The Boys Take Care Of You After A Rough Mission Leaving You In The Hospital🏥

Cuddling with Soap❤️

Fluff and a drabble

Soap x GN!Reader

God he would be yapping the whole time as he held you close to his chest. Every moment or two he’d shift or change positions not feeling comfortable enough or wanting to be closer to you. His big smile would constantly be in your face or in your ear spouting about whatever comes to mind. Whether it is how beautiful you are or how Ghost was a bastard for making him run laps around the track.

His hands would always be wandering around your skin resting your hips, chest, or neck. Its not for any sexual reason despite Johnny being a dog its a reminder that your alive. Your warm skin and your heart beat calms his racing mind knowing you’re here with him.

If he does fall asleep before you and tucks your head under his chin holding you tightly. He wraps his legs around yours resting his arms around your chest. Whenever you shift or try to get up he just holds you tight muttering something unintelligible before relaxing again.

If you falls asleep first Johnny lays your head on a pillow. He lays next to you watching your blissfully calm face, your chest rising and falling with each breath. He admires you for minutes to hours, he never keeps track of time. These are the moments he cherishes when hes in some far away place away from you. Whether it be in some ramshackle building or in the forest these memories keep him warm at night.

I decided to draw Soap, Kyle, Alex, Price last night! I hope you enjoy them! (Sorry I can’t draw Ghost, his mask is a bit complicated)

OMG MY BF GOT ME A CAMEO OF BARRY SLOANE SAYING HAPPY BIRTHDAY I AM LITERALLY CRYING

MDNI!

Price fingering you over his desk!

TW-Bondage, blindfolds, fingering, afab, part 2 maybe?

You didn’t expect the night to end up like this. You’re bent over on Prices desk, naked, handcuffed, and blindfolded. He asked you to come to his office to help with some paperwork.

His hand brushes against your core, you gasp twitching at the sudden sensation. John softly chuckles at your reaction running his hand up and down your folds.

“Your doing so good for me”

You sigh as he moves his finger onto your clit making slow circles. You tilt your head giving John access to your neck. He gladly takes your invite giving you little loves bites. His fingers circle your hole before slowly plunging in.

“Oh my fucking god! John it feels so good!”

You cry out in pleasure, the handcuffs around your wrists clatter as you hold onto his arm. His fingers brush against your g-spot over and over again. His fingers start to rapidly plunge into you while his thumb rubs at your clit.

“I-I’m gonna cum!”

John doubles his efforts fingering you even faster. The slick from between your thighs trickle down onto the bed. The loud squelches from his fingers echo through the room.

He gets close to your ear and growls out, “Fucking cum for me baby, soak my fingers”

You cry out in pleasure writhing against the desk from how strong the orgasm was. His fingers slow and you pant for breath. John removes his fingers from you sucking each finger savoring the taste.

You lay lifeless against the desk feeling boneless after such an amazing orgasm. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your chest and your breath.

His hand pets your ass before you hear his belt buckle get undone.

“I’m not done with you yet, take a couple nice deep breaths for me love, its gonna be a bit of a stretch”

I'm a grown ass man but I'll be such a good girl for the 141 if Price asks.

God he’d be so good to you!!✨

After he gets you all nice and soft before calling he’ll ask you to get to your knees. You’re looking up at him between his thick thighs as he grabs your chin slowly pulling your gaze to his.

“You wanna be good f’me baby?”, he says in his low gravely voice.

Of course you’d nod wanting to please him.

“Go on baby, show me what your mouth can do”

🍉🍉🍉

don’t stop talking about what’s happening

Cooking From The Heart

WC-1.8K

Warnings: Mentions of minor injury basically fluff

Notes: Reader has tinnitus, GN! Reader, no use of Y/N, established relationship with John Price

Placing the key into the ignition your car roars to life, your hand moves to the console to turn up the music for the radio preparing yourself for a long day. The car is piled to the brim with groceries ready to cook a feast for four hungry men. Pulling out of the parking lot you start to drive from London to the English countryside where the lone military base sits. As you drive you can’t help but reminisce on the past and how fortunate you are to have such an amazing life.

