kickass: Avengers x Mafia! Student! RWA! Reader
Chapters: One,
Natasha Romanoff
Mama Series: Natasha Romanoff x Mom! Avenger! Reader
Warnings: Mentions of injuries, reader is a medical professional.
Tagging: @tyler-t0t
~
"And in about fifteen minutes we'll be landing down in Manche, please make sure all small items are secured and you are buckled in. Thank you for flying with us!" The flight attendant announced as we started descending. I clicked my seatbelt back in and closed my eyes, awaiting the pressure change and trying to take a little power nap while I was at it.
Once upon the tarmac, we coasted until we were able to get to a gate to unload. Thankfully I only had my backpack and a duffel bag as a carry-on, otherwise I'm pretty sure they would've gotten lost or sent to somewhere like Russia or something knowing this particular airline.
As soon as I hit solid ground I called the number I recognized as Laswell's, and it only took two rings before she picked up.
"You made it to Manche I take it?" She asked as soon as the call connected.
"Yep, you told me I'll be expecting a Humvee for my ride to the base?" I asked as I shouldered my backpack as I walked towards the entrance of the airport.
"Yes, there should be someone in fatigues waiting outside for you as well. Have a safe drive, and I'll see you in a few hours." She responded before she hung up.
I walked outside and was met with a blast of warm, dry air and had to pause for a minute to get acclimated to it because I was so used to the humidity of being on a naval base. Once I felt like I could breathe properly I scanned the road in front of me to see if I could spot a-
Yep, there it is.
A giant tan Humvee sat parked off to the side with two men in fatigues on the outside, one smoking but both of them were on their phones and hadn't paid me any attention as I walked up.
I looked at their ranks posted on their uniforms and realized that they were Privates - which meant they were below me on the hierarchy list. I was told by Laswell that my rank would be transferred, so I would still be a Captain here.
I cleared my throat and raised an eyebrow as they immediately spotted me and straightened up, saluting me.
"I'll be talking to your CO about this, just so you're aware." I told them as I climbed into the back of the Humvee.
I really don't want to start shit on my first day, but that should scare them at least.
We took off and started towards the base, and I pulled out the files I had sent to me and looked through them as we drove.
Two hours later…
We're finally at the base, rolling through the checkpoint as we pull towards what I'm assuming are the headquarters.
I jump out as soon as we park, taking my stuff with me as I head inside, not even bothering to say thank you to the men who drove me because I really need to go pee.
After that was done, I walked the halls looking for an office labeled as 'Laswell' and found it finally after looking through numerous rooms.
The door was closed but I could still hear faint conversation between I assumed her, and some male that went by the name of 'Price'.
I knocked thrice, and the door swung open and I was greeted by a tall, well-build man with muttonchops and hair that was groomed in the typical military fashion. He looked me up and down in an almost clinical, observant stare before ushering me inside as he stepped outside. He shut the door behind him as he left, leaving me alone with Laswell.
"You must be my new Medic Captain, (F/N), correct?" She asked as she sat down in her chair, picking up an open file - my file - on her desk.
"That'd be me, yes ma'am." I told her as she flipped through the papers.
She hummed as she reviewed the file, occasionally taking a sip from a coffee mug.
"I'm putting you in charge of the medical team for Task Force 141. Do you know who they are?" She questioned.
I thought for a second. "I thought they were ghosts. Not a real team."
She shook her head slightly. "No, they're a real team alright. Only one is a Ghost."
She went on the explain how there was a dedicated medical team for the task force, and that they were specifically there and trained to handle a number of various war injuries as well as deal with both the mental and physical issues that popped up with Europe's most elite special forces team.
"I take it because of my cognitive therapy degree along with my regular therapy degree, I'll also be a shrink for them?" I asked as I sat down.
She nodded again, telling me how they'll come to me when they need but otherwise it was up to my discretion as who and when I'll see someone.
I'd also be the therapist for my team as well, and from the sounds of it, their previous Captain was a real piece of work that terrorized them for no good reason.
Great.
She sat back in her chair as she sighed, turning and grabbing some thick folders she had put off to the side and handing them to me. "These are the team's personal files, you'll need to review them carefully before you decide treatment plans and what medications you should prescribe."
I nodded, explaining that this was something I was used to doing. "I was told there was one member specifically who needs a bit more help than the others?"
"That would be Ghost. I will warn you that it will takes weeks, if not months, for him to warm up enough to talk with you however."
I internally groaned. Great, more soldiers with untreated PTSD that could snap at any moment.
We got up as she decided to give me a tour of the facilities, showcasing the state-of-the-art surgery wing along with my new office, which was technically two rooms, one big room with a smaller office inside of it, along with a storage closet. It was across the hall from the bathroom, yet with the door closed I couldn't hear a thing.
"Any questions before I leave?" She asked as she leaned against the doorway, watching me look around the room to the various counter tops.
"How much weight can these counters hold?"
"Considering they're made of reinforced steel, I'd say a couple thousand, why?"
"I'd like to set up some fish tanks, if that's alright."
She thought for a moment before responding. "I can see a therapeutic reasoning for it, yet what is your main reasoning?"
"I like keeping aquariums, as I find them very soothing to look at and care for. That and since these windows are south-facing, it means I'll be getting a lot of sunlight, so I'd also like to have some plants if that's acceptable."
"Absolutely, that would be more than welcome. I'm sure your team would appreciate it."
She nodded and shut the door behind her, leaving me alone in my empty office with just my thoughts.
Three months later
"No, Eli, you cannot tell a teammate about what you learned from a patient unless it's medically necessary. That violates HIPPA laws, and unfortunately, that does mean that I'm going to have to place you on temporary leave along with mandatory HIPPA and health related classes considering this is the third time this month that's we've had to discuss this." I told the Private as he sat on my couch, twiddling his thumbs as I laid him out once again.
"But Ma'am, he's come back again with the same wounds-"
"Enough. I read the reports, I'm aware, and I'll be talking to Ghost personally soon enough about it. But that is my job, not yours. Especially when you gossip about someones private medical information like no one's business. Because it isn't."
After having him sign his disciplinary paperwork, I ushered him off and opened my door, before grabbing one of the five-gallon buckets I had set to the side to start doing some water changes to my aquariums.
All of the sudden my door gets slammed wide open, with a panting Private who was covered in blood.
"Captain- We need you, right now!" She gasped as she quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway, towards the emergency bay.
I quickly tucked my hair up and shoved up my sleeves as I jogged along with her as she tried to explain that one of the task force members - like an actual member - had gotten struck with shrapnel from an IED and was currently in the emergency wing, bleeding out.
As soon as we ducked into the triage room they were in, I noticed the tall, broad man with mutton chops - Price - along with two other men I didn't recognize, yet currently didn't give two shits about as there was a man laying in a gurney, holding his shoulder while shouting curses in what I assumed was either Gaelic or Scottish based on his accent.
I'm immediately putting on gloves and grabbing the man's uninjured shoulder, pushing him down on the cot slightly as I tried to assess the wounds and realized he'd need surgery to remove the shrapnel immediately and would also require about a dozen stitches.
"My name is Captain (F/N), I'll be helping remove this shrapnel, but right now I need you to be still so we can give you morphine for the pain." I spoke calmly as I used some shears handed to me to cut away his shirt to reveal several more cuts along with some rather significant bruising.
"I don't give a bloody fuck who ye are, jus' feckin' fix me!" He groaned as I gently pressed on his stomach, looking for any sensitivity or guarding.
I watched carefully as Calumn started an line in his good arm and pushed morphine before hanging up a bag of saline. I pulled the sides of the bed up and ushered them to the surgery center, before turning towards the men.
I stripped off my gloves as I questioned them with anything that could help with the man's case, what IED was it, what specifically did they see, did they pull any shrapnel from him before they moved him, and more as I hurriedly pulled my hair up and washed my hands.
"One more thing, Captain," The tallest one in the group, the one I recognized from his files as Ghost, hissed at me. "If he dies in there, it'll be on you."
"What do you mean a biker gang is coming to my shelter?" I hissed at my father over the phone as he tried his best to explain what he was trying to do.
"It's free labor, hon, you won't have to pay them. Besides, maybe you'll like one of them"
"….not the point, dad."
"Still, something to think about."
I sighed and hung up the phone, not wanting to bother trying to sort out the relationship goals my dad had going for me.
I went back to scrubbing the kennel clean with disinfectant and cleaner, muttering to myself.
" 'You should have a boyfriend by now honey, you're in your late twenties and run an animal shelter. It's basically every man's wet dream' Wet dream my ass, as soon as they realize I'm more worried about animals than them, they bolt. Not my fault they're piss-poor examples of men."
I slowly heard a steady rumble get louder until it sounded like it was right outside, and figured it was the delivery truck with this week's load of dog and cat food, so I tossed aside my gloves and went outside to greet it, only to be met with….
Oh no.
Four large men on motorcycles, parked right out front of my shelter. All with leathers on, and cuts that all read 'Task Force 141' with a skull with crossbones and a dagger gripped in its teeth.
You've got to be kidding me.
The broader one took off his helmet, revealing a beard and short, neat shaven hair. Green eyes stared at me for a second until he spoke.
"Are you (F/N)?" He asked, snapping me out of my observation.
"Who's asking?" I replied, wiping my hands along the towel I accidentally brought outside in my hurry to meet the 'Delivery truck'.
The other three took off their helmets and I took a quick note of each of them.
The one on the far left road a blue bike, and he was dark-skinned with close shaven hair brown hair and brown eyes, he smiled softly at me with a politeness I knew wasn't forced. He seemed nice.
The one to the left of Mr.Beard was riding a dark red bike with flames painted across it, and had a brown Mohawk. He grinned at me similar to how some of the dogs would get when they'd be wanting me to throw their tennis ball again for the hundredth time.
To the right of Mr. Beard was a taller man who wore a black balaclava along and had his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top. He had several tattoos along his neck and arms in comparison to the other three who only sported a few.
I turned my attention back to Mr.Beard when he told me his name; John Price.
"Well Mr. Price, are you gentlemen looking to adopt today or…?" I questioned as I crossed my arms. These must be the men my dad sent to me.
I watched as he nervously scratched the back of his head.
"We were told to come and help you with your shelter and whatever it needs, at no cost to you."
"Am I dreaming? Or did those words just come out of your mouth?"
"Not dreaming, love." Mohawk told me with a smile.
"….Can you park not in my loading zone please?"