Joining the military at the ripe age of eighteen you met John Price, your rival, a man that always got on your nerves. Despite how good of a soldier he was he constantly had to outshine you whilst being blunt, hard headed, and a little cocky. You rose through the ranks with him, each promotion with him standing by your side getting the same title much to your dismay. As years pass you both set aside your differences becoming friends despite past bickering, soon after that John took your hand into his on a warm summer night in a safe house asking you to be his girlfriend. 

A long loud ring reverberates from your ears as the radio cuts out pulling you out of your memories, out of the past. A memory rushes through your mind reminding you of the bitter memory as to what changed your life for the better or worse.You and the boys were out fighting the cartel in Las Almas when a stun grenade rolled right to your feet. The flash blinded you and the ringing in your ears was deafening, but unlike the others the ringing in your ears never ceased. Due to tinnitus you were honorably discharged from the military cutting your career short. As you sat home alone you felt as though your life, your family was ripped away, it was hard not having the harsh routine of war in your life. The others and John tried their best to support you but nothing seemed to pull you out from the pit. But it all changed when you decided to go back to your old base to make home cooked meals for the men you loved. It made you feel connected again with those who fought by your side, it filled the hole in your heart. Since then you made it a weekly ritual when they were at base to cook for them.

Driving up to the guards of the base you smile pulling out your ID as usual despite how they were once under your command and how you visit weekly. You park your car and pick up a couple bags of groceries to bring into the community kitchen to start making dinner, it takes a couple trips to bring in all the bags due to the sheer amount of food you bought. You look at the analog clock to see it's only noon but it's essential to start early, needing every precious minute to cook or else they’d be eating at midnight. Turning on the radio you start to prep all the ingredients making sure to wash every vegetable there is, you mix the sauces and cut the herbs so the food will taste immaculate. 

Your mind drifts again, smiling softly as you remember the best day of your life. John held your hand softly guiding you through a small park nearby your shared flat until you saw the soft glow of candle lights illuminating the path ahead. Walking together hand in hand along the glowing trail until you reached a clearing where the moon was bright reflecting off the pond in front of you. You admired the scene getting lost in the moment until you looked back at John who was on his knee with a ring asking if you’d be his one and only.

Looking outside of the window you see the sun setting along with the sounds of boots shuffling against the floor, low playful banter echo through the halls and their baritone voices seem to shake the thin walls of the base. The voices become more clear as the men slowly enter the rec room, Soap's iconic accent rings out after a dramatic sniff of the air.

“Smells delicious charaid I oughta get tha’ recipe from you onea these day”, the scot says with an infectious smile. He moves in close attempting to dip his finger into the soup to have a taste. Before he could even attempt it you lightly smack his hand with a wooden spoon shaking your head as you continue to prep dinner, “Nuh uh Mactavish you’re not having a taste of the soup until it's done and all of you get washed up.”

A chuckle comes from Gaz as he grabs Soap by the collar dragging him away from the delectable pot of soup in front of them saying teasingly, “Y’know that our former Captain will never let you have a taste before its done, and they are right we’re pretty gross from training last one to the showers has to organize the armory”. With that the two sergeants sprint out of the rec room jeering and poking fun at each other. 

You chuckle at the childish sight feeling a familiar pair of eyes staring at you from the corner of the room. Without you even looking up to see who it is you say softly, “Hello Simon'', there's a moment of silence before the mans gruff voice responds quietly, “How are you holdin’ up captain?” disguised to know if you were ok mentally, a sign that he cared.