I ducked back inside as they moved their bikes towards the actual parking spots just as the delivery truck rumbled its way into my parking lot.
When I came back out, they were all standing there around the back of it, talking with the delivery guy.
"Fourty-two bags this week, (F/N)? That's a little low for your usual, y'know." The man spoke as he handed me the clipboard.
"Two of those lab puppies got adopted yesterday…and so did Mr. Mittens." I replied as I flipped through the order sheets.
"Finally! That grumpy old guy deserved a good home." He smiled.
I chuckled at that, signing the last page of the documents and handing it back him and asking about the next shipment.
I was about to hop in the trailer when Nice and Mohawk hopped in the trailer and started unloading the dry food from it, handing it out the the other two who shouldered three bags like it was nothing, when on a good day I could handle two at most.
"Where are we putting these" The one with the Mask asks
I quickly said my goodbyes to the delivery driver and propped open the two entrance doors, letting Anna, my only other worker besides myself, know that we're hauling in food and to keep the doors to the animal rooms closed.
Leading them to the laundry room, I pointed towards the empty pallets against the wall and helped them stack the bags so they wouldn't fall over.
Once all the bags were in and the doors were shut, I gathered them in my tiny office and sat down at my desk, keeping the door shut.
"Thank you for helping me with that…?" I questioned, glancing between them. Nice seemed to get the hint first, introducing himself as Gaz, Mohawk as Soap, and Mask as Ghost. Road names. He explained, were what they were called in their gang. I'd later learn their real names, but for now this seemed to do just fine.
I pulled out the map I had of the building and outer fenced in areas and laid it out on my desk, holding the sides down with a who-knows-how-old cup of coffee and my pencil holder, pointing out various spots on the outer areas where the fence needed repair.
"I'm not going to busy myself with asking why you're here, I was already told about what's going on with you gentlemen, so the sooner we get my place fixed up, the sooner you all can head out and not worry about needing to fight to stay in town." I told them as I started to point out issues with the building itself.
"You're not worried about us being bikers?" Gaz asked me, genuine suprise in his face.
"I don't give a shit if you're the tooth fairy. Only thing you need to know is that if you purposefully hurt any of my animals I will gut you and feed you to our pet tarantula." I replied, nodding towards the enclosure I kept on the back wall of my office. Said spider was currently chilling in her burrow and hated anyone except me, but that part I kept to myself.
At mention of the spider, Soap visibly shuddered and took a step back from from me desk, glaring at the tank.
"It won't escape…will it?" he asked me with fear in his voice.
I shook my head, explaining that the various terriaums and tanks that housed the odd assortment of fish, reptiles, and arachnids were all securely locked with at least two fail safes of containing them. There wasn't another pet rescue in town, so I took them all. Eight legs, four legs, or no legs.
We continued discussing the plans for the shelter as I wrote out a list for us to reference:
Need the dog run to be completely redone, there is no grass and the fence is broken in several places. Old, broken kennels are inside and need to be taken to the dump or fixed up.
The back door is broken, it sticks every time you try to go in or out.
The door to the cat room doesn't lock anymore for some reason
Some of the dog kennels need to be repainted and the walls are crumbling in some spots.
The cat room needs the walls to be torn out completely due to the presence of mold and mildew, in the top 3 that needs to get done.
The intake forms and the majority of the files are still misplaced and have no place / organizing system for them. (I will work on this while the boys work on the rest)
The washer leaks and we definitely need a new dryer. Maybe two new dryers to be honest.
Dog washing station.
Grooming room.
Meeting room for pets
Meeting room for humans
Break room
Windows need to be fixed
Tile floor in laundry room and cat room (next to each other) needs to be torn out and replaced due to mildew and water damage from the washer.
Once it was written down, I taped it to the back of my door so we could easily reference it was needed. I decided to tale them on a tour of the shelter, pointing out the various things that needed to get fixed and introducing them to some of the long-term residents like Ms. Philly Cheesesteak and Tuna in the cat room, both had been with us for several months at this point. I introduced them to Anna before she left for the day, then showed them the dog room.
The gates were latched up high but weren't locked, just because didn't see a need to as anytime someone wanted to look at the dogs either Anna or I was with them. The boys spread out and met with several of the dogs, with Gaz fawning over the two Labrador puppies and Ghost kneeling in front of an older dog's kennel, Price throwing a ball for a rambunctious little terrier and Soap…
Where was Soap?
I finally spotted him, opening the very last kennel down the hallway, the one that was away from all the other dogs with the bright red sign that said do not open this kennel on it.
"WAIT, DON'T OPEN THE KEN-" was all I could get out before a blur of black and brown fur darted down my way, snarling.
I yelped as the dog bit my left leg, holding tight as I yelled for someone to grab the muzzle from the wall and to get the hospital on the phone.
The dog I knew was Princess, a young german Shepard, held tight and shook her head as I tried to pry her jaws apart. At this point I was sitting on the ground, blood streaming down my leg and onto the ground as the dogs were yipping and howling in their cages from the commotion.
"What do you need me to do?" Price almost yelled as he held the muzzle in one hand and the hose in another.
Twisting in Princess's grip, I managed to lodge my hand in her mouth enough to shove my other one in and pull her jaws apart, gripping her top jaw with as much force as I could as I grabbed the muzzle from Price and straddled her back, shoving her nose into it and clipping it in place as she tried to snap at me.
She was barking up a storm, lunging at us when Ghost stepped behind her and fucking scuffed the dog and dragged her back to her kennel. After he got her in and secure, he turned towards Soap.
"You don't bloody fuckin' read, do you you bloody idiot?" He snapped at him as he helped me up off the ground, winding an arm around my waist as he helped me hobble out to the parking lot.
Gaz asked about cleaning the mess and I called Anna, explaining what happened and I needed her to close tonight instead of me. Soap got chewed out by both Price and Ghost, enough that I was wondering if he'd cry, and soon enough the town's ambulance came down the little road and parked in front of me.
They quickly wrapped my wound and loaded me up as Ghost went and started his bike, riding with the ambulance to the hospital.
Fourteen stitches and a prescription for strong antibiotics later….
Biker Gang 141! has some run-ins with the local police, the police chief got in contact with their President (Price) and told them to shape the fuck up otherwise they'd be run out of town. Price goes around asking if anyone needs help with anything, and turns out a bunch of big, burly biker dudes scare the shit out of common folk. Not you though. When they come to your animal shelter asking for work, you oblige, telling them everything that has to get done and their jaws drop. You've barely kept the place afloat for the last two years, and now that you have some (otherwise reluctant) help, you're taking full advantage of it. The fact that the animals love them has nothing to do with it...or the fact that they're all devilishly handsome.... right? Right?
The series is named Sunny Meadows, after the Reader's animal shelter.
(Also thinking of calling them hybrids so you will see that word pop up)
Price as a Dragon Shifter (Obviously)
Ghost as a Kraken (Because why the fuck not?)
Soap as a Direwolf (I'm talking…big)
Gaz as a Griffin (Lion, Serpent, Falcon mix)
~~~~
Them being a very tightnit pack that's been working together for decades since they all have extremely long life spans, and they are NOT welcoming to outsiders.
Laswell (A Hydra Shifter?) ends up with a survivior of another fearsome (Feral) team that somehow managed to survive an attack by various pure-feral (Insane) shifters. You quite literally tore out a lion shifter's throat with your fucking teeth because you were pinned and given no choice.
Since you weren't as big as the rest of your old team, they figured out a way to make you more deadly.
(they full on wolverine'd you.)
Replacing some of your bones with a metal known as zironiam, which has only ever been man-made. It is considered the strongest element on the planet.
Don't ask me how they got it or how they did it, but they did.
They only had enough for your spine, ribs, hands and feet (including claws) and finally, your teeth.
At least, only your canines. So you have razor-sharp, fucking daggers in your mouth that you used to rip apart your enemies.
Your nickname became Silver Fox, because the team thought it was hilarious for someone your age to have that nickname.
Guess they aren't laughing now.
Laswell ends up pulling you from your team after the incident occured and you were the only one left standing in the massacure of both your friends - your family - and the people you had been sent out to slaughter.
She takes you under her wings for a bit, letting you heal and getting you (Mandatory) therapy once a week, with medication from another doctor to help stabilize your moods since you went fucking haywire after someone mentioned that the team deserved to be slaughtered if they couldn't handle a simple pack of ferals.
They weren't just ferals. They were more.
Eventually, after a few months she introduces you to the 141. Everyone, including you is standoffish. You don't want to be there, the team doesn't want to be there, and they especially don't want you there.
So Kate takes it slow.
She gradually has you go into their circle, starting you off by training with Soap since she knew canine-esque hybrids tended to get along better than others did.
He was heavy, but you were quick.
Dodging and ducking, appearing behind him and using his momentum to your advantage, you managed to make him run in Ghost who was 'Suprivising' the sparring at the time. (He was just there to make sure you wouldn't pull shit on Soap)
Knocking both of them over, you yip in suprise and carefully walk over, ears pinned to your head and tail tucked around your leg, trying to appear as small and unfrightening as possible as you were told to do in case something like this happened.
Ghost groans and shoves Soap off of him gently, getting up and dusting himself off with a glare in your direction.
Soap is still on the floor and shaking so much you're concerend he's having a seizure until he starts howling with laughter.
"Did'ja see that? Little lass knocked us both over and didn't even touch us!" and he's back to wheezing on the ground again.
"Oh, is that what that was?" You heard a deep voice ask from above you, and you look up just in time to see both Price and Gaz glide down from the little alcove they've built into the roof for those with wings.
You had a staring contest with the floor, knowing from what Kate told you 'Don't look him in the eyes until he tells you too, they take it as a threat'
Price let out a deep chuckle as Ghost helped Soap stand up, who was wiping away tears from laughing so hard and breathing heavily.
"Look at me." Price commands, sending a deep, intuistic need to look him in the eyes through your body. It was strong, stronger than even your old pack leader's, and considering he was a Cerabus shifter, that meant something.
You carefully looked up, staring into his golden, almost glowing, eyes and he gently took your face in one of his hands.
Turning your head to the side he pulled back your lips, showing off your silvery canines.
"Is it true you ripped someone's throat out in that fight with only your teeth?"
I was thinking about the 141 but divorced and retired from active duty, getting together to make a podcast called Task Force Dad. (Soap and Ghost are the only ones who have kids with issues with their baby mommas, Gaz had a nasty breakup with his fiance, and Price has two ex wives)
They were forced into early retirement for any number of reasons, *cough* in hiding *cough* yet are still training rookies, creating stratagies for new missions, and catching up on paperwork.