A small smile forms on your lips as you turn to look at the man that many fear, the ghost of 141. His eyes soften slightly as he sees the smile on your lips. “I’ve been good, sometimes it gets lonely back at the flat without you guys running around it but I've been waiting all week to see you guys again”, he nods before leaving the rec room getting the answer he wanted to hear heading to the showers just like his sergeants.

A single pair of boots walk towards you stopping right behind you, without any fear you lean back into the man's chest looking up at him. His beard is perfectly groomed as usual and his beautiful blue eyes look into yours. A small tired smile appears on his face as he leans down to kiss the crown of your head mumbling, “I missed you love”, his strong arms snake their way around your waist pulling you in closer. You turn your head to  the side of his cheek before returning to cooking dinner, enjoying the feeling of your husband holding you close. “I missed you to lovie”. Despite him seeing you every morning and everynight back at home, any time away from you was painful for him.

He stands behind you holding you close for a while enjoying your presence against his tired body. Slowly one of his hands reaches out to grab a piece of food still cooking before you take his hand into yours, stopping his attempt. Squeezing his hand before bringing it up to your lips to kiss softly you say teasingly, “You may be the Captain of this team but that doesn’t make you exempt from the rules big man”, he only laughs and kisses your cheek responding with a cheeky grin “We both know you can’t stay angry at me for long and who is the one that always got in trouble for breaking the rules while we were privates? Oh wait I think it was you”. You can’t help but roll your eyes playfully before playful shoving him off of your body, “I’m sorry love but you're drenched in sweat and smell bad, you need to go head to the showers or else I’m not saving you a plate. Dinner should be ready by the time everyones out.” John chuckles before kissing your cheek softly saying softly in his gruff voice, “Roger that captain I’ll go take a shower you better save me a plate”, he shuffles away leaving you alone in the kitchen yet again. 

The soft music from the radio playing in the background dulls the ringing in your ears and fills the lonely space. Searching through the many bags you brought to the base you finally  find the nice tablecloth, you spread it out and place it over the rickety old dining room table. As the music flows you place each plate, fork, and knife with care despite knowing it’ll be used to destroy the table cloth underneath them. You place the food onto the kitchen table due to the sheer amount of food there is, as you set down some vegetables you hear the jovial conversations of the team coming in ready to eat. 

Gaz lets out a low whistle, “Damn you really cooked your ass off huh”, you wipe your hands off on a towel before saying with a smile, “Only for my boys no one else gets the pleasure of having a taste”. The men start to gather around before you say, “Before everyone eats, no weapons at the table. Other soldiers can worry about war but right now it's dinner time, time for you to be men and not soldiers”

They place the weapons on a table nearby, their knives and pistols sit neatly so they can easily grab them just in case.  Soap looks up at you and says curiously, “We all know tha’ you don’t want knives at tha table but is there a reason as ta why?”. You look up at him and say frankly with a smile, “well I just want you guys to be relaxed for once, letting your worries go enjoying a nice dinner. Along with the time you tried to do a knife trick at the table and almost sliced off your finger” the men around Soap laugh. Ghost slaps Soap’s back playfully, “You were cryin’ like a baby Johnny, screamin’ out for the medic running around like a chicken without a head”.You join in with the laughter feeling the stresses of the week melt off your shoulders.

With a wide smile you announce happily, “Alright guys dig in”, Soap is the first to pick up his plate piling his food up onto the plate with the others right behind him doing exactly the same. John walks up to you with two plates, handing one of them to you, “Thank you love for making all of this food” you look up at him with a smile, “it's nothing John, I love doing this. It's the highlight of my week.” John allows you to go in front of him to get your food. You sit down at the table and John sits next to you, carefree conversations are made between the men and you as they start to eat their food. Their smiles and laughter are as precious as gold to you. This is your family, this is home and there is no greater joy in your life than to be eating dinner with the people you love most.

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder. 

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening. 

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in. 

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet. 

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side. 

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. 

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read. 

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely. 

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline. 

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process. 

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure. 

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

Vacation