They all live together in a pretty damn big house with Ghost's 4-year-old daughter and Soap's newborn.
And they decide to hire a live in nanny since Soap's ex wife relinquished custody of their daughter to him because she was toxic and definitely a gold digger. That and she cheated on him.
They start to grow attached to reader, especially her cooking and the fact that Ghost's daughter calls her Mommy.
Simon has mixed feelings about this, he is happy his daughter has a mother figure but still doesn't quite know how he feels about reader. (Thinking his wife also stepped out on him, yet they share joint custody and one of the men she brings over is not a great person which with reader's help Simon ends up fighting for full custody and winning)
Then they start talking about her on the podcast, mentioning how good she is with their kids and how yummy her cooking is while also talking about the stupid shit the recruits did and how Ghost's daughter accidently learned the word "Motherfucker".
It takes off like wildfire. Hundreds of people are saying one of them needs to wife her up, others are saying she's just a golddigger (i mean, collectively they are all bringing in at least five grand a month) and spoiler alert: reader doesn't give two shits how much money they make.
They're slowly falling for her while she's completely oblivious, thinking they're just getting more used to her. Gaz buys her flowers, John ends up building a literal vanity for her with Simon's help, Soap starts to help in the kitchen and makes sure she isn't pushing herself especially after they all learn she's going to college online for childhood psychology. Simon keeps her old beat up car running at no cost to her despite him desperately wanting to buy a new, bigger, and much less problematic car that she can comfortably use with her and the kids.
Maybe she starts posting tiktoks and on instagram with the nickname 'Task Force Nanny' and she gains thousands of followers for her honesty and cooking. (Also she doesn't show anyone's faces, y'all know how the internet is)
And it's going great and the boys are starting to plot how to ask her if they all could take her on dates and such,
Then she starts dating the one and only, Phillip Graves.
Konig, Ghost, Price x Chronically ill reader (Mall time)
The reader gets exhausted easily and needs to take things slow sometimes, and the boys aren’t used to it, yet they find they prefer it. Reader works at the mall, just in one of the bigger end stores so they don’t get out much. She met the boys through a dating app. (A story for later) (and yes she got bit by a fish)
~
“There’s posters up for Spirit around the old Rue 21 store, I wonder when they open,” Lacey, my coworker, mentioned to me as I walked around her and some others to get to the clock-in computer.
“Huh. I don’t remember the last time I was out in the main mall, I’ll take a look when I’m off tomorrow.”
~
“I guess the old Rue store is turning into Spirit temporarily. I was wondering if they’d come back this year.” I told John as I finished serving up the soup for everyone.
“Spirit? Like the horse movie?” Simon called out from the living room.
John took two of the bowls as I took the other two and we walked into the living room, handing them out. “No, the Halloween store.”
“How the fuck do you know what that is, and I don’t, Old Man?” Simon bit back at him.
“It sounds interesting. I would like to go.” Konig mentioned
“Well, I was going to offer that since I’m off tomorrow, if you’d like to accompany me? I know I walk slow and it takes a bit for me-”
“You walk at a perfectly fine pace. Yes, I would like to go with you to this ‘Spirit’ place.”
I watched as he not-so-subtly nudged Simon, and saw John nod as he was eating.
~
It was cloudy when we woke up, and I could tell it was going to storm thanks to the trusty old arthritic knees and hands. Either that or I was cold, and considering I was sandwiched between Simon and John and I didn’t have a blanket on because I was so warm, I’m gonna pass on that one.
We ate breakfast as John explained to Konig what a mall entailed, with Simon sarcastically chiming in at some points. I made sure to wear a zip-up sweater that I could easily tie around my waist if I got too hot and to take my meds (Simon shoved today’s pill container in my hand as he went to grab his, so I had no choice in that matter) along with some pain medications for the arthritis.
Entering the mall, we didn’t even make it to the local coffee stand before John wandered into Jared’s, one of the mall's many jewelry stores. Notably, he went straight for the engagement rings for women for some reason. We had briefly talked about an engagement but had decided that within the laws of the country we were in, marriage was allowed only between two people and not four.
Konig started looking with him while Simon was looking at the chain necklaces in one of the standalone display cases, and I decided to wander towards the matching necklace and earrings part of the counters.
“What can I help you find today?” A young woman asked me as I peered into one of the cases.
“How much is this red heart necklace?” I asked her.
She carefully opened the case and checked the price tag, “Considering it is genuine ruby, it is three-fifty for just the necklace, and four-fifty for the matching set with the earrings.”
I recoiled a bit at that, considering that was our monthly electric bill in jewelry form.
“....I think I’ll pass, but thank you. I’m assuming the opal is about the same price?”
She checked the tag of that one next, telling me that since it was a softer stone it came with a warranty, and was around two hundred for the set.
“Sounds a bit more reasonable, but I think I’ll pass on it for now. Thank you for helping me however.” I told her, only just noticing Simon leaning against a wall behind me. He was aloof most of the time, and quiet the rest but he was one of the most thoughtful people I knew.
“We’ll take both.” He told the woman just before she shut the case.
I turned to face him, “Simon! I can’t do either of them, let alone both of them!”
“And who said you were paying for it? Not me.”
“Simon!” I hissed at him as the woman was happily taking them out of the case and putting them in some boxes.
He just chuckled and followed the women over to the register to pay for them, right as John was apparently finishing up something with another salesperson.
We walked out of there with what felt like a grand in just jewelry, and I felt as if I had just spent my month’s rent on silly little jewels. But I didn’t, Simon paid for it entirely, not even opting for a payment plan despite the women insisting.
“Almost all of your jewelry is starting to tarnish, love. I’m just making sure your skin isn’t turning green.”
“Besides, I found another ring for you. This one is identical to the one you lost when we went fishing a few months ago…” Konig chimed in.
I paused in my tracks, with all three of them looking at me.
“Why are you spending your money on me? I don’t need anything, what the fuck is going on?” I felt incredulous, like some sort of joke was being played on me.
“You do not need anything, but you want things. Yet you do not buy yourself things, so we are doing it for you. John has said that this weekend you get everything you want.” Konig told me gently as he took my left hand in his and slid a ring onto my pointer finger. It was a beautiful silver crown with small…I’m assuming diamonds on it. It was gorgeous.
It looked almost exactly like a ring I was given by a coworker who had bought a bunch of jewelry from Icings since it was closing. (It had gotten lost when I got bit by a fish while trying to unstick a fishing hook from its mouth.)
I paused at that and just looked at the ring for a bit….”Thank you.”
“I know I cannot replace the ring the fish stole but I can try to give you something similar.” Konig told me as he wrapped me in a hug and kissed the top of my head.
“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” I quietly questioned him.
tagging: @tyler-t0t (this is why I didn't go to bed until 4 lol)
trigger warnings: mentions of torture and being left for dead.
~
"No mercy for traitors." was what Ghost snarled at you as he helped Soap push you off the boat.
Arms tied behind your back, legs tied together with a large cinderblock weighing them down, a bag shoved over your head, you were plunged into whatever body of water they dragged you out on a boat to.
Thing is, you weren't a traitor.
Far from it, actually.
You caught wind of something that they didn't. You brought it up-mentioned how the new medic wasn't fully fledged and flighted; they didn't even know how to properly stitch up wounds.
You were ignored.
Just for being the youngest.
The only female on the team.
Just because they didn't like the idea of you to begin with.
Perfect plan, actually. Initiate a new member to the Task Force, add in a new apprentice medic, and slowly turn the tables.
When they got the information and found out that vital safe houses were destroyed and supply chains were disrupted, they were very quick to point fingers.
Not on the 'golden child' of a medic who could seem to do no wrong, no, on you.
Didn't matter that you'd barely been back for a few hours from a separate mission where you were solo. Of course.
Grabbing the wet bag from your face, you gasped in the salty air, realizing that they'd dropped you several miles offshore of some sort of coastal town. You could faintly see the lights, and thankfully, see the circling light of the lighthouse.
Better get to swimming.
Pulling off your tactical vest and starting to pull off any unessential parts of your outfit that was weighing you down, you started swimming back to shore.
Thankfully, they hadn't dropped you closer to the poles, otherwise you would've been dead from the shock and hypothermia within minutes. A small mercy.
Starting towards shore, you started to go over a checklist in your head of everything that went wrong. How you were set up. What evidence you could show, and at this point, there sure wasn't a hell of a lot.
Didn't help that the traitor was on the boat that dropped you off. You could still hear their voice, clear as day. And what they said shook you to your core, because it meant that they knew. They knew that you knew all along.
"Night night, butterfly."
One of the photos you had seen while you were trying to dig up anything you could find on this medic led you to another photo, of a member of the Russian KGB. They had a very distinctive butterfly tattoo on the left side of their lower torso. A monarch.
And what did you see when the medic was stitching you up horribly? His shirt lifted just enough to see that tattoo. You could've sworn he caught you staring, but you dismissed it too easily.
Bad mistake.
Grabbing fistfulls of wet sand, you dug your hands in, using the last of your strength to pull your body up onto the shore, away from the waves.
You barely remember what happened next, but you woke up in some sort of brick building. Lying on a bed in front of a fireplace that was almost stifling with heat, you groaned faintly and that caught the attention of a man sitting in a chair just out of your sight.
"You're alive!"
"....barely." Your voice hoarse from swallowing so much saltwater.
"Don't speak, sit up carefully and drink this."
Carefully sitting up, you realized you were naked underneath the blankets-where there seemed to be at least six piled on you-and an IV in your arm. Hooked up to an actual IV pole, with several bags of empty saline and blood. The man handed you a warm mug with a tea bag in it, and you took a tentative sniff.
"If I wanted to kill you, I would've already."
You nodded in agreement.
In the mug was a mixture of bitter tea with a good amount of honey, enough that it helped soften your throat for you to be able to speak.
"You drag me out? Put in IV? Clothes?" Quick, to the point. You barely had energy to stay conscious, let alone form words.
He nodded as he took the now empty mug from you and went about to refilling it.
"Dragged you off the beach. You were blue and shivering so I took your clothes off - They are hanging outside to dry." You took a second to look around the room again and noticed your boots by the fireplace, soles taken out and laces completely undone.
As if he had practice with doing this sort of thing.
"I used to be a medic in the wars, yet now I just tend to this here lighthouse, and rescue people who get washed up on shore, apparently."
Handing the now piping-hot mug back to you, he dragged the chair into your eyesight near the foot of the bed.
"Tell me what happened."
Considering how weak you knew you were and how exhausted you felt, you decided to tell him everything. To the task force, you were technically dead, so nothing really mattered at this point. Except killing the actual fucker who did this to you.
It took several days until you were able to be steady on your feet again and recover from the majority of your injuries. They tortured you for a bit before Price gave the order to toss you into the sea, and your ribs were still crying out from that.
The man said you were crying in your sleep. You didn't doubt it.
You helped him cook and clean, in turn he patched you up. He took out the old stitches from the fake medic and cussed them out the entire time he did so.
"Fucker knew what he was doing. Meant to make it get infected and scar...."
"Then blame everything on me while I was delirious and in the medbay. Plant my room."
"He did. That's why you're here, hun."
You nodded solemnly. You weren't ever given a chance to explain yourself; it was if they were happy to finally torture you.
Two weeks later you were saying your goodbyes to the man, who you now came to know as Cian. (Kee-an)
He told you to visit anytime, especially after what you were planning on doing.
"Go kick some ass."
You were in more common clothes, a black shirt, a pair of beat-up jeans and sneakers, with an old baseball cap of Cian's that he put on your head just before you left that looked like it'd seen better years decades ago.
You took off. Into the village, you got a ride to the nearest city with a embassy. And a friend.
Said friend, known only as 'Miriam' was very excited yet also extremely confused to see you.
You'd been reported dead two months ago. It was across all networks of agencies that dealt with taskforces or things that were supposed to remain quiet.
It was odd, as you had only been at the lighthouse for a little under a month, and then it hit. The torturing.
They kept you in a windowless room for over a fucking month.
Pulling nails, cutting into your skin, burning cigarettes and cigars into your stomach and arms. Whipping your back and then pouring seawater onto the fresh marks, making you take 'truth' serums that after you didn't tell them what they wanted, said were fake and didn't work. (They did, you were telling the truth...just not the one they wanted to hear. One you didn't know.)
Miriam promised she wouldn't tell anyone you were alive and gave you a new code name to use. Baba Yaga.
The boogeyman.
Fitting, as you were about to become the task force's worst nightmare.
It took months to track them town. They were good, clever. But you ran with them for two years, and you knew how they worked and operated. Knew where they'd likely be stationed at.
And you were right.
Port of Spain. They were in a small military camp with high fenced walls topped with barbwire, well-armed troops with dogs, timely reactions to threats. It was almost laughable how easily you were able to slip though the defenses.
Dressed as one of the guards, you joined a rotation where you would be patrolling the outside of the fence for four hours and then switch to inside for the next four, before being switched out. It was easy to make friends with the guards, chatting in the local dialect of Spanish that you'd perfected over the course of a week. Picking up on local slang and various shops and restaurants with history around town, you were easily added into the folds. Becoming chummy with a Lieutenant, even.
That led you into said Lieutenant's quarters that night, right next to the warehouse where you've caught sight of the traitor along with your old team. Price stepping out for a smoke break with Ghost. Gaz talking shit with Soap. It all felt...normal. But you knew that it wasn't.
You had been secretly gathering evidence again the traitor for months. Photos, videos, papers, texts, everything. It laid out exactly what happened, and how you were (supposedly) killed as the traitor, when all along, it was the fucking medic.
One night, you saw the medic laughing with them at a local bar, in your spot, right between Soap and Gaz. You had enough.
You took the file and set it on the main table in the room where they were gathering intel on their next target, noted by a half-burnt cigar and some timers for a bomb you knew Soap was building.
You also might've paid the waiter handsomely to slip something in everyone's drinks. Not enough to drug, but enough to become pliable. And you laid your trap.
They came stumbling into the warehouse later that night, while you sat in the rafters. Dressed in your old boots and now dyed-black kit, you pulled a black balaclava to cover your face from the nose down.
Watching. Waiting.
As the doors closed behind them, they didn't notice as they locked. Or that all of the doors to the warehouse were locked and barricaded. No way out. At least, not easily.
Price saw the folder first. Confused, he opened it and sobered up real quick. Spreading the pictures, printed messages and screenshots, and lastly a flash drive onto the table.
Ghost took it and hesitantly put it into the computer.
Big mistake.
The screen flickered once, then it emitted a high-pitched noise before it shattered, plunging them into darkness.
Shouting ensued, and you dropped the smoke cans.
Even with them grabbing their flashlights, it did nothing with the smoke flooding the building,
They called out to each other, and soon enough gathered with their backs to the table, handguns and flashlights drawn. They didn't realize they were missing someone vital, however.
After two minutes the smoke mostly cleared and the emergency generator kicked on, flooding the building with blinding light.
You anticipated that, they didn't. Fools.
You stood facing towards them as the smoke cleared, with an arm around the neck of the fake-medic. He was grabbing at your arm fitfully, yet he was already turning pale.
"Let him go!" rang Ghost's voice as he spotted you.
"Wait," Price started, squinting at you before turning pale himself.
"It's her-"
"It can't be-"
"She's supposed to be dead-"
You shouted, voice cutting through the chaos.
"ENOUGH!"
You pulled your handgun and aimed the muzzle at the traitor's head.
Everyone stared at you, eyes wide.
"You wouldn't kill him-" Soap started.
You nodded towards the table. "Check those papers again."
They took a second to look back down at the table and finally came to the same idea.
"You didn't betray us."
"Never did. But you all were all too happy to tie me up and started pulling my molars out."
Ghost winced. You had barely seen this man flinch, yet now he seemed to be physically regretting everything that was done to you.
"Put him down, I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement, right?" Price was trying to bargain. They needed the traitor for information. That they'll never get.
You laughed dryly as you clicked the safety off the gun.
"You already made it perfectly clear where you stand."
141 x 141! reader who was sent out on a mission and got captured.
Reader who was drugged and given some weird, mysterious substances.
Reader who's team thought they were dead for months-
Until you come back.
First, it's all normal, all smiles and regular visits to the med bay and psych doctors, until you realize they're keeping things from you.
"...blood count is abnormally low, almost non-existant...."
Then things start happening.
Nightmares, unsurprisingly, considering the lengths in which you were tortured to get information, yet...
These aren't your memories.
You're not the one being tortured, no you are the one doing the opposite.
Suddenly you're starting to sleep less, and going to the gym more. Some reason meat sounds better than the salad bar. You know you need to eat a balanced diet or you'll feel like shit yet....
You're growing stronger.
Easily dead lifting Ghost's max on the barbells,
Outpacing Kyle on your runs when you were always behind,
Outdrinking Soap when you're at the bar, yet at the end of the night, you're not even tipsy,
The worst was when you managed to spot some snipers on a rooftop blocks away baresighted before Price could, in his binoculars.
That made things stir.
You started tracking how long you slept, finding it was less than half your normal time and was steadily decreasing.
The team, on the other hand, starting tracking other things.
Like how you were able to easily dodge attacks and manage to barely get touched in training, seeming as if you almost pass through them as if they're made of air.
You got grazed by a bullet on your bicep on the most recent mission, barely a week ago, yet last time Ghost checked, wounds don't scar over that soon...and they especially don't scar over black.
You notice that suddenly any new mark you've gotten is healing rather quickly. Bruises you got in the morning's training were faded and gone by supper. Scratches and cuts were absent within the matter of days.
Gaz swears he sees you almost float when you're fighting. Your feet barely touch the ground.
Soap notices your teeth and eyes next, especially because you tend to sit right across from him at tables.
"Teeth are sharp. Not 'jus the regular ones, no, all of 'em"
"Eyes are odd, look, they're dark, almost as if...there's nothing there."
Then a different teams captures the place where you were held hostage for a few months- you expected photos and films of your torture but not like this-
Photos of you strapped to a table, naked, with odd drawings all over you.
Photos of you screaming, covered in various marks, then more photos of you passed out, the marks faded to scars, faded to black.
"...they're timestamped....only hours apart...."
Suddenly you grow more skittish. As more and more photos and even videos are found, you find reasons to hide.
They find needles, and bottles upon bottles of unknown liquid written in a script not even the best translator Laswell can find recognizes.
All the bottles were empty, and when the medical staff ran the liquid they could salvage from them, all they got were error messages.
More photos, more strange symbols and this time there's photos of you cut open,
Seeing your lungs, and heart, intestines-hell, they even cut open a part of your skull from what it looks like.
You start to wonder if that's really you in those photos.
You don't remember any of this.
You remember being strapped to a chair, having your nails and hair pulled, cigarettes burned out on you, getting stabbed in the arms and sliced on your chest-but not this.
The team is starting to give you looks everytime you're around, ones that make your skin crawl. It seems whenever you go even slightly close to anyone they find an excuse to go away from you.
They all have this one distinct look in their eyes too,
One that says, you shouldn't be alive.
After days of barely seeing anyone, you decide to slice open the back of your arm. Because you were curious. All your other wounds healed easily, so this one should too, right?
After not seeing any blood for a couple of seconds you decide that the healing must have already kicked in,
Until you notice that the wound is dripping black.
You smear it across your fingers, realizing it was almost watery, yet was pitch dark. Like blood.
You wrap it up and continue on with your day, people dodging out of your way, and you intend to find Price to ask for medical leave, yet when you walk into the office you're greeted by....
A wall. The entire back wall of his office was not only bare as the bookcases and photos had moved, but photos were pinned on it. All featuring you.
Photos of the symbols, drawn more clearly, photos of your hands and feet, oddly enough, yet when you look closer you realize they're turning black.
Not necrotic, not dead, just pitch black.
There's photos of your back, in which the largest symbol is on, along with several dozen black dots along the sides of your spine. In one of the photos you see needles filled with the strange black substance that, oddly enough, looked like what came out of your arm earlier.
You turn and decide to call it a night, despite the fact you haven't slept in weeks, you just lie there.
Only to be met with the team. They're all standing outside the door to your room, and after almost a month of barely catching glimpses of them, you're rightfully pissed that they're waiting for you outside of your bedroom.
You can't even get two words in until Price overruled you, asking to see the inside of your room.
Knowing these men, you decided it would just be easier if you gave them what they wanted.
What you didn't expect was that there was this black...mold? Growing everywhere. On your couch, walls, the ceiling, it was the worst on your bed, where you 'slept' every night.
Okay, so maybe you haven't been to your room in a couple days, but that shouldn't have caused this...right?
